I haven’t paid for.”
“Oh, Dave! do you mean it?” and now Laura’s face took on a look of worry. “Why, somebody must be playing a trick on you!”
“If he is, it’s a mighty mean trick, Laura. But I think it is more than a trick. I think it is a swindle.”
“Swindle?”
“Exactly. And what is more, do you know who I think is guilty?”
“Why, who could be guilty?” The sister paused for a moment to look at her brother. “Oh, Dave! could it be that awful Ward Porton?”
“That’s the fellow I fasten on. Didn’t we meet him in Clayton? And that’s only six miles from Coburntown. More than likely that rascal has been hanging around here, and maybe getting a whole lot of things in my name.” Dave began to pace the floor. “It’s a shame! If I could get hold of him I think I would have him locked up.”
“What are you going to do about this letter?”
“I’m going to go to Coburntown the first chance I get and tell Mr. Dickley, and also Mr. Wecks, the truth. I want to find out whether the party who got those things procured them in person or on some written order. If he got them on a written order, somebody must have forged my name.”
“Hadn’t you better tell father or Uncle Dunston about this?”
“Not just yet, Laura. It will be time enough to worry them after I have seen Mr. Wecks and Mr. Dickley. Perhaps I can settle the matter myself.”
Dave was so upset that it was hard for him to buckle down to his studies; and he was glad that evening when an interruption came in the shape of the arrival of his old school chum and fellow engineering student, Roger Morr.
“Back again! And right side up with care!” announced the senator’s son, as he came in and shook hands. “My! but I’ve had a busy time since I’ve been away!” he replied in answer to a question of Dave’s. “I had to settle up one or two things for father, and then I had to go on half a dozen different errands for mother, and then see to it that I got those new text books that Mr. Ramsdell spoke about. I got two copies of each, Dave, and here are those that are coming to you,” and he passed over three small volumes. “And that isn’t all. I just met Ben Basswood at the depot where he was sending a telegram to his father, who is in Chicago. Ben had some wonderful news to tell.”
“What was that?” asked Laura and Jessie simultaneously.
“He didn’t give me any of the particulars, but it seems an old friend of theirs died out in Chicago recently, and Mr. Basswood was sent for by some lawyers to help settle the estate.”
“Yes, we know that much,” broke in Dave. “But what’s the new news?”
“Why, it seems this man, Enos, died quite wealthy, and he left almost his entire estate to Mr. Basswood.”
“Is that so!” cried Dave. “That sure is fine! I don’t know of anybody who deserves money more than do the Basswoods,” and his face lit up with genuine pleasure.
“It will be nice for Ben,” said Jessie, “and even nicer for Mrs. Basswood. Mamma says there was a time when they were quite poor, and Mrs. Basswood had to do all her own work. Now they’ll be able to take it easy.”
“Oh, they are far from poor,” returned Dave. “They’ve been living on ‘Easy Street,’ as the saying goes, for a number of years. Just the same, it will be a fine thing for them to get this fortune.”
“There was one thing about the news that Ben didn’t understand,” continued Roger. “His father telegraphed that the estate was a decidedly curious one, and that was why the lawyers wanted him to come to Chicago immediately. He added that Mr. Enos had proved to be a very eccentric individual.”
“Maybe he was as eccentric as that man in Rhode Island I once read about,” said Dave, with a grin. “When he died he left an estate consisting of about twelve thousand ducks. This estate went to two worthless nephews, who knew nothing at all about their uncle’s business. And, as somebody said, the two nephews very soon made ‘ducks and drakes’ of the whole fortune.”
“Oh, what a story!” cried Jessie, laughing. “Twelve thousand ducks! What ever would a person do with them?”
“Why, some duck farms are very profitable,” returned Roger.
“You don’t suppose this Mr. Enos left such a fortune as that to Mr. Basswood?” queried Laura.
“I’m sure I don’t know what the fortune consists of. And neither did Ben. He was tremendously curious to know. And he said his mother could hardly wait until Mr. Basswood sent additional information,” replied Roger.
“Ben told me that this Mr. Enos was once a partner of his father in business, the two running an art store together. Enos was very much interested in art; so it’s possible the fortune he left may have something to do with that,” added Dave.
As my old readers know, Roger Morr had always thought a great deal of Laura; and of late his liking for her had greatly increased. On her part, Dave’s sister had always considered the senator’s son a very promising young man. Consequently, it can well be imagined that the four young people spent a most enjoyable time that evening in the mansion. The girls played on the piano and all sang, and then some rugs were pushed aside, a phonograph was brought into action, and they danced a number of the latest steps, with the older folks looking on.
Roger was to remain over for several days at Crumville, and early the next morning Dave asked his chum if he would accompany him on a hasty trip to Coburntown. He had already acquainted Roger with the trouble he was having with the shoe-dealer and the man who sold men’s furnishings.
“We can take a horse and cutter and be back before lunch,” said Dave.
“I’ll be glad to go,” answered the senator’s son. “I haven’t had a ride in a cutter this winter.”
They were soon on the way, Dave this time driving a black horse that could not only cover the ground well, but was thoroughly reliable. By ten o’clock they found themselves in Coburntown, and made their way to the establishment run by Asa Dickley. The proprietor of the store was busy with a customer at the time, and a clerk came forward to wait on the new arrivals.
“I wish to speak to Mr. Dickley,” said Dave; and he and Roger waited until the man was at leisure. Mr. Dickley looked anything but pleasant as he walked up to our hero.
“I got a very strange letter from you, Mr. Dickley. I can’t understand it at all,” began Dave.
“And I can’t understand why you treat me the way you do,” blurted out the shopkeeper. “You promised to come in here and settle up over a week ago.”
“Mr. Dickley, I think there is a big mistake somewhere,” said Dave, as calmly as he could. “I don’t owe you any money, and I can’t understand why you should write me such a letter as this,” and he brought forth the communication he had received.
“You don’t owe me any money!” ejaculated Asa Dickley. “I just guess you do! You owe me twenty-six dollars.”
“Twenty-six dollars!” repeated Dave. “What is that for?”
“For? You know as well as I do! Didn’t you come in here and get a fedora hat, some
