THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 42, 30 May 1910, Page 6

THE STORYTELLER.

UNCLE ALF'S EXPERIMENT The letter bore the New York postmurk and was addressed to Mr Augustus Hopkins. He summoned every known Hopkins to hear its contents. They were a poor but prolific race. Under the shadow of St. Paul's, and at the base of the social fabric, they swarmed, united to each other by bonds of varying hostility. To most of them "Uncle Alfred" was a mere expression, for 'he was the only Hopkins in whom the nomadic instinct had appeared. In youth he had gone foreign—to America. And he had gob on. Uncle Alf was a millionaire. None ot Ihis wealth had over trickled home. Some ■were aggrieved tat none was surprised at that. Indeed, this letter was the first Alf had ever sent.

As the Hookineses were unskilled in reading M.S., Ous Hopkins loosely paraphrased the letter. "Alf says he sometimes wonders about us and what sort of litter we've raised. And 'he'd like to try an experiment. Would we send over a* specimen, a male, fifteen to twenty, no angel boy, school medallist, or rot of that sort? If there's a young and gritty Hopkins among us, send him out. Alf promises nothing, but I fancy it won't harm a youngster to land in America with a millionaire for an uncle. Alf says if the candidate are numerous we might ballot." For those who had no eligible sons the proceedings ceased to have interest. They withdrew, voicing their conviction that Uncle Alf was going off nis head. The area of selection was soon narrowed down vto three. But it would be some time before one of them emerged from Wormwood (Scrubs. The second was a long-haired youth, whose mother described him. as a poet Time was only Sam Hopkins left. Sain was an orphan, and, for nineteen, undersized. But he was wiry, alert ot mind % and limb, and keen on the main chance. From certain standpoints he was crude. His polisn was such as a School Board education imparts. With that, however, Sam considered himself socially equipped. In the London gutters he had learnt much, and he had one inestimable quality. Samuel called it ambition; his enemies called it cneeic. He was a junior assistant in Crayly's fish emporium. On week-clays he dispensed luscious bloaters. On Sundays he walked out with Polly Wyber. Polly was of his own social degree and was a conspicuously pretty girl. Indeed, parting with Polly was the only sorrow Sam had. He kissed her and told her not to cry. He would get on like Uncle Alf, would send for her, wed her, and make her ia great lady. Meantime, had she any money?

Polly had two sovereigns. "Right-oh! You lend me then and I'll pay you back .soon. You see, my relations are all so displeased at this bit of luck coming my way they won I advance me anything. And passage-money and rigging cost something. Of course, it ain't etiquette tor a gentleman to borrow from a lady Still, we're as good as married, and little favors like that are quite proper oetween husband and wife." Polly did not lack prudence! but she was loyal and kind-nearted, and her whole worldy possessions were transferred to her prospective husband. A month later Mr. Alfred Hopkins, the great financier, sat before a pile of papers in his .private room in Blai'n street, Xew York, lie was not an old man; but much jostling in the maiket-place had hardened him. He was niggard in speech and sentiment. Yet, as some people knew, behind the brusquerie there beat a kindly heart. The occasional twinkle in his eye, too, proved that a sense of humor survived.

That twinkle shone with exceptional brightness this forenoon, when a sharp tap sounded on the door.

"Come in." Samuel Hopkins entered. "How do, uncle? I'm Sam Hopkins." "Ah, yes, I remember. Sit down. I'll attend to you presently." He re-buried himself in his papers, it was cool. It gave Sam a set-back. He didn't yet guess that it was designed.

Uncle Alf brushed his papers aside at last.

