CHAPTER XXXIII
A STARTLING DISCOVERY
Paul proved a satisfactory driver, and the old lady’s fears were soon dissipated.
“You drive better than Frost Mercer,” she said in a tone of satisfaction.
“I am glad to hear you say so, Mrs. Granville,” said Paul, well pleased.
“Frost nearly upset me one day. I don’t think he is generally intemperate, but I suspect he had been drinking something that day.”
“He doesn’t seem to like me,” Paul ventured to say.
“What makes you think so?”
Hereupon Paul related his reception when he went to the barn to harness the horses.
Mrs. Granville listened thoughtfully.
“He should not have acted so,” she said; “I presume he didn’t like the idea of being superseded.”
“Has he been with you a long time?”
“He and his mother have been in my service for a long time. I think Mrs. Mercer is of a jealous disposition. She never wishes me to have any one here, but she is very faithful and loyal.”
“I wonder if that is the case,” thought Paul. The housekeeper did not seem to him like one who would be unselfishly devoted to the service of any one.
Several days passed. Every day Mrs. Granville rode out, sometimes in the forenoon, sometimes in the afternoon, and the effect was perceptible in her improved health and spirits.
“It is fortunate for me that you came here,” she said one day. “Before you came I rode out only once or twice a week. It seems to do me great good to drive every day.”
“Why did you not go out every day, Mrs. Granville?” asked Paul.
“Frost did not seem to like the trouble of going out with me,” she answered. “He often sent word that he was at work, and could not go conveniently.”
Paul wondered whether he was engaged smoking in the barn. In his guess he came near the truth.
“Besides,” added the old lady, “I did not like to ride out with him as well as with you.”
Paul thanked her for the compliment.
“I like to talk with you, but Frost was not very social, and we had very little conversation.”
One afternoon Mrs. Granville asked Paul to drive round to the grocery store. She wished to get a supply of a particular kind of cheese which she had neglected to order through the housekeeper.
It so happened that there were several customers ahead of her, and she had to wait her turn. These were being supplied with various articles, and the old lady could not help overhearing what passed between them and the storekeeper. One thing in especial attracted her attention – the prices that were charged. They were in every instance below those charged on the bills handed in to her by Mrs. Mercer. Mrs. Granville made careful note of these prices, and on the way home broached the matter to Paul.
“What does it mean, Paul, do you think?” she asked.
Paul’s wits had been sharpened by his city experience, and he rapidly penetrated the secret.
“You always buy through Mrs. Mercer, do you not?” he asked.
“Yes; but what of that?”
“If I answer it may prejudice you against the housekeeper, and perhaps unjustly.”
“Still it is only right that you should tell me.”
“Can Mrs. Mercer buy wherever she pleases?”
“Yes; I leave the choice of the place to her.”
“Is there another grocer in the village?”
“Yes; there are two.”
“Then I think she charges this grocer a commission for carrying your trade to him, and he makes up for it by charging you a higher price.”
“Is that often done?” asked Mrs. Granville, surprised.
“Yes, I feel sure of it. I remember one evening in the city listening to a conversation between two coachmen employed in private families. They were boasting of the amount of their commissions obtained from blacksmiths, dealers in hay and oats, and so on.”
“But that is dishonest,” said the old lady, indignantly.
“They don’t look upon it in that way,” answered Paul.
“And do you agree with them?” asked the old lady, half suspiciously.
“No, I don’t,” answered Paul, promptly. “I think they ought to be satisfied with their wages.”
“You are right. As for Mrs. Mercer and Frost, they are paid more than most employers would pay, for I am rich, and, thank Heaven, not mean.”
“Don’t condemn them without feeling certain,” said Paul; “I may be wrong in their case.”
“I won’t feel satisfied until I have ferreted the matter out,” said Mrs. Granville. She was very good and liberal, but any attempt at imposition made her very angry.
“How will you find out?”
“You will see.”
The old lady relapsed into silence, and was evidently busy with her thoughts. When she reached home, she called Paul’s services into requisition.
