Bildungsromans; Humorous stories; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Millionaires -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
"Gentlemen, you seem to have forgotten for the moment that I am
twenty-five years old this day, and that your remarks have been
childish and wholly unbecoming the dignity of my age. That I have
arrived at a period of discretion is evident from my choice of friends;
that I am entitled to your respect is evident from my grandfather's
notorious wealth. You have done me the honor to drink my health and to
reassure me as to the inoffensiveness of approaching senility. Now I
ask you all to rise and drink to 'The Little Sons of the Rich.' May the
Lord love us!"
An hour later "Rip" Van Winkle and Subway Smith were singing "Tell Me,
Pretty Maiden," to the uncertain accompaniment of Pettingill's violin,
when the electric bell again disturbed the company.
"For Heaven's sake!" shouted Harrison, who had been singing "With All
Thy Faults I Love Thee Still," to Pettingill's lay figure.
"Come home with me, grandson, come home with me now," suggested Subway
Smith.
"Tell Ellis to go to Halifax," commanded Montgomery, and again Ellis
took the elevator downward. His usually impassive face now wore a look
of anxiety, and twice he started to return to the top floor, shaking
his head dubiously. At last he climbed into a hansom and reluctantly
left the revelers behind. He knew it was a birthday celebration, and it
was only half-past twelve in the morning.
At three o'clock the elevator made another trip to the top floor and
Ellis rushed over to the unfriendly doorbell. This time there was
stubborn determination in his face. The singing ceased and a roar of
laughter followed the hush of a moment or two.
"Come in!" called a hearty voice, and Ellis strode firmly into the
studio.
"You are just in time for a 'night-cap,' Ellis," cried Harrison,
rushing to the footman's side. Ellis, stolidly facing the young man,
lifted his hand.
"No, thank you, sir," he said, respectfully. "Mr. Montgomery, if you'll
excuse me for breaking in, I'd like to give you three messages I've
brought here to-night."
"You're a faithful old chap," said Subway Smith, thickly. "Hanged if
I'd do A.D.T. work till three A.M. for anybody."
"I came at ten, Mr. Montgomery, with a message from Mr. Brewster,
wishing you many happy returns of the day, and with a check from him
for one thousand dollars. Here's the check, sir. I'll give my messages
in the order I received them, sir, if you please. At twelve-thirty
o'clock, I came with a message from Dr. Gower, sir, who had been called
in--"
"Called in?" gasped Montgomery, turning white.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Brewster had a sudden heart attack at half-past eleven,
sir. The doctor sent word by me, sir, that he was at the point of
death. My last message--"
"Good Lord!"
"This time I bring a message from Rawles, the butler, asking you to
come to Mr. Brewster's house at once--if you can, sir--I mean, if you
will, sir," Ellis interjected apologetically. Then, with his gaze
directed steadily over the heads of the subdued "Sons," he added,
impressively:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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