CHAPTER XXI. – REACHING THE 400 FOOT LEVEL
IN the excitement incident to Col. Bonifield’s cross-cutting into the vein, the stage robbery, and the bewildering evenings spent in the society of Louise, Vance quite forgot about his hopes and fears relative to his investment in Waterville.
One evening he was out for a walk near the Bonifields’. Louise was standing on the porch. He lifted his hat, and she waved a dainty little handkerchief, and came down the road to meet him. There was a troubled expression on her face which Vance had never seen before. It cut him to the heart, and he feared some great calamity had befallen her.
“Mr. Gilder,” said she, after the morning salutation, “my father is very despondent this morning, and while he desires greatly to see you, yet he is so broken down that I do not know whether he will be able to see anyone until this afternoon.”
“Why, what has happened?” asked Vance, in alarm. They were walking along toward the Bonifield residence as they talked.
“So you have not heard?” said Louise, looking up with her big, blue eyes. Vance looked at her in astonishment. "You have not heard,” she repeated, “that they have finished cross-cutting?”
“No,” replied Vance.
“Yes, they have finished the work,” repeated Louise, and then almost broke down in tears. He led her to a seat on the broad porch where the morning sun shone full and warm, and begged her to calm herself, and tell him what had happened to her father.
“Is it not quite enough?” said she, looking up at Vance through her tears, “another disappointment is father’s only reward.”
Vance was shocked, for this disappointment meant a great deal to him.
“Is it possible,” he ejaculated, “and your father was so confident only the other night!”
“You will not be angry with father?” said Louise, laving her hand on Vance’s arm.
“Angry,” replied Vance, “no; why should I be? He and I are jointly interested in results. If they are unfavorable, why, he cannot be more disappointed than I am. Had he been successful, we would have been equal partners as well.”
“Thank you,” said Louise, “I pity my poor father so much.” She dried her eyes a little and then went on: “Aunt Sally was so querulous with papa last evening when she heard the result, and it made papa very unhappy; indeed, he did not sleep any during the night, though I have comforted him as well as I could.”
“And have not slept a wink?” said Vance, looking at her keenly.
“How could I, when papa was so troubled?”
Vance was silent. Presently he spoke: “I will confess I never was more disappointed in my life. I was so hopeful your father would be successful. Mind,” he continued, hastily, glancing at Louise, “I attach no blame to him.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, and Vance went on, “No, I do not blame him, neither do I blame myself. Hundreds, yes, thousands have pursued the same course. Some of them have been successful, and others, ourselves included, have not. I regret that your father should have spent so many years of his life in that useless prospect shaft.”
“There is hope yet, Mr. Gilder.”
“Hope,” said Vance quickly, “where?”
“The ore,” she continued, “is richer than at the 300 foot level.”
“And do you believe – ?” commenced Vance.
“Do not ask me, please, Mr. Gilder, what I believe at this time. Mr. Grim was here early this morning and left a proposition with papa. He has not the heart, he says, to tell you of it, and requested me to do so. You know, Mr. Grim,” she continued, “is said to be a very good business man. He has examined the ore found at the 400 foot level, and says it is much richer than at the 300 foot level. He offers now, if you and papa will give him a half interest in the mine, to furnish the money to sink the shaft to the 500 foot level.”
“So,” said Vance, reflectively. Presently he said: “If Rufus Grim has confidence to go to the 500 foot level, why not your father and I?”
“But it will cost $6,000, Mr. Gilder, and neither papa nor I could think of asking you to put any more money into Gray Rocks.”
“I do not think your father should take it to heart so; indeed, I do not.”
“He does not care for himself, and neither do I care for myself, Mr. Gilder, but we do care for you.” Vance started and the blood mounted to his face “You have been so kind to my father and placed such unbounded confidence in his judgment, and now it seems as if it were impossible for him ever to repay you, unless – ,” she hesitated.
“Unless what?” asked Vance, impatiently.
“Unless you would be willing to join father in giving a half interest in Gray Rocks to Mr. Grim, and let him go on and develop the mine.”
“What does your father advise? What does he say?”
“He wants to go on to the 500 foot level, Mr. Gilder, and says he will give his own half interest in Gray Rocks to Mr. Grim rather than let the work stop at the 400 foot level. Father believes that at the 500 foot level they will strike ore as rich as any that has been discovered on the Peacock, and it looks as if Mr. Grim thought the same way, else he would not be so willing to advance the money.”
“Have you confidence in Mr. Grim?” asked Vance.
