Dennison Grant Part 23

"This is our home," she said, stopping before a little gate. Grant's eye followed the pathway to a cottage set back among the trees. "I live here with my sister and brother and mother. Father is dead," she went on hurriedly, as though wishing to place before him a quick digest of the family affairs, "and we keep up the home by living on with mother as boarders; that is, Grace and I do. Hubert is still in high school. Won't you come in?"

He followed her up the path and into a little hall, lighted only by chance rays falling through a half-opened door. She did not switch on the current, and Grant was aware of a comfortable sense of her nearness, quite distinct from any office experience, as she took his hat. In the living-room her mother received him with visible surprise. She was not old, but widowhood and the cares of a young family had whitened her hair before its time.

"We are glad to see you, Mr. Grant," she said. "It is an unexpected pleasure. Big business men do not often--"

"Mr. Grant is different," her daughter interrupted, lightly. "I found him wandering the streets and I just--retrieved him."

"I think I AM different," he admitted, as his eye took in the surroundings, which he appraised quickly as modest comfort, attained through many little economies and makeshifts. "You are very happy here,"

he went on, frankly. "Much more so, I should say, than in many of the more pretentious homes. I have always contended that, beyond the margin necessary for decent living, the possession of money is a burden and a handicap, and I see no reason to change my opinion."

"Phyllis is a great help to me--and Grace," the mother observed. "I hope she is a good girl in the office."

Grant was hurrying an a.s.sent but the girl interrupted, perhaps wishing to relieve him of the necessity of an answer.

"'Decent living' is a very elastic term," she remarked. "There are so many standards. Some women think they must have maids and social status--whatever that is--and so on. It can't be done on mother's income."

"That quality is not confined to women," Grant said. "I know I am regarded as something of a freak because I prefer to live simply. They can't understand my preference for a plain room to read and sleep in, for quiet walks by myself when I might be buzzing around in big motor cars or revelling with a bunch at the club. I suppose it's a puzzle to them."

Miss Bruce had seated herself near him. "They are beginning to offer explanations," she said. "I hear them--such things always filter down.

They say you are mean and n.i.g.g.ardly--that you're afraid to spend a dollar. The fact that you have raised the wages of your staff doesn't seem to answer them; they rather hold that against you, because it has a tendency to make them do the same. Other office staffs are going to their heads and saying, 'Grant is paying his help so much.' That doesn't popularize you. To be a good fellow you should hold your staff down to the lowest wages at which you can get service, and the money you save in this way should be spent with gusto and abandon at expensive hotels and other places designed to keep rich people from getting too rich."

"I am afraid you are satirizing them a little, but there is a good deal in what you say. They think I'm mean because they don't understand me, and they can't understand my point of view. I believe that money was created as a medium for the exchange of value. I think they will all agree with me there. If that is so, then I have no right to money unless I have given value for it, and that is where they part company with me; but surely we can't accept the one fact without the other."

Grant found himself thumbing his pockets. "You may smoke, if you have tobacco," said Mrs. Bruce. "My husband smoked, and although I did not approve of it then, I think I must have grown to like it."

He lighted a cigarette, and continued. "Not all the moral law was given on Mount Sinai. It seems to me that the supernaturalism which has been introduced into the story of the Ten Commandments is most unfortunate.

It seems to remove them out of the field of natural law, whereas they are, really, natural law itself. No social state can exist where they are habitually ignored. But of course these natural laws existed long before Moses. He did not make the law; he discovered it, just as Newton discovered the law of gravitation. Well--there must be many other natural laws, still undiscovered, or at least unaccepted. The thing is to discover them, to obey them, and, eventually, to compel others to obey them. I am no Moses, but I think I have the germ of the law which would cure our economic ills--that no person should be allowed to receive value without earning it. Because I believed in that I gave up a fortune and went to work as a laborer on a ranch, but Fate has forced wealth upon me, doubtless in order that I may prove out my own theories.

Well, that is what I am doing."

"It shouldn't be hard to get rid of money if you don't want it," Mrs.

Bruce ventured.

"But it is. It is the hardest kind of thing. You see, I am limited by my principles. I believe it is morally wrong to receive money without earning it; consequently I cannot give it away, as by doing so I would place the recipient in that position. I believe it is morally wrong to spend on myself money which I have not earned; consequently I can spend only what I conceive to be a reasonable return for my services.

Meanwhile, my wealth keeps rolling up."

"It's a knotty problem," said Phyllis. "I think there is only one solution."

"And that is?--"

"Marry a woman who is a good spender."

At this moment Grace and Hubert came in from the picture-show together, and the conversation turned to lighter topics. Mrs. Bruce insisted on serving tea and cake, and when Grant found that he must go Phyllis accompanied him to the gate.

"This all seems so funny," she was saying. "You are a very remarkable man."

"I think I once pa.s.sed a similar opinion about you."

She extended her hand, and he held it for a moment. "I have not changed my first opinion," he said, as he released her fingers and turned quickly down the pavement.

CHAPTER XIII

Grant's first visit to the home of his private stenographer was not his last, and the news leaked out, as it is sure to do in such cases. The social set confessed to being on the point of being shocked. Two schools of criticism developed over the five o'clock tea tables; one held that Grant was a gay dog who would settle down and marry in his cla.s.s when he had had his fling, and the other that Phyllis Bruce was an artful hussy who was quite ready to sell herself for the Grant millions. And there were so many eligible young women on the market, although none of them were described as artful hussies!