"So you're Sam Hopkins? You're not much to look at. Were you the best they could send?" The fine feelings Sam had been trying to work up towards Uncle Alf during the voyage withered under this Wast They were supplanted by his wrath. "I'm sorry i'm pot according to youl idea, But what was your idea.?" Uncle Alf sniffed and was silent. "Of course," resumed Sam, "beauty isn't a strong point with the HopKinses in London —or elsewhere, so far as I've seen yet." The last clause was meant as a return shot. Uncle Alf seemed not to notice it. But his mouth twitched. "Besides, as probably you can personally testify, the Hopkinses are not the sweetest-tempered people in the world, and—well—l came here in answer to your kind invitation. T. didn't come here to be jawed. I could have got plenty of that in London. As a matter of fact, I did."

Sam's indignation was pure, but, with his gutter-sharpened wits, he was dimly realising his uncle's little game, and he was rapidly adapting himself to circumstances as they evolved. "I wanted someone with grit," mused Alf. "You look as if you couldn't say 'boo' to a goose." "Produce your goose. Or, if you have not a goose handy, fetch in any member of your staff that's about my height and weight. And, if I don't knock him out in three rounds, I'll eat my return ticket." "Eat your what?" "Return ticket." "Why did you take a return?"

"Against emergencies. I had never seen you. I might not have liked you, so 1 kept my line of retreat open. • I can ship back to London to-night if I choose. We may not be so sharp and beautiful as the people in New York, but fools are not the only crop we raise in London." Uncle Alf stared. He had set out to

'■rag" this youngster, just to see how he would stand it. And he was being beaten at his own game. There wasn't a grain of truth in the "return ticket" tale. It was the purest Muff. But Sam had guaged the situa-

tion with precision, and he was playing trumps every time. Alf allowed himself to smile.

"Perhaps you'll do," he said. "Thank you. The temporarily-checked well of my affection begins to flow again. And now, pardon me, but when do you dine? I have had nothing since breakfast on board." "It's lunch-time now. Come with me."

Sam 'Hopkins was igiven a position of responsibility in his uncle's office. He proved not unworthy. Buffetings with poverty had made a man of turn. _ Every faculty necessary for success in the sphere to which he had been called was in .splendid working order. Uncle Alf was secretly proud of him. For six months Sam was silent —and fretful.

He enjoyed bed and board at his unelo's unassuming residence in Royal Avenue. But Alf Hopkins was ia plain man. Sam Hopkins could not forget he was a millionaire's nephew. The two lunched together daily. Underlings of all grades swarmed into the palatial restaurants of Broadway. Sam had to follow his uncle to Dokn's. Dolan's was a back-street eatingbouse, where the menu was intelligible, the cooking good, and the tari'V iow. It was more gorgeous than anyl.iing '-'am Hopkins had ever known. But nigiu l>y night he dreamt of a millionaire's possibilities and he felt bitterly envious ot those frock-coated nobodies who dined sumptuously every day. Sam was naturally audacious of speech, One night Uncle Alf and he sat smoking a quiet pipe. "Dolan's is a bit- plain, uncle. We pass nobbier places on the way. Why don'o you try them?" "Dolan's is cheaper." "I thought that wouldn't have matiei'ed with, you nowadays."

"It doesn't. But though I have made money, that's no reason why I should throw any of it away on foreign cooks for food I can neither name nor eat, and for surroundings amid which I always feel uncomfortable."

Sam shook his head. "It isn't for me to advise, uncle; but you're wrong. The spoils to the victor. You had your draught of the bitter; take your pull of the sweet. Of course, you're a plain man; but plainness may be your pride. I've read about your sort, and I've never been convinced. You have established your title to life's good things. Why not have them? You say you don't want them. Examine your motive. What is it? Vanity. When a man gets a million people expect him to spend. The temptation, therefore, is to do what people don't expect; and so the unpretentious man of wealth is becom ing a provokingly familiar type. The simple life! Live on sixpence day and earn it! These irritating things are always eonimenued iby people who 'have numberless sixpences laid by, people who will never need to earn sixpence. In fact, the whole thing is cant, pure and simple," Uncle Alf was silent for a long time.

