CHAPTER VIII.
IN WHICH PHIL TAKES A SAIL ON THE LAKE WITH MR. WHIPPLETON.
"Phil, do you know anything about a boat?" asked Mr. Whippleton, one Saturday afternoon, at the close of the month of May.
I was standing on the bank of the river, looking at his boat, which had been thoroughly repaired, painted, and rigged, and lay off the lumber-yard. She was a beautiful craft, and after we had shut up the counting-room, I paused to look at her.
"I don't know anything about a sail-boat," I replied; "but I used to handle a row-boat on the upper Missouri."
"You are used to boats, then?"
"Yes, to row-boats."
"If you are not in a hurry, you may go down the river with me; and I intend to take a little turn out in the lake," he continued, as he hauled the sail-boat up to the shore.
"Thank you, sir; I should like to go very much," I replied.
The Sailing ExcursionThe Sailing Excursion.Page 90.
The craft was called the Florina, though why she had what seemed to me such an odd name, I did not know at that time. I afterwards ascertained that he was engaged to a young lady who bore that interesting name, though, for reasons which will appear in the sequel, he never married her. I was delighted with the boat when I went on board of her, and glanced into her comfortable cabin, which was furnished like a parlor. He had evidently spent a good deal of money upon her, and I soon found that Miss Florina was an occasional guest on board.
She was sloop-rigged, and carried a large jib and mainsail. Everything about her was fitted up in good style; indeed, the carpenters, riggers, and painters had been at work upon her for a month. I was rather sorry, as I looked at her, that I was not a rich man, able to own just such a craft, for I could conceive of nothing more pleasant than coasting up and down the lake, exploring the rivers, bays, and islands. I thought I could live six months in the year on board of the Florina very comfortably. But, then, I was not a rich man; and I had a great work before me, with no time to waste in mere amusements.
"Now take off those stops, Phil."
"Stops?"
"Those canvas straps with which the mainsail is tied up," he explained.
I concluded that the mainsail was the big sail nearest to me, and I untied the "stops," making a note of the name for future use.
"That's it; now stand by the jib halyards," added Mr. Whippleton.
"I'll stand by 'em till doomsday, if you will only tell me what they are."
"I call things by their names in order that you may learn them," laughed the junior partner, as he went forward and cast off the ropes indicated, which were fastened to a couple of cleats on the mast. "One is the throat, and the other is the peak-halyard."
We hoisted the sail, and I observed the use of the halyards, and how to manage and make them fast. I was confident that I should not have to be shown a second time how to do anything. Fortunately there are so few ropes on an ordinary sloop that my weak head could carry the names and uses of all without confusion. There was not much wind up there in the lagoon, or the river, as it is more politely called; but what there was came from the westward, and the skipper said it was fair to take us down to the lake.
"Cast off the painter," continued Mr. Whippleton.
"Who?"
"The painter."
"He's not here; and if he was, I shouldn't like to cast him off here, where the water is so dirty; I would rather wait till we come to a cleaner place," I replied.
"That rope by which the boat is fastened to the wharf is called a painter," added the skipper.
"O, is it?" I replied, unfastening the rope at the shore end, and pulling it on board.
"That's it. You will be as salt as a boiled lobster one of these days, Phil."
I thanked him for the compliment, as I supposed it to be, though I had not the least idea what a lobster was. The skipper took the helm, and the boat began to move.
"Haul in that sheet, Phil," said he, quietly.
I rushed for the cabin, where I had seen two beds very neatly made up in the berths.
"Where are you going?"
"After the sheet. There's some on the beds in the cabin."
"The rope fastened to the boom," he continued, laughing at my blunder, and handing me the end of the line upon which I was to haul.
I pulled in, and the effect was to bring the boom over the deck. Putting the helm hard down, he brought the Florina up into the wind, so as to clear a lumber schooner which lay just below. I wish to say that I describe the movements of the boat from the knowledge I have since obtained, for I am an "old salt" now. I watched the operations of the skipper with keen attention, for I was taking my first lesson in handling a boat, and I was deeply interested. Skilfully he navigated the crowded river, and I hauled in and let out the sheet twenty times before we reached the broad lake. The drawbridges were whisked open in the twinkling of an eye, and in about half an hour we passed out of the river.
I saw why Mr. Whippleton was anxious to have an assistant in the Florina with him, for I found it was no joke to haul the sheet, and my hands, grown tender in my clerkly occupation, exhibited two or three blisters when we reached the mouth of the river. It was a nice thing for a gentleman like him to sit at the helm, and handle the tiller; but I fancied he did not enjoy hoisting the mainsail, and hauling the sheet, alone.
