Читать книгу Silas Bradford's Boy - Joseph C Lincoln - Страница 7

Table of Contents

At three o'clock the next afternoon Mrs. Elijah Truman, in the second-floor sitting room of the big house on the Old Ostable Road, was reclining in an easy-chair, pampering a slight headache and listening to her granddaughter, Elizabeth Cartwright, who was reading aloud. The novel Miss Cartwright was reading was one of half a dozen which the Boston bookseller, who knew Mrs. Truman's taste in literature, had sent down. It was a romance just then receiving considerable attention by newspaper reviewers. The majority of Denboro would have considered it decidedly daring.

Mrs. Truman was wearing an elaborate negligee. Her brown hair was carefully waved and arranged. The jewels in her ears and upon her soft plump fingers were expensive. Her stockings—she had always been proud of her ankles—were of fine silk. There were tiny wrinkles about her eyes and at the corners of her mouth, but her cheeks were smooth and rosy. She did not look her age, nor did she intend to look it. It was one of her possessions of which she was not proud.

There was a knock at the door and Mary, the housemaid, appeared to announce that a young man had called and wished to see her mistress on a matter of business.

Mrs. Truman's headache had not helped her temper. "I can't see any one, Mary," she snapped. "You know it perfectly well. Who is he, anyway? What is this business of his?"

"I don't know, ma'am. He said it was important. His name is Bradford."

Mrs. Truman appeared to forget her headache. She sat up in the chair. "Bradford!" she repeated sharply. "Bradford, did you say?"

"Yes, ma'am. He—"

"What Bradford? Do you know him, Mary?"

The maid was a Denboro product. She had lived in the town all her life. "Yes, ma'am," she replied. "I know who he is. He's that young lawyer that's just moved into Judge Blodgett's room down in the post-office buildin'. Mrs. Silas Bradford is his mother. Him and her live—"

But Mrs. Truman was on her feet by this time. She did not wait to hear more. "Silas Bradford's son," she cried almost shrilly. "What has he come here for?"

Miss Cartwright put in a word. "Why, Grandmother," she begged, "what is the matter? Your head—"

"Hush!...Where is he now?"

"Down in the library, ma'am. I told him I didn't think you could see him, but he—"

"Be still. Tell him I'll be down at once. Elizabeth, help me to fix my wrapper; it must be a sight."

"But Grandmother, don't you think I had better see him for you?"

"No, I don't. I shall see him myself. Mary, don't stand there like an idiot. Go and tell him."

The maid departed. Elizabeth, very much puzzled by her grandmother's agitation, assisted her in tidying her negligee. They descended the stairs together. Halfway down Mrs. Truman paused.

"It might be better for me to see him alone," she said. "If I knew what on earth brought him here, I— Oh, well! you may come with me, Elizabeth. If I want you to go later I'll let you know."

Banks Bradford rose to meet them as they entered the library. It was a good-sized room with many books in it; the only private library worthy the name in Denboro. Mrs. Truman inspected the caller through her gold and tortoise-shell eyeglasses.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Truman," said Banks.

"How do you do?" she acknowledged curtly. "Well, sir, what is it?"

She did not ask him to sit down again, nor did she sit, or introduce her granddaughter. She stared so steadily that Banks' nervousness—for he was already more than a little nervous— increased.

"I came to see you," he said, stammering slightly, "on behalf of— er—of a friend of mine. He isn't a client exactly—not yet; but he has asked my advice in a matter in which you are concerned, Mrs. Truman."

"What are you talking about? What matter? What friend?"

"The matter of an antique sideboard which you bought of him last spring. Mr. Tadgett says he sold you that sideboard and that at the time you liked it and accepted it. Now recently, so he says, you tell him that you have changed your mind and don't want it. This puts him in an embarrassing position, Mrs. Truman. He paid for the sideboard when he bought it for you—after you had accepted it and it had been delivered here—with his own money. It was a good deal of money, more than he can spare."

