The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 18, 2 May 1907, Page 3

The Storyteller

THE MILLIONAIRE'S CALLER

. He was a tall old man with a-, slight -stoop and thin- gray hair. His garments . were shiny with wear, the, sleeves of his coat being fairly slippery in their threadbare state. But there was liUlertrace of the infirmities of age in his .strong features and the, sharp glance of the gray " eyes beneath the shaggy brows. Ihose sharp gray eyes turned towards the dingy old •clock -over the dingy old mantel. It was just noon. There was- a door that opened- into the -counting'room, and its upper half was glass. Through- this transparent medium the old man could keep a watchful eye on his employees. It saved sudden incursions into the outer room. Those clerks and bookkeepers never knew whe<n the sleepless eye of t-hc grim old master was turned" in their direction. There was no loitering or any other form of relaxation' ill that busy \ counting room. From tlie clock the old mail's gaze turned to „ the door. Tfie desks Were deserted. ~ It was ;the luncheon hour. He arose from his creaky swivel -chair and, crossing the room, pulled down a shade that covered ; the - glass. Then he . turned back to his desk and, producing a small parcel wrapped in a newspaper, opened it and -disclosed ' an- apple and - a few , crackers. Tse spread them out on_the paper and fell io munching '"them.- He was gnawing at the apj-le when a light rap at the counting-room door drew his attention. At first he was inclined to believe that his ears had deceived him. "linen the, rap ;came -again — rat," tat, tat. ' Come in,' he" cried, and there was nothing suggestive of hospitality in the peremptory tone. ' Come in. 1 A hand fumbfed with the knob , and -then- tire- " door swung open. A -child was standing on" the threshold, a little girl with sunny curls and a dainty pink frock. ' How do you do ? ' saM" the astonishing vision. ' Are you pretty well ? So am I, thank you.' And she made him a little bobbing courtesy and threw him a fascinating smile. . . ' Where did you come from ?' growled the old man." ' I coined from out here,' replied the little maid. ' I peeped through the glass .under, the; curtain an' I saw you.' She laughed -merrily. . 'A a! I thought you was a big ogre eat n' all' by yourself. You don't eat little girls, do you ? ' He yielded "for a moment to the -witchery oi her smile. ' Not when they are good little girls,' he gruffly said. The child . laughed merrily., _ ""\ ." . ' You's a splendid ogre', 1 she cried, aM clapped her „ hands'. 'Much, better'n papa., ,3Vhat's ; you eatin"-? ' He 'hastily' pushed the crackers and tire remains- of the apple' aside. ' My " luncheon,' he answered. 'But you haven't told me where you came from. He was surprised at himself for showing tMis interest in the child. ' I corned down to see papa,' she answered. ' Manima brought me an' left me here ''cause she's goin' a-shoppin', an' there's fierce crowds an' little girls might get hurt. An' I brought papa's lunch, an' mamma wMI call for inc. An' I'm to keep awful still, ''cause the man papa works., for is very,- very cross an' he can't bear 1o have children 'round.' The child laughed again. •' Do it again,' she cried. ' I ain't a bit afraid of you. I know it's all just make 'believe.- Please can't I come in a wee bit further ? ' r/ ' . ; ■ • ' Come in if you want to,' said the old man a little ungraciously. She smiled as she slowly advanced. 'It always pays to be polite,' she said. ' Thatfs what mamma tells me.' If I had said, can I come in, without any - please, you might have said we don't want no little girls around here 10-d ay— they're such a nuisance. Ah' besides, I was a little tired of stayin' out there all alone. 'Cause, you see, papa had to co to the customhouse 'bout- some-thin' pertickler, an' I'm most sure I heard a big rat under the desk bruslim' his whiskers.' She came oiuite close to him and leaned* against the ancient haircloth chair that stood by-ltis desk. ' Wht> is your father ?' ihe old man' asked. 'My papa ? 'He's Mister Fcnton— Mister' Russell Fenton. Do you know him ? He's a very nice man.' -' Yes, I know him. And did he tell you to come in here and see me ?' 'Mercy, no !' cried the child. ' He"didn't say nothin' about you. He just said 1 was to keep very qoiiet an' he would- be back as soon as he could. An' I said, •'•' Ain't you goin' to eat your lunch, papa ? "