“We have always distrusted him,” replied Louise, “but perhaps he is not so bad and mean as we have thought.”
“And do you think,” asked Vance, “that ore will be discovered at the 500 foot level?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, “but I hope so.”
“Would it not be better,” urged Vance, “to give it all up and leave these wild mountains and return to civilization, so to speak, where your father could enjoy the remaining years of his life in peace and contentment?” His words were full of earnestness, and he spoke with great deliberation.
“If such an opportunity should present itself,” said Louise, “I know my father would refuse it, for he is so high-spirited, and moreover, he believes that a little more work, and a little more time and expense on Gray Rocks, and his prophecy will be fulfilled.”
Vance rose to go, but still lingered near the beautiful girl, as if she were a balm to his evident disappointment. Finally he said: “You say it will require $6,000. Now, if you had $6,000, Miss Louise, and it was every dollar you had in the world, what would you do with it?”
“I would sink the shaft on Gray Rocks to the 500 foot level,” she replied quickly. “Shall I tell my father,” she asked, as Vance started to go, “that you are favorable to Mr. Grim’s proposition?”
“No,” replied Vance, doggedly, “I have no confidence in Rufus Grim. You may tell your father that I say not to worry any more. With your permission, I will return in a couple of hours, and will then be glad to see him.”
Louise seemed ignorant of any knowledge of Vance’s passionate love for her. Her mind and thoughts were so entirely in sympathy with her father, whom she loved so dearly and so devotedly. As Vance bade her good-bye, she took his outstretched hand as if he had been her benefactor, instead of only her father’s friend.
“Your judgment,” said Vance, “has decided me; we will go on blasting – down, down, down – through solid rock toward an unknown doom. How it will end remains to be seen.” Before Louise could make a reply, he had turned and walked rapidly away toward his hotel.
Looking carefully over his accounts, he found he still had to his credit, in the Chemical National Bank of New York city, barely $6,000. He paced the floor for a full half-hour in deep thought. Finally he paused and said aloud, “she would advance her last dollar to sink the shaft to the 500 foot level – a weak, little, lovely woman, yet stronger in her affections and devotion than a regiment of soldiers. Yes, I will do it; I will gamble my last dollar – for it is nothing better than a gamble, and yet – well, who knows? We may strike it after all.”
He drew a check for the amount, making it payable to Colonel Ben Bonifield. Before signing it, he looked at it long and thoughtfully. “Why do I do this? Is it my faith in Gray Rocks? No. Is it my faith in Colonel Bonifield? No. Is it my faith in Louise? Yes, a thousand times, yes.” His hand trembled a little as he signed his name to the check. It was the last throw of the dice. He felt that he had in a measure passed his word to Louise. There was a question of daily bread that must now be solved. The question was immediately ahead of him. He would call on Colonel Bonifield and then devote himself to the bread question. Yes, he would solve it.
Strong with resolution, and with a judgment sadly warped because of his love for Louise, he returned to the Bonifield home. Louise met him at the door, and he went with her into the spacious parlor, where a wood fire was burning brightly in the open grate.
“I delivered your message to my father,” she said, “and he has fallen into a restful sleep.”
“Do not disturb him,” said Vance, “in this envelope is a check for $6,000. Tell him to start to-morrow morning for the 500 foot level.”
The impulsive Louise took the proffered envelope from Vance with hands that trembled noticeably, while two great tears dimmed her lustrous blue eyes. “Why have you done this?” she asked.
It is probable that Vance would then and there have told her why, had not Colonel Bonifield appeared in the door. “Mr. Gilder,” said he, “Yo’r presence in my house brings sunshine with it. Yo’ know the worst. Louise tells me she has informed yo of the unfo’tunate geological fo’mation to be found at the 400 foot level in Gray Rocks?”
Louise turned from Vance to her father while he was speaking, and buried her face on his breast, weeping in stilled sobs. When Colonel Bonifield asked her why she was weeping, she handed him the envelope, and pillowed her head deeper on his breast. He opened the envelope and carefully scanned the check. The old man’s eyes were dimmed with tears of gratitude.
One arm was about his daughter, and the other he extended toward Vance, who accepted the proffered hand.