"There, Phil, the worst of it is over now," said Mr. Whippleton, as he headed the boat down the lake. "We are out of the river, and we have plenty of sea room here. You may clear away the jib."
I had already learned what the jib was, and I went out on the bowsprit, as I had seen the men do on other vessels. I loosed the sail, and hoisted it. The jib-sheets led aft to the standing-room; and, as soon as I had made fast the halyard, the skipper luffed up and fastened down the jib. The boat heeled over, and began to cut through the water at a very exciting rate. It was a very pleasing and delightful sensation to me, and from that moment I became a sailor in my aspirations. I had never seen the salt water, and had a very indefinite idea of the expanse of ocean.
"How do you like it, Phil?" asked Mr. Whippleton.
"Very much, sir."
"I'm glad you do, for I want some one to sail with me. This boat is rather large to be handled comfortably by one man, and two make it a pleasant thing for both of them. Sit down here, and make yourself happy," he added, pointing to the cushioned seat at his side.
I accepted his polite invitation, and thought he was very considerate to me, his humble clerk. He then explained my duty in tacking or coming about, which was to let go the jib-sheet on the lee side, when the sail shook, and haul in on the weather side. To illustrate the point, he made a tack and ran in towards the shore. I readily understood the whole matter, and by this time I felt that I could sail the Florina myself.
"Phil, you break in as a book-keeper a great deal better than I expected you would," said Mr. Whippleton, when he had tacked again, and was standing along the shore with the wind on the beam.
"I have taken an interest in the subject, and studied it very attentively. My father, who served his time at the desk, gave me a great deal of instruction."
"Who is your father?"
"He was formerly a merchant, but now he is the agent of a wealthy real-estate owner."
"He instructed you very well. Has Mr. Collingsby said anything to you lately about your duties?"
"No, sir; he has hardly spoken to me since I have been in the counting-room; never, except to ask me a question," I replied.
"He does not say much to any one; but he is well pleased with your work, and spoke of the neat appearance of your books to-day."
"I am certainly very much obliged to him," I added, delighted with this testimony; for I felt that it was the first point I had gained towards the discharge of my great mission.
"He says you write very handsomely and very plainly; that your footings and extensions are uniformly correct."
"I try to have everything right and neat," I answered, delighted beyond measure at this kind opinion of me.
"I took occasion, while the subject was warm, to mention a matter of which I have been thinking lately," continued Mr. Whippleton. "I have a great deal of out-door business to do, and the entire charge of the books is too much for me. We are going to have another entry clerk, and you will hereafter be the assistant book-keeper."
I was very much obliged to him for this new mark of confidence. He explained that he did not intend to give me the entire charge of the books yet, but that I should do the posting and keep the cash book; or rather, that I should assist him in doing these things. He wished me to look into the system of book-keeping the firm had adopted, and prepare myself to keep the books in the course of a year. I promised to be diligent and attentive, but I assured him that I already understood the method.
"Between us both, when we have another entry clerk, we shall have a little more time for sailing," he added. "If we can get away at three or four in the afternoon, we shall have some jolly cruises, for we can make an easy thing of it in the boat as well as at the desk."
"How far can you go in this boat?" I asked, as I glanced at the broad expanse of waters to the north and east of us.
"How far? As far as you please. A thousand miles. You can go to the head of Lake Superior, or through Lake Huron to the foot of Lake Erie."
"Not in this boat."
"Why not?"
"Because she isn't large enough."
"Yes, she is. Her cabin is large enough for two to sleep in; and there is a cook-stove forward, where you can get up as good a dinner as they have at the Tremont House."
"But there are violent storms on the lakes, I have read."
"So there are; but the Florina will stand almost anything in the shape of a blow. All you have to do is to reef, and let her go it. But you can always tell when it is going to be bad weather, and you can make a harbor. With a boat of this size you can run into any creek or river, anchor, and eat and sleep till it is fair weather again. I always keep within a few miles of the shore, on a long cruise. If I can get away for two or three weeks this summer, I intend to make a voyage up to the strait, and down on the other side of the lake."
"I should like to go with you first rate."
"My friend Waterford, who has made his fortune by speculating in lands, keeps a boat just like the Florina; and last summer he went to Detroit and back in her."
The picture he drew of life on the lake pleased me exceedingly, and I could not but sigh when I thought that such amusements were only for rich men. A poor boy, like me, had no right to think of them. Mr. Whippleton had come about, and at dark we were at the mouth of Chicago River again. I took in the jib, and he moored the boat near the lake. When we had put everything in order, he invited me to sail with him the next day.
"To-morrow will be Sunday," I suggested.
