Signing the Contract and What it Cost

CHAPTER XXVIII

MESSRS. TREDICK & SERVER

“How sudden do our prospects vary here!” —

    Shirley.
But Floy’s resolve was destined to be speedily swallowed up in the current of swiftly-coming events.

Only two days later, after some hours spent down town in the fatiguing business of shopping for Araminta Sharp, going from store to store in search of exact matches in dress goods, trimmings, and ribbons, she was standing on a corner waiting for a street-car, when a ragged little newsboy accosted her with:

“I say, miss, won’t you buy one o’ these here papers?” running over the names of several of the dailies; “I hain’t sold none to-day, and if I don’t have better luck Teddy an’ me (that’s my little lame brother) we’ll have to go hungry and sleep in the street.”

“That would be hard. Give me one, I don’t care which,” Floy said hastily, signalling the approaching car.

“Thank ’ee, miss!” said the boy as she dropped the pennies into his hand.

Seated in the car, she scanned the news items, skipping the police reports and the details of “the murder,” read the editorials, then ran her eye down the columns of advertisements.

It lighted on something that nearly startled her into an outcry. Could it be? did not her eyes deceive her?

She closed them for an instant in her excitement, almost holding her breath, while her heart beat tumultuously, the color came and went on her cheek, and she trembled until the paper shook in her hands; then opened them again to see it still staring her in the face – that name, her name, which only two days ago she had learned was hers.

“If Ethel Farnese – wife or widow of Adrian X. Farnese, and formerly of Jefferson, Clinton County, Indiana – or her heirs will open communication with Messrs. Tredick & Server, Attorneys at Law, No. – Street, Chicago, they will learn something to their advantage.”

How much that short paragraph told her! how much that was to her of intense interest, of great importance: her father’s Christian name, the former residence of her parents, and that some one else (who could it be?) was engaged in the same quest as herself!

Unless (but the idea of such a possibility did not occur to her at the moment, and when it did was quickly discarded) some other Ethel Farnese than her mother were intended.

No one was observing our heroine, no one noticed her agitation, and she had time to partially recover from it before facing the uncongenial and indifferent inmates of the house which was her temporary home.

Though inwardly in a whirl of excitement, she contrived to preserve a calm exterior while in the presence of the family, giving sufficient attention to the duties required of her to go through them in a creditable manner.

But it was a great relief when at last she was left free to follow her own inclinations and could seek the solitude of the room which she occupied alone in the absence of Mrs. Goodenough and Hetty.

This was not till her usual hour for retiring, but in her present mood sleep was simply out of the question. She sought her pillow indeed, but lay awake the greater part of the night thinking, planning, and full of conjectures as to the revelations which the near future might have in store for her.

She had no earthly friend to go to for advice, but had learned to seek guidance and direction from that Friend who is ever-present with His children wherever they may be.

From early childhood she had always known her own mind, and circumstances during the past year had done much to develop and increase this natural tendency to self-reliance and independence of thought and action.

She rose in the morning with her plans arranged, and quite ready to carry them out with promptness and decision. As a preliminary she surprised Mrs. Sharp by telling her as she rose from the breakfast-table, after an almost untasted meal, that she must have the day to herself; she had some matters of her own to attend to, and knew she could be spared, the sewing for Araminta being about done and nothing else at all pressing.

Hardly waiting for a reply, in her haste and excitement, she left the room.

“Well, I declare! mighty independent, to be sure! What’s in the wind now, I wonder!” exclaimed Mrs. Sharp, setting down the cup she had just lifted to her lips, and looking after Floy’s retreating figure.

But Floy did not hear. Repairing to her own room, Floy arrayed herself in her best attire – a suit of deep mourning, simply made and inexpensive, but very pretty and becoming – and, armed with all the documents at her command which could help to establish her identity, wended her way to the street and number named in the advertisement.

She had no difficulty in finding the place; the name of the firm was on the outside of the building, and repeated on the first door to the right as she passed into the hall.

A voice bade her enter in answer to her knock. She did so with a noiseless step and quiet, lady-like air.

The room was of good size and handsomely furnished; evidently Messrs. Tredick & Server were a prosperous firm.

They were both there, seated each at his own desk. Both looked up and bowed good-morning, while one, the nearest to her, Mr. Server, as she afterwards learned, rose and handed her a chair, asking, “What can I do for you, Miss – ”

“Ethel Farnese,” replied Floy as he paused for the name, her cheek flushing, the low, sweet tones of her refined voice slightly tremulous.

What audacity it seemed in her thus to take quiet possession of a name she had never before so much as heard pronounced!

At that both lawyers pricked up their ears, a look of surprised satisfaction coming into their faces.

“Indeed!” said Server, extending his hand; “then we are most happy to see you. But can it be the Mrs. Ethel Farnese for whom we have been so long advertising? so young – her daughter, perhaps?”

“For her or her heirs, was it not?” Floy quietly asked.

“Ah, yes, certainly! and you bring proofs of your identity, doubtless? You come from your mother? or – ”

He paused, glancing inquiringly at her deep mourning.

“Yes; I have documents to show – a story to tell,” Floy said, ignoring the last query; “have you leisure to hear it now?”

“We have; no time like the present,” said Server briskly, drawing his chair nearer, while his partner came forward with an air of keen interest and joined them.

“Allow me to introduce Mr. Tredick, Miss Farnese,” said Server; “and now let us proceed to business,” he added as Tredick, having shaken hands with Floy, took a seat at his side. “What have you to show us?”

“This,” replied Floy, putting the deed of gift into his hand.

He examined it curiously.

“Ah! your mother gave you away?” he said, elevating his eyebrows and glancing inquiringly at her as he passed the paper on to Mr. Tredick.

“You shall hear how and why presently,” she said. “First let me prove that I am the child adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Kemper,” and she handed Mr. Server a package, saying, “These are letters addressed to me by my legal adviser, Mr. Crosby, of Cranley, Iowa.”

“What! my old friend Crosby?” exclaimed Mr. Tredick. “Ah! I know his hand, and if he indorses you you’re all right. Yes, yes, these are genuine!” he added, glancing over the letters as Server opened and spread them before his eyes. “I see they are directed and addressed to Miss Floy Kemper; and he alludes here to your search for your mother. My dear young lady, let us have your story. Your mother, I conclude, is still living? My client will be overjoyed to hear it.”

“I do not know; I hope so, sir,” Floy answered with emotion.

Then calming herself by a determined effort, she went on to give a brief statement of such facts as were necessary to establish her own identity, vindicate her mother from any suspicion of want of love for her child, and show what reason there was for believing, or at least hoping, that she still lived.

She passed very lightly over her own sorrows, and said nothing of her struggles with poverty.

They heard her to the end without interruption, and evidently with deep interest, especially as she detailed her efforts to trace her lost parent, and what she had learned of that parent’s history while doing so.

Their faces lighted up with satisfaction as she closed with the information gleaned from Mrs. Dobbs.

“Ah!” cried Mr. Tredick, rubbing his hands and showing a fine set of false teeth, “I begin to see a little light. You deserve a great deal of credit for your exertions – the energy and wisdom with which they have been made, Miss Farnese.”