“Suh,” said the Colonel, “Yo’ ovehpoweh me with yo’r confidence. I have been workin’ away so long on Gray Rocks, suh, that I can’t blame my friends if they should lose heart. But, suh, somethin’ keeps a tellin’ me that my effo’ts will yet be rewarded. Yo’ honor me by sharin’ my confidence in the outcome of Gray Rocks; yo’ do, indeed, suh. There’s good blood, Mr. Gilder, cou’sin’ through yo’r veins, and there’s a crown awaitin’ yo’ when once we’ve reached the 500 foot level; yes, suh. I may neveh have mentioned it to yo’, but I once told yo’r father that if he would stay by Gray Rocks, it would make him a millionaire. I have forgotten whether I ever made the obse’vation to yo’ or not, but I wish to assure yo’ at this time, Mr. Gilder, in the presence of Louise, suh, that yo’r confidence in Gray Rocks is well-founded, and she will make yo’ richer than all the possessions left yo’ by yo’r worthy father; yes, suh, much richer.” Louise dried her tears and soon was cheerful as a mountain thrush that had never known a sorrow. The old Colonel declared he had never felt better in his life, and that work should be commenced early the following morning.
On his way back to the hotel, Vance called at the office of the Gold Bluff Prospector.
“Where is your typo?” asked Vance in the course of the conversation.
“Haven’t got any,” replied the proprietor, “he left this morning on the stage. We’ll not be able to get out an issue of the paper this week unless we find someone that can set type. Say,” said he, “why can’t I sell my printing office to you?”
“I’m not able to buy,” replied Vance.
“Well, I’ll lease it to you.”
“On what terms,” asked Vance.
“I’d lease it to you for one year for half its earnings,” replied the good-natured proprietor, who never was known to have enough energy to walk across the street to solicit an advertisement.
“What will it earn in a year?”
“Oh, twelve or fifteen hundred dollars – subscriptions and advertisements. I own the building. I call this the reception and editorial room; the other is the composing room, while the one back of where we are sitting is where the printer usually sleeps.”
In Vance’s college days, he had been one of the trio who had edited a college paper, set their own type, made up their own forms and circulated the issue after night, contenting themselves, for a compensation, with the general wonderment of their fellow-students as to who were the publishers. He felt that he was capable of acting as type-setter, as well as writing editorials, on the Gold Bluff Prospector. He examined the room designated as the sleeping apartment of the printer, and found it comfortable, yet very plain.
He told the proprietor he thought very favorably of his proposition, and believed he would accept it. The printing was done on an old-fashioned hand press, which would require the assistance of a boy for a couple of hours once a week.
Aside from this, Vance believed he was competent to handle all the details and labor connected with the paper. Before he retired that night, arrangements had all been made, the lease drawn and signed, and Vance commenced operations the next morning as the proprietor of the Gold Bluff Prospector. He moved his trunk and personal effects into the shabby back room, to be used in the future as his sleeping apartment. He settled his hotel bill, and found that he had less than $3.00 in his pocket on which to begin the struggle for bread.
It was a new experience, not without its novelty and excitement in anticipation, however. After he had arranged his room quite tidily, he commenced setting type, and smiled good humoredly to himself as he thought of the change from the great New York Banner to the Prospector. Yes, he had made sacrifices; and would he not willingly make any more to remain near the woman he loved with a love that surpasseth understanding.
CHAPTER XXII. – STARTING THE BOOM
SIXTEEN hours a day for three days was Vance’s first experience on the Prospector. All day and far into the evening he set type and made up forms, until finally the paper was ready to be brought out. It contained the retiring proprietor’s bow to the public, and Vance’s announcement.
The next evening he called at the Bonifields’. Louise greeted him more kindly than ever. The Colonel, after assuring him that excellent progress was being made on Gray Rocks, turned the conversation to Vance’s new venture.
“Vehy creditable, suh; vehy creditable, indeed,” said he, glancing at a copy of the Prospector which he had been reading. “Louise and I think yo’ve made an excellent beginnin’, suh, vehy excellent.”
“Indeed we do,” said Louise; “we have often heard, though, that editors were quite exclusive, and we didn’t know but that was the reason you have not called on us for so long a time.”
“Well, that is the reason,” responded Vance, jestingly. “As managing editor of the Prospector, I have been exclusively engaged in setting type, making up forms, etc.”
They laughed at Vance’s remark, and complimented him on being able to impersonate all the functionaries of a printing establishment. In the midst of their conversation, Aunt Sally appeared at the door of the parlor, and courtesying low to Vance, said:
“Good evenin’, Mr. Gilder; I ‘low I’ve been wantin’ to sec yo’ fo’ some time, suh.”
Vance returned the salutation by rising and bowing politely. As he sat down he noticed the Colonel was greatly disturbed, as if he feared a storm was approaching.
