Stratemeyer Edward
Out For Business or Robert Frost's Strange Career
CHAPTER XXIV.
PALMER CALLS UPON ROBERT'S MOTHER
Among the first to leave the opera house were Mrs. Talbot and her husband.
"I have had quite enough of this," said the lady to James Talbot. "The company and the play are both very poor."
"Perhaps you are right," he admitted. "I must say I looked for something much better myself. That poor butler couldn't act at all."
"He was dumstruck," said Mrs. Talbot, and felt compelled to laugh. "Poor fellow, he ought to go at some other line of work."
They were soon on the way home. Mr. Talbot had ordered a carriage to come for them when the performance was over, but this was not at hand, so they were forced to walk.
"I didn't make much by taking her out to-night," said the schemer to himself. "Next time I'll have to make sure that I am taking her to something that is really first-class."
When the pair reached home James Talbot wished his wife to come into the sitting-room, to talk over their business affairs. The fact of the matter was, he was running short of money, and he desired his wife to make him an advance.
"I have something of a headache, James," she said. "I think I had better retire early."
"I will not detain you long, my love," he answered.
Soon they were in the sitting-room and the lady dropped into an easy chair. He could not sit down, but began to walk up and down nervously.
"I hate very much to mention the matter to you, Sarah," he began, "but the fact is, a remittance from a man in Chicago who owes me quite some money has been delayed, and this has cut me short."
"Do you want money?"
"If you can spare it, I would like to have a hundred dollars or so until the remittance comes."
"Very well, you can have it in the morning," answered Mrs. Talbot quietly.
James Talbot had told her before they were married that he was fairly well-to-do, but since they had become man and wife she had not seen a dollar of his money.
It was true, he had a little money, or had had it, but the amount was less than a thousand dollars, and it was now tied up in a speculation that promised little or no return. James Talbot had no head for business, and even his wife was beginning to find that out. He could be miserly, but miserliness is not true economy. He pretended to deal in real estate, but he was too shiftless and lazy to apply himself to steady work.
"I will be all right as soon as the money comes," went on Talbot cheerfully. "After this I trust I shall never have to trouble you again."
"How is the real estate business progressing?" she asked.
"Fairly well. Granville is not a booming town."
"I know that."
"I am half of a mind to try my luck in Chicago. That is where they make fortunes in real estate every year."
"Perhaps; but they have to have a large capital to start on."
"Exactly, my love. But with a large capital it is a dead sure thing, for it cannot burn up, cannot be stolen from you, and constantly increases in value. What do you think of my plan to start in Chicago?"
"I am sure I have no objection, although I am comfortably situated here."
"You could keep this home if you wished—at least, at first, and I could come out every Saturday afternoon and remain until Monday. The trouble is, the venture would require quite some capital."
"I presume it would."
"If I had five or ten thousand dollars to spare, I would start at once."
"Haven't you that much, James?" she asked, with interest.
"Not in ready money. My cash is tied up in investments. But you could loan me the amount, couldn't you, my love?"
Mrs. Talbot's face flushed, and her eyes sought the floor. She had been afraid that this was what was coming.
"I—I suppose so," she faltered, hardly knowing what to say.
"Of course you would be secured. I would see to that."
"Yes, James, I would want that. For the money is to go to Robert, you know."
His face fell. "The boy always!" he thought. "Oh, I wish he would never be heard from again!"
"But if I make a barrel of money out of my investments, that must go to you," he said aloud.
"No, you shall keep the money," she replied. "I have as much as I will ever need."
In a few minutes more Mrs. Talbot retired. James Talbot walked the sitting-room floor with considerable satisfaction.
"Ten thousand dollars will be a nice sum," he mused, rubbing his horny hands together. "Robert, eh? Well, he'll never see the cash, I'll give James Talbot's word on that! It will be several years before he becomes of age, and who knows how much more of the fortune will come my way before that time?"
The morning paper contained a long and semi-humorous account of the performance of "All for Love." It said the actors and actresses were probably well-meaning amateurs who had yet much to learn before they would become successful in their profession. They advised the butler in the play to perfect himself in the part of a stuttering comedian! By the account it was evident that the play had come to a conclusion in a perfect uproar, and that many in the audience had demanded their money back.
James Talbot had gone off to his real estate office, to perfect his plans for opening up in Chicago, when the door-bell rang and Jane announced a visitor to see Mrs. Talbot.
"He gives his name as Livingston Palmer," said Jane.
"Livingston Palmer?" mused the lady of the house. "Why, where have I heard that before? Oh, I remember now. It was on that theatrical programme," and she looked it up to make sure. "He was that butler who started all the trouble. What can he want of me?"
