Humorous stories; Washington (State) -- Fiction; Western stories
"'Yet twenty-three hundred for it is a monstrous outrage,' says the old
man, changing his voice just a mite. 'Too well I know the cost of such
repairs. Fifteen hundred at most would make the place better than
ever--and to think that you, struggling along to keep up appearances on
the little I give you, should be imposed upon by a crook that
undoubtedly has the law on his side! I could endure no thought of it, so
I foiled him.'
"'How?' says young Angus, kind of alarmed.
"Angus, _peer_, yawned and got up. 'It's a long story and would hardly
interest you,' says he, moving over to the door. 'Besides, I must be to
bed against the morrow, which will be a long, hard day for me.' His
voice had tightened up.
"'What have you done?' demands Ellabelle passionately.
"'Saved your son eight hundred dollars,' says Angus, 'or the equivalent
of his own earnings for something like eight hundred years at current
prices for labour.'
"'I've a right to know,' says Ellabelle through her teeth and stiffening
in her chair. Young Angus just set there with his mouth open.
"'So you have,' says old Angus, and he goes on as crisp as a bunch of
celery: 'I told you I felt ingenious. I've kept this money in the family
by the simple device of taking the job. I've engaged two other painters
and decorators besides myself, a carpenter, an electrician, a glazier,
and a few proletariats of minor talent for clearing away the wreckage. I
shall be on the job at eight. The loafers won't start at seven, as I
used to. Don't think I'd see any son of mine robbed before my very eyes.
My new overalls are laid out and my valet has instructions to get me
into them at seven, though he persists in believing I'm to attend a
fancy-dress ball at some strangely fashionable hour. So I bid you all
good evening.'
"Well, I guess that was the first time Ellabelle had really let go of
herself since she was four years old or thereabouts. Talk about the
empress of stormy emotion! For ten minutes the room sounded like a
torture chamber of the dark Middle Ages. But the doctor reached there at
last in a swift car, and him and the two maids managed to get her laid
out all comfortable and moaning, though still with outbreaks about every
twenty minutes that I could hear clear over on my side of the house.
"And down below my window on the marble porch Angus, _fills_, was
walking swiftly up and down for about one hour. He made no speech like
the night before. He just walked and walked. The part that struck me was
that neither of them had ever seemed to have the slightest notion of
pleading old Angus out of his mad folly. They both seemed to know the
Scotch when it did break out.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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