“Mr. Gilder,” commenced Aunt Sally’, “I consider it my duty to inform yo’ that yo’ are makin’ as big a fool of yo’self as my brother is of hisself.”
“Come, sister,” said the Colonel, “come, come.”
“Benjamin,” said Aunt Sally, looking hard at him over her spectacles, “I shall have my say. I consideh it a duty that I owe Mr. Gilder to inform him that he is squanderin’ his money. There is not a chance in ten thousand; no, suh, not one, fo’ yo’ to eveh get back a penny of the money yo’ve given my brother. Besides, yo’re only encouragin’ Benjamin to fool his time away. I have mighty neah worn my life out takin’ care of him, Virgie and Louise. Virginia has a good deal of sense – a heap mo’, I am proud to say, than Benjamin or Louise has.”
“I hope, Mr. Gilder,” observed the Colonel, “that yo’ll remember an obse’vation I made some time ago in regard to my sister – ”
“What have yo’ been sayin’ about me?” asked Aunt Sally, and she looked threateningly at him. The Colonel paid no attention to his sister’s remark, and went on:
“Yo’ will remember I obse’ved at one time, suh, that my sister was a most ext’ao’dina’y woman; yes, suh, most ext’ao’dina’y; she is possessed of a most rema’kable intellect.
There is, however, a slight disagreement in regard to our judgment relative to Gray Rocks. She is vehy set in her ways, vehy, indeed; and, I am sorry to say, doesn’t share in our belief relative to the final outcome of our minin’ property.”
“Benjamin,” said Aunt Sally, still looking at him over her spectacles, “it is not a slight difference of opinion; it’s a vehy wide one, indeed. If yo’ had a hundred thousand dollars to-day, suh, yo’d be grub-stakin’ all the pesky mines in the mountains around Gold Bluff; yo’ know yo’ would. There are times, suh, when it’s necessary fo’ me to put my foot down, and I ain’t goin’ to neglect my duty any longer. Mr. Gilder has got to know the true situation, and if he has no mo’ sense than to go on givin’ yo’ money to dig a worthless hole in the earth, why, I’ll wash my hands of him, and have the consolation of knowin’ that I told him befo’ hand what he might expect.” Vance would have been amused, had he not observed the pained expression on Louise’s face and the evident discomfiture of Colonel Bonifield. In reality, it was an opportune time for him to make an observation that he had long wanted understood between the Colonel and himself, and therefore he said:
“I am highly honored, Miss Bonifield, by your advice. Your brother, the Colonel, has been very enthusiastic in regard to Gray Rocks.”
“Don’t I know it?” interrupted Aunt Sally. “Haven’t I told him he was makin a fool of hisself?”
“Well,” continued Vance, “I will not go quite so far in my remarks as that, but I will say this – that it would please me very much to have the Colonel’s assurance that if he fails to find the wealth he has been looking for so many years when the 500 foot level is reached, that he will abandon work on Gray Rocks and accept certain offers of a pecuniary nature in the east, which I have in mind.”
“Well, if I knew,” replied Aunt Sally, “that there was to be an end to this thing, I’d have mo’ patience in waitin’ but my land! he no sooner gets to one level than he wants to push on to the next hund’ed foot level, and goodness gracious! there’s no end to it! Why, if Benjamin had his way, and his life was spared long enough, I ‘low he’d have a hole clear through the earth!”
The Colonel was noticeably disturbed. He had risen and was walking back and forth in a nervous, yet dignified way.
“Yo’r request, Mr. Gilder,” he finally said, “shall be complied with, suh, and in complyin’ with it, I hope that I also pacify my sister. I give yo’ my word of honor, suh, that when the 500 foot level is reached, and we have cross-cut into the vein of wealth that I feel positive, yes, suh, positive, is waitin’ to be brought to the light of day – if, I say, we should again be disappointed, then I am ready to give up my labors on Gray Rocks; yes suh, give up my life’s work. Of course, suh, yo’ cannot undehstand and perhaps neveh will, the magnitude of this promise.” There were tears in the Colonel’s voice, as well as in his eyes, when he ceased speaking.
“Thank the Lord!” exclaimed Aunt Sally, as she raised her hands in an attitude of supplication and thanksgiving. “I feel now there’s goin’ to be an end of this tomfoolery, and I’ll not say another word, nary a word, until the 500 foot level is reached.” She turned to Vance as she started to leave the room, and bade him good-evening, and assured him that in her opinion she had accomplished a “mighty sight of good.”