"What of it? The Florina sails just as well on Sunday as on any other day."
"I would rather not sail on Sunday. I want to go to church and to Sunday school."
"I didn't think that of you," replied the skipper, contemptuously. "I always sail Sundays, and I expect to race with Waterford to-morrow."
"I hope you will excuse me, sir; I would rather not go."
I saw that he was disgusted with me, but I could not yield this point. I went home, feeling that I had offended my employer, who evidently wished me to assist him in handling the boat.
CHAPTER IX.
IN WHICH PHIL ATTEMPTS TO MAKE OUT A TRIAL BALANCE.
I went to church and to Sunday school as usual the next day; and I knew that I felt better than I should have done on board of the Florina. The next day, however, when I met Mr. Whippleton in the counting-room, he seemed to have laid up no grudge against me: on the contrary, I thought he was rather more pleasant and considerate than usual; but perhaps his conduct was only in contrast with what I had expected.
On Thursday morning, Bob Murray, the new entry clerk, appeared, and I spent the forenoon in initiating him into the mysteries of his duty. In the afternoon I commenced posting, for Mr. Whippleton had been so busy with his boat, and with his other out-door occupations, that the books were somewhat behindhand. While I was thus engaged, I obeyed the instructions of the junior partner, and examined carefully into the system by which the accounts were kept. I began early in the morning and worked till late at night, until I had posted everything down to the Saturday of the preceding week. Then I had no difficulty in keeping the work up.
Mr. Whippleton was away now a large portion of the time. I knew that he was engaged to some extent in real estate speculations, and he hinted to me that these operations occupied a considerable portion of his time. He had simply directed me to post the books, but having mastered the system, I was disposed to show him that I was competent to keep the books alone. I footed up the columns of the invoice and sales books, and I intended to surprise him, at the end of the month, by showing him a trial balance and a statement of results. I thought I could do this, and it would be a feather in my cap if I succeeded. It would not only be good practice for me, but it would show the exact condition of the business.
While I was at work on the invoice book, I found what appeared to me to be an error. The invoices, or bills of lumber purchased by the firm, were all carefully filed away. On referring to the original document, I found it footed up five instead of fifteen thousand dollars. I turned to the cash book, and found that fifteen thousand dollars had been paid on account of this transaction, and I concluded that there must be another bill. I could find no other. The purchase had been made while I was in the office, and I remembered the bill.
I decided to examine all the invoices from the first day of the year, and compare them with the entries in the book, which had been transferred to the ledger. I discovered four other entries for which there were no invoices at all. In other words, there was merchandise to the amount of about thirty-five thousand dollars of which I could obtain no knowledge whatever. However, I went on with my trial balance, and the result, when I had completed it, was startling to me. My statement showed that the firm had lost over ten thousand dollars in five months, taking the stock on hand at cost and considering all debts good.
The head salesman kept what he called a "lumber book." The first entry in it was the amount of stock on hand at the beginning of the year. To this was added all lumber bought, and from it all sales were deducted, so that the book showed the amount of lumber of each kind on hand. This he did so as to be able at all times to report what new stock was needed, and then Mr. Whippleton ordered it. As there was not a great variety of merchandise, the keeping of this book did not demand much labor, each salesman being required to deduct his sales from the gross amounts.
None of the invoices which were missing had been entered in this book. It appeared, therefore, that the firm had thirty thousand dollars worth of stock on hand more than was exhibited by the lumber book. I did not understand it, and I came to the conclusion that I did not know half so much about book-keeping as I had flattered myself I did. Still my accounts all "proved," and though I worked over this problem every evening till midnight, I could not arrive at any different result.
I was amazed, and even vexed. I did not like to say anything to Mr. Whippleton, because I wished to surprise him with my knowledge of accounts on the first of the month. It would astonish him to learn that the firm had lost over ten thousand dollars in five months, several of them the best in the year for business. I came to the conclusion that my laudable design would be a failure, or only prove that I was a vain and conceited boy, who knew but little of the science of accounts. I did not suspect that anything was wrong, except in my own calculations. Probably Mr. Whippleton knew all about the matter, and in due time would set it right, showing that the concern had made twenty or thirty thousand dollars in five months, instead of losing ten thousand.
"Is Mr. Whippleton in?" asked a gentleman, one day, while I was harassing my brain over the knotty problem.
"No, sir," I replied. "He went out at ten o'clock, and I have not seen him since."
"Sorry; I wanted to see him."
I soon found that this gentleman was the agent of the Michigan Pine Company, in whose invoice the discrepancy of ten thousand dollars appeared. Without indicating my purpose, I made such inquiries of him as enabled him to give the information I wanted. I was satisfied that the invoice on file was correct, and that no lumber had been purchased for which the firm had not received a bill.