Mrs. Elijah Truman interrupted. She had listened to this explanation intently and with the same searching, questioning stare in her keen eyes. Now her expression changed.

"Wait!" she ordered. "One moment, please. Am I to understand that you are Ebenezer Tadgett's lawyer and that he sent you here to collect what he says I owe him?"

"Why, not exactly, Mrs. Truman. He didn't send me. I came because I thought a friendly talk, an explanation of his side of the affair, might save a lot of trouble."

"Trouble? For whom?"

"For both Mr. Tadgett and—yourself, Mrs. Truman."

"Hum! And if I don't pay he will go to law about it? And you will help him? Is that it, Mr.—er—Bradford? Bradford is the name, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mrs. Truman. I am Banks Bradford. As for going to law— well, Mr. Tadgett would prefer not to do that, of course. On the other hand—"

"On the other hand he will unless I pay for his old sideboard. Well, I shall do nothing of the kind and you may tell him so...No, Elizabeth, you needn't go; perhaps you had better hear the rest of this. Now, Mr. Bradford, is Ebenezer Tadgett's sideboard the matter of business you came to see me about?"

"Yes, Mrs. Truman."

"The only one? There was nothing else?"

"Why, no. As I tried to explain, I—"

"Yes, yes. Well then, if that is all, you may tell Mr. Tadgett I don't like the board he tried to force on me. It is out in my carriage house now and he may have it any time he cares to send for it. Are you his lawyer?"

"Why—well—well, yes, I am."

"Then I shall refer you to my lawyer, Mr. Oscar Brooks, of Ostable. He will look out for my interests and you and he may quibble and squabble to your heart's content, so long as you don't trouble me. That is all we need say on that subject, I think, Mr. Bradford."

She delivered this businesslike statement in a businesslike way but—or so it seemed to him—with far less sharpness of tone and manner than she had shown in the beginning. He smiled. "It would seem to be all that needs to be said—to-day, Mrs. Truman," he agreed pleasantly.

He turned to go, but she detained him. "Wait," she said. "That being settled, temporarily at least, I am still a little curious. How does it happen that you are representing that old fraud— Tadgett, I mean?"

"He isn't a fraud, Mrs. Truman."

"That is a matter of opinion. But why did he ask you to help him?"

As a matter of fact, Ebenezer had never asked for help, except in the way of advice. He was not aware of Bradford's visit to the Truman house; Banks, having made up his mind, was acting entirely on his own responsibility. This, however, he deemed unnecessary to explain.

"Mr. Tadgett is, as I said, a friend of mine. I am practicing law in Denboro now and my office, like Mr. Tadgett's shop, is in the post-office building."

"I see. You are Silas Bradford's son, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Truman."

"That is interesting. It is odd that you and I have never met. Your father was my husband's partner in business at one time."

Banks might have replied, and truthfully, that they had met several times in the course of years but that the lady had never deigned to remember him from one meeting to the next. Instead, he said simply, "Yes, Mrs. Truman."

"Hum! So you are Silas Bradford's son. You look like your father, did you know it?"

"So people say, I believe."

"Yes. Well, looks like his won't do you any harm. And you are living here in town—with your mother, I suppose?"

"Yes."

"Why did you decide to locate in this countrified place?"

Banks, suppressing a desire to tell her that he considered that no one's affair but his own, explained briefly. He had finished law school, was of course compelled to begin practice somewhere, and had decided to accept the opportunity which his uncle had called to his attention.

She nodded. "So Abijah Bradford was responsible," she observed. "He would be. This town is his idea of perfection. Your father was—different."

This being a statement and not a question, Banks made no comment. "Is there anything else, Mrs. Truman?" he asked.

"No, I think not. Considering that you are intending to drag me into court and all that sort of thing, it is quite enough, I should say. However, we all make mistakes—and profit by them, if we have brains enough to profit by anything. If you have your father's ability as well as his good looks, you will get along, I imagine, even in Denboro—that is, provided you are not— Well, good day, Mr. Bradford."

