Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/621

573 "Oh, because one is rich it does not follow one is not honest," said Mrs. Buxton, defensively. "The Stuyvesants have always had a good reputation." Caste ties are strong.

"They say those New York families, especially in the four hundred, are no better than they ought to be. There's lots of divorces and—and"—with a wicked little shake of the head—"things we never hear of out here."

"Oh, I don't know," said Mrs. Buxton, with a mysterious smile: she knew but couldn't tell. Being on thin ice, she changed from familiar friend to merely business associate of the Stuyvesants. "But, at any rate, it's the stock I'm worrying about." As a matter of fact, she had already decided to trust to the brokers' judgment, thereby avoiding responsibility, and doing as her intuition prompted.

"I wouldn't let that worry me," said Mrs. Frost.

"No, I don't suppose you would," with delicate emphasis. To check a possible retort she went on quickly: "It isn't the money, of course, but I wish to do the right thing. Fred always thought a great deal of that Lakeside stock. He said it would be very valuable some day, and I feel I ought to keep it for his sake. Though I suppose the bonds are very good too. You know, bonds are the safest thing in the world." She had been a financier these many centuries.

"Yes," assented Mrs. Frost, plutocratically. "I made my husband buy some for the girls for birthday presents; in their own names, so that neither of us can ever touch them." Her daughters would die rich if her advice was followed. That was more certain than death itself.

"That's a wise thing. My boy Freddie won't have to worry. It's been left for me. But really I think I'll have to go to New York and see about this matter," said Mrs. Buxton—who had not thought about such a journey, a postage-stamp being cheaper than a railroad ticket. "You know, Colonel Channing is the president of the Great Midland. Fred often spoke of him "—which was true, since Channing had a national reputation. "They were very friendly"—which she imagined might also be true.

"When do you start?" said Mrs. Frost—incredulously, her hostess thought.

"To-morrow afternoon," replied Mrs. Buxton, defiantly. She was filled with indignation at Mrs. Frost's manner, which had made the journey compulsory.

"Well, I must be going. Good-by, dear. I suppose you want to pack." Perhaps there was no sinister hidden meaning in Mrs. Frost's words, but the possibility of it bought Mrs. Buxton's railroad ticket to New York on the spot.

"Good-by. You're lucky not to have to bother with business matters, I assure you. Good-by. I'll be back next week some time—I may be delayed, you know." The implication was not clear—perhaps the Stuyvesants would insist upon her staying; perhaps the extremely complicated business would take a long time to finish. "Anything you'd like me to get for you? No trouble at all—I'm going to shop until I drop. So sorry you must go. Good-by, my dear."

And so Mrs. Buxton was obliged to go to New York on the next day, and she did. It was wise, she thought. Before the train had left Indianapolis she was certain her husband must have been an old crony of Colonel Channing's. By the time she reached Pittsburg she had decided to call on the Colonel and ask him for advice—which she felt sure he would give her as the widow of his fellow railroad man. She would appeal to his sense of honor. She would speak to him in such a way that he must give her advice. She also succeeded in convincing herself that such had been her intention from the first.

She called at the office of John D. Mitchell and Co., the brokers who had her stock. Perhaps the step she meant to take was not wise, after all, notwithstanding her intuition that told her it was.

Mr. Mitchell seemed glad to see her. He shook hands as though he didn't fear women customers next to death and "welshers." He hoped she was not fatigued and that the firm could be of service to her.

"I thought I'd come myself to see you about my Lakeside stock, Mr. Mitchell," she explained—without a business air, Mrs. Frost being many miles away.