CHAPTER XX
TIM'S DISCLOSURE
Two days later Dick received a reply from Mr. Larabee. In the meanwhile Mr. Hamilton had written to Foster, the man he hired to take charge of Sunnyside farm, and had told him to have the place in readiness for twenty-five youngsters.
"Did your Uncle Ezra give you the address of the Fresh-Air Committee?" asked Dick's father.
"Yes, and he sent me a letter of advice along with it."
"What does he say?"
"I'll read it to you," and Dick turned over the pages of the missive. "This is what he says about my plan of trying to give those kids a little fun:
"'I send you the address of the committee, as you requested, but, Nephew Richard, I want to warn you against taking them. In the first place, they will be no better off than they are at home. They will not appreciate what you do for them. Then, too, they might bring some terrible epidemic to this part of the country. Sunnyside is not so far from Dankville but that a disease might carry to my place, and you know my health is not strong.
"'If I had control of you (as I may have some day), I would not let you do this. But it is not for me to say at this time what you should do. I think you are throwing the money away, and you had much better put the amount you intend spending into the church missionary box and so aid the heathens. They need it.'
"As if those poor kids in the hot tenements of New York didn't need it, too," commented Dick. "Well, Uncle Ezra is certainly a queer man. I suppose he'll keep his house filled with disinfectants while the waifs are at Sunnyside, though it's many miles away."
In about a week Dick had completed arrangements with the committee in New York, the president of which wrote to thank him for aiding in the work they were doing. Dick was told that twenty-five youngsters, ten boys and fifteen girls, none of whom had ever been to the country before, would be sent to Sunnyside in charge of a matron. Dick had forwarded money to buy the tickets, and had planned with Foster to have a big stage meet the train on which the "fresh-air kids," as he called them, would arrive at the nearest station to the country home.
"Well, dad," remarked Dick, the day before the waifs from New York were to arrive, "you've seen the last of me for a week."
"Why; where are you going?"
"To Sunnyside. I want to see that the kids are started right, and I think I'll stay about a week to see that they have a good time. I'll take my runabout, and I can come back in a hurry if I need to. I'll bring a batch over to see you, maybe."
"Do," said Mr. Hamilton. "I like children. Poor things! I hope the trip to the country does them good."
Dick had read about fresh-air children who were much impressed by their first visit to the country, but this did not prepare him for the awed look on the faces of the twenty-five as they tumbled from the train at the little country depot, and made for the waiting stage.
"Now, children," said the matron, as Dick came up and introduced himself, "this is the gentleman who was so kind as to bring you out to this beautiful place," and she shook hands with the millionaire's son.
"Is dat de rich guy?" asked one boy, but though his words might sound disrespectful he did not intend them so.
"Hush!" exclaimed a girl in a much-patched red dress. "He'll hear you."
"What do I care! If I wuz as rich as him I wouldn't care who knowed it," retorted the boy.
"No more do I, old chap," replied Dick, with a laugh, as he patted the youngster on the back. "Now, boys and girls, the stage is waiting for you."
"Oh, Nellie!" cried a little tot with light hair, "we're goin' to ride in a real wagon with real horses!"
"Don't speak so loud!" was the whispered answer of her companion. "It's like a dream, an' maybe we'll wake up an' find it all gone."
The children, in spite of the fact that they came from the slums of New York, were all neat and clean, for that was one of the requirements of the committee that took charge of the fresh-air work. And, though their manners might be considered a little rough, they did not intend them so. It was due to the influence of their surroundings. Soon they had all piled into the stage, and the driver from Sunnyside started the four horses.
"Look, will yer! It's a regular tally-ho like de swells on Fif' Avenoo drives!" exclaimed the boy who had called Dick the "rich guy."
The ride to the farm was one continuous series of exclamations of delight from the boys and girls, who looked at the green fields on either side of the country road, at the comfortable farm-houses they passed, or at the range of mountains that towered off to the west.
"Look!" exclaimed one boy, who had kept tight hold of his sister's hand from the time he got off the train. "See, Maggie, that's where the sun goes to sleep. I never saw it before."
"Where?" asked the girl.
"Over there," and he pointed to the mountains behind which the golden orb was sinking to rest.
"Yes, dear," spoke the matron, who had overheard what was said, "and in the morning he'll get up and shine on the fields where you can run around and get strong.
"He's a sickly child," the matron added in a whisper to Dick. "I'm afraid he never will be strong. He has such queer fancies at times. His mother is a widow and goes out washing. The sister stays home and takes care of her little brother. It was a real charity that they could come, and I'm sure the committee doesn't know how to thank you for your generosity."
"Oh, pshaw! That's nothing," replied Dick, blushing like a girl at the praise. "I ought to do something with my money. I'm glad I heard about this fresh-air plan. I'll have some of the youngsters out next year if—"
Then he stopped. He happened to think that if his investments did not succeed he would not have much money to spend the next year, and, besides, he might be living with his Uncle Ezra at Dankville.
But the matron did not notice his hesitation, for, at that moment, the stage turned into the drive leading up to Sunnyside, and Dick was besieged by several inquiries.
"Say, mister, is dis a park?" asked one boy, as he saw the well-kept drive.