Of course this discovery only added to my perplexity, and I worked half a day over the head salesman's lumber book; but I finished the investigation no wiser than I had begun it. On the cash book it appeared that the amount of the actual bill had been paid at one time, and the ten thousand dollars at another. I give the amount in round numbers, though it varied somewhat from these figures. I worried myself over the matter till I was afraid it would make me sick, and then I gave it up in despair. The first day of the month came, and when I added the month's business to my trial balance, I found another amount of five thousand dollars unexplained by any invoice. The balance against the firm remained about the same. Mortified at my defeat, I decided to show my statement to Mr. Whippleton, for I was deeply interested to know where "the figures lied."
"What's that?" demanded the junior partner, as I laid my balance sheet and statement before him.
"I have made out a trial balance and statement, sir," I replied.
"Who told you to do that?" he asked, with a glance at the sanctum of Mr. Collingsby.
"No one, sir."
"What do you mean by wasting your time in that way?"
"You told me to look into the system of keeping the books, and I thought I could not do it any better than by getting out a trial balance for the last six months."
"We don't take a trial balance but once a year."
"I only did it for practice, so that I might understand it better when I had to do the real thing."
"I don't care about your overhauling the books to that extent without my knowledge," added Mr. Whippleton, looking very much displeased.
I began to think I had sailed my last sail in the Florina; but as I had kept the books up square, I did not feel that I had done anything to incur his displeasure.
The Trial BalanceThe Trial Balance.Page 108.
"I only did it for practice, sir," I repeated, in excuse for my wicked conduct.
"Did Mr. Collingsby tell you to do that?"
"No, sir; he never said a word to me about it."
"Have you shown it to him?"
"No sir; of course not. There is something wrong about it. You understand these things so well that I suppose you can tell me at a glance just what the matter is."
"Perhaps I can," he added, glancing at my sheets. "What's the matter with it?"
"I make it out that the concern has lost about ten thousand dollars in the last six months' business. Of course that can't be so."
"Certainly not; and that shows the folly of boys like you meddling with what you don't understand," said he, sourly, and in a more crabbed tone than he had ever before used to me.
I had expected to be commended for the zeal I had shown in my efforts to master the details of the business, instead of which I found myself sharply reproved. I had made a failure of my purpose to get out a correct trial balance, and this was sufficiently mortifying without the reproach the junior partner cast upon me. I hung my head with shame while he glanced over the trial balance, which, according to my father's system, included the balance sheet. I supposed his practised eye would promptly detect my error.
"What's the matter with it?" said he, petulantly.
"There is something about the invoices that I don't understand; but I suppose it must be because I am so thick-headed," I replied, with becoming humility.
"With the invoices?" added he, with a kind of gasp which attracted my attention.
I glanced at him, and I observed that his face was deadly pale. His lip quivered, and he appeared to be very much agitated. I was astonished at this exhibition on his part, and while I was considering whether he was angry with me or not, he walked away and drank a glass of ice water at the table. I had seen him turn very pale when he was angry, and I was afraid I had mortally offended him by my innocent zeal.
"What's the matter with the invoices, Phil?" he asked, returning to the desk with a sickly smile upon his pallid face.
"I don't know that anything is the matter with them, sir. I suppose I have made a blunder," I replied, stammering with confusion, for the situation was entirely new to me. "The May invoice of the Michigan Pine Company foots up on the book about fifteen thousand dollars, but the bill on file shows only five."
"You have made a silly blunder, Phil," laughed he; but still his lip quivered.
"I supposed I had, sir; and I only wanted to know where my mistake was."
"There is only one little trouble with you, Phil. You think you know a great deal more than you do know."
"I suppose you are right, sir. I thought I knew how to make out a trial balance and balance sheet; but I find I don't, though I have done it a dozen times under my father's direction."
"These make-believe accounts are not like real ones," added Mr. Whippleton, sagely.
"I see they are not."
"I suppose you read a check mark, or something of that kind, for a one, in the invoice book."
"I should suppose so myself, sir, if the cash book and check book did not both show that the fifteen thousand dollars was paid to the Michigan Pine Company."
"Is that so?" said he, startled again. "I must have left those invoices at my room. I had them there one evening."
"Perhaps you have some others there," I suggested quietly, in my ignorance; "for the invoice book shows about forty thousand dollars' worth of lumber for which there are no bills."
"They must be at my room; I will bring them down," he added, turning away from me.
"They were not entered in the lumber book either," I added; "so, I suppose, if I add forty thousand dollars to the stock item it will come out right."
