Fred did so, and when it was finished he added: "How much do you think Mr. Wainwright paid me for my trouble?"
"He ought to pay you handsomely."
"What would you consider paying me handsomely?"
"Fifty dollars," answered his mother.
"He gave me a thousand dollars!"
"A thousand!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Fenton, incredulous.
"Yes."
"Where's the money?" asked Albert.
"He gave it to me in a check. I shall collect it to-morrow, and invest it in some safe way."
"I can't realize it, Fred," said Mrs. Fenton. "Why, it will make us rich."
"But that isn't all. My salary is raised to twenty-five dollars a week."
"I never heard of such wages being given to a boy like you."
"It was my second offer this morning. A merchant, a friend of Mr.
Wainwright, offered me twenty dollars to go into his office."
"That is better than being a train boy, Fred."
"Yes; but I was glad to work on the trains when I had nothing better to do."
Just then the peculiar whistle of the postman was heard.
"Run down-stairs, Albert, and see if there are any letters for us,"
said Fred.
The little boy returned in a moment with an envelope directed to Fred Fenton, and postmarked Central City, Colorado. He opened it hastily, and exclaimed: "This is from Mr. Sloan, who visited us a few months since."
"Read it, Fred."
The letter was written in rather an illegible hand, and the spelling was rather eccentric, for Mr. Sloan was not a scholar. As corrected it ran thus:
FRIEND FRED--I suppose you haven't forgotten your old friend Tom Sloan.
I have often thought of how I enjoyed myself at your home, and wished I could call in and take a cup of tea with you and your mother.
About that land you asked me to see, I've got good news for you.
There's a town built around it, and the price has gone up to fancy figures. There's a party here that wants to buy it for five thousand dollars, but I think I can get a little more. If your mother will send me a power of attorney, I will sell it, and send you on the money. I'll do my best for you. No wonder that old skinflint, your uncle, wanted to buy it. He'd have made a big thing out of it. He was a fool not to take it at your own figures.
I hope you are all well, and I shouldn't wonder if I might see you pretty soon. I've been lucky myself, and made a respectable pile. Old Tom Sloan doesn't get left if he can help it.
Well, good-by. Send on the power of attorney by return of mail.
Yours till death,
TOM SLOAN.
"Five thousand dollars!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Fenton. "I can't believe it."
"You will, mother, when you get the money. There's no time to be lost.
I'll go out at once and get the power of attorney, and we'll write at once, telling Mr. Sloan to do whatever he thinks best. Do you agree to that, mother?"
"Yes, Fred. He is a good man and I trust him entirely."
CHAPTER x.x.xVII.
COUSIN FERGUSON.
In a fortnight Fred received from Colorado an order on a New York banker for six thousand five hundred dollars, being the purchase money on the Colorado lands.
He at once carried it to Mr. Wainwright, and invested it in securities recommended by that gentleman.
"I congratulate you heartily, Fred," said the banker. "I didn't know that I was taking into my employ a young man of fortune."
"It has come upon me so suddenly that I can't realize it myself."
"I consider you worthy of your good luck, my boy. You ought to save up money out of your wages."
"I intend to sir, but I am going to give my mother a better home now that I can afford it, and will see that my little brother has a better education than I have had."
"It is not too late to supply the deficiency in your own case. You cannot do better than join the evening cla.s.ses of the Young Men's Christian a.s.sociation, and do what you can to improve yourself."
"I will follow your advice, Mr. Wainwright. Now that I am no longer anxious about money matters, I want to qualify myself for a better social position."
Only two days after the receipt of the money from Colorado, another letter, as unexpected as Mr. Sloan's, reached Mrs. Fenton. The substance of it was comprised in the closing paragraph "Send your son round to my house this evening I am prepared to make you a better offer for the Colorado laud. It's of little value, but some day may be worth more than at present. As you are straitened in means I can better afford to wait than you, and I shall feel satisfaction in relieving your necessities."
Fred read this letter attentively. "I hate a hypocrite," he said. "Mr.
Ferguson pretends that he wants to help us, while he is scheming to cheat us out of a large sum, relying upon our ignorance of the increased value of the land."
"Shall I write and tell him that we have sold the land?" asked Mrs.
Fenton.
"No, I will call and see him this evening, as he requests."
"But it will do no good."
"I want to find out how much he is willing to give. I shan't let him know that the land is sold till he has made an offer."