"No, this is the place where you are going to stay," Dick replied.
"Can we get out an' walk?" asked another, and this seemed to strike a popular chord, for that request became general. The matron nodded an assent and the children jumped out of the stage, some boys going by way of the windows.
"You can drive on and tell them we are coming," said Dick to the driver.
"Oh, I guess they'll know it fast enough," responded the man, with a grin. "You can hear them kids a mile."
Which was true enough, for the boys and girls were fairly yelling in pure delight. Dick and the matron walked on behind the crowd, the millionaire's son watching with interest the antics of the waifs.
"Johnny! Johnny!" yelled a slip of a girl to her bigger brother. "Come right off the grass this minute! Do youse want a cop to put you out? He don't know no better, mister," she said, turning to Dick. "He didn't mean nothin'. Johnny, do you hear me? Come off that grass right away, or the man will have youse arrested."
"No, no! Nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Dick, with a laugh. "You can eat the grass if you want to. Do just as you please. There isn't a policeman within twenty miles."
Then there was a mad rush over the big lawn that led up to Sunnyside. The children yelled, laughed, shouted, and fairly tumbled over each other in the very joy of being in the country. Pale cheeks reddened as the little lungs breathed in the pure, fresh air, dull eyes lighted up with pleasure, and little hands trembled with eagerness as they plucked buttercups, dandelions and daisies that grew on the far edges of the lawns.
"Wow!" yelled one lad. "Wow! I've got to do somethin' or I'll bust!"
And that is the way most of them felt it seemed, for they raced, ran, jumped and tumbled like children just let out after being kept in after school.
And such a supper as Mrs. Foster had provided for the waifs! Their eyes bulged as they came to the table that was fairly groaning under the weight of good things.
"Now," called Dick, when they sat down, "let me see how you can eat."
"They do not need any coaxing," replied the matron, and Dick soon saw that she was right.
That was only the beginning of a happy two weeks for the youngsters. They fairly went wild on the farm, for it had a hundred delights for them, from watching the cows being milked, to hunting for eggs in the big barn. Dick took them for automobile rides in relays, bringing several over to Hamilton Corners to see his father, who further delighted the childish hearts by gifts of dimes and nickels. On one of these trips the millionaire's son brought Tim Muldoon, the boy who had commented on Dick's riches that day the two met.
"An' does your governor own dat bank?" Tim asked, as Dick stopped the runabout in front of the institution.
"Well, most of it, I guess."
"An' can he go in dere an' git money whenever he wants it?"
"Yes, I guess he can."
"Say!" exclaimed Tim, as he looked weakly at Dick, "an youse is his son?"
"Yes."
"An' youse is takin' me an' dese (indicating some of the other youngsters) out fer a ride in dis gasolene gig? Us what ain't got a cent?"
"Yes; why not?" asked Dick, with a smile.
"Well, all I've got t' say is dat dis is as near bein' rich as I ever expects t' be, an' say, it's dead white of youse ; dat's what it is. Why, dem rich guys in N' York would no more t'ink of treatin' us dis way dan dey would jump off de dock. Dat's straight!"
"Oh, I guess they would if they thought about it, but they probably don't know how many boys and girls would like to get out and see the country," said Dick, not wanting to take too much credit to himself.
"Like pie!" was Tim's contemptuous rejoinder. Then, as he was gazing rapturously at the entrance to the bank, he suddenly started as he saw a man coming down the steps.
"Say," he whispered to Dick, grabbing his arm, "is dat guy in your governor's bank?"
"Which man? What do you mean?"
"I mean dat one wid de black moustache, jest comin' down de steps. Is he in de bank?"
"Oh, that's Mr. Vanderhoof," replied Dick, recognizing the mining promoter.
"Mr. who?" asked Tim.
"Vanderhoof. Why, do you know him?"
"Not by dat name. But say, if he's got anyt'ing to do wit de bank it'll soon be on de blink."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean put out of business. On de blink, excuse my slang. But youse had better tell your governor to keep his peepers open."
"Why?" inquired Dick, a vague suspicion coming into his mind.
"Because," replied Tim, earnestly. "Dat man's name ain't Vanderhoof any more dan mine is."
"Who is he?"
"Why, he's William Jackson, or Bond Broker Bill. I seen him in de police court in N' York. I sells papers, an' I knows lots of de cops an' detectives. I saw 'em arrest dat man once, only he had a white beard an' moustache den. Now he's shaved off de whiskers an' colored his moustache, but I knowed him de minute I set me peepers on him. I seen his mug in de papers lots of times. Youse wants to be on lookout fer him or he'll put de bank on de blink. He's a gold-brick swindler, an' I guess up to any other woozy game he can make pay!"
"Bond Broker Bill! William Jackson! Colonel Dendon!" murmured Dick, in a daze. "No wonder I thought I had seen Mr. Vanderhoof before. It was in the New York hotel, where he tried to swindle me! And he sold dad and me some gold mining stock! I must tell dad right away!"
Dick looked after the retreating form of Mr. Vanderhoof. Then turning to Tim, who had made the startling disclosure, he said:
"Wait here for me! I must see my father at once," and getting out of the auto he hurried into the bank.