"Perhaps you're right," he said, slowly: "ibut you can't teach an old dog new tricks, and I have no taste for social aeroplaning. I have heard tales that didn't sound encouraging. But if you think wisdom and happiness lie that way, go ahead. I shall provide resources within reason, and I shall watch with interest the result of this second experiment." Sam had not anticipated such swift assent. His dreams made a sudden projection towards realism. As Alf Hopkins' nephew he had no trouble -with introductions. Society opened its gates and let him through. His feet were on a dangerous slope. The patronage of ease-loving men, the smiles of luxurious women, were as nectar to his lips. Aimless activities, inane social observances, filled all his nights and an ever-increasing portion of his days. He ran to starch and fancy vests, to things of etiquette and fashion. He neglected business, and barely concealed his contempt for it. He rememberer, for the whetting of his joy, the hardships of the London life that seemed so far away. Polly Wyber he remembered never at all.

By degrees he entered the exclusive orbit of Evelyn Lograth, a rarely beautiful thing with a hot temper and cold heart. Miss Ijogarth's mimicry of "that little cad Hopkins" provoked her female friends to unrestrained laughter; bur she made no secret of the fact "thai sue was out to make a good match—ready to go down to the highest bidder. And "old Alf Hopkins' heir" would be quite a catch. His devotion as a lover was a bore, but, as he would certainly develop into <i submissive husband, Miss Lograth reflected that she would just accept the little bounder.

For a long time Uncle. Alf looked upon the degeneracy of his relative and said nothing. But one forenoon, as 'he sat pondering when he should draw the tether tight on Sam Hopkins, there was a tap at the door.

Women were rarely seen and kever wanted in Alf Hopkins' offices. But a particularly pretty one now entered. The great financier refreshed himself with a prolonged look at the splendid specimen of opening womannoou. "What can i do for you, miss 1" "Nothing, I dare say. It was Sam I wanted, but he's out. Of course, I'm of no interest to you. I'm of no interest to Sam, though I once was. I'm Pony Wyber. Never heard of me before? Thought not. Well, I'm Sam's old sweetheart. We would have been married years ago if you hadn't chipped in with your silly notion of adopting him. He left me promising he'd come back and marry me—which he didn't. But I have not come to shed tears over Sam Hopkins. Dare say he's mashing some toff, and would be ashamed to be seen talking to me. No, I called on business. When you sent for Sam he hadn't as much as would pay his passage. I had two sovereigns—all I had in the world. He borrowed, them. That's five years ago, and I've never heard a word of Sam or my sovereigns since. An old girl friend of mine shifted to Chicago, and is doing well. She wrote asking me if I'd join her. I'm on my way now. But, passing

through New York, it struck me why shonkVi I ii.ive i>nek my two sovereigns. That was all I wanted. I didn't even want to see Sam. He could have passed them out in an envelope. But, like my luck, he has gone to Coney Island for a week. Well, I thinks, for the sake of the family reputation, perhaps Uncle Alf will pav up. Of course, you have only mv word for it, and if you are one of Sam's sort, that won't be good enough. Very well. I hadn't much hope 01 getting them even from you, though to a poor girl like me two sovereigns are useful, especially when they happen to be vour own. So, if you think I've spun a likely yarn, will you pay them? If not, keep*them. Give them to Mr. Samuel Hopkins as a gift from his old sweetheart. They are tar more than the prrce of him. Good day." Alf Hopkins had listened silently. Polly Wyber rashly considered it the silence of incredulity, and she turned to go. "Wait a moment, Miss Wyber. This matter might ibe adjusted. Sit down, please, and go on talking." Pollv was quick to discern and resent "chaff.*" She looked searchingly at Alf Hopkins. His eyes revealed kindness and solicitude. Polly Wyfoer sat down.

