“What do you mean?” And there was a flash in Peggy’s eyes. “What has he done?”
“To my certain knowledge he has spent more than four hundred thousand dollars since last September. That is something, is it not?” Miss Drew said, in her slow, cool voice, and even Peggy’s loyalty admitted some justification in the criticism.
“Generosity has ceased to be a virtue, then?” she asked coldly.
“Generosity!” exclaimed Barbara, sharply. “It’s sheer idiocy. Haven’t you heard the things people are saying? They are calling him a fool, and in the clubs they are betting that he will be a pauper within a year.”
“Yet they charitably help him to spend his money. And I have noticed that even worldly mammas find him eligible.” The comment was not without its caustic side.
“That was months ago, my dear,” protested Barbara, calmly. “When he spoke to me—he told me it would be impossible for him to marry within a year. And don’t you see that a year may make him an abject beggar?”
“Naturally anything is preferable to a beggar,” came in Peggy’s clear, soft voice.
Barbara hesitated only a moment.
“Well, you must admit, Miss Gray, that it shows a shameful lack of character. How could any girl be happy with a man like that? And, after all, one must look out for one’s own fate.”
“Undoubtedly,” replied Peggy, but many thoughts were dashing through her brain.
“Shall we turn back to the cottage?” she said, after an awkward silence.
“You certainly don’t approve of Mr. Brewster’s conduct?” Barbara did not like to be placed in the wrong, and felt that she must endeavor to justify herself. “He is the most reckless of spendthrifts, we know, and he probably indulges in even less respectable excitement.”
Peggy was not tall, but she carried her head at this moment as though she were in the habit of looking down on the world.
“Aren’t you going a little too far, Miss Drew?” she asked placidly.
“It is not only New York that laughs at his quixotic transactions,” Barbara persisted. “Mr. Hampton, our guest from Chicago, says the stories are worse out there than they are in the east.”
“It is a pity that Monty’s illness should have made him so weak,” said Peggy quietly, as they turned in through the great iron gates, and Barbara was not slow to see the point.
XVII
The New Tenderfoot
Brewster was comparatively well and strong when he returned to New York in March. His illness had interfered extensively with his plan of campaign and it was imperative that he redouble his efforts, notwithstanding the manifest dismay of his friends. His first act was to call upon Grant & Ripley, from whom he hoped to learn what Swearengen Jones thought of his methods. The lawyers had heard no complaint from Montana, and advised him to continue as he had begun, assuring him, as far as they could, that Jones would not prove unreasonable.
An exchange of telegrams just before his operation had renewed Monty’s dread of his eccentric mentor.
New York, Jan. 6, 19—
Swearengen Jones,
Butte, Mont.How about having my life insured? Would it violate conditions?
To Montgomery Brewster,
New York.Seems to me your life would become an asset in that case. Can you dispose of it before September 23rd?
To Swearengen Jones,
Butte, Mont.On the contrary, I think life will be a debt by that time.
To Montgomery Brewster,
New York.If you feel that way about it, I advise you to take out a $500 policy.
To Swearengen Jones,
Butte, Mont.Do you think that amount would cover funeral expenses?
To Montgomery Brewster,
New York.You won’t be caring about expenses if it comes to that.
The invitations for the second ball had been out for some time and the preparations were nearly complete when Brewster arrived upon the scene of festivity. It did not surprise him that several old-time friends should hunt him up and protest vigorously against the course he was pursuing. Nor did it surprise him when he found that his presence was not as essential to the success of some other affair as it had once been. He was not greeted as cordially as before, and he grimly wondered how many of his friends would stand true to the end. The uncertainty made him turn more and more often to the unquestioned loyalty of Peggy Gray, and her little library saw him more frequently than for months.
Much as he had dreaded the pretentious and resplendent ball, it was useful to him in one way at least. The “profit” side of his ledger account was enlarged and in that there was room for secret satisfaction. The Viennese orchestra straggled into New York, headed by Elon Gardner, a physical wreck, in time to make a harmonious farewell appearance behind Brewster’s palms, which caused his guests to wonder why the American public could not appreciate the real thing. A careful summing up of the expenses and receipts proved that the tour had been a bonanza for Brewster. The net loss was a trifle more than $56,000. When this story became known about town, everybody laughed pityingly, and poor Gardner was almost in tears when he tried to explain the disaster to the man who lost the money. But Monty’s sense of humor, singularly enough, did not desert him on this trying occasion.
Aesthetically the ball proved to be the talk of more than one season. Pettingill had justified his desire for authority and made a name which would last. He had taken matters into his own hands while Brewster was in Florida, and changed the period from the Spain of Velasquez to France and Louis Quinze. After the cards were out he remembered, to his consternation, that the favors purchased for the Spanish ball would be entirely inappropriate for the French one. He wired Brewster at once of this misfortune, and