And he- said no, he didn't have time ; an' I said it was a shame to waste suoh a nice lunch, an' he laughed* an' saiii, " You eat' it," but after I heard that rat I didn't seem to feel hungry.' She looked at him and her dark eyes sparkled. ' Please will you . watch thorough the door real close just a mdnute ? If the rat sees you looMn' he won't come out. Just a minute,' and she turned and trotted into the oountingroom. In a moment she was back again with a long pasteboard box. ' Here's the lunch.' She looked at fcAm and' half closed her eyes. ' Let you and me eat it,' she said. He shook his head. ' Eat it yourself,' he muttered. , "I can't eat it all,' she cried. ' I'm not '.a pig. It's very nice. Mamma took -extremely pains with it. Let's divide. What's yours ?'" He hesitated. Then he pushed his apple and crackers jnto view. She looked at the display gravely. IMy papa had 'it once,' she said. ' Had what ? ' - "Dyspepsy. He couldn't eat hardly anything neither.' 'I can eat qiAte enough,' the old man dryly re--marked. The child looked at him curiously. 'You're pretty thin,.' she said. "Maybe I'd be pretty thin too if I li»ved on apples and crackers. An X now it's niy turn. See this.' And she whisked- the cover" off the box, and showed the neatly packed contents. ' Now,' she sOA, as she drew out a sandwiob, 'I'll 'trade you this for two -crackers. 1 don't much care for crackers, but it will seem more fair.' She held the sandwich toward him. He hesitated again. Ai frosty smile stole across his wrinkled face. He gravely extended the two crackers and took the proffered samd-R>ich>. Then he bit a goodly segment from it, ' Very good,' he said. ' Mamma made 'em herself. Papa says she's a dabster at makin' sandwiches. But then I guess mamma's always make things better than anybody else can. Don't you find it so ? ' He "paused with, the remainder of the sandwich uplifted. His face grew more gentle. ' I believe it's a fact that is generally admitted,' he said. The child looked at him with a quick laugh. ' That's just the way papa talks sometimes,' she said, 'an' 1 don't understand a word he says. But ain't we havin' a good time, jus' you an' me ? ' ' Why, yes, 1 saKl the old man. ' I think it must be a good time— although I'm afraid a pretty poor judge.' The child regarded him critically. ' You do look pretty poor,' she said. ' Have another sandwich. Oh, do !- 'An' mercy, here's some cheese an' a nice pickle. Yes, you must. Papa says it isn't polite to refuse a lady. That's when mamma offers him the second cup of coffee.' The old man to o k the ' second sandwich, but he frowned a little at the cheese and crackers. ' Rather extravagant,' he growled. ' That's just what papa says to mamma sometimes,' cried the child. > An' mamma says she guesses he'd have hard work to find anybody who could make a dollar go further than "she can,. We have to be awful careful, you know. There's clothes to buy, an' what we eat, an' the rent. Why, fnamma says she's 'always " afraid to 1 look the calendar in the face for fear rent day has come round again. - Where do,, you live? ' ' I live in. a house uptown,' he answered. ' Can you swing* a cat in it ?' ' Swing a cat ?' , ' , 1 You can't in our rooms, you .know. They're the teeniest things. We're on the fifth 'floor— hut I'he janitor s a real nice man. He asked me to ask my papa •if hcftl trade me for two boys. An' papa said to tell him that he might do it for the two boys an' a couple o pounds y radium t<o boot. An' I told the janitor, an he said he guessed papa wasn't very anxious to ,f e A An> * ' told papa what Mr - R y an * said ' an ' he pulled one of my curls an' said he wouldn't trade me for all John Ramsey's millions tv»ice over. That's the .man papa works for. Do you know him ?" The old man liad frowned and then suddenly smiled. 'Yes, I've met him,' he replied. 1 He's very rich, papa* says, an' he lives all alone in a great big house, an' he hasn't little girl, an' he needs someibody to take care of him, an' all he thinks about is money, money, money ! 'It's too bad' to be as rich as that, isn't it ? ' The old man looked hard at the child. 1 Money is a pretty good thing, isn't it ?' ' I guess it is,' the child replied. ' But ' mamma says it's only good for what it will buy. '< It's good for clothes, and what you eat, and the rent. Then it's good for nice things what you specially like, but not