She descended to the parlor to greet her visitor. Livingston Palmer was seated on the edge of a chair, his face far more careworn than ever before, and his clothing much soiled and torn.
"Good-morning," he said humbly. "This is Mrs. Talbot, who used to be Mrs. Frost, I believe."
"Yes," she answered.
"I am a stranger to you, madam, but I come from Chicago, and I am well acquainted with your son Robert."
"Indeed!" cried Mrs. Talbot, and her whole manner changed. "Is Robert in Chicago?"
"He is—or at least he was when I left there, two days ago."
"Can you tell me what he is doing?"
"He and I were clerks in a cut-rate ticket office. But a fire threw us both out of employment."
"And you joined a theatrical company," added Mrs. Talbot.
"How do you know that?"
"I was at the opera house last night and saw you on the stage."
For once in his life Livingston Palmer's face grew as red as a beet.
"You—er—witnessed that unfortunate affair," he stammered. "I—I–"
"I thought you were new at acting," said the lady candidly. "It was, as you say, unfortunate."
"The people used us meanly," exclaimed Palmer. "I was struck in half a dozen places, and my coat was nearly torn from my back, and in the struggle to get away I lost my money and could not find it again."
"When was this? I came away at the conclusion of the second act."
"It was after the play was over. A regular mob congregated around the stage door, and we could scarcely escape with our lives. I never shall go on the stage again, never!" And Palmer shook his head bitterly. He meant what he said, and let it be recorded here that he kept his word.
CHAPTER XXV.
ANOTHER TALK ABOUT ROBERT
Mrs. Talbot saw plainly that Livingston Palmer was suffering, both from humiliation and from the manner in which he had been treated physically, and her heart was touched.
"I am very sorry for you, Mr. Palmer," she said. "If there is anything I can do for you I will do it willingly. But I would first like to hear something of my son."
"I will tell you all I know," answered the young man quickly. "I was in hope that Robert's mother might aid me. We have been good friends. He's a splendid lad."
"Yes, Robert is a good boy and always was. Is he well?"
"Perfectly well, and was, as I said before, doing finely, until the fire threw us both out."
"How much was he getting a week?"
"Five dollars."
"I do not call that very good," cried Mrs. Talbot. "He cannot live very well on that in such a city as Chicago."
"He told me he had an allowance besides."
"An allowance?" Mrs. Talbot looked puzzled. "I can't understand that. I made him no allowance, for he would not permit it. He said he was going to make his own way in the world."
"Well, I can only tell you what he said," returned Livingston Palmer.
"Will you give me his address, so that I can write to him?"
"Why, haven't you his address? I am sure he wrote to you."
"I never got the letter." And then Mrs. Talbot's face flushed, as she remembered about the letter her husband had destroyed. Had she been deceived in the matter, after all?
"Then I will write the address down for you," said Palmer, and did so.
A long talk followed, and the young man told Mrs. Talbot all he knew about Robert, and also mentioned Dick Marden, but not in such a way that the lady suspected the allowance Robert received came from the miner.
Palmer frankly admitted that he was without means of any sort.
"If I were in Chicago, this would not matter so much," he added. "But in Granville I know nobody but you and the members of our company, or rather the company to which I belonged. I was discharged, and Dixon refuses to even give me my carfare back to the city."
"I shall be pleased to give you what you need," replied Mrs. Talbot. "I am overjoyed to learn that Robert is well. I am going to pay Chicago a visit soon, and then if he will not come to me I will go to him."
"He will come to you fast enough, madam. It is only his step-father whom he dreads."
"Yes, yes, I know." Mrs. Talbot thought best to change the subject. "Will you not have breakfast with me, Mr. Palmer?"
"With pleasure," answered the young man. "But I—er—I would like to brush and wash up first."
"To be sure." Mrs. Talbot surveyed him critically. "I really believe some of Robert's clothing would fit you. At least his coat would."
"Yes, his coat would."
"Then I can perhaps replace that torn garment you are wearing."
Mrs. Talbot was as good as her word, and half an hour later Livingston Palmer came down from the room Robert had occupied, thoroughly brushed and washed and wearing a coat and vest which had belonged to the boy. They were rather tight, it is true, but they were almost new, and a vast improvement over the ragged garments Palmer had worn upon presenting himself.
A substantial breakfast followed, of fish, omelet, hot rolls, and coffee, and it is perhaps needless to say that Palmer did full justice to all that was set before him. And small wonder, for he had eaten nothing since the afternoon of the day before.
