“I thought so; I thought he’d get tired of it, but I can’t expect him to keep closely to business just at first.”
She took off her bonnet and veil, and put them away; then went limping about the room, putting it in order. From time to time she smiled. She had met Madame Paichoux and Marie in the Bon Marché on Rue Royale, and they had been very agreeable. Madame Paichoux had even invited her to come and dine with them, to meet Marie’s fiancé. At last they were beginning to see that she was worthy of some attention, she thought.
Now, if Raste would only behave himself, they could do very well. With the ready money she had hidden away and by using her credit she could buy a large stock of goods. She would have more shelves put up, and a counter, and a fine show-case in the window; and there was the store on the corner which Raste could fit up as a grocery. Suddenly she remembered that her rent was due, and that it was about time for her landlord’s visit. She took out her pocket book and counted its contents. She had been rather extravagant at the Bon Marché, to impress Madame Paichoux, and had spent far more than she intended. She found that she lacked a few dollars of the amount due for rent.
“I must borrow it from the private bank,” she said jocosely, as she unlocked her bureau.
With the peculiar slyness of such people, she thought her hoard safer when not too securely concealed. Therefore she had folded up the whole of her year’s savings, with the amount taken from Lady Jane’s mother, inside of a pair of partly worn gloves, which were thrown carelessly among her other clothing in the drawer. It was true she always kept her bureau locked, and the key was hidden, and she seldom left her house alone. But even if any one should break it open, she thought they would never think of unrolling those old gloves.
When she opened the bureau it seemed very disorderly. “I didn’t surely leave my things in such confusion,” she said, nervously clutching at the gloves, which were startlingly conspicuous. With trembling hands and beating heart she unfolded them, but instead of the roll of notes only a slip of paper was found.
The gloves dropped from her nerveless fingers, and, staggering to her bed, she sat down on the edge and read the large characters, which were only too familiar and distinct, although they danced and wavered before her eyes:
Dear Mama:
I’ve decided not to go into partnership with you, so I’ll take the capital and you can keep the credit. The next time that you secrete from your dutiful son money that you have no right to, don’t hide it in your old gloves. It isn’t safe. I’m going away on a little trip. I need a change after my close application to business. By the way, you can tell your inquisitive neighbors that I’ve gone out to my uncle’s ranch in Texas.
Your affectionate and devoted son,
Adraste Jozain.