Mr. Whippleton had dropped into a chair, and looked paler than ever.
CHAPTER X.
IN WHICH PHIL IS PERPLEXED ABOUT CERTAIN INVOICES.
"What's the matter, sir? Are you sick?" I asked, startled by the deadly pallor on the cheeks and lips of the junior partner.
"I don't feel very well, but I shall be better in a moment," he replied, faintly.
"What shall I do for you?"
"Nothing, Phil; I feel better now. I'm subject to these ill turns in the summer. I shall be all right in a few minutes. I'll bring down those invoices to-morrow. I bought my boat last year, hoping to cure myself of them by using exercise in the fresh air."
I waited a few minutes, and he recovered in a great measure from the sudden attack; but he was still pale, and appeared to be very nervous.
"The doctor told me if I attended to business so closely, I should break down altogether," he continued, rising from his chair.
"Well sir, I hope you will take a vacation, then," I answered, full of sympathy.
"I can't do it; that's the trouble. I hoped I should be able to take my trip round the lake this summer, but I don't see how I can do it. I have to do all the buying for the concern, and attend to all the finances. Mr. Collingsby, you know, really does nothing. The whole establishment rests on my shoulders, and I find I am yielding under the heavy load."
"I hope I shall soon be able to do more to help you," I replied.
It had occurred to me that the concern had been running itself for several weeks, for Mr. Whippleton had not been in the office half the time. I supposed, therefore, from what he said, that he was buying lumber, or attending to the finances of the establishment, in his absence, for he appeared to have injured his health very seriously. From "the speech of people," and from an occasional remark he dropped himself, I had learned that he was engaged in land speculations, but I was not willing to believe that these could add very much to his work.
"You have done very well, Phil," said he, kindly. "You have been faithful, and you have kept your books remarkably well; but taking a trial balance isn't your forte yet."
"I know I'm stupid, sir."
"Far from it, Phil. I never knew a young man of your age who had so deep an insight into the science of accounts as you have; but you can't do everything at once."
"Thank you, sir; you are very kind. Perhaps the taking of trial balances is not my forte; but it seems to me that those invoices, when you bring them, will make it all right. Forty thousand dollars added to the stock will leave a balance of thirty thousand in favor of the concern."
"Very likely you are right, after all, Phil. Indeed, I think you must be. You are always correct about everything."
"O, no, sir; I don't pretend to be always correct, but I try to be so," I replied, blushing at the compliments showered upon me.
"But, Phil, you should not attempt to do what you don't understand."
"I thought I was perfectly competent to make out a trial balance, sir."
"Undoubtedly you are. It isn't that," he interposed, with a pleasant smile. "There are certain details of the business which you don't understand, and you can't make out a correct trial balance without including those details."
"I supposed I understood all about the business, and perhaps it would have come out all right if I had only had those invoices."
"I don't know how that might have been. But suppose Mr. Collingsby had seen your statement, that the firm had lost ten thousand dollars in six months."
"I did not intend to show it to him."
"Still he might have seen it. You might have left it on the desk, and a single glance at it would have alarmed him, when, you can see for yourself, the business is paying a large profit."
"I made the statement only for you, and I showed it to you in order to have my blunder pointed out."
"You did perfectly right, Phil, but an accident might have happened," said he, walking to the desk where my sheets were still lying.
He picked them up, tore them into a great many pieces, and threw them into the waste basket.
"At the end of the year we will make out a trial balance together," he added.
I did not like to see the result of so much hard labor destroyed; especially as, by Mr. Whippleton's own showing, the figures would be correct when he produced the missing invoices. But I had my rough draft, which I had carefully copied, in the desk, and I intended to carry this home, in order to ascertain at some future time whether my figures were correct or not. When I obtained the invoices I could tell whether I had made a failure or not in the act of taking a trial balance. I was not satisfied that I was so utterly stupid as my employer made me out to be.
"Those bills ought to have been entered on the lumber book," said I, when the junior partner had disposed of my papers.
"That's of no consequence at all. The lumber book is a humbug," he replied; "I don't believe in it; indeed, I had even forgotten that there was any such book. The firm don't recognize it, and I think it is liable to lead us all into blunders and errors, as it has you."
He went to the other side of the desk, where the objectionable volume lay, turned over its leaves, and glanced at its pages. He was still very nervous, for the effects of his sudden attack of illness appeared not to have left him.
"No reliance whatever can be placed on this book, and I am disposed to destroy it."
"I thought it was a very good thing. Faxon uses it a great deal, and says he can tell what stock he has on hand, when a customer comes, without going out of the counting-room."
