Part 14 (2/2)
Angy clung to Abe, and Abe held her close. What had happened to her, the undemonstrative old wife? What made her so happy, and yet tremble so?
Why did she cry, wetting his cheek with her tears, when she was so palpably glad? Why had she telephoned for him, unless she, too, had missed him as he had missed her?
Recalling his memories of last night, the memories of that long-ago honeymoon-time, he murmured into his gray beard, ”Dearest!”
She did not seem to think he was growing childish. She was not even surprised. At last she said, half between sobbing and laughing:
”Oh, Abe, ain't G.o.d been good to us? Ain't it jist bewtiful to be rich?
Rich!” she cried. ”Rich!”
Abe sat down suddenly, and covered his face with his hands. In a flash he understood, and he could not let even Angy see him in the light of the revelation.
”The minin' stock!” he muttered; and then low to himself, in an awed whisper: ”Tenafly Gold! The minin' stock!”
After a while he recovered himself sufficiently to explain that he had not received the telephone message, and therefore knew nothing.
”Did I git a offer, Mother?”
”A offer of fifteen dollars a share. The letter come last night fer yew, an' I--”
”Fifteen dollars a share!” He was astounded. ”An' we've got five thousand shares! Fifteen dollars, an' I paid ninety cents! Angy, ef ever I ketch yew fis.h.i.+n' yer winter bunnit out of a charity barrel ag'in, I'll--Fifteen dollars!”
”But that ain't the best of it,” interrupted Angy. ”I couldn't sleep a wink, an' Blossy says not ter send word tew yew, 'cuz mebbe 't was a joke, an' to wait till mornin' an' go see Sam'l's lawyer down ter Injun Head. That's whar we've jest come from, an' we telephoned ter Quogue Station from thar. An' the lawyer at fust he didn't 'pear tew think very much of it; but Blossy, she got him ter call up some broker feller in 'York, an' 'Gee whizz!' he says, turnin' 'round all excited from the 'phone. 'Tenafly Gold is sellin' fer twenty dollars on the Curb right this minute!' An' he says, says he: 'Yew git yer husband, an' bring that air stock over this arternoon; an',' says he, 'I'll realize on it fer yer ter-morrer mornin'.'”
Abe stared at his wife, at her s.h.i.+ning silk dress with its darns and careful patches, at her rough, worn hands, and at the much mended lace over her slender wrists.
”That mine was closed down eighteen years ago; they must 'a' opened it up ag'in”; he spoke dully, as one stunned. Then with a sudden burst of energy, his eyes still on his wife's figure: ”Mother, that dress o'
yourn is a disgrace fer the wife of a financierer. Yew better git a new silk fer yerself an' Miss Abigail, tew, fust thing. Her Sunday one hain't nothin' extry.”
”But yer old beaver, Abe!” Angy protested. ”It looks as ef it come out o'the Ark!”
”Last Sunday yew said it looked splendid”; his tone was absent-minded again. He seemed almost to ramble in his speech. ”We must see that Ishmael gits fixed up comfortable in the Old Men's Home; yew remember haow he offered us all his pennies that day we broke up housekeepin'.
An' we must do somethin' handsome fer the Darbys, tew. Ef it hadn't been fer Sam'l, I might be dead naow, an' never know nothin' erbout this here streak o' luck. Tenafly Gold,” he continued to mutter. ”They must 'a'
struck a new lead. An' folks said I was a fool tew invest.”
His face lightened. The weight of the shock pa.s.sed. He threw off the awe of the glad news. He smiled the smile of a happy child.
”Naow, Mother, we kin buy back our old chair, the rocker with the red roses onto it. Seems ter me them roses must 'a' knowed all the time that this was a-goin' ter happen. They was jest as pert an' sa.s.sy that last day--”
Angy laughed. She laughed softly and with unutterable pride in her husband.
”Why, Father, don't yer see yew kin buy back the old chair, an' the old place, too, an' then have plenty ter spare?”
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