Walter Sherwood's Probation by Jr. Horatio Alger (good romance books to read txt) 📕

“I don't know who you are,” answered Mr. Fishbach, with a scrutinizing glance.

“I should like to insure your life.”

“You want to insure my life—what's dat?”

“If you will tell me your age, I will explain to you.”

“I was forty-nine next Christmas. You ain't the census man, eh?”

“No; that is quite another matter. Now, Mr. Fishbach,” continued Walter, referring to a pamphlet in his hand, “if you will pay to the company which I represent forty-four dollars every year, when you die a thousand dollars will be paid to your wife, or any one else you may name.”

“You won't pay me till I am dead, eh?”

“No.”

“How will I know you pay then?”

“We do business on the square. We keep our promises.”

“You pay the money to my widow, eh?”

“Yes. If you pay twice as much we will pay two thousand dollars.”

“What good will that do me, eh?”

“You will leave your wife comfortable, won't you?”

“If she gets much money she'll maybe marry again.”

“Perhaps so.”

“And the money will go to her second husband, eh?”

“If she chooses to give it to him.”

“By jiminy, that won't suit me. I will spend my money myself.”

“But if you die, how will your wife and children get along?”

“What makes you think I'm goin' to die, eh? Do I look delicate?”

As Walter surveyed the stout, rotund figure of Mr. Fishbach he could not help laughing at the idea of his being delicate.

“You look likely to live,” he was forced to admit. “Still, life is uncertain.”

“You can't scare Louis Fishbach, young man. My father lived till seventy-seven and my mother was seventy-five. My children can take care of themselves when I die, and they can look after the old woman.”

Walter used such other arguments as occurred to him, but his German friend was not to be moved, and he rather despondently put his documents into his pocket and went out into the street.

“I had no idea I should find it so difficult,” he reflected.

Life insurance seemed to him so beneficent, and so necessary a protection for those who would otherwise be unprovided for, that he could not understand how any one who cared for his wife and children could fail to avail himself of its advantages.

After leaving the house of Mr. Fishbach he kept on in the same direction. Being unacquainted in Elm Bank, he had to trust to chance to guide him.

A little distance beyond was an old-fashioned, two-story house.

“Perhaps I had better call,” thought Walter, and he entered the path that led to the side door. He had scarcely taken three steps when he was startled by a scream that seemed to proceed from the interior.

“Help! help!” was the cry that reached him.

He started to run, and on reaching the door opened it without ceremony. The sight that confronted him was one to test his courage.