The Squatter and the Don. María Amparo Ruiz de Burton

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      The Darrell house was now finished, the furniture had arrived, been unpacked and distributed in the rooms, but the house seemed to old Darrell entirely too sumptuous for the plain folks, that his family ought to be. That was a truth.

      “Look here, Clarence, haven't you been too extravagant in buying such expensive carpets, such fine furniture? For gracious sake, how big is the bill for all this grandeur?”

      “I don't know yet the price of every item, but don't be alarmed, I am sure they would not go beyond the limit I gave Hubert (Hubert made the purchases), and I assure you, it will all be paid with our volunteer crop.”

      “Don't be sure of that.”

      “O, but I am sure—only not too much so—which is the right way of being sure,” he replied.

      Clarence was now a regular caller at the Alamar and the Mechlin houses. He felt that in both places the welcome he received was sincere, for even the silent Gabriel was always ready to talk to him. As for Victoriano, his attachment to Clarence was now an acknowledged and accepted fact—not rejected by Señor Alamar, to judge by appearances—and certainly fully and sincerely reciprocated by Clarence. Both found great pleasure in each other's society, and saw each other every day.

      It was now time for Clarence to go to Alameda to bring down the family. He and Victoriano talked about it walking towards the Alamar house from the Darrells, discussing the probable time of his return.

      “Clarence has come to bid us good-by,” said Victoriano, walking into the parlor, followed by Clarence.

      “Why! Where is he going?” said Mercedes, rising, dropping the book she was reading.

      “Don't be alarmed, he is only going to bring his mother and sisters down,” added Victoriano, maliciously, causing the blood to rush to her forehead.

      “Oh!” she exclaimed, sitting down, with a resentful look toward her brother, and a half appealing, half deprecating one to Clarence, who was contemplating her in ecstatic silence.

      “I think the Holman girls will be coming about the same time. I was telling Clarence to look after them a little, if convenient, and if they are not sea-sick,” said Victoriano.

      “They will require my services more if they are sick,” said Clarence, laughing.

      “If you are a good nurse,” Victoriano observed; adding, “Imagine Corina Holman nursed by a strange young gentleman; that would kill her sure.”

      “I would try and prevent that,” said Clarence.

      “Thank you, for my friends. I do not think they will be very ill; but I am sure it will be pleasant for them to have so good an escort,” said Mercedes.

      Clarence promised, therefore, to look after the Misses Holman, and let them know which steamer would be best to take coming to San Diego.

      Mercedes said she would write notifying them of this arrangement.

      There was a great something in Clarence's mind that he wished to say to Mercedes before leaving, but he had neither courage nor opportunity to say it, so he left, carrying with him the burden of his thoughts untold.

      His voyage was accomplished in safety, the steamer arriving at San Francisco at the regular time. Hubert Haverly came to meet him, and together they went to a restaurant for breakfast.

      “Give us the most secluded room and the nicest breakfast your establishment can produce, for this gentleman is very particular, and I am very hungry,” said Hubert.

      The waiter smiled, showed them to the best room in the house, and retired.

      “Now let us talk,” said Hubert, “I am dying to tell you how rich you are, and scold you for not letting me keep your stock longer and making you richer. Why were you so anxious to sell? The stock kept rising steadily. I was a ‘bull’ all the time. There was a slight break once—only once. Some fellows wanted to pull the stock down, and got a few ‘bears’ to work with them. It lowered a little, but only a few of the heavy holders had any fear, and it soon recovered, shooting up higher than ever. I got your order to sell about that time, and did so, but I assure you my heart ached when I did it.”

      “I wrote you immediately after that, it was only the first hundred shares I wanted sold.”

      “Yes, but that letter I got three days after I had sold all. I almost cried like a girl, with disappointment, when you wrote that I was to send you only $6000. Now, you could have made a whole million with your thousand shares.”

      “A whole million?”

      “Most assuredly. Look at yesterday's quotations, and the stock is still rising.”

      “Truly,” said Clarence, reading the stock report; “the last paper I saw was dated six days ago. But even then ‘Crown Point’ was still very high.”

      “And so it was, but it is very disappointing to get one-half of a million when you might as well get a whole million. I shall never cease scolding you for it.”

      “Well, I'll bear the scolding patiently, considering that it was to avoid scoldings that I gave you the order to sell.”

      “To avoid scolding? How so? From whom?”

      “From my father. He is terribly down on mining stocks. He would consider me next to a thief if he thought I bought stocks.”

      “That is absurd. You needn't tell him how much money you have. Here is my statement of all I made; my commission and moneys paid for you. I sold your stock at a fraction over $800 per share. Oh, Clarence, why did you make me sell? Look at this. After buying the government bonds as ordered you have left $260,000, when you might have had half a million over.”

      “Never mind. I made enough. I'd rather let some one else make the balance than to sell when things begin to tumble down. Did you say $260,000?”

      “Yes, $260,000, when it ought to be $400,000 at least.”

      Clarence laughed at Hubert's rueful face.

      The waiter brought in their breakfast.

      “Broiled oysters on toast! Oysters baked in the shell! Broiled chicken. Let us discuss them in preference to stock,” said Clarence.

      Having helped his friend and then himself, Hubert said:

      “What are you going to do with your $260,000 now since you are not to buy stock?”

      “I have not thought about it, but I guess the best thing would be to invest all in government bonds.”

      “Which is the same as burying your cash.”

      “I'll tell you what I'd like to do. I would like to make a safe investment that would give me about $30,000 a year, and then I could afford to let you gamble with the balance, if there was any balance left,” Clarence said.

      “I'll see to-day what government bonds are selling for, and report to you this evening.”

      “That can't be, as I am to take the two o'clock boat for Alameda.”

      “When will you be back?”

      “To-morrow evening if you want me, but if not I shall wait until the family comes down.”

      “What a lucky fellow he is,” said Hubert, walking towards the Stock Exchange, after promising Clarence to see him to the boat at two o'clock. “In two years he has made a fortune with a capital of $2000.”

      Hubert was right. Clarence had been a lucky investor. With the sum of $2000 bequeathed to him by Mrs. Darrell's Aunt Newton, when he was only five years old, and which sum she ordered should be put at interest until he was twenty-one years of age, Clarence speculated, and now he was worth close on to a million dollars.

      Everything was ready for the journey when Clarence arrived at his Alameda home.

      “Don't you know that it pulls