Round the Block Part 58

He sprang from his chair, and strode toward the lad. He was met halfway by Bog, whom the insulting epithet had stung to the quick.

A foe met halfway is half vanquished. A single glance at Bog's clear, courageous eye, and his sinewy proportions, a.s.sured young Van Quintem that he had more than his match.

"This--this is no place for a row," he faltered. "I'll attend to you, some time, in the street."

"I shall always be ready for you," said Bog, smiling at this pusillanimous postponement--which is a mild way of making a clear backout.

Here the attention of all was called off by the appearance of Miss Minford. The quick ear of the milliner had caught her footstep on the stairs, coming down. She unlocked the door, and the beautiful object of their search stood before them. She was very pale, and tears dimmed her eyes. Mrs. Crull flew toward her, and the poor girl fell on her breast, and cried as if her heart would break.

Good Mrs. Crull helped her to a sofa, and sat down, and strained her young friend closely to her bosom, "Be calm," said she, "dear child!"

Old Van Quintem and Bog looked on with sad interest. The young villain stood in a corner, gnawing his finger nails, and revolving schemes of vengeance. All waited for Miss Minford to become calm before any explanation was sought.

Under the soothing caresses of Mrs. Crull, the young girl soon became comparatively tranquil. With her head still pillowed on the broad bosom of her protectress, she made a broken statement to the following effect, in response to the tender questionings of that lady:

She said that she had no thought of leaving the house of her dear friend, until he had told her how much better it would be to earn her own living at some easy and pleasant trade, than to be dependent on one who was not a relative. He had also told her that, one day, when he was pa.s.sing the house, he heard Mr. Crull scolding because Mrs. Crull had brought a girl home to be her companion.

At this point, Mrs. Crull turned furiously toward the pale offender.

"You miserable wretch!" said she. "I only wish my dear old man was here, to thrash you soundly. Why, he loved this little darling almost as much as I did. Besides, I'm the mistress of our house; and he never meddles with my affairs. Go on, dear Pet."

Pet then stated that he (she never called him by his name) had promised to get a place for her, and that she, supposing he was a true friend, had accepted the offer of his aid. One day, when they had met by appointment (which was very wrong, she admitted, with a fresh torrent of tears), he told her that he had found a nice situation for her in a milliner's shop in Greenpoint, and that she must come right away, or she would lose the chance. She went home, and packed up her few things in a handkerchief, and came with him here in a carriage. She came directly here, and had not been out of Mrs. Wopping's sight since then. Mrs.

Wopping had treated her very, very kindly.

Mrs. Wopping, who had been lying in wait for her opportunity, here spoke up. She was a respectable woman, she said, thank G.o.d! and had been in the business for fifteen years, in New York. They could inquire about her in Ca.n.a.l street, where she had served her apprenticeship; in Division street, where she had been a forewoman; and in Grand street, where she had kept a shop. In an evil hour, she had been persuaded to start a millinery establishment in Greenpoint; and a very bad time she had had of it. All she knew about this unfortunate affair, was this: The young man, there, had called on her, a few days ago, and said that he wanted to do a favor for an orphan girl, who was a distant relative of his. She was poor, he said, but proud--no strange thing, Mrs. Wopping believed--and would not accept anything directly from him.

"Therefore," said Mrs. Wopping, "he wanted to arrange with me to give her some easy work to do, enough to make her think she was earning her own living, and he would pay me her board, and give me twenty shillings a week to hand to her as her wages. By this plan, I could get a boarder at a fair price, and the services of a young lady to wait on the shop for nothing. Very imprudently, I consented, but not before I had made the young man there swear to Heaven that his intentions were honorable.

This he did in the most solemn manner. I loved the dear girl at first sight, and determined to watch over her, and keep her from harm. I had a little sister once--long since dead--that much resembled her. I should add, that, though Miss Minford seemed to think very well of the young man there, when he brought her here, she became quite suspicious of him yesterday--he was here all yesterday afternoon--and refused to ride out with him, though he had brought a handsome carriage for her. I advised her not to go."

"Thank you, good Mrs. Wopping!" said Mrs. Crull, shaking that lady by the hand, "you have been a true friend to our dear child; and I'll order my bonnets from you for the futer. Virtue shouldn't always be its own reward.

"You see, now, my darling," continued Mrs. Crull, "what a scoundrel you have escaped from. Will you be my adopted child forever? Speak, my precious!"

