Mark Mason's Victory: The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph Boy

"I thought telegraph boys earned quite a snug income," said Solon Talbot, who looked uncomfortable.

He was dreading every moment that his sister-in-law would ask him for pecuniary assistance. He did not understand her independent nature. Her brother-in-law was about the last man to whom she would have stooped to beg a favor.

"Mark sometimes makes as high as five dollars a week," said Mrs. Mason in a tone of mild sarcasm.

"I am sure that is very good pay for a boy of his age."

"It is a small sum for a family of three persons to live upon, Solon."

"Um, ah! I thought perhaps you might earn something else."

"Sometimes I earn as high as a dollar and a half a week making shirts."

Mr. Talbot thought it best to drop the subject.

"I am deeply sorry for you," he said. "It is a pity your husband didn't insure his life. He might have left you in comfort."

"He did make application for insurance, but his lungs were already diseased, and the application was refused."

"I may be able to help you – in a small way, of course," proceeded Solon Talbot.

Mark looked up in surprise. Was it possible that his close-fisted uncle was offering to assist them.

Mrs. Mason did not answer, but waited for developments.

"I have already paid you seventy-five dollars from your father's estate," resumed Mr. Talbot. "Strictly speaking, it is all you are entitled to. But I feel for your position, and – and your natural disappointment, and I feel prompted to make it a hundred dollars by paying you twenty-five dollars more. I have drafted a simple receipt here, which I will get you to sign, and then I will hand you the money."

He drew from his wallet a narrow slip of paper, on which was written this form:

"Received from Solon Talbot the sum of One Hundred Dollars, being the full amount due me from the estate of my late father, Elisha Doane, of which he is the administrator."

Mr. Talbot placed the paper on the table, and pointing to a black line below the writing, said, "Sign here."

"Let me see the paper, mother," said Mark.

He read it carefully.

"I advise you not to sign it," he added, looking up.

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Solon Talbot angrily.

"I mean," returned Mark firmly, "that mother has no means of knowing that a hundred dollars is all that she is entitled to from grandfather's estate."

"Didn't I tell you it was?" demanded Talbot frowning.

"Uncle Solon," said Mark calmly, "I am only a boy, but I know that one can't be too careful in business matters."

"Do you dare to doubt my father's word?" blustered Edgar.

"Our business is with your father, not with you," said Mark.

"What is it you want?" asked Solon Talbot irritably.

"I want, or rather mother does, to see a detailed statement of grandfather's property, and the items of his debts and expenses."

Solon Talbot was quite taken aback by Mark's demand. He had supposed the boy knew nothing of business.

"Really," he said, "this impertinence from my own nephew is something I was by no means prepared for. It is a poor return for my liberal offer."

"Your liberal offer?"

"Yes, the twenty-five dollars I offered your mother is out of my own pocket – offered solely out of consideration for her poverty. Do I understand," he asked, addressing his sister-in-law, "that you decline my offer?"

Mrs. Mason looked doubtfully at Mark. Twenty-five dollars in their present circumstances would be a boon, and, in addition to Mark's earnings, would tide them over at least three months. Was it right, or wise, to decline it?

Mark's face showed no signs of wavering. He was calm and resolute.

"What do you think, Mark?" asked his mother.

"You know what I think, mother. We have no knowledge that the estate has been fairly administered, and you would be bartering away our rights."

"I think I won't sign the receipt, Solon," said Mrs. Mason.

Solon Talbot looked very angry.

"Then," he replied, "I cannot give you the twenty-five dollars. Edgar, we will go."

"Give my love to Mary," faltered Mrs. Mason.

Solon Talbot deigned no answer, but strode from the room with an angry look.

"Mother, I am convinced that Uncle Solon was trying to swindle us," said Mark.

"I hope we have done right, Mark," rejoined his mother doubtfully.

"What is this, mother?" asked Mark, as he picked up from the floor a letter partially torn.

"It must have been dropped by Solon Talbot."

CHAPTER IV

A NIGHT AT DALY'S

"I will read this letter to see if it is of any importance," said Mark. "In that case I will forward it to Syracuse."

He read as follows:

    "Wall Street Exchange.