Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition by Jr. Horatio Alger (no david read aloud .txt) 📕

“I dare say you are surprised to see me so soon again,” he commenced.

“I am always glad to see you, Willis,” she said. “Come upstairs.”

“What a pleasant room you have, mother!”

“Yes, I am very comfortable. Have you had any return of your sickness?” she asked, anxiously.

“No, I have been perfectly well. By the way, mother, I have a special object in calling.”

“What is it, Willis?”

“I want to speak to you about those bonds of yours. If you will only sell them out, and invest in Erie, I am sure you will make in six months a sum equal to several years interest.”

“That may be, Willis, but I am very timid about taking a risk. Those bonds represent all the property I have.”

Willis Ford's conscience pricked him a little, when he heard her speaking thus of the property he had so heartlessly stolen; but he did not show it in his manner.

“What is the date of your bonds, mother?” he asked.

“I don't know. Does that make any difference?”

“It makes some difference. Those that have longest to run are most valuable.”

“I can easily tell,” said the housekeeper, as she rose from her chair and opened the bureau drawer, in full confidence that the bonds were safe.

It was an exciting moment for Willis Ford, knowing the sad discovery that awaited her.

She put her hand in that part of the drawer where she supposed the bonds to be, and found nothing. A shade of anxiety overspread her face, and she searched hurriedly in other parts of the drawer.

“Don't you find them, mother?” asked Willis.

“It is very strange,” said Mrs. Estabrook, half to herself.

“What is strange?”

“I always kept the bonds in the right-hand corner of this drawer.”

“And you can't find them?”

“I have looked all over the drawer.”

“You may have put them, by mistake, in one of the other drawers.”

“Heaven grant it!” said Mrs. Estabrook, her face white with anxiety.

“Let me help you, mother,” said Willis, rising.

She did not object, for her hands trembled with nervousness.

The other drawers were opened and were thoroughly searched, but, of course, the bonds were not found.

Mrs. Estabrook seemed near fainting.

“I have been robbed,” she said. “I am ruined.”

“But who could have robbed you?” asked Ford, innocently.

“I-don't-know. Oh, Willis! it was cruel!” and the poor woman burst into tears. “All these years I have been saving, and now I have lost all. I shall die in the poorhouse after all.”

“Not while I am living, mother,” said Willis. “But the bonds must be found. They must be mislaid.”

“No, no! they are stolen. I shall never see them again.”

“But who has taken them? Ha! I have an idea.”

“What is it?” asked the housekeeper, faintly.

“That boy—Grant Thornton—he lives in the house, doesn't he?”

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Estabrook, in excitement. “Do you think he can have robbed me?”

“What a fool I am! I ought to have suspected when—-”

“When what?”

“When he brought some bonds to me to-day to sell.”

“He did!” exclaimed Mrs. Estabrook; “what were they?”

“A five-hundred-dollar and a hundred-dollar bond.”

“I had a five-hundred and five one-hundred-dollar bonds. They were mine—the young villain!”

“I greatly fear so, mother.”

“You ought to have kept them, Willis. Oh! why didn't you? Where is the boy? I will see Mr. Reynolds at once.”

“Wait a minute, till I tell you all I know. The boy said the bonds were handed to him by an acquaintance.”

“It was a falsehood.”

“Do you know the number of your bonds, mother?”

“Yes, I have them noted down, somewhere.”

“Good! I took the number of those the boy gave me for sale.”

Mrs. Estabrook found the memorandum. It was compared with one which Willis Ford brought with him, and the numbers were identical. Four numbers, of course, were missing from Ford's list.

“That seems pretty conclusive, mother. The young rascal has stolen your bonds, and offered a part of them for sale. It was certainly bold in him to bring them to our office. Is he in the house?”

“I'll go and see.”

“And bring Mr. Reynolds with you, if you can find him.”

In an excited state, scarcely knowing what she did, the housekeeper went downstairs and found both parties of whom she was in search in the same room. She poured out her story in an incoherent manner, inveighing against Grant as a thief.

When Grant, with some difficulty, understood what was the charge against him, he was almost speechless with indignation.

“Do you mean to say I stole your bonds?” he demanded.

“Yes, I do; and it was a base, cruel act.”

“I agree with you in that, Mrs. Estabrook. It was base and cruel, but I had nothing to do with it.”

“You dare to say that, when you brought the bonds to my son, Willis, to be sold to-day?”

“Is this true, Grant?” asked Mr. Reynolds. “Did you sell any bonds at the office to-day?”

“Yes, sir.”

The broker looked grave.

“Where did you get them?” he asked.

“They were handed to me by an acquaintance in Wall Street.”

“Who was he?”

“His name is James Morrison.”

“What do you know of him? Is he in any business?”

“I know very little of him, sir.”