The Making of Bobby Burnit: Being a Record of the Adventures of a Live American Young ManChester, George Randolph
General
The Making of Bobby Burnit: Being a Record of the Adventures of a Live American Young Man
Chester, George Randolph
Businessmen -- Fiction; Love stories; Young men -- Fiction
"Don't forget to send me an invitation."
"Will you come?" said Platt. He had wanted to ask Bobby before, but
had not been quite sure that he ought.
"Come!" replied Bobby. "Indeed I shall--unless I happen to have a
wedding of my own on that date."
Bobby went away satisfied once more, and quite willing to give up the
additional foot of wall. The work would entail considerable cost, and
expense now was much more of an item than it had been a few months
previously. Already he had spent upon this project over two hundred
and ten thousand dollars; ten thousand he had given to Biff Bates; ten
thousand he had used personally, so there was but an insignificant
portion left of his two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Their
"grand opening" would eat up another tidy little sum, for it was to be
an expensive affair. The liberal advertising that had already appeared
was augmented as the great day approached, a brass band had been
engaged, a magnificent lunch, sufficient to feed an army, had been
arranged for, and every available 'bus and carry-all and picnic wagon
in the city had been secured to transport all comers, free of charge,
from the end of the car line to the new Addition. The price of
vehicles was high, however, for Silas Trimmer had already engaged
quite a number of them to run between the Applerod Addition and his
own. During the week preceding June first, there had appeared, in the
local papers, advertisements of about one-fourth the size that Bobby
was using, calling attention to the opening of the Trimmer Addition,
which was to be upon the same date.
On the evening of May twenty-ninth, Bobby found Silas pacing the top
of the retaining wall which held in his swamp, and waited for the
spider-like figure to come across and join him.
"Too bad you didn't come in with me, or sell me your property at a
reasonable figure," said Bobby affably, willing, in spite of his
recent bitter experience, to meet his competitor upon the same
friendly grounds that he would a crack polo antagonist on the eve of
contest. "It's a shame that this could not all have been improved at
one time."
"I'd just as lief have my part of it the way it is," said Silas. "It's
no good now, but it's as good as yours," and he climbed into his buggy
and drove away laughing, leaving Bobby strangely dissatisfied and
doubtful over that strange remark.
While he was still trying to unravel it, he noted that the water in
Silas' pond, which but a day or so previously had been down to fully
nine inches from the top, was now climbing rapidly upward again; and
there had been no rain for more than two weeks! The thing was
inexplicable. He was still puzzling over this as he drove down the
road and turned in at broad Burnit Avenue toward the club-house. The
asphalt and the pavements were bone dry and as clean as a ball-room
floor, and it seemed to him that the young grass was growing greener
and higher here than anywhere.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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