Poor Pet threw her soft white arms around the thick neck of her protectress, and cried for joy. "Dear, dear mother!" she murmured.

There was a pause, daring which everybody but young Van Quintem had occasion to wipe their eyes. He paced up and down, his brow wrinkled, and inextinguishable hate flashing from his eyes.

"Well, sir," said his father, calmly, "what atonement have you to make for this outrage?"

"You're a ---- old fool, and that's all I've got to say."

"Heaven be praised that his poor mother was not spared for this sorrow!"

was the tranquil reply.

"Curse you--and the old woman's memory. You're always making a fuss about her."

The benignant expression of old Van Quintem's face vanished instantly, and a just rage gleamed on every feature. "Unnatural son! monster!

fiend!" he cried, raising his hands aloft; "at last you have gone too far. Leave my presence, sir, and never--never--let me see your face again. I say to you, and before these witnesses, that I disown and disinherit you forever--forever--forever!"

The coward son could not endure that terrible visitation of parental wrath, and fled, without another word, from the shop.

Old Van Quintem fell exhausted upon the strong shoulder of the boy Bog.

"Henceforth," said he, "you--you--shall be my son."

[Ill.u.s.tration: FATHER AND SON.]

BOOK TWELFTH,

SPECULATIONS--PECUNIARY AND MATRIMONIAL.

CHAPTER I.

THE "COSMOPOLITAN WINDOW FASTENER."

The "Cosmopolitan Window Fastener" was a veritable success. For the first time in his life, Mr. Wesley Tiffles's theories had been demonstrated by results. Had the "Cosmopolitan Window Fastener" been his own invention, and disposed of for his own behoof, he would have abandoned it long before its merits had been fairly tested, and tried some other of the myriad schemes that floated through his brain. But the profits of the "Cosmopolitan Window Fastener" went to another; and this was the secret of Wesley Tiffles's persistent (and therefore successful) exertions.

This was his plan of operations: In the first place, from the funds supplied by Marcus Wilkeson, he procured a patent for the invention. In the second place, he put an advertis.e.m.e.nt a column long in every daily paper--six insertions paid in advance--and handed a highly polished bra.s.s model of the invention to the editor, with a request to notice, if perfectly agreeable. The just and logical result followed. Instead of the ten-line paragraph with which patent churns and washing machines are ordinarily turned loose on society, the "Cosmopolitan Window Fastener" received notices so long and ornate, that it was quite impossible to derive from them a correct idea of the matchless simplicity of the invention.

Having thus roused public curiosity, Tiffles, in the third place, took an office on Broadway, and put up a large sign inscribed in gilt capitals, "The Cosmopolitan Window Fastener Manufacturing Co." From this _pou sto_, Archimedes-like, he commenced to move the world of house owners. This he accomplished by the following manoeuvre: He caused double-leaded advertis.e.m.e.nts, under the head of special notices, to be inserted in all the papers, informing the public that it would be utterly impossible to supply the demand for the "Cosmopolitan Window Fastener," and that, therefore, it would be useless to send in orders.

The Company were employing all the resources of two large manufacturing establishments; but it was evident that these would fail to meet the extraordinary and totally unexpected demand for this indispensable protection against burglars--this moral safeguard, as it might not inappropriately be called, of civilized homes. The Company had made every effort, but without success, to secure a force of skilled workmen equal to the emergency. Justice to their customers in all parts of the country, compelled the Company to announce that no orders received after that date could be filled under two months. Under these remarkable--they might say, in some respects, disagreeable--circ.u.mstances, they begged leave to throw themselves on the indulgence of a generous public.

These notices were put forth not only in the form of newspaper advertis.e.m.e.nts, but as placards and handbills, which were stuck all over the city, and thrown into all the stages, falling like autumn leaves into the laps of pa.s.sengers. This was the cooperative work of the boy Bog, who, though adopted by old Van Quintem as his son and heir, had not yet given up the bill-sticking business, but, on the contrary, had increased it, and now had a practical monopoly of it in the city, with branches in the suburbs. Bog would not eat the bread of idleness--and so he had modestly told Mr. Van Quintem--and that fine old gentleman had patted him on the back, and told him that there was genuine Dutch blood in him.