Bam Hopkins was surprised when his uncle spoke of taking, a holiday. But it was a most reasonable proposition. "I have worked steadily for twenty, years without a rest. I mean to have a iong one now. I'm going to Europe, talking it easy. I shall travel in my own quiet way, keeping clear of your swell friends. I admit they have spruced you up a bit, but I dare say you are finding that life among such folk is not the happy thing it always lottks and somehow never is. I'll send you an occasional note of my itinerary. Don't worry if it is erratic . Trust me to turn up if i live. If I die my affairs are in order; my will is at my lawyer's." Alf Hopkins vanished from his familiar haunts. His nephew received occasional letters'. iEtwlt w&* buoyant. Vmh Alf was obviously enjoying nimself. Lne for him had suddenly acquired a fresh gusto.

Sam divided his time between business and Miss Lograth in proportions which he knew Uncle Alf would disapprove. But the stately beauty was becoming gracious to a degree he had never hoped for. Her condescension was a stimulant to his courage. He dreamt of a future radiant with her presence. He rehearsed the, form of his proposal. Meantime the months slipped past, twelve of them. Sam had received no letter from his uncle for a long time. But at noon on a day when, from private reasons, Sam Hopkins was feeling sick at heart, when his world seemed awry and its skies drab, the door of the private room swung open and Uncle Alf entered. "Halloa!" exclaimed Sam. "Your coming resembles your growling, sudden and surprising. But, my word, travel is a rejuvenator; you are looking rresh and fit."

"I shall retain, for I can't return, your compliment. You look as if you were recovering from sickness."

"I am." "Ah! Real or romantic?" "Evelyn Lograth." "Has she given you the mitten?"

"Yes. Led me on and fooled me. We fought it out to a finish last night. 1 lost my temper, and temporarily mistook a lady's boudoir for a London back street. But I had justification. For a long time her friendship has been increasing in warmth. Last night there was a complete transformation, from Tropic to Arctic. She refused a reason, and I can't conceive one." "I can." "0—h!" "Yes; but first I'll take my accustomed seat. Thanks. It does feel pleasant to be back again. And, now, give me your close attention. The next few minutes wil be memorable to you. 1 need not rehearse the origin of our acquaintance. 1 always had a craze for experiments; sending for you was one. It seemed a most successful one. When you arrived here you displayed qualities that delighted me. But, my dear Samuel, there are two severe forms or character-testing in this world —adversity and prosperity. Adversity is the more common and less'attractive-look-ing. But while adversity has slain its thousands, prosperity has.slain its tens of thousands. You. have gone to swell the latter total.. When you came from London you were a, likely lad. But degeneration speedily set in. I watched the process. You began by despising Dolan's. You looked into other men's garden-plots, and became discontented with your own. Just to see how far you would go, 1 gave you rope. And, of course, you hanged yourself. You became a dilettante, an obsequient at society's gates, a young man for whom I have no manner of use. Miss Lograth is a supreme proof of your folly. She nas encouraged you, no doubt. But yesterday I met Mr. Lograth, and he, pleading a father's anxiety, asked if it were true ■ that you were my heir. I told him I had decided to supplant you in favor or another, that you would be offered a position on the office staff suited to your qualifications, and that your wages would be proportionate to your worth. Doubtless he went home and told his daughter, which explains his daughter's coolness to you. You made the mistake of supposing that Evelyn Lograth was •made of as good metal as, say, 'Polly Wyber. Yes; your surprise is pardonable. But do not unduly burden your conscience. I paid Polly the two sovereigns you borrowed from her, and I am instructed to communicate yon an expression of her tepid interest in your happiness. To make matters clear, let me explain that before I set out last year I got married. The trip 1 have just concluded is a wedding trip. I have actually been home for several months, living in retirement at my country place near Bresk Vale. If you call there at any time you will see Alf Hopkins' heir lying in his mother's lap. A bright little chap he looks. And his mother! Ah, Samuel, do you need to be told how his mother looks?' In the course of our travels in Europe by far the prettiest, sweetest woman 1 ever set eyes on was Polly Hopkins nee Dyber. She is my last and luckiest experiment."