The Confessions of Artemas Quibble | Page 5

them the favor of letting them go on some more of my paper, but
without the usual result. I then discovered to my annoyance that a
wealthy young fellow know as "Buck" de Vries, who had considered
himself insulted by something that I had said or done, had been quietly
spreading the rumor that I was a sort of hocus-pocus fellow and
practically bankrupt, that my pretensions to fashion were ridiculous,
and that I made a business of living off other people. Incidentally he
had gone the rounds, and, owing to the rumors that he himself had
spread, had succeeded in buying up most of my notes at a tremendous
discount. These he lost no time in presenting for payment, and as they
amounted to several thousand dollars my hope of reaching a settlement
with him was small. In point of fact I was quite sure that he wanted no
settlement and desired only revenge, and I realized what a fool I had
been to make an enemy out of one who might have been an ally.
In this embarrassing situation I bethought me of old Mr. Toddleham,
and accordingly paid him an unexpected visit at Barristers' Hall. It was
a humid spring day, and I recall that the birds were twittering loudly in
the maples back of the Probate Office. As befitted my station at the
time of year, I was arrayed in a new beaver and a particularly fanciful
pair of rather tight trousers.
"Come in," squeaked Mr. Toddleham, and I entered easily.
The old lawyer peered quizzically at me from behind his square- boned
spectacles.
"Oh," said he, "it's you, Master Quibble."
"The same, and your most obedient," I replied, letting myself fall
gracefully into a chair and crossing my legs.

"You want money, I suppose?" he continued, after a few minutes,
during which he inspected by get-up with some interest.
"Well," I commenced lightly, "the fact is I am rather pressed. I thought
if you could make me a small advance out of my grandfather's
legacy--"
"Legacy! What legacy?" he inquired.
"The legacy my grandfather left me."
"He left you no legacy," retorted the old gentleman. "Your grandfather,
to whom you were once so considerate as to refer in my presence as a
pig, left you no legacy. He directed that as long as you seemed to
deserve it I should spend a certain sum on your maintenance and
education."
"Gad!" I cried. "That puts me in a nice position!"
The old lawyer looked at me whimsically.
"My gay young man," he remarked finally, "the only position you
occupy is one into which you have deliberately walked yourself. You
come here in your fine clothes and your beaver hat and--excuse
me--your whiskers, and you are surprised that there is no money
forthcoming to pay your debts. Do not look astonished. I know and
have known for a long time of your debts. I have followed your career
with attention if not with edification. Even for the son of a Baptist
minister you have done pretty well. However, life is life and everybody
is not the same. I sha'n't judge you. I was a bit of a dog myself,
although I don't look it now. But I can give you no more money for
game-cocks and cigars. It is time for you to start in and earn your own
living--if you can. At the end of the term I will give you fifty dollars
and a ticket to New York, or one hundred dollars and no ticket to
anywhere. You will have to kick out for yourself. So fine a fellow," he
added, "ought not to find it hard to get along. No doubt you could find
some rich girl to marry you and support you in idleness."

I flushed with anger and sprang to my feet.
"I did not come here to be insulted!" I cried furiously.
Old Mr. Toddleham chuckled apologetically.
"Tut, tut! No offence. You won't find earning your living such an easy
matter. Have you thought anything about what you'll do?"
"No," I answered, still indignant.
"How much do you owe?"
"About forty-eight hundred dollars."
"Damme!" muttered Mr. Tuckerman Toddleham. "More than you could
earn in the first five years at the law!"
"See here," I interrupted, "do you seriously mean that except for fifty
dollars or so there is nothing coming to me out of my grandfather's
estate? Why, he was worth over a million!"
"That is exactly what I mean," he returned. "He left you nothing except
an allowance for your education during your good behavior. He made
me the judge. I'm your trustee and I can't conscientiously let you have
any more money to drink up and gamble with. It's over and done with."
He rapped with an air of finality on