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When John Armstrong stepped off the train at the Union Station, in
Toronto, Canada, and walked outside, a small boy accosted him.
"Carry your valise up for you, sir?"
"No, thank you," said Mr. Armstrong.
"Carry it up for ten cents, sir?"
"No."
"Take it up for five cents, sir?"
"Get out of my way, will you?"
The boy got out of the way, and John Armstrong carried the valise himself.
There was nearly half a million dollars in it, so Mr. Armstrong thought it best to be his own porter.
* * * * *
In the bay window of one of the handsomest residences in Rochester, New York, sat Miss Alma Temple, waiting for her father to come home from the bank. Mr. Horace Temple was one of the solid men of Rochester, and was president of the Temple National Bank. Although still early in December, the winter promised to be one of the most severe for many years, and the snow lay crisp and hard on the streets, but not enough for sleighing. It was too cold for snow, the weatherwise said. Suddenly Miss Alma drew back from the window with a quick flush on her face that certainly was not caused by the coming of her father. A dapper young man sprang lightly up the steps, and pressed the electric button at the door. When the young man entered the room a moment later Miss Alma was sitting demurely by the open fire. He advanced quickly toward her, and took both her outstretched hands in his. Then, furtively looking around the room, he greeted her still more affectionately, in a manner that the chronicler of these incidents, is not bound to particularize. However, the fact may be mentioned that whatever resistance the young woman thought fit to offer was of the faintest and most futile kind, and so it will be understood, at the beginning, that these two young persons had a very good understanding with each other.
"You seem surprised to see me," he began.
"Well, Walter, I understood that you left last time with some energetically expressed resolutions never to darken our doors again."
"Well, you see, my dear, I am sometimes a little hasty; and, in fact, the weather is so dark nowadays, anyhow, that a little extra darkness does not amount to much, and so I thought I would take the risk of darkening them once more."
"But I also understood that my father made you promise, or that you promised voluntarily, not to see me again without his permission?"
"Not voluntarily. Far from it. Under compulsion, I assure you. But I didn't come to see you at all. That's where you are mistaken. The seeing you is merely an accident, which I have done my best to avoid. Fact! The girl said, 'Won't you walk into the drawing-room,' and naturally I did so. Never expected to find you here. I thought I saw a young lady at the window as I came up, but I got such a momentary glimpse that I might have been mistaken."
"Then I will leave you and not interrupt——"
"Not at all. Now I beg of you not to leave on my account, Alma. You know I would not put you to any trouble for the world."
"You are very kind, I am sure, Mr. Brown."
"I am indeed, Miss Temple. All my friends admit that. But now that you are here—by the way, I came to see Mr. Temple. Is he at home?"
"I am expecting him every moment."
"Oh, well, I'm disappointed; but I guess I will bear up for awhile— until he comes, you know."
"I thought your last interview with him was not so pleasant that you would so soon seek another."
"The fact is, Alma, we both lost our tempers a bit, and no good ever comes of that. You can't conduct business in a heat, you know."
"Oh, then the asking of his daughter's hand was business—a mere business proposition, was it?"
"Well, I confess he put it that way—very strongly, too. Of course, with me there would have been pleasure mixed with it if he had—but he didn't. See here, Alma—tell me frankly (of course he talked with you about it) what objection he has to me anyhow."
"I suppose you consider yourself such a desirable young man that it astonishes you greatly that any person should have any possible objection to you?"
"Oh, come now, Alma; don't hit a fellow when he's down, you know. I don't suppose I have more conceit than the average young man; but then, on the other hand, I am not such a fool, despite appearances, as not to know that I am considered by some people as quite an eligible individual. I am not a pauper exactly, and your father knows that. I don't think I have many very bad qualities. I don't get drunk; I don't —oh, I could give quite a list of the things I don't do."
"You are certainly frank enough, my eligible young man. Still you must not forget that my papa is considered quite an eligible father-in-law, if it comes to that."
"Why, of course, I admit it. How could it be otherwise when he has such a charming daughter?"
"You know I don't mean that, Walter. You were speaking of wealth and so was I. Perhaps we had better change the subject."
"By the way, that reminds me of what I came to see you about. What do——"
"To see me? I thought you came to see my father."
"Oh, yes—certainly—I did come to see him, of course, but in case I saw you, I thought I would ask you for further particulars in the case. I have asked you the question but you have evaded the answer. You did not tell me why he is so prejudiced against me. Why did he receive me in such a gruff manner when I spoke to him about it? It is not a criminal act to ask a man for his daughter. It is not, I assure you. I looked up the law on the subject, and a young friend of mine, who is a barrister, says there is no statute in the case made and provided. The law of the State of New York does not recognize my action as against the peace and prosperity of the commonwealth. Well, he received me as if I had been caught robbing the bank. Now I propose to know what the objection is. I am going to hear——"
"Hush! Here is papa now."
Miss Alma quickly left the room, and met her father in the hall. Mr. Brown stood with his hands in his pockets and his back to the fire. He heard the gruff voice of Mr. Temple say, apparently in answer to some information given him by his daughter: "Is he? What does he want?"
There was a moment's pause, and then the same voice said:
"Very well, I will see him in the library in a few minutes."
Somehow the courage of young Mr. Brown sank as he heard the banker's voice, and the information he had made up his mind to demand with some hauteur, he thought he would ask, perhaps, in a milder manner.
Mr. Brown brightened up as the door opened, but it was not Miss Alma who came in. The servant said to him:
"Mr. Temple is in the library, sir. Will you come this way!"
He followed and found the banker seated at his library table, on which he had just placed some legal-looking papers, bound together with a thick rubber band. It was evident that his work did not stop when he left the bank.
