The Daring Twins

She selected a chisel and a hammer, and returned to her room. She drew her stand before the door and by means of a chair mounted to its top. From this elevation her head almost reached the ceiling, and she was able to work comfortably. Quickly prying the nails from the board with the chisel, Phœbe removed it and found a pane of clear glass behind. It was dingy with dust; but by rubbing clear one corner she found herself looking into Elaine’s room.

It was much like her own room, yet even more poorly furnished. A big, broad oaken table stood in the center – a heavily constructed affair that seemed out of place in a bedchamber. It was bare of even a cloth. A small dresser stood at one side; a bed was in the opposite corner; two stiff chairs and a rag carpet completed the furniture of the room, which denoted extreme neatness and cleanliness. Really, there was nothing here pertaining to the mysterious or unusual.

But Phœbe was not satisfied. Those sliding sounds, the old woman’s ecstatic murmurings, must be explained. After a moment’s thought, the girl climbed down from the table and with the chisel managed to cut a square corner out of the thin board. Then she replaced it as it had been before, putting one nail loosely into the corner she had removed, so that while the board over the transom appeared to be intact and undisturbed she could easily slide the corner from its place and so obtain a “peephole.”

Observing her work critically from the floor she decided no one would ever notice that the board had been tampered with. So she returned the tools to Phil’s chest, rearranged her room, and with the complacent idea that she had accomplished a clever feat awaited the moment when she might make an important discovery.

CHAPTER X

A DEPRESSING INTERVIEW

Judith found Mr. Ferguson alone in his office. With an air of much pride she produced the Articles of Adoption and asked him to read the document.

“Don’t pick flaws in its legality, please,” she said with twinkling eyes.

The lawyer read the agreement through very soberly. Then he reached out both his hands and took those of Judith in their firm clasp.

“My dear, you are a noble woman,” he said. “I am almost as grateful to you as if the Darings were my own children. They need a mother, Judith, and the poor things couldn’t have fallen into greater luck than being adopted by you.”

She was a little embarrassed by this praise.

“Tell me what you know about Uncle Jonathan,” she asked, to change the subject.

He gave her an amused glance from beneath his bushy eyebrows.

“Of course the old man would interest you,” he replied. “Curious situation, isn’t it, Judith? Have you seen him?”

“Yes; for a moment.”

“It’s a wonder his grim guardian allowed it.”

“I forced myself into his room, in spite of Elaine.”

“Did you? And found your uncle deaf, dumb and blind, I suppose.”

“Yes,” she returned. “Is he always like that?”

“Always. Unless Elaine Halliday chooses to waken him. Then he comes to life.”

“I did not believe it possible!”

“Nor I,” agreed the lawyer, “until I had experience with the fact. You’ve no idea, Judith, what a time I had to obtain a refuge for the Darings in that household. Elaine stubbornly refused to admit them, claiming that Mr. Eliot was oblivious to all the world and she had received positive instructions never to permit a Daring to enter the house while he lived. I told her frankly that in such a case it was my duty to apply to the law and have a legal guardian appointed to look after her master and his property. This threat alone prevailed upon her. She decided to grant me an interview, and in some way I cannot understand, she whispered into the old man’s ear until he quickened to life far enough to speak. The words were not very distinct and were slowly muttered, for his tongue is partially paralyzed; but I found his intellect was as keen as ever. I explained the unhappy situation of his grandchildren and asked him to help them. He told me he hadn’t a penny to give them, that his money was gone and his fortunes practically ruined.”

“Do you believe that?” asked Judith.

“Yes; I think it is true, my dear. I told him that I did not ask for money for the Darings; I only demanded a shelter for them in his big, unoccupied house; and, although Elaine tried to induce him not to consent, the old fellow silenced her and told me the Darings might occupy all the house, except the four rooms reserved for his own use and that of his servant. So I won the battle, after all.”

Judith considered this thoughtfully.

“What became of his money?” she asked.

“Years ago,” replied Mr. Ferguson, slowly, “I was employed as Jonathan Eliot’s trusted advisor. That was when he owned a large estate and commanded ample means. He was not a generous man, in those days, but grudged every necessary expenditure his family made. After his wife’s death and Molly’s marriage, he came to me one day and said that all his money had been swept away in an unlucky speculation, and he would no longer be able to employ me. He refused to answer any questions as to the manner of his loss. Mr. Spaythe told me, about that time, that Mr. Eliot had drawn all his money from the bank, taking it in gold coin. Your uncle discharged all the servants except Elaine, shut up most of the house, and offered his estate for sale. He lived quite frugally, I learned, and was doubtless very poor. Bit by bit he sold off the lands, until only the house and its garden remained. There is no mortgage on the place, however. Wallace Daring offered to assist his father-in-law, but Eliot irritably refused. They quarrelled soon afterward, as you perhaps know.”

“But I don’t quite understand,” said Judith. “Even if he lost all his ready money, the land must have brought a large sum. What became of that?”

“It squared his debts, I suppose. The old man confided his affairs to no one. He was suspicious of even his own daughter. Then suddenly he became paralyzed, and I went to see if I could be of any help to my old client. Elaine told me she had searched everywhere, without finding a dollar. Until then I had harbored the thought that your uncle had become a miser, for his nature inclined that way; so I examined the house myself, looking high and low in every possible place for any secreted cash or securities, or even for papers that would explain what had become of his money, or account for his impoverished condition. But there was nothing of the sort to be discovered. I am thoroughly satisfied that Jonathan Eliot is as poor as he claims to be.”

