Old Ebenezer Part 2

"It's a five," Warren gasped.

"Glad it's that much; change it, please."

"I'll go out and get it changed."

"Don't put yourself to that much trouble. Give it to Sammy and I bet he'll change it in a jiffy, for it don't take a lawyer more than a minute to do such things."

Caruthers looked up with a squint in his eye.

"I think," said Lyman, "that we'd better let him go out and get the change; that is, unless my partner can accommodate us."

"I have nothing short of a twenty," Caruthers replied, shutting his eyes.

"Then run along, son, and fetch me the change," said the old man. "But hold on a minute," he added, as Warren made a glad lunge toward the door. "Be sure that the money changers in the temple don't cheat you, for I hear they are a bad lot, and me and Jimmie and Lige have agreed that they ought to have been lashed out long ago."

"They have never succeeded in getting any money out of me," Warren laughed; and as he was going out he said to Lyman: "I am going to flash this five in the face of the Express Company. I didn't know before that your pen was made of a feather s.n.a.t.c.hed from an angel's wing."

"Yes, sir," Uncle Buckley began, looking at Lyman, and then at Caruthers, "we have missed him mightily. Mother says he was the most uncertain man to cook for she ever run across. Sometimes he'd eat a good deal, and then for days, while he was a studyin' of his law, and especially when he was a writin' and a tearin' up, he wouldn't eat hardly anything. So you see he kept things on the dodge all the time, and that of itself was enough to make him interestin' to the women folks. We've had it pretty lively out in Fox Grove. The neighbors all wanted me to split off and go along with them into the new party, but I told 'em all my ribs was made outen hickory and was Andy Jackson Democrat. But the new party swept everything and got into power; and I want to know if anybody ever saw such a mess as they made of the legislature."

The old man began to move uneasily and to glance about with an anxious expression in his eye. "Sammy," said he, "of course I know you, but I ain't expected to know everybody."

"Yes," said Lyman, smiling at him.

"Well, it just occurred to me whether I wa'n't jest a little brash to let that young feller off with that money. In the excitement of the town he might forget to come back."

"Don't worry; he'll be back. There he comes now."

Warren came in, his face beaming, and gave the old man the money due him. Uncle Buckley looked at him a moment, and then, with an air of contrite acknowledgment, shook his head as he seriously remarked:

"I done you an injury jest now, by sorter questionin' whether you wouldn't run off with that change, and I want to ask your pardon."

"Oh, that's all right," Warren laughed.

"No, it ain't all right, and I want to apologize right here in the presence of----"

"All right, you may tie it on as a ribbon if you want to, but it isn't necessary. Now you sit over here with me and tell me all about yourself and your neighborhood, for I'm going to give you a write-up that'll be a beauty to behold. You fellows go ahead with your nodding, and don't pay any attention to us. But you want to listen. Come to my sanctum, Mr. Lightfoot."

"I reckon it's safe," said the old man, following him. Caruthers turned his slow eyes upon Lyman. "Has that old fellow got any money?"

he asked.

"Well, he's not a pauper."

"Suppose we could strike him for a hundred for six months?"

"No, he's a friend of mine."

"But," said Caruthers, "if we are going to raise money we'll have to borrow from friends. Our enemies won't let us have it."

"That's true, but our enemies in protecting themselves should not be permitted to drive us against our friends. That old man would let me have every cent he has. But he has labored more than forty years for his competence, and I will not rob him of a penny."

"Rob him," Caruthers spoke up with energy. "We'll pay him back."

"How?"

"Oh, you know how. With a little money we can get a start. We can rent an office on the ground floor, and then business will come."

"Yes," said Lyman, "but I don't want that old man to be mixed up in the excitement. Suppose we try the bank."

"You try it. McElwin does not care for me particularly. Suppose you go over and see him. Offer him a mortgage on our library."

"I'll do it. Wait until Uncle Buckley has been pumped; I want to bid him good-bye."

"Go through there, and see him on your way out. The bank will be closed pretty soon."

"All right. But don't hang a hope on the result."

Lyman shook hands with Uncle Buckley, and then went across the street to the First National Bank, the financial pride of Old Ebenezer. The low brick building stood as a dollar mark, to be stared at by farmers who had heard of the great piles of gold heaped therein, and James McElwin, as with quick and important step he pa.s.sed along the street, was gazed upon with an intentness almost religious. Numerous persons claimed kinship with him, and the establishment of third or fourth degree of cousinhood had lifted more than one family out of obscurity.

The bank must have had a surplus of twenty thousand dollars, a glaring sum in the eyes of the grinding tradesmen about the public square. An ill.u.s.trated journal in the East had printed McElwin's picture, together with a brief history of his life. The biographer called him a self-made man, and gave him great credit for having scrambled for dimes in his youth, that he might have dollars in middle life. That he had once gone hungry rather than pay more than the worth of a meal at an old negro's "snack house," was set forth as a "sub-headed" virtue.

He had married above him, the daughter of a neighboring "merchant,"

whose name was stamped on every shoe he sold. The old man died a bankrupt, but the daughter, the wife of the rising capitalist, remained proud and cool with dignity. The union was ill.u.s.trated with one picture, a girl, to become a belle, a handsome creature, with a mysterious money grace, with a real beauty of hair, mouth and eyes.

The envious said that circ.u.mstances served to make an imperious simpleton of her.

It was this man, with these connections, that Lyman crossed the street to see. But to the lawyer it was not so adventurous as grimly humorous. His Yankee shrewdness had p.r.o.nounced the man a pretentious fraud.

The banker was in his private office, busy with his papers. Lyman heard him say to the negro who took in his name: "Mr. Lyman! I don't know why he should want to see me. But tell him to come in."

As Lyman entered the banker looked up and said: "Well, sir."

Lyman sat down and crossed his legs. The banker looked at his feet, then at his head.

"Mr. McElwin," said Lyman, "we have not met before, though I, of course, have seen you often, but----"

"Well, sir, go on."

"Yes, that's what I am doing. I say that we have not met, but I board at the house of a relative of yours, and I therefore feel that I know you."

"Board with a relative of mine?" the banker gasped.

"Yes, with Jasper Staggs, and I want to tell you that he is about as kind hearted an old fellow as I ever met, quaint and accommodating.

He is a cousin of yours, I believe."

"Well,--er, yes. But state your business, if you please. I am very busy."

"I presume so, sir, but I am afraid that my business may not strike you in a very favorable way. I want to borrow one hundred dollars."

"Upon what collateral, sir?"

"Mainly upon the collateral of honor."