Walter Sherwood's Probation

“Well, she can be if she wants to be. I picked her out a year ago, and as soon as she is old enough I’m goin’ to let her know it.”

“Then she isn’t your best girl now?”

“No matter whether she is or not. I ain’t goin’ to have you paying ‘tentions to her.”

“I don’t see what business it is of yours,” retorted Walter.

“You’ll find out if I give you a lickin’!” growled the other, handling the stick which he carried in a suggestive manner.

Walter was inclined to retort in kind, but all at once it struck him as foolish to get into a quarrel about a girl whom he had known less than an hour.

“If it will make you feel any better,” he said, “I’ll tell you that I got acquainted with Miss Gilbert in the cars this afternoon. I never met her before, and, as I live in Chicago, I don’t suppose I shall ever meet her again.”

The young man’s face cleared up.

“Come, that’s honest,” he said. “I thought you wanted to cut me out.”

“If Miss Gilbert likes you I shan’t interfere,” said Walter. “Now I’m going to talk business. I would like to insure your life.”

“What’s that? You ain’t a doctor, be you?”

“No.”

Walter proceeded to explain in as simple terms as he could command the object and methods of life insurance.

The young man scratched his head.

“When do I get the money?” he asked.

“It is paid after your death.”

“Then it won’t do me any good.”

“No; but suppose you have a wife and children—you would like to leave them something, wouldn’t you?”

“I might live longer than my wife,” suggested the young man triumphantly.

Walter found that his new acquaintance could only be influenced by considerations of personal advantage, and was compelled to give up the attempt to insure him.

He kept on his way till he reached the house of Mr. Fishbach, to whom he had been recommended.

Fortunately for his purpose, the shoe shop in which the German was employed was closed for the day, and Walter found him at home mending a wagon in the back yard.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Fishbach,” said Walter, raising his hat politely.

“I don’t know who you are,” answered Mr. Fishbach, with a scrutinizing glance.

“I should like to insure your life.”

“You want to insure my life—what’s dat?”

“If you will tell me your age, I will explain to you.”

“I was forty-nine next Christmas. You ain’t the census man, eh?”

“No; that is quite another matter. Now, Mr. Fishbach,” continued Walter, referring to a pamphlet in his hand, “if you will pay to the company which I represent forty-four dollars every year, when you die a thousand dollars will be paid to your wife, or any one else you may name.”

“You won’t pay me till I am dead, eh?”

“No.”

“How will I know you pay then?”

“We do business on the square. We keep our promises.”

“You pay the money to my widow, eh?”

“Yes. If you pay twice as much we will pay two thousand dollars.”

“What good will that do me, eh?”

“You will leave your wife comfortable, won’t you?”

“If she gets much money she’ll maybe marry again.”

“Perhaps so.”

“And the money will go to her second husband, eh?”

“If she chooses to give it to him.”

“By jiminy, that won’t suit me. I will spend my money myself.”

“But if you die, how will your wife and children get along?”

“What makes you think I’m goin’ to die, eh? Do I look delicate?”

As Walter surveyed the stout, rotund figure of Mr. Fishbach he could not help laughing at the idea of his being delicate.

“You look likely to live,” he was forced to admit. “Still, life is uncertain.”

“You can’t scare Louis Fishbach, young man. My father lived till seventy-seven and my mother was seventy-five. My children can take care of themselves when I die, and they can look after the old woman.”

Walter used such other arguments as occurred to him, but his German friend was not to be moved, and he rather despondently put his documents into his pocket and went out into the street.

“I had no idea I should find it so difficult,” he reflected.

Life insurance seemed to him so beneficent, and so necessary a protection for those who would otherwise be unprovided for, that he could not understand how any one who cared for his wife and children could fail to avail himself of its advantages.