"It is not reliable. The only way to know what stock we have is by looking it over."
Very likely he would have destroyed it if Mr. Collingsby had not called him into the private counting-room at this moment. He evidently had a hearty grudge against the book, which I thought was entirely groundless.
"Mr. Whippleton don't think much of your lumber book," said I, when the head salesman came in a moment later.
"Why, what's the matter with it?" asked the man.
"He says it is not reliable."
"I think it is; and since I adopted it, two or three other concerns have kept one like it, after asking me about it. What's the reason it isn't reliable?"
"You may neglect to enter invoices or sales."
"Your ledger wouldn't be good for anything if you neglected to carry all your items to its pages."
I was about to specify more particularly that the firm had about forty thousand dollars' worth of stock on hand more than appeared in the lumber book, when Mr. Whippleton returned. He evidently understood what I was doing, and told me to make up the bank account.
"You needn't say anything to Faxon about his book. Let him keep it, if he wishes to do so," said he.
"I did say something to him."
"You did? What did you say?"
"I only told him you didn't think his book was reliable."
"That's no more than the truth, but you need not mention the matter again. It will only make unpleasant feeling. Smooth it over if he says anything more about it, and let the matter drop."
I was rather puzzled, but I went on with the bank account.
"And by the way, Phil, you needn't say anything to Mr. Collingsby about those invoices," he added, a little while after.
"I shall not be likely to do so. He hardly ever speaks to me, and I never do to him, unless it is to answer a question."
"He's very fussy and particular. It was careless in me to leave those papers at home, but it is all right now. This is a fine day, Phil, and we will take a sail about four o'clock if you like."
I did like; I always liked to take a sail. I had been with him a dozen times already, and had been promoted to the position of able seaman on board, for I had taken the helm, and actually worked the boat alone for hours at a time. I had been out with the junior partner in some pretty heavy blows, and enjoyed them too. In fact, I considered myself as competent to handle the Florina as I was to make out a trial balance. I looked into the theory of sailing a boat, and understanding the principles, I found the practice easy.
After the business of the day was done, we embarked, and sailed with a stiff breeze to the head of the lake. Mr. Whippleton was more than usually kind and considerate, but he appeared to be thoughtful and troubled. He gave me the helm, and went into the cabin as soon as we were out of the river. He sat at the table, with a pencil and paper, and seemed to be absorbed in some difficult calculation.
At dark we were off Indiana City. I reported to Mr. Whippleton, and he came on deck. He told me to come about, and I did so without any assistance from him. He talked a little about the business of the firm, but soon relapsed into silence. His manner was somewhat strange, but I attributed it to his ill health. We had an abundant supply of provisions on board, such as crackers, sardines, lambs' tongues; and we usually took our supper on board, as we did not return to the city till nine or ten. Sometimes we cooked ham and eggs, beefsteak, or a mutton chop, and made coffee. I was cook and steward generally, but this time my employer brought up some eatables, and we took our supper in the standing-room. I noticed that he had no appetite, and I was really afraid that he would be seriously ill.
The next day I carried home all the papers relating to my trial balance, and locked them up in my valise. Mr. Whippleton staid in the counting-room all day for the next week, but nothing more was said of my unfortunate attempt to prove my zeal. He did not, however, bring the missing invoices, and I ventured to mention the matter again. He had forgotten all about them, but would attend to it the next day.
Another week elapsed before he produced them. I looked them over, and they appeared to be correct. They were in the ordinary forms, with the printed headings of the establishments at which the lumber had been purchased. As soon as he gave them to me I took up the lumber book.
"You needn't enter them on that book, Phil," said the junior partner; "I don't believe in that book, and I won't have anything to do with it. File them away, and don't say anything about them to any one."
Of course I obeyed my orders, but I confess that I began to think something was wrong. The Whippleton idea of honesty was not very high. The cash amounts of these invoices had been paid, and I supposed the lumber had been received in the yard. But Mr. Whippleton was a partner in the concern, and he could not mean to cheat himself. My curiosity was excited, but as a clerk I had no right to meddle with what did not concern me.
When I went to bed that night I could not sleep, for my mind would dwell upon the mysterious invoices. I heard the clock on a church strike twelve, and still I was awake. A few minutes later I heard a knock at my door. Mrs. Whippleton had been sick for a week, and I found that the summons came from her nurse. The landlady was worse, and she wanted to see me at once. I hastily dressed myself, and went to her.
"Phil, I know you are honest; everybody says so. I want to see you," said she, as I entered.
I could not imagine what my honesty had to do with the matter, but I waited for an explanation.
CHAPTER XI.