Judith sighed.

“The house and lot must be worth considerable,” she said, hesitatingly.

“It might bring a fair price if offered for sale,” said he, “but it would not be advisable to dispose of the place until the Darings grow to maturity. Before that time arrives it is probable old Jonathan Eliot will have passed away and be laid in that ridiculous big white mausoleum he once constructed. Then his grandchildren will inherit the property. While he lives, moreover, we could not sell the place if we desired to, unless we managed to prove Mr. Eliot mentally deficient.”

“Isn’t he?”

“No; not in the eye of the law. Elaine can arouse him whenever she pleases. Indeed, we must consider it fortunate, Judith, that this strange woman is content to care for him. I am sure she makes him as comfortable as is possible.”

“That is true,” admitted the girl.

“By the way,” said the lawyer, “how are you going to manage about money?”

“I have, as you know, an income of fifty dollars a month,” she replied. “With this, added to what Phil earns, we shall be rich. I have also saved, from the sales of my pictures, about two hundred dollars, a part of which I am going to expend at once for new clothing for the children. The poor things need it badly, for Sue, Donald and Becky are growing rapidly and have scarcely a decent garment to put on.”

“You’re a fairy godmother, Judith,” he observed, regarding her with evident approval. “I feel easier about the Darings now; but there’s a fight ahead, my dear, for all of you. Don’t fail to come to me if you need advice or assistance, for I’m the legal guardian of the young brood, remember, and I’m willing to do my duty by them.”

Judith went away feeling much depressed in spirit. The lawyer’s explanation had been so clear that it destroyed all her suspicions of both Elaine and her paralyzed uncle. The matter proved to be very simple, after all, and contained no element of mystery.

CHAPTER XI

GETTING REGULATED

Monday morning Phil went to work at the bank. As Riverdale was a small town, Spaythe’s Bank might be expected to be a small institution, but it was more important than the size of the town really warranted. The beet sugar factory drew many farmers to Riverdale, who deposited the money received for their beets with Mr. Spaythe. The factory itself had large deposits in the bank and the town merchants did a thriving business. Aside from this there were many prosperous plantations and wealthy country gentlemen in the neighborhood, all of which contributed to the importance and prosperity of Spaythe’s Bank.

Three assistants, or clerks, were employed, and Mr. Spaythe directed them in person. The cashier and paying teller was an elderly, quiet man named Boothe. Eric Spaythe told Phil that Boothe was a mere machine, and had not a single thought or idea beyond his duties at the bank. Ned Thurber had held the position of head bookkeeper, but on his withdrawal Eric was promoted to that important position and Phil became his assistant.

Eric was Mr. Spaythe’s only child and it was the banker’s earnest hope that the boy would, one day, succeed him. As is often the case, however, father and son were totally unlike in disposition and character, and those who knew them best were disposed to doubt Eric’s ability to step into his father’s shoes. He was a jolly, pleasure loving young fellow, now in his twentieth year, and Phil liked him and had always found him to be a congenial companion. Short and stout, with a round pink face and merry blue eyes, Eric Spaythe was a general favorite at Riverdale, especially with the women and girls. His one defect seemed to be that he was wholly irresponsible, and never serious. At school he had proved a bad scholar, although the boy was bright enough in other ways, and two years ago his father had taken him from High and placed him in the bank to learn the business.

The most important point of difference between Eric and his father was that the young man was a natural spendthrift, whereas Mr. Spaythe had always been frugal with his money. We may well suppose that this characteristic of Eric was a thorn in the banker’s flesh; but he realized that the boy was young and so did not despair of being able to instill in him a knowledge of the importance of husbanding his means. For this reason he allowed Eric a very small salary, and wondered how the boy could purchase so many fine clothes and articles of fashionable attire with so little money. The tradesmen knew, of course, but considered the banker’s son well entitled to credit.

Phil was accorded a kindly reception at the bank. Mr. Boothe turned his expressionless eyes full upon the new clerk and shook his hand automatically. Eric was delighted to have his old friend associated with him, and elated, as well, by his own promotion to be head bookkeeper. Mr. Spaythe, keenly interested in the important changes in his force of employees, left his private office to overlook the counting room and satisfy himself that the boys understood their duties. Eric protested that he was quite competent to fill Ned Thurber’s place, having been his assistant for the past two years; and, indeed, the banker’s son seemed adequately able in business ways, if he could be induced to keep his mind on his work. After inspecting his entries now and then Mr. Spaythe seemed satisfied with his son’s ability and turned his attention to Phil, who really needed a guiding hand. His extra course in bookkeeping at the high school now stood him in good stead, and he was intelligent enough to quickly grasp his instructions.

“If at any time you are in doubt, Eric will post you,” said the banker; but for several days he made it a point to frequently examine the ledgers and assure himself that the work was progressing satisfactorily. Afterward, so well did both Eric and Phil accomplish their tasks, that Mr. Spaythe left them much to their own devices and kept himself shut up in his private office, as formerly.

The mechanical cashier was not an especially companionable man. Mr. Boothe began each day with a “good morning” to his fellow employees and ended it with a brief “good night.” During the day he said nothing, unless required to answer the questions of the bank’s customers. His accounts were always absolutely accurate, and Mr. Spaythe knew he was justified in relying implicitly upon his cashier to do his duty.

That was a happy Saturday afternoon for Phil when he brought home his first week’s wages and deposited the new ten dollar gold-piece in Cousin Judith’s hand.

“That will help some, won’t it?” he inquired, anxiously.