he’d explain to him, ‘Now, Mr. Fuller,’ he’d say, ‘I don’t know whether you know it, but this son of mine has always been what you might call the black sheep of the family. He’s been kind of a drinker,’ he’d say, ‘and he’s got himself into trouble a couple of times, and if you’d just keep an eye on him, so’s to see he keeps straight, it’d be a favor to me.’
“Mr. Fuller told me about it himself. Said it was wonderful the way the Old Gentleman came right out and talked just as frankly to him. Said he’d never had any idea Matt was that way—wanted to hear all about it.”
Mrs. Whittaker nodded sadly.
“Oh, I know,” she said. “Time and again Father would do that. And then, as like as not, Matt would get one of his sulky fits, and not turn up at his work.”
“And when Matt would be out of work,” Mrs. Bain said, “the way Father’d hand him out his car-fare, and I don’t know what all! When Matt was a grown man, going on thirty years old, Father would take him down to Newins & Malley’s and buy him a whole new outfit—pick out everything himself. He always used to say Matt was the kind that would get cheated out of his eye-teeth if he went into a store alone.”
“My, Father hated to see anybody make a fool of themselves about money,” Mrs. Whittaker commented. “Remember how he always used to say, ‘Anybody can make money, but it takes a wise man to keep it’?”
“I suppose he must be a pretty rich man,” Mr. Bain said, abruptly restoring the Old Gentleman to the present.
“Oh—rich!” Mrs. Whittaker’s smile was at its kindliest. “But he managed his affairs very well, Father did, right up to the last. Everything is in splendid shape, Clint says.”
“He showed you the will, didn’t he, Hat?” asked Mrs. Bain, forming bits of her sleeve into little plaits between her thin, hard fingers.
“Yes,” said her sister. “Yes, he did. He showed me the will. A little over a year ago, I think it was, wasn’t it? You know, just before he started to fail, that time.”
She took a small bite of cooky.
“ Awfully good,” she said. She broke into a little bubbly laugh, the laugh she used at teas and wedding receptions and fairly formal dinners. “You know,” she went on, as one sharing a good story, “he’s gone and left all that old money to me. ‘Why, Father!’ I said, as soon as I’d read that part. But it seems he’d gotten some sort of idea in his head that Clint and I would be able to take care of it better than anybody else, and you know what Father was, once he made up that mind of his. You can just imagine how I felt. I couldn’t say a thing.”
She laughed again, shaking her head in amused bewilderment.
“Oh, and Allie,” she said, “he’s left you all the furniture he brought here with him, and all the things he bought since he came. And Lewis is to have his set of Thackeray. And that money he lent Lewis, to try and tide him over in the hardware business that time—that’s to be regarded as a gift.”
She sat back and looked at them, smiling.
“Lewis paid back most all of that money Father lent him that time,” Mrs. Bain said. “There was only about two hundred dollars more, and then he would have had it all paid up.”
“That’s to be regarded as a gift,” insisted Mrs. Whittaker. She leaned over and patted her brother-in-law’s arm. “Father always liked you, Lewis,” she said softly.
“Poor Old Gentleman,” murmured Mr. Bain.
“Did it—did it say anything about Matt?” asked Mrs. Bain.
“Oh, Allie!” Mrs. Whittaker gently reproved her. “When you think of all the money Father spent and spent on Matt, it seems to me he did more than enough—more than enough. And then when Matt went way off there to live, and married that woman, and never a word about it—Father hearing it all through strangers—well, I don’t think any of us realize how it hurt Father. He never said much about it, but I don’t think he ever
“Mr. Fuller told me about it himself. Said it was wonderful the way the Old Gentleman came right out and talked just as frankly to him. Said he’d never had any idea Matt was that way—wanted to hear all about it.”
Mrs. Whittaker nodded sadly.
“Oh, I know,” she said. “Time and again Father would do that. And then, as like as not, Matt would get one of his sulky fits, and not turn up at his work.”
“And when Matt would be out of work,” Mrs. Bain said, “the way Father’d hand him out his car-fare, and I don’t know what all! When Matt was a grown man, going on thirty years old, Father would take him down to Newins & Malley’s and buy him a whole new outfit—pick out everything himself. He always used to say Matt was the kind that would get cheated out of his eye-teeth if he went into a store alone.”
“My, Father hated to see anybody make a fool of themselves about money,” Mrs. Whittaker commented. “Remember how he always used to say, ‘Anybody can make money, but it takes a wise man to keep it’?”
“I suppose he must be a pretty rich man,” Mr. Bain said, abruptly restoring the Old Gentleman to the present.
“Oh—rich!” Mrs. Whittaker’s smile was at its kindliest. “But he managed his affairs very well, Father did, right up to the last. Everything is in splendid shape, Clint says.”
“He showed you the will, didn’t he, Hat?” asked Mrs. Bain, forming bits of her sleeve into little plaits between her thin, hard fingers.
“Yes,” said her sister. “Yes, he did. He showed me the will. A little over a year ago, I think it was, wasn’t it? You know, just before he started to fail, that time.”
She took a small bite of cooky.
“ Awfully good,” she said. She broke into a little bubbly laugh, the laugh she used at teas and wedding receptions and fairly formal dinners. “You know,” she went on, as one sharing a good story, “he’s gone and left all that old money to me. ‘Why, Father!’ I said, as soon as I’d read that part. But it seems he’d gotten some sort of idea in his head that Clint and I would be able to take care of it better than anybody else, and you know what Father was, once he made up that mind of his. You can just imagine how I felt. I couldn’t say a thing.”
She laughed again, shaking her head in amused bewilderment.
“Oh, and Allie,” she said, “he’s left you all the furniture he brought here with him, and all the things he bought since he came. And Lewis is to have his set of Thackeray. And that money he lent Lewis, to try and tide him over in the hardware business that time—that’s to be regarded as a gift.”
She sat back and looked at them, smiling.
“Lewis paid back most all of that money Father lent him that time,” Mrs. Bain said. “There was only about two hundred dollars more, and then he would have had it all paid up.”
“That’s to be regarded as a gift,” insisted Mrs. Whittaker. She leaned over and patted her brother-in-law’s arm. “Father always liked you, Lewis,” she said softly.
“Poor Old Gentleman,” murmured Mr. Bain.
“Did it—did it say anything about Matt?” asked Mrs. Bain.
“Oh, Allie!” Mrs. Whittaker gently reproved her. “When you think of all the money Father spent and spent on Matt, it seems to me he did more than enough—more than enough. And then when Matt went way off there to live, and married that woman, and never a word about it—Father hearing it all through strangers—well, I don’t think any of us realize how it hurt Father. He never said much about it, but I don’t think he ever
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