Dick Hamilton's Fortune Part 6

said d.i.c.k, for the term at the academy, where he attended, had recently closed. "I've come into some money lately," he said modestly, for he had not spoken of his fortune to any one yet, "and I want to invest some of my spare cash."

"I'll tell you the very thing!" exclaimed Simon. "I know a stock that's bound to go up ten points in a few days."

"No stocks or bonds for me until I know a little more about them,"

objected d.i.c.k.

"But this is a sure thing," insisted Simon. "I got a tip on it from a friend in New York."

"I've read of too many 'sure things' going wrong," said d.i.c.k with a laugh. "I think I'll try real estate for a starter."

Simon looked a little disappointed, but he made up his mind he would try d.i.c.k again on that subject, and a strange, cunning look came into his face.

During the trip back Simon tried to learn from the millionaire's son more about his new wealth, but d.i.c.k did not give him much satisfaction.

However, Simon was sharp, and by dint of skillful hints and questions learned more than d.i.c.k thought he had told. Guy, too, was much interested, and a visible change came over his manner.

Guy's father, Peter Fletcher, was president of the Hamilton Trust Company, and, though Mr. Hamilton owned most of the stock of the concern, and had only placed Mr. Fletcher at the head of the inst.i.tution for business reasons, Guy gave himself as many airs as though his father owned the bank. Learning that d.i.c.k had come into possession of some wealth on his own account, though he did not know the source, Guy was somewhat inclined to toady to the youth with whom he was on more or less friendly terms.

It was two days after this, when the evening papers arrived in Hamilton Corners, that a mild sensation was created. There, on the front pages, was what purported to be a picture of d.i.c.k Hamilton, while under it was the caption, in big letters:

THE MILLIONAIRE YOUTH.

Then followed a garbled, but fairly correct, account of how d.i.c.k, through the will of his mother, had come into possession of fabulous wealth. Of course the figure was put much higher than it really was. In fact, no one but Mr. Hamilton was aware of the exact amount, but this did not stop the writer of the article from guessing at it.

d.i.c.k was described as a modern King Midas, and he was credited with sleeping in an ivory bed and eating off of gold plates and the rarest of cut gla.s.s. Nothing was said about the peculiar provisions of the will regarding the investment he was to make; but the boundless opportunities open to a youth with unlimited wealth at his disposal were all pointed out.

"Well, if that isn't the limit!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, when he saw the paper.

"I wonder who did it?"

Perhaps if he had asked Simon Scardale that question that youth might have been confused, but d.i.c.k never thought of it.

"It certainly is very unpleasant notoriety," remarked Mr. Hamilton, "but you'll have to put up with it. You are a sort of ward of the public now, and the newspapers think they have a proprietary interest in you. I have been through it all, and so has nearly every other person of wealth. The best way is to pay no attention to it, and to treat with courtesy any newspaper men who may wish to interview you. They have a hard enough life, and if our doings, to a certain extent, interest them, why I, for one, am willing to oblige them as far as I can. I suppose the transferring to your name of some stocks and bonds, that were your mother's, has started this piece of news. Well, you have achieved a certain degree of fame, d.i.c.k, my boy."

And d.i.c.k found this out to his cost. The article in one paper was followed by others in various journals, until d.i.c.k's wealth had been made the comment of newspaper reporters and editors in many cities. But, through it all the youth kept a level head.

CHAPTER V

d.i.c.k AIDS HENRY

"Where are you going to-day, d.i.c.k?" asked Mr. Hamilton after breakfast one morning.

"I thought of taking a run in my car. I've bought that property I was telling you about. I think it will be a good investment, and it only took five hundred dollars to secure it. I talked to the agent, and he said I was sure to be able to sell it for a thousand at the end of the year."

"Humph! Well--er--of course, you can't believe all that a real-estate agent says, d.i.c.k."

"No, of course. I'm making allowances for that, and I figure that it ought to be worth at least eight hundred a year from now. That will clear me three hundred."

"Well, you can do as you like about it. By the way, I had a visit at the bank yesterday from an agent for a motor boat concern. He said you had ordered a boat from them, and he wanted to know if it was all right."

"I did, dad. I've always wanted one. I hope you told him it was all right."

"I told him to see you about it. I have no objection to you purchasing one of the craft. Only be careful when you go out on the lake. There are sudden storms on it, and you might be in danger."

"I'll be careful, dad. I guess I'll just run over to the motor boat place in my car and see if the boat is ready to deliver. They had to order one from the factory for me."

As d.i.c.k was riding through the town at an easy pace he pa.s.sed a rather dilapidated looking house, in front of which stood a youth, at the sight of whom d.i.c.k called:

"h.e.l.lo, Henry! Want a ride?"

"Thanks, d.i.c.k," was Henry Darby's answer. "But I can't go."

"Why not?" asked the millionaire's son, as he brought his runabout to a stop.

"Well, I'm engaged in a little business deal, and I'm so bothered over it that I wouldn't enjoy a ride. Besides, I have to go see a man."

"What's the business about, Henry? That same old iron?"

"That's it."

"But what are you bothered about?"

"Well, the truth is I have a chance to get hold of a lot of sc.r.a.p at a very low figure. But the trouble is I must pay cash for it. I looked at it the other day, and told the man I'd take it. I figured then on having the money. Now I find I haven't got it."

"Did you lose it?"

"No," and Henry spoke hesitatingly. "But you see my father had an idea he could make some money by becoming agent for a new kind of soap. He borrowed my cash and sent for a big supply; but when he got it no one would buy it. So he has it on hand, and my money is gone. Of course what I have is my father's until I'm of age, but----"

Henry stopped. In spite of the selfish and lazy character of his parent he was not going to utter any complaint against him.

"How much money do you need to buy this iron?" asked d.i.c.k, a sudden resolve coming into his mind.

"It will take fifty dollars; but it might just as well be five hundred as far as I'm concerned. I could get it together in about a month, but it's out of the question now. I'm just on my way to tell the man I can't take the iron. It's too bad, as it's a bargain, and I could easily make considerable on the deal."

While Henry was speaking d.i.c.k had drawn a little red book from his pocket, and was busily writing in it with a fountain pen. He tore out a slip of paper and handed it to his friend.

"There, Henry," he said, "if you take that to the Hamilton National Bank they'll give you cash for it."

"But what is it--I don't understand--a check for fifty dollars!"

exclaimed the other youth.

"That's what it is," replied d.i.c.k smiling. "It's a present from me, Henry."

"A present! I'm sorry, but I can't take it, d.i.c.k. I'm very much obliged to you, but it wouldn't be business, you know. I don't want anything I don't earn."

"But I have lots more," insisted d.i.c.k. "In fact, I'd never miss that sum."