The Last Penny and Other Stories Part 8

"That will do just as well, doctor. Bring over your testimonials as soon as possible. Not so much of an April fool, after all, I begin to think. Unless I am very greatly mistaken, you _have_ heard something to your advantage."

All came out to the satisfaction of both Doctor Grimes and the kind-hearted Mr. L----. In less than a month, the former was in comfortable quarters at ---- Hospital, and in the receipt of twelve hundred dollars per annum. This was exclusive of rent for his sister's family--now his own--and table expenses. Moreover, for certain duties required of her in the hospital, his sister received three hundred dollars additional.

So it turned out that Dr. Grimes, so far from being made an April fool, was benefited by the wonderfully "smart" trick of Mr. Bunting. But of the particular result of his extra work, the village-jester remained ignorant. Being on the lookout, he was "tickled to death" when he saw the doctor start off post haste for New York; and he looked out for his return, antic.i.p.ating rare pleasure at seeing his "face as long as his arm." But this particular pleasure was not obtained, for he didn't see the doctor afterward.

"What's become of Dr. Grimes?" he asked of one and another, after a few days had pa.s.sed, and he did not see that individual on the street as before.

But none of whom he made inquiry happened to know any thing of the doctor's movements. It was plain to Bunting that, he had driven the said doctor out of the village; and this circ.u.mstance quite flattered his vanity, and made him feel of more consequence than before. In a little while, he told his secret to one and another, and it was pretty generally believed that Doctor Grimes had gone away under a sense of mortification at the storekeeper's practical joke.

"Look out for next year," said one and another. "If Doctor Grimes isn't even with you then, it'll be a wonder."

"It will take a brighter genius than he is to fool me," Bunting would usually reply to these words of caution.

The First of April came round again. Thomas Bunting was wide awake. He expected to hear from the doctor, who, he was certain, would never forgive him. Sure enough, with the day, came a letter from New York.

"You don't fool me!" said Bunting, as he glanced at the postmark. He had heard that the doctor was in, or somewhere near, the city.

"Ha! ha!" he laughed, as he read--

"If Mr. Thomas Bunting will call on Messrs. Wilde & Lyon, Pearl Street, New York, he may hear of something to his advantage."

"Ha! ha! That's capital! The doctor is a wag. Ha! ha!"

Of course, Bunting was too wide awake for this trap. Catch him trudging to New York on a fool's errand!

"Does he think I haven't cut my eye-teeth?" he said to himself exultingly, as he read over the letter. "Doctor Grimes don't know this child--he don't."

And yet, the idea that something might be lost by not heeding the letter, came stealing in upon him, and checking in a small degree the delight he felt at being too smart for the doctor. But this thought was instantly pushed aside. Of course, Bunting was not so "green," to use one of his favourite words, as to go on a fool's errand to New York.

Five or six months afterward, Bunting, while in the city on business, happened to meet Doctor Grimes.

"How are you, doctor?" said he, grasping the hand of the physician, and smiling with one of the smiles peculiar to his face when he felt that he had played off a capital joke on somebody.

"I'm well, Mr. Bunting. And how are you?" replied the doctor.

"First-rate--first-rate!" and Bunting rubbed his hands. Then he added, with almost irrepressible glee--

"You wasn't sharp enough, last April, doctor."

"Why so?" inquired Doctor Grimes.

"You didn't succeed in getting me to the city on a fool's errand."

"I don't understand you, Mr. Bunting," said the doctor seriously.

"Wilde & Lyon, Pearl Street--something to my advantage. Ha?"

The doctor looked puzzled.

"You needn't play the innocent, doctor. Its no use. I sent you on a fool's errand to New York; and it was but natural that you should seek to pay me back in my own coin. But I was too wide awake for you entirely. It takes a sharp man to catch me."

"You're certainly too wide awake for me now," said Doctor Grimes. "Will you please be serious and explain yourself."

"Last April a year, you received a letter from New York, to the effect that if you would call at a certain place in Wall Street, you would hear something to your advantage?"

"I did," replied the doctor.

"Well."

"I called, accordingly, and received information which has proved greatly to my advantage."

"What?" Bunting looked surprised.

"The gentleman upon whom I called was a leading director in ---- Hospital, and in search of a Resident Physician for that establishment.

I now fill that post."

"Is it possible?" Bunting could not conceal his surprise, in which something like disappointment was blended. "And you did not write a similar letter to me last April?" he added.

"I am above such trifling," replied the doctor, in a tone that marked his real feelings on that subject. "A man who could thus wantonly injure and insult another for mere sport, must have something bad about him. I should not like to trust such a one."

"Good morning, doctor," said Bunting. The two gentlemen bowed formally and parted.

If the doctor did not send the letter, from whom could it have come?

This was the question that Bunting asked himself immediately. But no satisfactory answer came. He was puzzled and uncomfortable. Moreover, the result of the doctor's errand to New York--which had proved any thing but a fool's errand--was something that he could not understand.

"I wonder if I hadn't better call on Wilde & Lyon?" said he to himself, at length. "Perhaps the letter was no trick, after all."

Bunting held a long argument, mentally, on the subject, in which all the pros and cons were fully discussed. Finally, he decided to call at the place referred to in his letter, and did so immediately on reaching this decision. Still, fearing that the letter might have been a hoax, he made some few purchases of articles for his store, and then gave his name.

"Thomas Bunting!" said the person with whom he was dealing. "Do you reside in the city?"

Bunting mentioned his place of residence.

"Did you never receive a letter from this house, desiring to see you?"

"I did," replied Bunting; "but as it was dated on the first of April, I took it for the jest of some merry friend."

"Very far from it, I can a.s.sure you," answered the man. "An old gentleman arrived here from England about that time, who said that a brother and sister had come to this country many years ago, and that he was in search of them or their children. His name was Bunting. At his request, we made several advertis.e.m.e.nts for his relatives. Some one mentioned that a gentleman named Thomas Bunting resided in the town where you live; and we immediately dropped him a note. But, as no answer came, it was presumed the information was incorrect."

"Where is he now?" asked Bunting.

"He is dead."

"What! Dead?"

"Yes. A letter came, some weeks after we wrote to you, from St. Louis, which proved to be from his sister, and to that place he immediately proceeded. Soon after arriving there, he died. He left, in money, about ten thousand dollars, all of which pa.s.sed, by a will executed before he left this city--for in his mind there was a presentiment of death--to his new-found relative."

"He was my uncle!" said Bunting.