Banks was at the door, but Miss Cartwright happened to be standing in his path and they almost collided. Elizabeth, having been ordered by her grandmother to remain during the interview, had done so. Beyond giving her that order Mrs. Truman had ignored her utterly and the girl was feeling decidedly awkward and out of place.

"I beg your pardon," stammered Bradford.

Elizabeth murmured something. Mrs. Truman spoke. "Oh," she said carelessly. "Mr. Bradford, this is my granddaughter, Elizabeth Cartwright. If you put me in jail for stealing your beloved Tadgett's sideboard you'll have to put her there too. She goes wherever I do."

The young people bowed. Mrs. Truman rang the bell, and a moment later Banks was shown to the front door by the maid. His feelings as he walked the mile between the Old Ostable Road and his office were varied. He stood committed now, without warrant from Ebenezer himself, and whether the affair would or would not prove to be the first great mistake of his life remained to be seen. Well, no matter—he was in for it.

Mrs. Truman had surprised him. She had treated his cause and his client cavalierly enough, but she had been polite, almost friendly, to him personally. Condescending, yes—but pleasant. She must have known his father well. That was odd, for according to his mother's story old Captain Elijah's second marriage had not taken place until after Silas Bradford's death. No doubt though Elijah had told her about his former partner; praised him, probably, as did all who had known him.

At any rate, Elizabeth Cartwright was a mighty pretty girl. He should like to know her better. Not much chance for close acquaintanceship now that he was to bring suit against her grandmother for nonpayment of debt.

In the library of the big house, after the exit of their caller, Mrs. Truman stood for a moment in silence by the window.

"Dear me," she sighed, turning away. "I shall begin to believe in ghosts after this. When I walked into this room and saw him standing there I could have sworn Silas Bradford had come to life."

Elizabeth, too, was thinking. "I am almost sure I have met him before," she mused. "Have I, Grandmother?"

"No, you haven't"—sharply..." And he is going to live here in Denboro! Tut, tut! I'm sorry."

"But why, Grandmother? You're not afraid that he or that funny old Mr. Tadgett can make you pay for a sideboard you didn't buy?"

"Humph! I imagine he intends proving that I did buy it. But that doesn't trouble me. I don't like ghosts, that's all...Oh, dear, my poor head is beginning to ache again. Get me upstairs, child; come! Careful—don't step on that ruffle. I like this wrapper; it suits my complexion and I don't want it ruined."

Banks' scene with Tadgett, when he told the latter what he had done and what he proposed doing, was not so difficult as the young man had anticipated. Ebenezer seemed more stunned than rebellious, and most of his anxiety appeared to be rather on his friend's account than his own.

"You hadn't ought to have done it, boy," he declared over and over again. "And it's all my fault for runnin' to you with my troubles. Why didn't I keep my mouth shut? Now look at the mess you're in!"

"It's the other side that are in a mess. This is going to be fun— for you and me, Ebenezer."

"I want to know! I'm old man Tadgett, the junk dealer, and she's Elijah Truman's widow. Fun! Um—yes! Dan'l in the lion's den was nothin' to it, fur's fun is concerned."

"That's all right. Daniel had all the fun there was in that scrape, if I remember correctly. Now I want you to tell me all about this sideboard business—who you bought it of; what you and they know about it; every last thing."

Tagdett told him. Banks made many notes, jotting down names, addresses and figures.

"If you're not mistaken and we can prove all this," he declared gleefully, "the opposition hasn't got a leg to stand on. I doubt if they ever let it come into court at all. Don't talk about it to outsiders, Ebenezer."

"Needn't worry, I shan't. But if this whole yarn, with extra trimmin's and ruffles, ain't washed, rinsed and hung up to dry in every back yard from South Denboro to Poket Neck afore this week's over, then I miss my guess. Wait till Cap'n 'Bijah knows what I've got his nephew into! And third cousin Hettie! My grief!"