Five Hundred Dollars; or, Jacob Marlowe's Secret

A VISIT TO THE FACTORY

During dinner the old man chatted away in the frankest manner, but not a word did he let drop as to his worldly circumstances. He appeared to enjoy his dinner, and showed himself entirely at his ease.

"I'm glad to see you so well fixed, Albert," he said. "You've got a fine home."

"It will do very well," returned the squire, modestly.

"I suppose he never was in such a good house before," thought Mrs. Marlowe.

"By the way, just before I fell in with you here," went on Jacob, "I ran across Mary's boy."

"Herbert Barton?" suggested the squire, with a slight frown.

"Yes; he said that was his name."

"They live in the village," said his nephew, shortly.

"They're poor, ain't they?"

"Yes; Barton was not a forehanded man. He didn't know how to accumulate money."

"I suppose he left very little to his widow."

"Very little. However, I have given the boy a place in my factory, and I believe his mother earns a trifle by covering base-balls. They don't want for anything—that is, anything in reason.

"Bert Barton seems a likely boy."

"Oh, he's as good as the average of boys in his position."

"I suppose he and Percy are quite intimate, being cousins."

"Indeed we are not!" returned Percy, tossing his head. "His position is very different from mine."

Uncle Jacob surveyed Percy in innocent wonder.

"Still, he's kin to you," he observed.

"That doesn't always count," said Percy. "He has his friends, and I have mine. I don't believe in mixing classes."

"I expect things have changed since I was a boy," said Uncle Jacob, mildly. "Then, all the boys were friendly and sociable, no matter whether they were rich or poor."

"I agree with Percy," broke in Mrs. Marlowe, stiffly. "His position in life will be very different from that of the boy you refer to. Any early intimacy, even if we encouraged it, could not well be kept up in after-life."

"Perhaps you are right," said the old man. "I've been away so long at the mines that I haven't kept up with the age or the fashions."

Percy smiled, as his glance rested on his uncle's creased suit, and he felt quite ready to agree with what he said.

"I was thinkin' how pleasant it would be if you would invite Mary and her boy to tea—we are all related, you know. We could talk over old times and scenes, and have a real social time."

Mrs. Marlowe seemed horror-struck at the suggestion.

"I don't think it would be convenient," she said, coldly.

"It would be better for you to see Mrs. Barton at her own house," put in the squire, hastily.

"Well, perhaps it would."

"By the way, Uncle Jacob, I hope your experiences of California are pleasant," insinuated Squire Marlowe.

"They're mixed, Albert. I've had my ups and downs."

"I have heard of large fortunes being made there," pursued the squire. "I suppose there's some truth in what we hear?"

"To be sure! Why, ten years from the time I went to the mines I had a hundred thousand dollars deposited to my credit in a Sacramento bank."

Squire Marlowe's eyes sparkled with pleasure. It was just what he had been hoping to find out. So Uncle Jacob was rich, after all! The squire's manner became even more gracious, and he pressed upon his relative another plate of ice cream.

"No, thank you, Albert," said the old man. "I'm used to plain livin'. It isn't often I sit down to a meal like this. Do you know, there's nothing suits me better than a dinner of corned beef and cabbage."

"How vulgar the old man is!" thought Mrs. Marlowe. "He may have money, but his tastes are very common."

"We never have corned beef and cabbage here," she said, with a slight shudder.

"Very likely Bert Barton's mother has it very often," suggested Percy.

"My dear," said the squire, urbanely, "if Uncle Jacob really enjoys those dishes so much, you might provide them for his special use."

"I will think of it," replied Mrs. Marlowe, shortly.

Now that Uncle Jacob had hinted at the possession of wealth, Squire Marlowe beheld him as one transfigured. He was no longer a common, shabby old man, but a worthy old gentleman of eccentric ideas in the matter of wardrobe and manners.

"I wonder if Uncle Jacob wouldn't advance me twenty-five thousand dollars," was the thought that was passing through his mind as he gazed genially at his countrified guest. "It would help me amazingly in my business, and enable me to do double as much. I will mention it to him in good time."

"I've a great mind to come upon the old man for a handsome birthday present," thought Percy. "Fifty dollars wouldn't be much for him to give. I shan't get more than a fiver from the governor."

"Uncle Jacob," said the squire, as they rose from the table, "suppose you walk over to the factory with me; I should like you to see it."

"Nothing would please me better," said Jacob Marlowe, briskly.

"Will you come along, Percy?" asked his father.

"No, papa," answered Percy, with a grimace. "You know I don't like the smell of leather."

"I ought not to dislike it," said the squire, with a smile, "for it gives me a very handsome income."

"Oh, it's different with you," returned Percy. "Just give me the profits of the factory and I'll go there every day."

"He's a sharp one!" said the squire, with a smile.