Dick Hamilton's Fortune Part 26

"I never go to theatres," said Mr. Larabee, in severe tones. "It's sinful, and a wicked waste of money. If there is a good instructive lecture in the village I would much rather go to that."

"I'm afraid there isn't," replied Mr. Hamilton, trying not to smile, for he respected his brother-in-law's scruples. "But we can spend the evening pleasantly at home--talking."

"Pleasantly!" repeated d.i.c.k to himself, with a sort of groan.

"Pleasantly, with Uncle Ezra? Never!"

After supper Mr. Larabee and d.i.c.k's father chatted in the library. The talk ranged from business matters to subjects in Dankville, where Mr.

Hamilton knew several families.

"Perhaps you'd like to take a look about the house," suggested Mr.

Hamilton, after a pause "I've been putting in some improvements lately, and enlarging the conservatory. d.i.c.k will show you around."

"What? Tramp through the house just to look at it? I don't believe in doing that," replied Uncle Ezra, firmly. "Things wear out fast enough as it is without using them when it isn't necessary. No use walking on the best carpets when there isn't a need for it. Besides, I don't believe in spending money on a house when it's good enough. Your place was very nice without adding to it. Think of the money you could have saved."

"But I didn't have to save it," responded Mr. Hamilton. "I made lots this year, and I thought it was a wise thing to put it into something permanent. I have increased the value of my house."

"Much better put it in the bank," advised Uncle Ezra, with a disapproving sniff.

Mr. Hamilton and d.i.c.k tried to entertain their visitor, but it was hard work. He cared nothing for the things they were interested in, and was somewhat inclined to dictate what Mr. Hamilton should do with his money.

"You burn too many lights," he said, noting that several incandescents were aglow in the library where they sat. "One would do as well," and he turned out all but one.

"I contract for it by the year," said Mr. Hamilton. "It doesn't cost me any more to burn five lamps than it does one."

"But the lamps wear out," was Uncle Ezra's answer. "And speaking of things wearing out reminds me. We got a letter the other day and it almost made Samanthy sick. She hasn't got over the shock of it yet."

"What was it?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Why, it was from some crazy society in New York, wanting us to take twenty-five 'fresh-air children,' the letter said, to board at our house for a few weeks. Said they heard we had a big farmhouse and could accommodate 'em."

"Are you going to take them?" inquired Mr. Hamilton. "I think your house would be just the place for them. You have lots of room, and you can't eat all that you raise on the farm. It would do the poor things good."

"Are--we--going--to--take--them?" repeated Mr. Larabee. "I'm surprised at you, Mortimer Hamilton. The idea of taking twenty-five street-arabs in our house! Why, the very idea of it made Samanthy sick a bed for a day. Those rapscallions wouldn't leave a carpet on the floor! They'd tear the house apart! I know! I've read about 'fresh-air children'

before."

"You might take the carpets up," suggested d.i.c.k, with a smile.

"What?" almost shouted Uncle Ezra. "Nephew Richard, there's carpets in our house that hasn't been up for years. Why the spare room hasn't been opened since sister Jane's funeral, and that was--let me see--that was the year when Ruth Enderby got married. Take 'fresh-air children' into our house! Why, we wouldn't have any house left at the end of the week."

"Oh, I guess not as bad as that," replied Mr. Hamilton, indulgently.

"But, of course, you know your own business best. I hope Mrs. Larabee soon recovers."

"She may, but it was quite a shock," replied Uncle Ezra. "Well, I think I'll go to bed. I must be up early in the morning. I came here to transact a little business, and the sooner it's over the sooner I can get back home. I'm afraid my hired man will burn too much kindling wood starting the fires. He's the most wasteful man I ever saw." And, sighing deeply at the depravity of hired men in general and his own in particular, Uncle Ezra went to bed.

d.i.c.k offered to take him for a spin in the runabout the next day, but his uncle declined, on the ground that there might be an accident.

"You might run somebody down and hurt them," he said. "Then they'd sue you for damages and I'd be liable for a share. I haven't any money to throw away on automobile accidents."

"All right," said d.i.c.k. "But I'm very careful."

"You can come walking with me instead," suggested his uncle. "You and I ought to be friends. We may have to live together some day, you know,"

and he tried to smile, but it was only a forced grin.

"Not much!" thought d.i.c.k, as, with rather a heavy heart, he prepared to accompany his uncle on the walk. "No, no, Grit, you can't go," he said, as the dog jumped about in delightful antic.i.p.ation, for he always went with d.i.c.k. "You might bite Uncle Ezra," he added, as, much against his wish, he chained Grit in the kennel. d.i.c.k could not bear to look back at his pet, who gazed reproachfully after him.

d.i.c.k showed his uncle such sights as there were in Hamilton Corners. It was a hot day, and, as they tramped along, d.i.c.k got quite thirsty.

"Come in here, Uncle Ezra," he suggested, as they pa.s.sed a drug store, "and we'll get some soda water."

"What? Pay for a drink of water?" asked Mr. Larabee, horrified.

"Well, it's got ice-cream in it," replied d.i.c.k.

"It's a sinful waste of money!" declared his uncle. "We can get all the water we want to drink at home. But, as I am a little thirsty, I'll go in and ask the man for a gla.s.s of plain water. He'll be glad to give it to us."

d.i.c.k was a little doubtful on this score, and he felt that it would be rather embarra.s.sing to have his uncle ask for water in the drug store, where d.i.c.k was well known. But he was too polite to object to what Mr.

Larabee did. The latter walked into the store, and, in his rasping voice, asked for two gla.s.ses of water.

"Do you mean soda water?" inquired the clerk.

"No, plain water. I don't drink such trash as soda water," replied Mr.

Larabee.

The clerk looked at him in much astonishment, and then glanced at d.i.c.k.

The latter managed to wink, and the clerk seemed to understand. He went to the back part of the store, and presently came back with two gla.s.ses of water.

"There, nephew," said Mr. Larabee, triumphantly, as he sipped the plain beverage. "You see our thirst is quenched and we have saved our money.

Young men should economize, and when they are old they will not want."

"Yes, sir," replied d.i.c.k, dutifully, but when they went out he managed to lay ten cents on the counter where the clerk would see it. d.i.c.k wasn't going to be made fun of the next time he went in for a gla.s.s of soda.

"Now, I think we'll go home, Nephew Richard," suggested Mr. Larabee, when they had walked an hour longer. "There is no use wearing out our shoes any more than we can help. Besides, I have some business to transact this afternoon, and I must get the papers out of my valise."

d.i.c.k was glad enough to return, and gladder still, when, the next morning, Uncle Ezra announced that he was going back to Dankville.

"You must come and see me and your Aunt Samantha," he said to d.i.c.k, as he bade the lad good-bye, and d.i.c.k murmured something that might be taken as an expression of a fervent desire to pay another visit to The Firs, but it was not.

"Dad," said d.i.c.k that night, "do you know what I'm thinking of?"

"Not exactly, you think of so many things."

"I'm thinking of those poor little fresh-air kids, and how disappointed they must be not to get a trip to the country. I don't know as I want them to go to Uncle Ezra's, but--er--say, dad, I'd like to give a bunch of fresh-air kids some sort of an outing. Think of the poor little tots shut up in sizzling New York this kind of weather."

"Well, you can bring them here, I suppose," began Mr. Hamilton, doubtfully, with a look around his handsomely furnished house, "only this isn't exactly the country."

"Oh, I didn't mean here," said d.i.c.k, hastily. "I was thinking we could have a crowd of 'em out to Sunnyside."

This was the name of a large farm which Mr. Hamilton owned on the outskirts of the country village of Prattville.