“Paul,” she said, “open the drawer of my bureau – the upper drawer – and take out a file of bills you will find in the left hand corner.”
Paul did so.
“They are Mr. Talbot’s bills.”
Mr. Talbot was the grocer whose store she had left.
“Now we will compare the bills with the prices I heard being charged to the customers who were being waited on in the store.”
This she did with Paul’s help.
The result was that she found herself charged two cents a pound extra on sugar, five cents on butter, three cents on cheese, five cents each on tea and coffee, and so on. Besides she found that excessive quantities of each had been bought, more than three persons could possibly have consumed. What became of the surplus, unless it was thrown away, she could not possibly divine. Of course the housekeeper’s commission increased with increased sales. The real explanation, however, was that Mrs. Mercer had a widowed sister living in the next town. She often called on Mrs. Mercer, and never went away without a liberal supply of groceries, taken from the private stores of Mrs. Granville.
This the old lady did not learn till afterwards.
If Mrs. Mercer had known in what way her mistress and Paul were engaged, she would have quaked with apprehension, but of this she had no suspicions.
The next afternoon Mrs. Granville drove over once more to Mr. Talbot’s store, and asked for a private interview with him.
“Certainly, ma’am,” said the unsuspecting grocer, obsequiously.
“Why is it, Mr. Talbot,” asked the old lady, coming straight to the point, “that you charge me higher prices than you do to your other customers?”
“What makes you think I do?” stammered the grocer.
“I’ll tell you. Yesterday I was present when some of your customers were buying butter, sugar, and other articles. I noted the prices, and then went home and examined my bills. I find you charge me from two to five cents a pound more than to others. Tell me frankly why this is, and I may overlook it.”
“I don’t make any more profit out of you than out of them,” said the grocer.
“But how is this – you charge me more?”
“The extra charge does not go into my pocket.”
“I suspected as much. Into whose then?”
“If I must tell you, it is Mrs. Mercer’s. It is the only condition on which she gives me your trade.”
“Thank you; it is right that I should know.”
“Shall you speak to Mrs. Mercer about this when you get home?” asked Paul, as they were driving homeward.
“Not immediately. I want to observe her a little more. It is a shock to find that one to whom I have been kind for so many years has deceived me so basely.”
Meanwhile Mrs. Mercer, who was becoming more and more jealous of Paul, was arranging a scheme to injure him with Mrs. Granville.
CHAPTER XXXIV
A PLOT AGAINST PAUL
The housekeeper and her son had seen, with increasing alarm, the growing attachment of Mrs. Granville for Paul.
“Something’s got to be done, Frost,” she said, decidedly. “That boy is setting the old woman against us.”
“That’s so, mother; she never wants me to go with her now. I might as well be out of the house, so far as any notice of me goes.”
“She’s mighty cool to me, too, Frost. I suspected how it would be when that boy came into the house. He’s the artfulest young one I ever knew.”
“The two of us ought to be a match for him,” grumbled Frost. “I’ll give him a lickin’ if you say so.”
“It would do no good. She’d only take his part, and as likely as not send you packing. No, we must adopt a different course.”
“What shall it be? You’re smarter than I am, mother. I’ll do whatever you think best.”
“I’ve thought of a plan, Frost,” said Mrs. Mercer, and she proceeded to communicate it to him.
“That’ll do,” said the son, in a tone of satisfaction. “We’ve got to give her a bad opinion of her favorite, and then we’ll get rid of him.”
This conversation took place in Frost’s room one evening. This room adjoined Paul’s, and it so happened that in the upper part of the room there was a round hole in the partition, made probably for the entrance of a funnel, which rendered it easy for conversation to be heard in the adjoining room. Paul had been spending the evening in Mrs. Mercer’s room, but was dismissed earlier than usual, and had retired to his own bed room. So it chanced that he heard the details of the plot against him.
It did not surprise him much, for he was quite aware of the housekeeper’s hostility towards him. He had been on the point of lighting his lamp, but decided not to do so, and noiselessly prepared for bed. He felt that forewarned was forearmed, and he determined to tell Mrs. Granville what he had heard.
