Joseph and His Friend: A Story of PennsylvaniaTaylor, Bayard
General
Joseph and His Friend: A Story of Pennsylvania
Taylor, Bayard
Pennsylvania -- Fiction
"I don't deny it. You have made a two-horned dilemma out of a one-sided
embarrassment. Would that I had kept the secret in my own breast! The
temptation is strong, I confess, for the mere use of your name for a few
months is all I should require. Either the securities will rise to their
legitimate value, or some of the capitalists with whom I have dealings
will be in a position to accommodate me. I have frequently tided over
similar snags and sand-bars in the financial current; they are familiar
even to the most skilful operators,—navigators, I might say, to carry
out the figure,—and this is an instance where an additional inch of
water will lift me from wreck to flood-tide. The question is, should I
allow what I feel to be a just principle, a natural suggestion of
delicacy, to intervene between my necessity and your generous proffer of
assistance?"
"Your family—" Joseph began.
"I know! I know!" Mr. Blessing cried, leaning his head upon his hand.
"There is my vulnerable point,—my heel of Achilles! There would be no
alternative,—better sell this house than have my paper dishonored! Then,
too, I feel that this is a turning-point in my fortunes: if I can
squeeze through this narrow pass, I shall find a smooth road beyond. It
is not merely the sum which is at stake, but the future possibilities
into which it expands. Should I crush the seed while it is germinating?
Should I tear up the young tree, with an opening fruit-bud on every
twig? You see the considerations that sway me: unless you withdraw your
most generous proffer, what can I do but yield and accept it?"
"I have no intention of withdrawing it," Joseph answered, taking his
words literally; "I made the offer freely and willingly. If my
indorsement is all that is necessary now, I can give it at once."
Mr. Blessing grasped him by the hand, winked hard three or four times,
and turned away his head without speaking. Then he drew a large leather
pocket-book from his breast, opened it, and produced a printed
promissory note.
"We will make it payable at your county bank," said he, "because your
name is known there, and upon acceptance—which can be procured in two
days—the money will be drawn here. Perhaps we had better say four
months, in order to cover all contingencies."
He went to a small writing-desk, at the farther end of the room, and
filled the blanks in the note, which Joseph then endorsed. When it was
safely lodged in his breast-pocket, he said: "We will keep this entirely
to ourselves. My wife, let me whisper to you, is very proud and
sensitive, although the De l'Hotels (Doolittles now) were never quite
the equals of the De Belsains; but women see matters in a different
light. They can't understand the accommodation of a name, but fancy that
it implies a kind of humiliation, as if one were soliciting charity."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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