It was nearly noon before the young man prepared to take his departure, with twenty dollars in his pocket, which he had insisted should be a loan only, to be paid back as soon as the opportunity afforded.
"I am very grateful to you, Mrs. Talbot," he said, on parting. "You have treated me like a king. Why Robert should leave such a home and such a mother I can't understand."
Mrs. Talbot was visibly affected.
"It was entirely on his step-father's account, Mr. Palmer. Robert is high spirited and would not bend as Mr. Talbot wished."
"Then let me be bold enough to say that I imagine Robert was in the right."
To this Mrs. Talbot made no reply. But she begged Palmer to keep an eye on her son, and if anything went wrong to let her know by sending her a letter in care of the postmaster, and marked for personal delivery only. Then Palmer hurried away, to catch the first train he could for the great city by the lakes.
When her visitor was gone Mrs. Talbot sat down to review the situation in her mind. Her thoughts were not pleasant ones. Her second marriage was proving to be anything but agreeable. She realized that her husband was not the man she had imagined him to be.
Dinner was on the table at twelve, for Mr. Talbot insisted on having his main meal at mid-day. Yet the man did not come in until nearly half an hour later, and then he appeared to be much put out about something.
"I understand you had a visitor this morning," he began, as he and his wife sat down to the table, and Jane brought on the food.
"Yes."
"Some friend of that reckless son of yours," went on Mr. Talbot. "What did Robert send him for, money?"
Mrs. Talbot was surprised.
"How did you learn my visitor was a friend of Robert?" she asked.
"I got it from Sproggens at the depot. He was talking with the fellow while he was waiting for a train. I hope you didn't encourage him, Sarah. If the boy sees fit to run away and stay away, let him make his own way."
"That is just what Robert is doing, James," cried the lady, her face flushing.
"Then why did Robert send that young man here?"
"He didn't send him here."
"Humph!" James Talbot was on the point of saying that he did not believe the statement, but cut himself short. If he angered his wife now he might have trouble in getting the five or ten thousand dollars she had said she would loan him.
"The young man belonged to that theatrical company we went to see," continued Mrs. Talbot. "He knew Robert and so he thought he would call here and see me."
"What did he have to say about the boy?"
"He said Robert had been doing very well, but a fire burnt out the office in which he was employed."
"And what is the boy doing now?"
"Nothing, just at present."
"He won't find it easy to get another opening."
"Mr. Palmer said Robert might go up to Michigan in a few days. He had to do something for a man interested in some timber lands in the upper part of that State."
"Humph! I shouldn't wonder if the boy came home soon. He'll get tired of roughing it."
"Robert has a stout heart, Mr. Talbot, and I doubt if he ever comes home so long as you are here."
And with these words Mrs. Talbot arose and swept from the dining room, hardly having touched a mouthful of the food Jane had taken so much pains to prepare.
James Talbot finished his meal in silence, and ate as heartily as ever, for seldom did anything interfere with his appetite. From the kitchen Jane eyed him in a manner which was anything but agreeable.
"The old gorilla," she said to herself, as she rattled the pans angrily. "He ought to be thrown out of the house. If it wasn't for the poor mistress, sure and I wouldn't stay another minute. I wish the victuals would choke him." And then she vowed that the next time she fixed the dessert she would make Mr. Talbot's portion so bad that he could not eat it.
CHAPTER XXVI.
ROBERT SPEAKS HIS MIND
Robert waited for two days for a letter from Dick Marden. In the meantime he went down to the police station twice to learn if anything had been found out about Jim Huskin.
"We telegraphed to Muskegon and several other points," said the officer in charge. "But so far no one has seen the rascal."
In the evening mail of the second day came two letters for the boy, both of which he perused with great interest.
The first was from his mother, telling of the meeting with Livingston Palmer, and of what the would-be actor had told her.
"I am glad to hear that you have not suffered so far, Robert," she wrote. "But I am afraid that the fire may prove an unexpected set-back for you, and so I enclose twenty dollars, which may come in useful. So far I have received no letter from you, although Mr. Palmer says you have written. When you write again send it in care of the postmaster, and mark it for personal delivery only. Then I am sure Mr. Blarcomb will give it to me and to nobody else."
It may be imagined that Robert was indignant.
"I'll wager old Talbot stole that letter," he told himself. "And I guess mother thinks as much. Oh, what a mistake she made in marrying that man! I'll write her another letter this very night." And he did so, and posted it before retiring. In the communication he told her to beware of his step-father and not trust him in money matters, as she might be very sorry for it.
"It's best to open her eyes," he reasoned, "even if it does cause her pain."