Bogert & Co. now employed a hundred lads; and Bog's department of labor was the general planning of operations, and the receiving and disburs.e.m.e.nt of the money--and a very nice and agreeable department it was. It enabled Bog to dress neatly, and keep his hands clean--two points upon which he was now extremely fastidious. Bog was growing tall, manly, and handsome. He was also showing a great improvement in his grammar and p.r.o.nunciation--the fruit of diligent attendance at the evening school.

The public, being thus continually informed that orders for the "Cosmopolitan Window Fastener" could not possibly be filled under two months, very naturally began to send in orders for the invaluable invention, to be filled after that period. Every mail brought hundreds of them from all parts of the country. The Company--that is, Wesley Tiffles--sat at their desk in the Broadway office from, nine to three o'clock, exhibiting the window fastener to hundreds of visitors, and receiving orders rather as a matter of favor to the customer than to the Company.

At the end of a month, when orders to the amount of nearly seventy-five thousand dollars had been received--every Northern and Western State being extensively represented on the books--the Company issued another advertis.e.m.e.nt, to the effect that, owing to the overwhelming pressure of business, they were willing to dispose of patent rights for two of the States.

There was a rush of applicants, to all of whom the Company could truthfully exhibit large and genuine orders from all the States. The rights for two States were readily sold, and the Company then found that they could spare one more for a fair compensation; and so on, until every State in the Union had been disposed of, and the Company had not an inch of United States territory left. Not only this, but liberal purchasers were found for Cuba, Canada, South America, England, France, Germany, Russia, and all the countries of the Continent.

In three months, the Company had disposed of their entire interest, and realized about one hundred thousand dollars cash. This sum Tiffles had faithfully paid over, as fast as received, to Fayette Overtop, who not only represented Marcus Wilkeson (unknown to Pet), but was Pet's own attorney and agent. By Fayette Overtop it was placed in bank, credited to Miss Patty Minford, and subject to her order alone.

Thus it happened that the poor inventor had not toiled in vain for the child that he loved.

Tiffles--with that strange unselfishness sometimes found in men of his cla.s.s--had not thought of or desired any compensation for his services, other than the payment of all the bills incurred in the operation. The pleasure which he took in manipulating the public, and seeing his labors crowned with success, was the only reward that he wished for.

Marcus Wilkeson, however, as soon as he saw that Tiffles was actually about to perform the amazing feat of raising money, determined, as an act of common justice, to insist upon his receiving twenty per cent. of the total. Tiffles flatly refused, at first, saying (which was true) that he could work a great deal better if he had no personal interest in the scheme; but yielded, at length, to the earnest solicitations of Marcus, backed by the emphatic declaration of Miss Minford (through her attorney), that she would not touch a penny of the money unless he consented. So, when the affairs of the Company were wound up, Tiffles found himself the possessor of twenty thousand dollars--a sum whose existence in a concrete form he had always secretly disbelieved. And Tiffles's first act was to settle up all his outstanding debts.

The unexpected acquisition of this immense sum imparted a charm to every object in life except Miss Philomela Wilkeson.

Poor Miss Wilkeson was quick to discern the change in Tiffles's manner toward her. His calls were as frequent as ever, but were exclusively on her half-brother, and had no side bearing in her direction. He no longer lingered in the entry to converse with her; and flatly refused her invitation to take a gla.s.s of wine in the dining room. Most ominous of signs, he did not press her hand in the least, when he took it in his own. His voice was no longer winning, but harsh and neglectful.

Indifference brooded in the heart of the monster. The worst of it was, that he had been so cautious and noncommittal in his declarations, that she could not upbraid him for his perfidy. With a cold calculation worthy of a demon, he had made love in the pantomimic way, and eschewed written or verbal communications of an erotic nature. No jury could have muleted him one cent for damages in a breach-of-promise case, and he knew it.

While Wesley Tiffles slipped off Miss Wilkeson like a loose glove, she might as well have tried to divest herself of her natural cuticle as to banish all thoughts of him. Miss Wilkeson was accustomed to allude mysteriously to certain sentimental affairs of her youth. In confidential moments, her friends had been favored with shadowy reminiscences of a romantic past. But truth compels us to state that Miss Wilkeson had never been the recipient of that delicate and awkward thing known as a proposal, and that she had never been kissed by man or boy since she wore long dresses. Hence the magnified importance which she attached to that kiss which, in a moment of reckless but cheap gallantry, Wesley Tiffles, on one fatal evening, had impressed upon her withered hand. She loved the destroyer of her peace with the pent-up energies of forty years.