Loo many. Then it's .good for helpin 1 those that need hedpin', li..>e lame Joe, an' when people is sick. An' it's good, to ha\e a iiilile in the barm for a rainy day— > bhough I don't see what difiercnce the rain makes. Ain't yris sponge cake good ? ' ' Money is, very, useti.l, then ? ' ' 'Tis sometimes. When '"mamma's mamma died 'way out in Kansas mamma couldn t go to the funeral 'cause papa was just gettin' over a iever an' all our money was gone, cenl, an' we owed the doctor an' the remt: Mamma cried and cried all day.' There was a little silence. ' And what would you do if you had lots of money, child ? ' She looked up a I him with her eyes sparkling. ' I'd t*^e most of it to mamma and, papa. - But I'd -keep a little myself.' She smiled at him. in her bewildering way. ' Guess you don't know what a lot of things you can buy for fifty cents ! An' then" I'd keep solne for _ a chair— the kind you wheel around— for lame Joe. He's a little boy that flues near our house, an' he can't never walk any more. An' he sits on the steps an' makes faces at us when we run by. An' mamma says it's 100 bad somebody who. has the money to spare can't get him a chair like he needs, 'cause it would be suoh a happiness to him. An' mamma says maybe Mr. -Ramsey would 'buy it, and papa laughed in such a funny way. Mr. Ramsey is the man he works for, you remember.' ' I remember,' said the old- man. ' An' mamma said she guessed she'd come down some day an' tell Mr. Ramsey about lame Joe, an' papa said real quick he guessed shed better not. An' mamma said she was only joking. Funny kind of ioking, wasn't it'? ' i 'It sounds that way to me,' said the old man, ' Yes, I think so, too. When a man's got as much money as Mr. Ramsey, it wouldn't be any trouble at all for him to buy a chair for a little lame boy, would it ? ' , *' He did not answer her. ' How old are you ?' he presently asked. I m six. And hiow old are you ? ' He laughed in his unaccustomed way ' I'm seventy— to-day.' The child gave a little scream of delight. Mercy! It's your birthday ! Oh, I wish I had known it ! Mamma could make you such a beautiful birthday cake. Wouldn't H have to be a .big one ! Just magrae -seventy candles ! We think a lot of birthdays at our house. Do you get many presents ' ' Not one.' « w?t? looked at him with startled eyes. Why, that's too bad. Did your folks forget ?' I haven't any folks.' • ' The pity on her face "dee^ned. n,oW'J' II V SOnT 4. for you '' she sa! ' d - Her little n hand Pushed the pasteboard box towards him. ' You shall have the other piece of cake.' * Then her face brightened ca t Wouldn't you buy some presents for yourself " He shook his head. - 'No,' he answered. ' I don't believe I could ' '. - ■crackers * ° n hal£ ' eat€n apple and the " 'Perhaps you are. too poor*? she softly said. Yes,'^ iie answered, ' I am too poor.' Her little heart. was touched. '-" ' Have you worked here long ?' she' asked ' Nearly fifty years.' - ..." 'Mercy ! that's a long, time.' Her ouick glance travelled over his th-ead-bare suit. MaybV Mr. would give you more wages." He laughed again. 1 He seems to, think I'm worth only my board and clothes.' ' Dear, dear ! An' he's so rich. We went, by his house once— papa an' mamma an' me— an' it TookeS so big an' dark". Mamma said she'd just like to have the care of it for a while. She'd let in the* air < an', the sunshine, an' drive out the dust an' the gloom an' she'd try to make life really- worth livin'.for the lonely - old man. That's what mamma said. An' papa said he guessed mamma could do it. if anybody could. You know Mr. Ramsey. What do you think about it? ' He suddenly laughed.- ftc 'It might be an experiment ..w.prth trying, ' he said. Then he stared into the pasteboard. box. s " Why, look at this ! ' he cried ; ' the lunch has all disappeared ! I'm sure I ate more than half of it. Come, now, how much do I owe you?' • - \ '.-.*. •. 'Mercy,' cried the child, 'you don't owe me anythin' ! I couldn't eat it all, an' papa didn't have time. I hope yon liked it. ' . , 4 It was the best luncheon I have eaten for years,'said the old man.

'"I'll remember an' tell mamma that, she'll be real pleased. An' how she'll lau^h when 1 tell her you asked what you owed me. 1 The. old man put his hand deep in his pocket and drew out 'an ancient leather wallet. From 'this !ae extracted a, bill and smoothed it on his knee. 4 There is a lame boy whose name is Joe,' he slowrly said. "' He needs a chair. Do you know anything about the ftrice o f these things ?' The child's eyes sparkled as she stared at the bill. •' Yes, yes !' the answered. ' Mamma went and found out.. You can gee the kind of chair Joe wants for 15"^ dollars. An' a real substantial chair, too.' ' Here's- twenty dollars,' said the oM man, an' tell Joe_ it's a present from you. What's yourname V 1 Elsie.' He watched, her with an amused smile as she > quickly drew a tiny purse from - the pocket in her " frock and tucked, the bill into it. Then, when -the little purse was restored to its place, she looked up at the old man. 4 Now,' she said, 'if you please, I'm" goin'-to give you a kiss. I always- give papa a kiss when he's particularly nice.' The old man flushed a little. 4 Just as you please, ' he said. He stooped and she touched" the wrinkled cheek with her lips. f - ' You're a very nice man,' she said. Then she- - hesitated. ' But didn't you nee-d that money for yourself V . He shook his head.. . , - - ' I guess 1 I can spare it,' he answered. Then came an interruption. ' Elsie,' a voice called from the doorway. " * 4 It's papa,' cried the "child. The old man looked around. - ' Well, Fenton ?' . - " ' I trust she hasn't bothered you, sir V 4We 'haven't bothered each o'her a bit,' cried the child. The old man shook his head. 4 No,' he answered, ' not a bit.' Then he looked tfack to the man in the doorway. 4 Fenton,' he said, ' when your wife comes for the child tell her, please, that I want* to have a little business talk with her. I'm ■ thinking of onening up mv house.' The eyes of the man in the doorway couldn't conceal their wonderment. ' I'll 'tell her,- 'sir-.'' ' And, Fenton ! ' ' Yes, sir. 1 ' You may lpaye the child here until the mother comes. '—Exchange. '