This he did the next morning. The old lady listened attentively.
“I did not believe Mrs. Mercer capable of such wickedness,” she said. “After all the kindness I have heaped upon her, too!”
“I suppose she is jealous of me,” suggested Paul. “For my part, I wish her no harm. I would not have told you, except to defend myself in advance of any charges she may make against me.”
“You have done right, Paul,” said the old lady, kindly. “Mrs. Mercer selfishly wishes to monopolize all my favors. Whatever I may do for you would not have interfered with her, if she had behaved properly. Now she must take the consequences of her folly.”
Early in the afternoon, Mrs. Granville directed Paul to bring the carriage round to the door. When they had driven a quarter of a mile, she said: “You may drive me to Coleraine, Paul.”
This was an adjoining town, about four miles away.
Reaching the town, the old lady directed Paul to drive her to the office of her lawyer. Finding him in, she said: “You may take the horse to the stable, and come back in an hour. I have some business to attend to.”
“Certainly, ma’am,” said Paul, obediently.
He returned in an hour, but had to wait half an hour longer. Then the old lady came out, and seemed unusually cheerful.
“Paul,” she said, “I have been making my will.”
“I thought it might have been made already,” said our hero.
“So it was, but I have made a new one.”
Paul did not feel called upon to reply.
“I have not forgotten you,” continued Mrs. Granville, kindly.
“Thank you very much,” said Paul, gratefully. “I won’t pretend to be sorry, but I hope it will be a long time before I reap any benefit from it.”
“I am sure of that, Paul,” said the old lady. “You are not selfish and self seeking like Mrs. Mercer and Frost. They were handsomely remembered in my former will, but I had not found them out then.”
When they reached the house, Mrs. Mercer herself opened the door. There was a look of blended mystery and triumph on her face as she admitted them.
“Can I speak with you a minute in private, Mrs. Granville?” she said with a significant glance in Paul’s direction.
“Certainly, Mrs. Mercer. Paul, you may go out and put up the horse.”
“It’s coming,” thought Paul.
“Well, what is it, Mercer?” asked the old lady, as she led the way into her own chamber.
“It’s about that boy, ma’am.”
“About Paul?”
“Yes, ma’am. I know you think him an angel.”
“Well, not quite that, Mercer,” smiled Mrs. Granville.
“At any rate, you think a great deal of him.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I never liked him for my part,” continued the housekeeper, spitefully. “I always distrusted him. I thought him a snake in the grass.”
“Come, Mercer, that’s rather a heavy indictment of the poor boy.”
“I can prove all I say, ma’am,” said the housekeeper. “I thought you were wrong in trusting him.”
“What has he done? Come to the point.”
“You see this, ma’am,” said Mrs. Mercer, producing a breast pin set with pearls.
“Yes, it is mine.”
“Where do you think I found it?”
“Suppose you tell me.”
“In the boy’s bureau drawer, while you were out.”
“How did you happen to be examining his drawer?” asked the old lady, sharply.
“Because from things I have noticed I suspected he meant to rob you. I didn’t expect to find that, I confess, but I did think I should find something. This favorite of yours is nothing but a thief.”
“You may call him, Mrs. Mercer. It is only fair to hear what he has to say for himself.”
Mrs. Mercer needed no second bidding. She hurried to the stables and found Paul occupied in unharnessing the horses.
“Frost,” she said, “just finish unharnessing the horses. Mrs. Granville wants to see this young gentleman.”
Frost obeyed with unwonted alacrity, and Paul quietly followed the housekeeper into the house. He was not particularly alarmed, for he had already put a spoke in the housekeeper’s wheel, though she was quite unaware of it.
“Has Mrs. Granville an errand for me to do?” he asked, suppressing a smile.
“You’ll find out what she wants of you,” returned the housekeeper, tossing her head. “Young man, your course is about run!”
“Is it?” asked Paul, innocently.
He followed Mrs. Mercer into Mrs. Granville’s chamber. The old lady was sitting in her arm chair by the window.
