For Money.—Chapters I-IV [pp. 25-39]

For Money.
expended on fancy stock for his dairy, or
choice varieties of trees for his orchard.
No one was much surprised when, after five
years' enjoyment of his folly, Mr. Ripley
was stricken with paralysis, from which he
did not recover, and the widow was left with
two young daughters and the place on her
hands. Two or three life insurance policies
had been found, but they had all expired
some time before; and to make the ranch
profitable, a further outlay of money was
necessary. It was a difficult place to sell,
every one said, manifestly cheering the widow
with every repetition; but at last, after having been on the market more than two years,
it had been taken by Marion Waring, one of
the richest and most influential men in San
Francisco.
"What did he give for it?" was Mr. Lennard's natural inquiry.
"About one-third of its value, I suppose.
Those rich men always take advantage of
everything, because they can," said Mrs. Lennard, in a matter-of-fact tone, through which
some bitterness was discernible. "And he
will make another fortune out of it, while
those poor women that need the money -"
"Nobody knows anything about it," said
Gilbert. "He refused to make the price
public."
"Ashamed, I've no doubt," commented
Mrs. Lennard.
"He told me he was coming over here
pretty soon to look at it thoroughly, because
his impression was that there was too much
ground wasted in lawn and flowers, and he
could enlarge either the orchard or the wheat
land."
"What a shame!" cried Louise. "But
it's just like those people. They are never
satisfied, always want to make more. I wonder they don't live in tents, because houses
don't bring in anything."
"And you know him, Gilbert?" asked
Frances, in some excitement.
"Yes, to speak to. He is a big, jolly fellow, anywhere between forty-five and fifty,
and what he wants of a great house in the
country, all full of stained glass and solid
wood, I don't know, and nobody knows."
"Doesn't his wife like the country?" inquired Frances, again.
"He hasn't a wife. The women are crazy to get him to their parties, but he never
goes anywhere. He always has a box whenever there is an opera, and he calls on two
or three old married ladies without daughters," Gilbert answered.
One evening during the next week, Mr.
Lennard came home to dinner, announcing
that he had met Mr. Waring.
"I was at the station when the train came
in," he said, with some importance, greatly
impressing the younger children thereby,
"and Mr. Waring was with the very people
I went to meet. He is coming over every
night now, and will live here in San Manuel
until October or November."
"I suppose he didn't trample on your prostrate form," remarked Louise.
"You had better call on him, Henry,"
said his wife, thoughtfully. "I know the men
don't go to church much here, but still-"
She glanced at Harry, who sat as far from
the others as he could get in the small room.
Julia and Susy had received private warnings
from the other girls that he was not to be
disturbed. Every available means of procuring something to do being apparently exhausted, he had answered some advertisements as a last resource, and was awaiting results in a highly nervous state, that made him
an object of terror and commiseration to his
sisters.
Not long after, Mr. Lennard called on the
new land-holder, but found, to his regret,
that Mr. Waring had not come over that evening.
The next Sunday, Frances and Louise
walked down to the five o'clock train, which
was to take Gilbert back to the city. The
station was full of the usual Sunday crowd
going home, and Gilbert suddenly cried, in
an eager undertone, to his sisters: "There
he is-there's Waring!"
Frances turned with interest, Louise with
a show of haughty indifference. A large,
powerfully built man, with gray hair, and the
slightly obscured outlines of the figure that
belong to middle age, stood in the center of
28
[Jalln