As soon as the door closed behind her, Vance turned to the Colonel and begged him not to take the slightest notice of what his sister had said, for he knew her peculiarities and thought nothing of them. He also thanked him for his promise. Vance’s words seemed to relieve the Colonel greatly, and he became almost himself again before the evening was over, and narrated to Vance with a fair degree of enthusiasm how nicely the pumps and other machinery in the mine were working.
Afterwards Louise favored them with music, and Vance quite forgot himself, so pleasantly was he entertained, until, glancing at his watch, he found it was almost eleven o’clock. Soon after, he took his departure, and with a light heart wended his way to the printing office.
His infatuation for Louise was of an ennobling character. He was a fatalist in this: that he believed when the time came for him to speak his heart to her he would have courage to do so, and contented himself in loving blindly on.
When he awoke next morning he found a heavy snow had fallen. Nothing like it had happened in Gold Bluff before in many years. A great many of the mines were necessarily shut down on account of the scarcity of fuel to operate the engines. During the next four weeks snows kept falling heavier and heavier, and in a measure cut off communication with the outer world.
Vance applied himself industriously to his paper, widening his acquaintanceship among the people of Gold Bluff, solicited advertisements, and succeeded far beyond his expectations.
His friends complimented him on the neat appearance of the Prospector. It was filled with excellent reading matter, and its circulation was constantly increasing.
Another heavy snow storm during the holidays rendered the roads quite impassable and finally work on Gray Rocks was necessarily suspended, nor was it resumed until late the following spring. In the meantime matters were progressing slowly in the great Thief River Valley. There had been no meeting of the Waterville Town Company. Homer Winthrop and Marcus Donald regularly opened up the Town Company’s office every morning and closed it every evening. Time hung heavy on their hands. Thus passed the winter months away in weary waiting for a boom in real estate that seemed stubborn and would not come.
Dick Ballard called one afternoon in early April, and suggested that his finances were running rather low, and if it would be convenient he would like a check for Homer Winthrop’s board.
Winthrop was a proud fellow and disliked to admit that he was, in the ordinary parlance, “broke.”
Homer suggested to Ballard the advisability of purchasing a few lots in Eagle’s Addition to Waterville. “Or,” said Winthrop, “We can let you have a couple of lots adjoining your hotel. You’ve been a good friend of ours and we would let you have them cheap, awfully cheap.”
Dick Ballard sat back in his chair, inserted his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, and said: “Now, lookee here, Winthrop, I have been your friend, haven’t I?” Winthrop acknowledged that he had. “I’ve been your friend, Mr. Donald, haven’t I?” said Ballard, pointing his index finger straight at Donald.
“I think you have,” replied Donald, laughingly.
“Yes, I’ve been Colonel Alexander’s friend; I’ve been General Ira House’s friend; I’ve been B. Webster Legal’s friend; in fact, gentlemen, I’ve been a friend to the Waterville Town Company from start to finish.” He brought his hand clown upon the table in front of him with threat vehemence as he made this remark. “Yes sir,” he went on, “I have been a friend to you and to your enterprise, but when it comes, Homer Winthrop, to selling your uncle any Waterville town lots, why, you don’t know me. Oh, no; Dick Ballard usually knows which side his bread’s buttered on, and, between ourselves, I wouldn’t give you a square meal of victuals for any lot you’ve got in Eagle’s addition. No, sir, Mr. Winthrop, money is what I want, and pardon me for observing, money is what I, politely, but nevertheless firmly, insist that you must produce – if not to-day, perhaps tomorrow, and liquidate that little matter of board which has now been running for some three months.”
Presently he walked over toward the window and looked wistfully out over the sage brush landscape. “The grass is beginin’ to grow,” said he, “and I see it is startin’ in the streets as well as on the beautiful lots you have for sale. Remember, gentlemen,” said Ballard, as he turned and expectorated a vigorous “pit-tew” of tobacco juice toward the stove, “what I have said to you never has, nor never will, escape the lips of Dick Ballard; no, sir, I’m your friend, but don’t try to work me with any town lots in payin’ board bills.”
Winthrop was noticeably’ non-plussed. Donald was laughing contentedly and quietly’ to himself at Winthrop’s discomfiture. Ballard looked on and chuckled, as much as to say, “I am a heap sight smarter than you fellows give me credit for.” Finally he broke the silence by suddenly asking:
“Mr. Winthrop, what is your lot worth next to my hotel?”
“Five hundred dollars,” replied Winthrop, looking up.
