Victor Ollnee's Discipline Part 11

"If I believed that I should feel as you do, but I don't. It is not so simple as all that. Your mother's power seems very real to me, and so far as I can now see she has given us all value received for every dollar. By rights one-half of all our profits belongs to her, or, if you prefer, to her Voices. Do you know that these Voices will not permit her to retain more than a scanty living out of all the wealth she makes for others? Did you know that?"

"I know she lives in a shabby apartment, and she tells me that she is entirely under the control of these 'guides.'"

"Yes, they refuse to let her keep anything beyond what she actually needs for herself and your education. I think all that should be counted in on her side, don't you? The fact that she is not enriching herself surely makes her part in the transaction a clean one."

He sank away from her and brooded over this thought for a minute or two before he replied. "But the whole thing is so preposterous. Have you seen her slate-writing 'stunt'?"

"Many times; but I don't think you should call it a 'stunt.'"

"Come, now, give me your honest opinion. Do you think my mother unconsciously cheats?"

She faced him with convincing candor. "No, I don't. I think she is perfectly simple and straightforward, and I believe the writing is supernormal."

"How can you believe that? You're a college girl, mother tells me. Don't the belief in these things wipe out everything you have been taught at school? It certainly rips science into strips for me, or would--if I believed it. It makes a fool of a man like Boyden, that's a sure thing."

Mrs. Joyce, looking across the room, smiled in delight at the charming picture these young people made in their animated conversation.

Doubtless they were glowing over Tennyson's position in modern poetry or the question of Meredith's ultimate standing in fiction.

What the youth was really saying to the maid was this: "What did you get out of it all? What did The Voices give you?"

"They told me to study composition, for one thing. They told me I would compose successful songs, with the aid of--of Schubert." She was a little embarra.s.sed at the end.

"And you took all that in?"

She colored. "I'm afraid I didn't really believe the Schubert part.

However, I'm studying composition on the _chance_ of their being right."

"You say they advise you on money matters. How do they do that?"

"They advise my uncle through me to sell stock in a certain company and buy in another. They told me to withdraw my money from my California bank and put it into this Universal Traction Company."

"Did you do that?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. I wish you wouldn't take their advice. I wish you would put your money back where it came from at once."

"Why?"

"Because it scares me to think of your going into anything on my mother's advice."

"But it wasn't your mother's advice. It was the advice of a great financier."

"You mean a dead financier?"

"Yes."

He did not laugh at this; on the contrary, his face darkened. "I've heard about that. Did he advise your uncle to go into this same transportation company?"

"Yes; all our friends are in it."

"You mean everybody that went to my mother for advice?"

"Yes."

"Do many go to her for help of this kind?"

"No, not many; she gives sittings only to my aunt and her friends now.

There were several big business men of the city who went regularly. Why, Mr. Pettus, the president of the Traction Company, relies upon her."

The absurdity of these great capitalists going to his mother's threadbare little apartment for counsel in ways to win millions made Victor smile. He said, with a mock sigh, "I wish these Voices would tell me where to find a job that would pay fifteen dollars a week."

"They will--if you give yourself up to them. You must have faith."

"Oh, but the whole thing is dotty. Why should a poor farmer like my grandfather by just merely dying become a great financier?" Again his brow darkened and his voice deepened with contempt. "It's all poppyc.o.c.k!

If he knows so much about the future why didn't he warn my mother against that reporter that came in the other day to do her up? Why didn't he permit me to stay on at Winona and get my degree?"

The girl was troubled by his questions and evaded them. "It must have been hard to leave in the midst of your final term."

"It was punishing. It was like being yanked out of the box in the middle of an inning, with the game all coming your way."

She knew enough of baseball slang to catch his meaning and she smiled as she asked, "Why don't you go back?"

"Simply because I couldn't stand the chinning I'd get from my cla.s.smates."

"Can't you go on with your studies here and pa.s.s your examination?"

"I might do that if I could get a job that would pay me my board and leave me a little time to study."

She looked up at him with smiling archness. "Why not drive an automobile? You could carry your books around under the seat and study while waiting outside the shops or the theaters."

"Good idea!" he exclaimed, responding to her humor. "I'm pretty handy with the machine. One of my friends up at Winona had one. I hope you own a car." He said this with intent to indicate his growing desire to be near her.

Mrs. Joyce came over at this moment to inquire what they were so jolly about.

Leo answered: "I was just suggesting that Mr. Ollnee become a chauffeur.

He could go on with his studies--"

"Capital!" exclaimed Mr. Joyce. "The man I have is liable to drink and very crusty in the bargain. You may have his place."

"I'm afraid I wouldn't do," he responded. "I might get crusty, too."

"I hope you are not liable to drink," said Leo.

"No, sarsaparilla is my only tipple. But this is all Miss Wood's joke,"

he explained.

"I'm not joking, indeed I'm not," the girl retorted. "I don't know of any skill that is more in demand just now than that of a chauffeur. I know of one who is studying the piano. I don't see any reason why Mr.

Ollnee should not take it up temporarily. It's perfectly honorable.