The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1899-09-05
A STORY OF
TWO CIPHERS
When the Old Man Wrote His
Check He Got Mixed With
His Figures.
By W. R. ROSE.

& By w. r. ROSE. &
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Obed Jarrett was hard man. He
rather gloried in his hardness. A hard
man was man who couldn't be fool
ed. Obed Jarrett never was fooled
In his private opinion the world was
made up of few honest men and a
great many fools and knaves. An
honest man was one who paid his way
and neither asked nor gave favors.
Fools might call him hard, and knaves
might snarl because he wasn't gullible.
But what cared Obed Jarrett?
The honest man sat at his desk that
June afternoon with his pen loosely
dangling In his fingers and his check
book open before him. He was in no
hurry. To give away money was so
new a sensation that he felt justified
in prolonging it-nOt but that he could
amply afford to give the sum he had
fixed upon; it was the principle of the
thing that held him irresolute
He was worth close to $4,000. There
was a memorandum slip Ia the upper
right hand drawer that showed this
total in round figures He could have
told the amount within dollar or two.
1t was a gilt edged property stocks,
mortgages, cash and a little real es-
tate
IF | was sold out tomorrow" said
Obed, smiling grimly, sit would bring
every penny that I've totaled it at"
He had won this comfortable prop
erty by shrewdness rather than hard
work. For more than 20 years he had
bought mortgages and loaned money
and snapped up unconsidered finan-
cial trifies in that same old Office. He
slept in the rooms above it, and some
times for days together he didn't leave
the building There had been few
episodes to enliven the dullness of this
money grubbing life, but tomorrow
one Of them was to take place To
morrow his son, his only child. was to
be married.
Instinctively his eyes turned to the
portrait above his desk-the portrait
of a brown haired young woman, with
smiling eyes and slightly parted lips.
AS he looked upon the gentle face he
felt little Tightening about the heart.
Dead four and twenty years. Their
son was four and twenty, and he mar
ried tomorrow. Their son. Had he
done his duty by their son? He
thought SO. He had certainly given
him good schooling. The boy had
gone through college with credit to
himself and his father and had helped
to pay his way too. ODed had wanted
him to study law, but he had a love
for chemistry and, in company with
fellow student, had set up an office OF
his own. They started In as consult
ing chemists and assayers and were
from all Obed could learn-building up
a fairly remunerative business He
was certainly a good boy, though per-
haps little lacking in that respect
for his father which begets confidence.
1t seemed but day or two ago that
he had come to him and said:
Father, am going to marry"
1t was like blow to Obed.
We'll, WELL" he presently said in his
testy way, "since It's all settled, why
do you come to me?"
Because l think you should know
about it," said Arthur stoutly.
you didn't think to consult me be-
fore you took this step" said the old
man grimly.
You couldn't expect that, father"
said the son. "I-r-am no longer a
boy. Besides, you can't help but ap-
prove of her. She's the dearest girl
Her name is Alma Truman, and her IA
Their is chief accountant with Fancher
& Co. She's the eldest of six, and
they're awfully broken up at the idea
of her going. That's the kind of girl
to marry, father-the kind that is miss
ed at home. But you must see her"
How do you expect to support herY'
inquired Obed dryly.
with these two hands and the ex-
cellent education you have given me-"
replied Arthur
The boy had taken him around to
the TrumanS' house one evening, but
there were so many Trumans, and 1t
was only short call, and he had
scarcely caught glimpse of the girl.
And now the boy was going to marry
and leave him, be felt, forever.
Their boy! Had he always remem-
bered that Arthur was their boy?
Would. things have been different II
she had lived? Would he himself have
become the dry, old, money making
machine he was? God only knew.
How happy they had been that brief
year. How ambitious he was for her
sake. How he toiled and planned.
And he remembered how she would
come to him and lay her SOFT, cool
hands on his and draw the pen away
and turn him round in his chair and
command him to rest. Was she smil-
ing down on him now as she had smil-
ed down upon him then and as she al
most seemed to smile upon him from
the lifeIess canvas?
Four and twenty years, and here he
sat, an old man, preparing wedding
gift for their son who was to be mar
ried tomorrow. A gift for their son!
Yes, yes. 1t was a custom-foolish per- /
haps He would give him check for |
500, 1t was a tidy sum and pretty
nearly as much cash as the boys ia
ther had when he married. A hundred |
dollars! Surely liberal gift for-for
their bov Their howl
He bent forward suddenly and dip
ped his pen in the ink. 1t was strange |
how dim the lines on the check seem !
ed He wrote the date. Four and |
twenty years ago. Why, the room |
seemed full of her! Was she leaning
over his shoulder again7 He slowly |
made the figure az and the two ci-
piers. Their boy! Was that the touch
Of her soft, cool hands on his2 Was
was she guiding his penn The lines
were dim indeed as he slowly wrote. |
Then he paused and stared down at
his work and carefully added his sig
nature.
He dropped back in his chair and
brushed his hand across his eyes and
for moment was very still, When he
looked up again at the portrait, he
smiled. Then he briskly tore out the
check, pushed back the book, shut
down the desk and, Selling his hat,
was OFF
Ten minutes later he confronted the
serious faced teller of the Sixth Ma
tional and thrust the check at him