“I’ve brought him, ma’am,” said Mrs. Mercer. “Now you can find out for yourself what a viper he is.”
“Paul,” said the old lady, mildly, “Mrs. Mercer tells me she found this breast pin in your bureau drawer. Do you know anything about it?”
“No, ma’am,” answered Paul, not betraying the slightest confusion.
“Of course he would say so,” remarked the housekeeper.
“Yet, Mrs. Mercer says she found it in your drawer.”
“What was she doing there?” asked Paul.
“Tracking a thief!” answered Mrs. Mercer, spitefully.
“She charges you with stealing the breast pin from my room, Paul.”
“Yes, I do; how did it get into your drawer unless you stole it? Answer me that, Mr. Paul Parton.”
“I suppose you put it there,” returned Paul, calmly.
Mrs. Mercer held up both hands in indignant protest. “Did you ever hear the likes, ma’am?” she ejaculated. “He’s a thief, and unfit to stay in your house.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Mercer,” said Paul, quite coolly, “but didn’t you arrange this little plot against me last evening in conversation with your son?”
“What do you mean?” ejaculated the housekeeper.
“I happened to be in my room, and overheard you.”
“Do you believe this impudent lie, Mrs. Granville?” the housekeeper asked, desperately.
“I have reason to believe Paul,” answered the old lady, “for this breast pin, which you say you found in Paul’s room during my absence, I distinctly remember leaving in my own bureau drawer when I left the house this afternoon.”
Mrs. Mercer was panic stricken. She turned to leave the room, quite overwhelmed, but Mrs. Granville called her back.
“Stay, Mrs. Mercer,” she said, “I have something to say to you.”
CHAPTER XXXV
PAUL RETURNS TO NEW YORK
The housekeeper turned at the bidding of her mistress, and gazed at her in apprehension, waiting for her to speak.
“I wish to speak to you about another matter, Mrs. Mercer. I have made a discovery which reflects seriously upon you.”
“What is it?” asked the housekeeper, nervously.
“Why, it is that for a long time – I don’t know how long – I have been paying Mr. Talbot higher prices for groceries and other articles than he charges any one else.”
“I didn’t know it,” answered Mrs. Mercer.
“Do you mean to say that he imposed upon you?”
“That’s just what I do say,” answered the housekeeper, gaining boldness. “I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”
Mrs. Granville eyed her gravely.
“It is too late to impose upon me, Mrs. Mercer,” she said. “I know why he charged me extra prices.”
“He wanted to make money out of you, I suppose.”
“He or some one else. It is useless to misrepresent. I know that this extra sum went into your pocket. Wait,” seeing the housekeeper about to speak. “I learned his usual prices, and with Paul’s help I went over the bills for the last three months, and have discovered how much I have been swindled.”
“It’s his doings, I’ve no doubt,” said Mrs. Mercer, bitterly, referring to Paul.
“You are mistaken; though if it were true it would not help you any. I myself discovered the overcharge, and simply employed Paul to look over the bills with me.”
“Talbot lied!” said the housekeeper, desperately. She could not have expected this denial would benefit her, but she was reluctant to confess her guilt.
“I believe he tells the truth,” returned her mistress. “What have you to say?”
“I can’t say anything; it wouldn’t do any good,” said Mrs. Mercer, sullenly. “You’re so infatuated with that boy that you won’t do me justice.”
“Let me remind you,” said the old lady with dignity, “that Paul has nothing whatever to do with the matter. I think well of him, it is true, and am even attached to him, but your wrong doing commenced before he came, and your senseless jealousy has betrayed you into a disgraceful plot against him. Of course you and your son cannot remain in my employment.”
The housekeeper had not anticipated this. It was a terrible thought that she and Frost must go forth from the home that had known them so long.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Granville,” she pleaded in great agitation. “I will give up all the money I have made out of my purchases on your account – I will, indeed – and more, too, if you insist upon it. Only let me stay! Think of the years I have been in your service!”