IN WHICH PHIL TAKES CHARGE OF MRS. WHIPPLETON'S EARTHLY TREASURE.
I had not seen Mrs. Whippleton for a week, during which time she had been confined to her room, and I was surprised at the change which had taken place in her during that time. She appeared to have lost one half of her flesh, and her face was very thin and pale.
"I didn't like to call you up at this time of night, Philip, but I wanted to see you very bad," said she, in feeble tones. "I'm a very sick woman."
"I hope you will get better," I answered.
"I hope so too, but there's no knowin'."
"I didn't know you were very sick."
"Perhaps I hain't been till to-day. The doctor looked kind o' anxious to-night when he came; and I've been a good deal worried."
"You must be calm, Mrs. Whippleton."
"I try to be, but I can't; and I don't think anybody could in my situation. I don't know but I'm goin' to die."
"Let us hope not. But I trust you are prepared to die," I added, with due solemnity; for I confess that the dreadful thing about her case was the idea of being hurried into eternity with only the worldly wisdom she had preached to me to sustain her in the trying ordeal.
"No, I'm not prepared to die. I've got thirty thousand dollars—"
"I wouldn't trouble myself about money, Mrs. Whippleton," I interposed.
"That's what I wanted to see you for," said she, looking at me with apparent astonishment.
"Do not think of business while you are sick, Mrs. Whippleton."
"But I must think of it. I have felt so bad today, that I didn't know as I should get well."
"So much the more need, then, of thinking of other things than money."
"I suppose you think I'm a very great sinner," she added.
"We are all sinners, Mrs. Whippleton; and we are all great sinners."
"Well, I ain't any worse'n the rest on 'em. But I don't want to talk about them things now. I've got somethin' else on my mind. I've got thirty thousand dollars—"
"But I would not think of that now."
"I must think on't. It worries me. I know you are an honest young man, Philip; and I can't say that I know of another one in the whole world."
"That's a harsh judgment; but if I am honest, it is because I believe in God and try to do his will."
"I suppose you are right, Philip. I wish I was better than I am; but as I ain't, 'tain't no use to cry about it. I didn't send for you to preach to me, though I hain't no kind o' doubt I need it as bad as any on 'em. Ever since I fust see you in the steam car I believed you was honest, and meant to do just about what's right. Set up a little closer to me, for I don't want to tell the world what I'm goin' to say to you. I believe I can trust you, Philip."
"I always try to do what is right, and I have no doubt I succeed better than those that don't try at all," I replied, finding that it was useless to attempt to talk to her of anything except money and business; though I hoped, when these important topics were disposed of, that she would be reasonable on matters of more consequence.
Certainly her appearance was very much altered, and she spoke of dying. Young as I was, I had already been in the presence of death, and I thought that matters of the soul's concern ought to be attended to before anything else.
"You knew that my son Charles has been here to-night?" continued Mrs. Whippleton.
"No, I have not seen him."
"He was; and he has been here every night for a week, pestering me almost to death, when I'm sick. He's fretting what little life there is left to me out of my body."
"Why, what's the matter with him?"
"He wants money—all I've got in the world, if I'll give it to him. He says he shall be ruined if he can't get it."
"Indeed!"
"I don't know nothin' about it, but he says something's wrong in the firm. He wants forty thousand dollars, and must have it, or be ruined and disgraced. Don't you tell a soul what I'm saying to you, Philip."
A flood of light was suddenly cast in upon my perplexed understanding. Forty thousand dollars! That was about the amount of the mysterious invoices. After this revelation I had no difficulty in believing that Mr. Whippleton had been using the money of the firm in his private land speculations. The invoices were fictitious, and this explanation showed me why the junior partner did not wish me to mention them to any one. I even thought I comprehended the nature of Mr. Whippleton's sudden illness when I showed him my trial balance. Now he was trying to get the money from his mother to make good his accounts with the firm.
I was grieved and amazed at the revelation thus forced upon me. I understood the old lady's principles, or rather her want of principles, and granting that she had given him her code of worldly wisdom, as she had to me, it was not strange that he should turn out to be a thief and a swindler. However hard and disgusting it may seem, there was something like poetic justice in his coming to her upon her sick bed, perhaps her dying bed, to demand the means of repairing his frauds. I pitied my landlady in her deep distress, but surely worldly wisdom could produce no different result.
Phil receives the Old Lady's TreasurePhil receives the Old Lady's Treasure.Page 129.
"See here, Philip," she continued, raising her head with difficulty from the pillow, and taking from beneath it a great leather pocket-book, distended by its contents. "There's seven thousand dollars, besides notes and bonds for twenty-three thousand more, in it."