The second letter was from Dick Marden, enclosing the order from Felix Amberton for the map. In this the old miner urged Robert to obtain the document at the earliest possible moment.
"Our enemies are hedging us in and intend to proceed against us in the county court in a day or two," he added. "As soon as we get the map we will know just where we stand, and our lawyer will know exactly what claims he can make. My uncle is of the opinion that the other side is making a big bluff in the hope that we will offer to compromise."
"I'll go and get the document the first thing in the morning," Robert told himself. "And if all goes well I'll be on my way to Timberville by noon."
With the money recovered from Andy Cross, and with what his mother had sent to him, he now had ample funds for the trip. After writing the letter to his parent, he packed his valise, that nothing might delay his start.
A surprise awaited him the next morning just after he had left the dining room, and while he was telling Mrs. Gibbs that he intended to go away, to be gone an indefinite time.
"A gentleman to see Mr. Frost," announced the girl, and entering the parlor Robert found himself confronted by his step-father.
"Good-morning, Robert," said James Talbot, smiling affably and extending his hand.
"Good-morning, Mr. Talbot," replied our hero coldly. He pretended not to see the outstretched hand.
"I suppose you are surprised to see me here," began Mr. Talbot awkwardly.
"I am surprised. How did you learn my address?"
"Never mind that now, Robert. I came to see how you are getting along."
"You ought to know. You got my letter, even if my mother didn't," answered Robert bitterly.
"I got no letter, my lad, upon my honor I did not. I came out of pure friendliness to you."
"Then let me tell you that I am doing very well."
"I heard something about your being out of work on account of a fire."
"Did Mr. Gray tell you?"
"Never mind who told me." James Talbot cleared his throat. "As you are out of work I thought perhaps that you would like to come to work for me."
"Work for you!"
"Exactly. I don't mean for you to go back to Granville. I am going to open a real-estate office in Chicago, and I shall want a clerk. I understand that you take to that sort of thing."
"I don't believe I'll take to clerking for you," returned Robert bluntly.
"Ahem! That is rather harsh of you, Robert. I mean to do well by you. Why not take a fresh start? I am sure we shall get along very well together."
"Are you going to give up the office you opened in Granville?"
"Not just yet. But I may in the future—after the office here is in full blast. I expect to make a big thing of the business here."
"A big business here means the investment of a lot of money," said the boy shrewdly. "Where is that to come from?"
"Never mind about the money. It will be forthcoming as it is needed."
"Is my mother going to let you have some of her money?"
"If she did, it would be no more than right that she should depend upon her husband in her investments."
"I wouldn't advise her to depend upon you. With your own money you can do as you please, but I don't think you ought to touch any of her funds."
"You are decidedly plain-spoken, boy!" cried James Talbot, frowning.
"Because one must speak plainly to such a man as you, Mr. Talbot. I don't know why my mother married you, but I think I know why you married my mother."
"And why?"
"To get hold of her money."
James Talbot leaped from the chair upon which he had been sitting. He was enraged, but quickly calmed himself.
"You are entirely mistaken, boy, entirely mistaken. Why, I have all the money I want."
"I saw you borrow fifty dollars from my mother once."
"Merely a bit of accommodation because I didn't have the cash handy. Why I can draw my check for twenty or thirty thousand dollars if I wish to."
Robert did not believe the statement. Yet as he had no way to disprove it, he remained silent on the point.
"Then you are going to use your own money entirely in this real estate venture in Chicago?"
"Well—er—most likely. Of course I may become pushed for ready cash at times and will then look to your mother to help me out a little. Every man, no matter how well off, gets pushed at times, when he cannot turn his securities into ready cash, you know."
"I shall advise my mother to keep her fortune in her own hands."
"You will!" James Talbot became more enraged than ever. "Don't you dare to interfere between my wife and myself."
"I will do all I can to keep her money out of your reach."
"Perhaps you want it yourself?" sneered Talbot.
"No, I want her to keep it and enjoy it as long as she lives. I don't believe you are any kind of a business manager, and if she put the money in your care she might be a beggar in a year or two."
"Boy, boy, this to me! me, your father!" cried Talbot.
"You are not my father, Mr. Talbot, and you need not call yourself such. My father was a far better man than you are, I can tell you that. He made his own way in the world, just as I am trying to do, and ask no favors from anybody."
"You are impertinent—a thorough good-for-nothing!" howled James Talbot, hardly knowing what to say. "I want to do you a kindness, and this is the way you receive me. I will not speak to you longer. But don't you dare to set my wife against me, or there will be trouble, mind that—there will be trouble!"
And thus talking he left the parlor, clapped his silk hat on his head, and dashed from the boarding house.