“You should have thought of that, Mrs. Mercer. You should have thought of my kindness to you and your son, and rejected the temptation to rob me as you have done.”
“I will give it all back – I told you I would,” said the housekeeper, with feverish lips.
“It’s too late! I have lost confidence in you. You are not the woman I supposed; for a small gain you have thrown away a great prospect. You and your son were down in my will for a handsome sum. This day I have made a new will.”
“And given your property to that boy, I suppose?” said the housekeeper in passionate anger.
“I decline to tell you in what way I have disposed of my money!” returned the old lady with dignity. “And now for the future. You and your son will leave me at the end of this week.”
“I will leave this very day!” exclaimed Mrs. Mercer, angrily.
“You can do as you please, but I should not advise you to do so. You did not wait for my conclusion. You will leave at the end of the week, but if you remain till then, you will not go empty handed. I will not only let you keep what you have wrongfully taken, but in acknowledgment of past services, I will pay you and Frost three months’ wages in advance to keep you until you find new employment.”
“I will stay,” said the housekeeper, sullenly.
“It will be best.”
“Shall you keep this boy with you?” she could not help asking, jealously.
“Probably not long. He will wish to go back to the city.”
This assurance relieved Mrs. Mercer, and almost reconciled her to her own departure.
At the end of the week, however, Mrs. Granville closed her house for a time, employing a neighboring farmer to take care of the land, and went to New York, under Paul’s escort, to make her niece a visit. When she parted with Paul, she placed in his hands a check for one hundred dollars.
“That is for yourself,” she said. “Come and see me every week. You will not lose your time.”
When Paul returned to his old home, he found a great change in old Jerry. He was better in health, though still feeble, but his mind seemed more at rest. Mrs. Hogan was sick, and his daughter in law, Ellen Barclay, was in attendance upon him. To Paul’s increased surprise the two children, Jimmy and Mary, were in the room, and seemed on very good terms with their grandfather.
“You didn’t expect to see me here, Paul,” said Mrs. Barclay.
“No, but I am glad to find you here,” said the telegraph boy, cordially.
“Mrs. Hogan has been sick with a fever, and it was necessary that some one should take her place. So I came.”
“But it must be inconvenient for you to come over from Jersey City every day.”
“I have left Jersey City, and occupy an apartment upstairs.”
“How does old Jerry – Mr. Barclay – look upon you?”
“We are very good friends. I am more used to nursing than Mrs. Hogan, and I make him comfortable.”
“I thought he might be prejudiced against you on account of your husband.”
“He was at first, but we have talked freely about him, and he finds that I, too, am in fear of him. So we have made common cause and he trusts me.”
“I am very glad of it,” said, Paul, earnestly. “It is as it should be; I don’t think Jerry can live long, and you and your children ought to get the benefit of his money.”
“You are a good boy, Number 91. I misjudged you at first. I thought you were plotting for the old man’s money, and so, I am sure, did my husband.”
“You don’t think so now?”
“No, I know you better.”
“It is strange,” said Paul, smiling, “but out in the country, where I have spent the last few weeks, I was suspected of plotting for the property of an old lady by whom I was employed. The housekeeper was very much exercised in mind, and tried to fasten a charge of theft upon me.”
“I hope she was not believed.”
“No; Mrs. Granville knew me better.”
“I wish the lady you mention would leave you something, Paul.”
“I don’t trouble myself with such thoughts. I have good friends, and I am sure that I shall prosper if I keep my health.”
“No one deserves success better.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Barclay. I value your good opinion.”
This conversation took place in the entry. Just then the feeble voice of Jerry was heard, calling “Ellen.”
His daughter in law hastened to the bedside of the old man, and attended to his wants. Paul followed her into the room.
Five minutes later a heavy step was heard on the stairs, and the door was opened; all turned to see who was the visitor. The old man uttered a cry of alarm. His eyes were on the door, and he was the first to recognize the intruder.
“James!” he cried.
“You’re right, father,” said James Barclay, gruffly; “I’m glad you welcome me so warmly.”