"Why do you keep so much money in the house, Mrs. Whippleton? It isn't safe."
"I know that; I had it in the bank till Charles began to pester me, and then I drew it all out the very day I was taken sick."
"But it was safe in the bank."
"No, 'twan't. I was afraid Charles would forge a check and draw it."
"He wouldn't do such a thing as that."
"I hope he wouldn't, but I was afraid he would. This pocket-book was in that bureau drawer till Charles came to-night. He went there and tried to get it. I don't know but he would have got it if my nuss hadn't come in. He said he was coming again to-morrow morning, and would have the money; so I got up, and put the pocket-book under my pillow."
"Certainly he wouldn't take it away from you," I added, shocked at the old lady's story.
"I don't know's he would, but I was afraid on't."
"But you haven't forty thousand dollars here."
"There's the bonds, which will sell for all they cost me, and more too, besides the interest on 'em; and it would all come to over thirty thousand. Charles offers to give me a mortgage on his lands worth three times the amount, and pay me ten per cent. interest besides."
"Why don't you do it, then?"
"I don't believe in his lands. Because folks say he's got bit in his lands, and can't sell for what he gin for 'em, though he says they will fetch three times what they cost him. If they'd fetch what he gin for 'em he'd sell 'em. I almost know he's got bit on 'em. But he can't have my money; he owes me ten thousand dollars now. I've worked hard for what little I've got, and I ain't a goin' to have it fooled away in no land speculation."
It seemed to me that the old lady understood her son's case perfectly; and my own observation fully confirmed her statement. The junior partner was certainly in a tight place.
"My two married daughters, that need the money more'n Charles does, would never get a cent of my property if I should let him have it. I ain't a goin' to do it, not if I should die afore mornin'."
"I don't think you are in any immediate danger, Mrs. Whippleton," I replied; and I did not believe that one who could talk as fast as she did was in any present peril.
"But Charles will pester the life out of me to get this money and these papers. I'm afraid he's been doin' something that's wrong."
"What do you wish me to do for you?"
"I'll tell you, Philip. I know you're honest, and I will trust you just as far as any human bein' can be trusted," she continued; but she paused again, and I concluded that she was not quite satisfied to trust even me.
"You believe I can trust you—don't you?" she added, taking the valuable package from under the bed-clothes.
"You must be your own judge, Mrs. Whippleton."
"I know I can!" she exclaimed, suddenly. "You would not rob a poor woman who is on her dying bed."
"I certainly would not."
"At any rate, I know Charles would rob me of every dollar I have in the world, and think he was smart to do it; but I don't believe you would," said she, extending the package towards me.
"What do you wish me to do with it?" I replied, taking her treasure—her only treasure, it seemed to me, either in earth or in heaven.
It was only the treasure where thieves break through and steal; and the thief was at hand—one whom she had trained up in the ways of worldly wisdom.
"I don't know; only put it where Charles can't get it; that's all."
"But I have no safe place for it."
"You can put it somewhere. I feel better now it is out of my hands," she added, with a deep sigh.
"Really, Mrs. Whippleton, I can't take charge of this. I am afraid it would make me as miserable as it has you."
"You must take it, Philip. You are the only honest man I know of. Keep it safe, and when I'm gone,—if I'm goin' this time,—don't give it to anybody but my administrator."
"I don't like to take it, Mrs. Whippleton."
"That's the very reason why I want you to take it. If you was more willing, I shouldn't be so anxious to give it to you. I know you'll be careful of it."
"I will tell you what I will do with it, if you are willing. I want to go to St. Louis to see my father. If Mr. Whippleton will let me off to-morrow, for a few days, I will go then. I will seal up the package, and my father will keep it in his safe."
"Is your father honest?"
"He is."
"He must be if he is your father. Do as you think best. If he can put the money out at interest for me, I should like it all the better."
"Very well. I will give you my receipt for this package, and that will at least be evidence that I took it, and at your request."
I put the treasure in my pocket, and then led the conversation into another channel. I tried to awaken in her mind an interest in that other treasure, where thieves do not break through nor steal; but she was tired, and said she wanted to rest. She had talked so much that she was all worn out. She was a sad spectacle to me, and though she had gathered together a considerable fortune, it seemed to me that her life was a failure; she had not realized the true success.
I went to my room, opened the package, and made out a list of all the valuable papers which it contained. I wrote a receipt for them and for the money, and then, with the treasure under my pillow, I went to sleep. The next morning I called upon the old lady, and gave her the receipt. The nurse thought she was better, and said she had slept very well after I left her. Mrs. Whippleton told me she was willing to pay my expenses to St. Louis, and I might take the money for the purpose from the package.