Part 57 (1/2)
”Not a bit, George,” he said. ”Not a bit. I'm mighty glad to see you. I told you to come any time, you remember. Well, you've come, haven't you?
Now what is it?”
Kent's gaze left the wall and turned toward his companion. ”Cap'n Kendrick,” he began, then stopped. ”Cap'n Kendrick,” he repeated, ”I--Mrs. Macomber said--she told me you said that--that----”
”All right, George, all right. I told her to remind you that one time you promised to come to me if you was in any--er--well, trouble, or if you had anything on your mind. I judge that's what you've come for, isn't it?”
Kent started violently. His feet slipped from the hearth and struck the floor with a thump.
”How did you know I was in trouble?” he demanded. ”Who told you? Did they tell you what----”
”No, no, no. n.o.body told me anything especial. Sarah did say you hadn't looked well lately and she was afraid you was worried about somethin'.
That's all. I've been worried myself durin' my lifetime and I've generally found it helped a little to tell my worries to somebody else.
At any rate it didn't do any harm. What's wrong, George? Nothin'
serious, I hope.”
Kent breathed heavily. ”Serious!” he repeated. ”I--I....” Then in a sudden outburst: ”Oh, my G.o.d, Cap'n Kendrick, I think they'll put me in jail.”
Sears looked at him. Then, leaning forward, he laid a hand on the boy's knee.
”Nonsense, George,” he exclaimed, heartily. ”Stuff and nonsense! They don't put fellows like you in jail. You're scared, that's all. Tell me about it.”
”But they will, they will. You don't know Ed Stedman. He doesn't like me. He always has had it in for me. He's prejudiced Clara against me and she hates me, too. They're pressing me for the money now. The last letter I had from them Stedman said he wouldn't wait another fortnight.
And a week is gone already. He'll----”
”Hold on. Who's Stedman?”
”Oh, I thought you knew. He's my half-sister's husband up in Springfield. When my aunt died.... But I told you I was administrator of her estate. I remember I told you. That day when----”
”Yes, yes, I remember; that is, I remember a little. Tell me the whole of it. What's happened?”
”Yes--yes, I want to. I'm going to. Oh, if you _can_ help me I'll--I'll never forget it. I'll do anything for you, Cap'n Kendrick. I know I shouldn't have done it. I had no right to take the risk. But Mr.
Phillips said--he said----”
”Eh?” Sears' interruption this time was quite unpremeditated.
”Phillips?” he repeated, sharply. ”Egbert, you mean? Oh, yes....
Humph.... Is he mixed up in this?”
”Why--why, yes. If it hadn't been for him it wouldn't have happened. I don't mean that he is to blame, exactly. I guess n.o.body is to blame but myself. But when I think---- Oh, Cap'n Kendrick, do you suppose you can help me out of it? If you can, I----”
Here followed another outburst of agonized entreaty. The boy's nerves were close to breaking, he was almost hysterical. Slowly and with the exercise of much patience and tact the captain drew from him the details of his trouble. It was, as he told it, a long and complicated story, but, boiled down, it amounted to something like this:
Kent and Phillips had been very friendly for some time, their intimacy beginning even before the latter came to board at Sarah Macomber's.
Egbert's polished manners, his stories of life abroad, his easy condescending geniality, had from the first made a great impression upon George. The latter, already esteeming himself above the average of mentality and enterprise in what he considered the ”slow-poke” town of Bayport, found in the brilliant arrival from foreign parts the personification of his ideals, a satisfying specimen of that much read of _genus_, ”the complete man of the world.” He fell on his knees before that specimen and wors.h.i.+ped. Such idolatry could not but have some effect, even upon as _blase_ an idol as Mr. Phillips, so the latter at first tolerated and then even encouraged the acquaintances.h.i.+p. He began to take this young follower more and more into his confidence, to speak with him concerning matters more intimate and personal.
George soon gathered that Egbert had been much in moneyed circles. He spoke casually of the ”market” and referred to friends who had made and remade fortunes in stocks, as well as of others whose horses had brought them riches, or who had brought off what he called _coups_ at foreign gaming tables. The young man, who had been brought up in a strict Puritanical household, was at first rather shocked at the thought of gambling or racing, but Mr. Phillips treated his prejudices in a condescendingly joking way, and Kent gradually grew ashamed of his ”insularity” and _bourgeois_ ideas. Egbert habitually read the stock quotations in the Boston _Advertiser_ and the mails brought him brokers'
circulars and letters. Kent was led to infer that he still took a small ”flyer” occasionally. ”Nothing of consequence, my boy, nothing to get excited about; haven't the wherewithal since our dear friend Knowles and his--ah--satellites took to drawing wills and that sort of thing. But if my friends in the Street send me a bit of judicious advice--as they do occasionally, for old times' sake--why, I try to cast a few crumbs upon the waters, trusting that they may be returned, in the shape of a small loaf, after not too many days. Ha, ha! Yes. And sometimes they do return--yes, sometimes they do. Otherwise how could I rejoice in the good, but sometimes tiresome, Mrs. Macomber's luxurious hospitality?”
It seemed an easy way to turn one's crumbs into loaves. Kent, now the possessor of the little legacy left him by his aunt, wished that the eight hundred dollars, the amount of that legacy, might be raised to eight thousand. He was executor of the small estate, which was to be equally divided between his half-sister and himself. There had been a little land involved, that had been sold and the money, most of it, paid him. So he had in his possession about sixteen hundred dollars, half his and half Mrs. Stedman's. If he could do no better than double his own eight hundred it would not be so bad. He wished that _he_ had friends in the Street.