The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1899-09-05

rather gloried in his hardness. A hard
man was man who couldn't be fooled.
Obed Jarrett never was fooled. In his
private opinion the world was made up
of few honest men, and 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 gulllble,
but what cared Ober Jarret?
- 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 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 $SO,OOO. There
was a memorandum slip in the upper
right hand drawer that showed this to-
tai in round figures. He could have
told the amount within a dollar or two.
1t was glt-edged property-stocks,
mortgages, cash and a little real es-
tate.
IF ] was sold out tomorrow" said
Obed smiling grimly, 'it would bring
every penny that I've totaled it at"
He had won this comfortable prop
erty by shrewdness rather than harl
work For more than 90 years he had
bought mortgages and loaned money,
and snapped up unconsidered financial
trifles. in that same old office He slept
~, -, oh IL
for days together he didn't leave the
building. There had been few episodes
to enlven the dullness of this money
grubbing life, but tomorrow one of
them was to take place. Tomorrow his
son. his only child, was to be married
Instinctively his eyes turned to the
portrait above his desk. The portrait
OF brown haired young woman with
smiling ewes and slightly parted lips.
As he looked upon the gentle face he
felt a little tightening about the heart.
Dead four and twenty years. Their
son was four and tw 1nty, and he mar
ried tomorrow. Their son. Had he done
his duty ny their son? He thought so.
He had certainly given him a good
schooling. The boy had gone through
college with credit to himself and his
father-and had helped to pay his way,
too. Obed had wanted him to study
law, but he had a love for chemistry,
and, in company with a fellow student,
had set up an office of his own They
started in as consulting chemists and
assayerS, and Were-from all Obed
could learn-building up a fairly re-
munerative business. He was certainly
a good boy, though perhaps a 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, I am going to marry"
II was like a blow to Obcd.
"Well, WELL" he presently said in his
testy way, since it's all settled, why
do you come to mc?"
Because l think you should know
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. II am no longer a boy.
Besides you can't help but approve Of
her. She's the dearest girl. Her name
is Alma Truman, and her father 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 to marry,
father. The kind that is missed at
home. But you must see her.
How do you expect to support
herr" 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
We're so many Trumans, and it was
only a short call, and he had scarcely
caught a glimpse of the girl. And
now the boy was going to marry and
leave him, he felt, forever
Their boy Had he always remem-
bered that Arthur was their boy?
Would things have been different if
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
now, as she had smiled down upon
him then, and as she almost seemed to
smile upon him from the lifeless can
vas?
-Four and twenty years. and here he
sat, an old man, preparing a wedding
gift for their son. who was to be mar
ried tomorrow, A gift for their son.
Yes, yes. 1t was a custom-foolsh,
perhaps. He would give him a check
for a hundred dollars. 1t was a tidy
sum, and pretty nearly as much cash
as the boys father had when he mar
lied. a hundred dollars. Surely a lib
eral gift for-for their boy. Their boy.
He bent forward suddenly and dip?
ped his pen in the ink. 1t was strange
how dim the lines on the check seemed
He wrote the date, Four and twenty
years ago. Why, the room seemed full
of her! Was she leaning over his
shoulder again He slowly made the
figure -" and the two ciphers. Then
boy! Was that the touch of her soft
cool hands on his? WaS-Was she
guiding his pen? The lines were din
indeed, as he slowly wrote. Then he
paused and stared down at his work
and carefully added his signature.
He dropped back in his chair and
brushed his hand across his eyes. and
for moment was very still. Wher
he looked up again at the portrait ht
smiled, Then he brskly tore out the
check, pushed back the book, shut
down the desk. and seizing his hat
was off
Ten minutes later he confronted tho
f,I1