Grant's behavior, however, placed him under no cloud in so far as social opportunities were concerned; on the contrary, he found himself being showered with invitations, most of which he managed to decline on the grounds of pressure of business. When such an excuse would have been too transparent he accepted and made the best of it, and he found no lack of encouragement in the one or two incipient amorous flurries which resulted. From such positions he always succeeded in extricating himself, with a quiet smile at the vagaries of life. He had to admit that some of the young women whom he had met had charms of more than pa.s.sing moment; he might easily enough find himself chasing the rainbow....

Mrs. LeCord carried the warfare into his own office. The late Mr. LeCord had left her to face the world with a comfortable fortune and three daughters, of whom the youngest was now married and the oldest was a forlorn hope. To place the second was now her purpose, and the best bargain on the market was young Grant. Caroline, she was sure, would make a very acceptable wife, and the young lady herself confessed a belief that she could love even a bold Westerner whose bank balance was expressed in seven figures.

The fact that Grant avoided social functions only added zest to the determination with which Mrs. LeCord carried the war into his own office. She chose to consult him for advice on financial matters and she came accompanied by Caroline, a young woman rather prepossessing in her own right. The two were readily admitted into Grant's private office, where they had opportunity not only to meet the young man in person, but to satisfy their curiosity concerning the Bruce girl.

"I am Mrs. LeCord, Mr. Grant," the lady introduced herself. "This is my daughter Caroline. We wish to consult you on certain financial matters, privately, if you please."

Grant received them cordially. "I shall be glad to advise you, if I can," he said.

Mrs. LeCord cast a significant glance at Phyllis Bruce.

"Miss Bruce is my private stenographer. You may speak with perfect freedom."

Mrs. LeCord took up her subject after a moment's silence. "Mr. LeCord left me not entirely unprovided for," she explained. "Almost a million dollars in bonds and real estate made a comfortable protection for me and my three daughters against the buffetings of a world which, as you may have found, Mr. Grant, is not over-considerate."

"The buffetings of the world are an excellent training for the world's affairs."

"Maybe so, maybe so," his visitor conceded. "However, there are other trainings--trainings of finer quality, Mr. Grant--than those which have to do with subsistence. I have been able to give my daughters the best education that money could command, and, if I do say it, I permit myself some gratification over the result. Gretta is comfortably and happily married,--a young man of some distinction in the financial world--a Mr.

Powers, Mr. Newton Powers--you may happen to know him; Madge, I think, is always going to be her mother's girl; Caroline is still heart-free, although one can never tell--"

"Oh, mother!" the girl protested, blushing daintily.

"I said you could never tell, Mr. Grant,--while handsome young men like yourself are at large." Mrs. LeCord laughed heartily, as much as to say that her remark must be regarded only as a little pleasantry. "But you will think I am a gossipy old body," she continued briskly. "I really came to discuss certain financial matters. Since Mr. LeCord's death I have taken charge of all the family business affairs with, if I may confess it, some success. We have lived, and my girls have been educated, and our little reserve against a rainy day has been almost doubled, in addition to giving Gretta a hundred thousand in her own right on the occasion of her marriage. Caroline is to have the same, and when I am done with it there will be a third of the estate for each. In the meantime I am directing my investments as wisely as I can. I want my daughters to be provided for, quite apart from any income marriage may bring them. I should be greatly humiliated to think that any daughter of mine would be dependent upon her husband for support. On the contrary, I mean that they shall bring to their husbands a sum which will be an appreciable contribution toward the family fortune."

"If I can help you in any way in your financial matters--" Grant suggested.

"Oh, yes, we must get back to that. How I wander! I'm afraid, Mr. Grant, I must be growing old."

Grant protested gallantly against such conclusion, and Mrs. LeCord, after asking his opinion on certain issues shortly to be floated, arose to leave.

"You must find life in this city somewhat lonely, Mr. Grant," she murmured as she drew on her gloves. "If ever you find a longing for a quiet hour away from business stress--a little domesticity, if I may say it--our house--"

"You are very kind. Business allows me very few intermissions. Still--"

She extended her hand with her sweetest smile. Caroline shook hands, too, and Grant bowed them out.

On other occasions Mrs. LeCord and her daughter were fortunate enough to find Grant alone, and at such times the mother's conversation became even more pointed than in their first interview. Grant hesitated to offend her, mainly on account of Caroline, for whom he admitted to himself it would not be at all difficult to muster up an attachment.

There were, however, three barriers to such a development. One was the obvious purpose of Mrs. LeCord to arrange a match; a purpose which, as a mere matter of the game, he could not allow her to accomplish. One was Zen Transley. There was no doubt about it. Zen Transley stood between him and marriage to any girl. Not that he ever expected to take her into his life, or be admitted into hers, but in some way she hedged him about. He felt that everything was not yet settled; he found himself entertaining a foolish sense that everything was not quite irrevocable.... And then there was--perhaps--Phyllis Bruce.

When at length, for some reason, Mrs. LeCord visited him alone he decided to be frank with her.