“I hope you’ll get it,” said Ballard; “yes, I hope you’ll sell it for a thousand – but I’ll tell you somethin’,” said he, shutting one eye and looking hard at Winthrop with the other, “I wouldn’t trade you our militia company’s new snare drum for both those condemned lots; no, sir,” and he turned laughingly toward the door.
Just here he came face to face with Miss Virginia Bonifield.
Ballard lifted his hat and bowed low, for she was one of his boarders who paid promptly. After speaking pleasantly to Marcus Donald and Homer Winthrop, she said:
“I am very glad you are here, Mr. Ballard, I want to ask your advice.” Dick Ballard was all attention, for if there was any one thing he liked to do better than another – barring a drill exercise with his state militia company – it was to give advice. Homer Winthrop, noticeably confused, pushed the best chair forward and invited Miss Bonifield to be seated.
“Thank you,” said she, looking kindly at Homer, who, in turn, hushed scarlet. “What I wish to ask is in regard to an investment in Waterville.’
“Why, in what way?” asked Dick Ballard.
“In regard to making a purchase of town lots as an investment.”
Ballard coughed immoderately, cleared his throat several times, “a-hemmed,” got red in the face, looked helplessly toward Marcus Donald, and finally said:
“Nothin’ like it in the world, Miss Bonifield; best investment on earth. There’s not another place in the United States will come out of the kinks like Waterville. No, sir; if I had a million I’d plant every dollar of it in Waterville, every dollar. My land!” said he, glancing at his watch, “it is three o’clock! Well, I must be goin’.” With this he took up his hat and hastily left the room.
“Is this a map of the town?” asked Miss Virgie Bonifield, rising and approaching a map that hung on the wall near where Marcus Donald was seated.
“Yes, that is one of the best maps that has ever been gotten out,” said Marcus Donald, adjusting his gold-rimmed spectacles.
“And where is Eagle’s Addition?” Marcus Donald pointed it out.
“And what are you selling lots for in that part of town?”
“Well, really, Miss Bonifield,” said Donald, stammering a little, “we haven’t been selling very many lots – that is, not recently. I will refer you to Mr. Winthrop; he has charge of all such matters, and perhaps he can give you better advice than I can.”
“But what do you advise in regard to investments in Waterville?” she asked, abruptly.
“Oh, you know we believe in Waterville, Miss Bonifield; we believe it is destined to be one of the greatest cities in the United States. Of course there has not been any marked activity during the past winter, but we are expecting business to open up well, most any time now.”
She turned to Winthrop, and seating herself beside his desk, asked him to point out what he considered one of the most desirable corners in Eagle’s Addition. Usually Winthrop prided himself on his ability to make sales of lots, and he was quite willing to sell to anybody rather than the woman by his side. He had been so hard pressed for ready-money during the winter and spring that he had shut himself out, so to speak, from all society, for the reason that he was destitute of even spending money of the most ordinary character. After studying some time, he put his pencil reluctantly down on the map and said:
“I consider these lots as desirable as any in Eagle’s Addition.”
“And what are you selling them for?”
“We are asking $100 a lot,” said he, “but we are not selling any just now, Miss Bonifield, at all.”
She looked at the map a few minutes, and then said, “You think these are about the best lots in the Addition, do you?”
Winthrop almost inaudibly assented. “Well, no – hardly – Miss Bonifield; the fact is,” he faltered, “we do not care to make any sales at the present time. We are rather expecting some information a little later; we – we expect to hold a Town Company meeting, and may conclude to reduce the price of lots – and – ”
“Or you may raise the prices,” said she, looking archly at Homer. “Is it not so.”
“P – possibly,” replied Winthrop.
“Well, I wish to purchase four lots on the corner you have indicated. Here is the money,” said she, laying down a roll of bills on his desk, “please fix up the deed and leave it at the hotel for me as soon as it is convenient.”
“But – hold on,” said Homer. She had risen and started toward the door. “You do not mean to make a purchase of lots? I really have not advised it; you’d better reconsider – think it over a few days.” All of this was stammered out by Winthrop in a hurried and confused manner.
“But I have considered,” said Miss Virginia Bonifield, smiling in her own imperious way. “I have fully considered, Mr. Winthrop, and desire to make the purchase. Good day.” She was gone.
Donald sat looking over his spectacles, while an astonished and amused smile played over his “$10,000 face.” Winthrop looked at the roll of bills spread out before him, and then turning to Marcus Donald, ejaculated, “Thank God, the boom has started!”