Part 17 (1/2)

”And you have seen Mr. Dawson--and you know why he sent for you?” asked the young girl, with nervous eagerness.

”Ah, yes,” said Mr. Mallory thoughtfully, ”THAT was really important.

You see, my child,” he continued, taking her hand in one of his own and patting the back of it gently with the other, ”we think, Dawson and I, of taking over the major's ranch and incorporating it with the Excelsior in one, to be worked on shares like the Excelsior; and as Mrs. Randolph is very anxious to return to the Atlantic States with her children, it is quite possible. Mrs. Randolph, as you have possibly noticed,” Mr.

Mallory went on, still patting his daughter's hand, ”does not feel entirely at home here, and will consequently leave the major free to rearrange, by himself, the ranch on the new basis. In fact, as the change must be made before the crops come in, she talks of going next week. But if you like the place, Rose, I've no doubt the major and Dawson will always find room for you and me when we run down there for a little fresh air.”

”And did you have all that in your mind, papa, when you came down here, and was that what you and Mr. Dawson wanted to talk about?” said the astonished Rose.

”Mainly, my dear, mainly. You see I'm a capitalist now, and the real value of capital is to know how and when to apply it to certain conditions.”

”And this Mr.--Mr. Bent--do you think--he will go on and find the water, papa?” said Rose, hesitatingly.

”Ah! Bent--Tom Bent--oh, yes,” said Mallory, with great heartiness.

”Capital fellow, Bent! and mighty ingenious! Glad you met him! Well,”

thoughtfully but still heartily, ”he may not find it exactly where he expected, but he'll find it or something better. We can't part with him, and he has promised Dawson to stay. We'll utilize HIM, you may be sure.”

It would seem that they did, and from certain interviews and conversations that took place between Mr. Bent and Miss Mallory on a later visit, it would also appear that her father had exercised a discreet reticence in regard to a certain experiment of the young inventor, of which he had been an accidental witness.

A MAECENAS OF THE PACIFIC SLOPE

CHAPTER I

As Mr. Robert Rushbrook, known to an imaginative press as the ”Maecenas of the Pacific Slope,” drove up to his country seat, equally referred to as a ”palatial villa,” he cast a quick but practical look at the pillared pretensions of that enormous sh.e.l.l of wood and paint and plaster. The statement, also a reportorial one, that its site, the Canyon of Los Osos, ”some three years ago was disturbed only by the pa.s.sing tread of bear and wild-cat,” had lost some of its freshness as a picturesque apology, and already successive improvements on the original building seemingly cast the older part of the structure back to a h.o.a.ry antiquity. To many it stood as a symbol of everything Robert Rushbrook did or had done--an improvement of all previous performances; it was like his own life--an exciting though irritating state of transition to something better. Yet the visible architectural result, as here shown, was scarcely harmonious; indeed, some of his friends--and Maecenas had many--professed to cla.s.sify the various improvements by the successive fortunate ventures in their owner's financial career, which had led to new additions, under the names, of ”The Comstock Lode Period,” ”The Union Pacific Renaissance,” ”The Great Wheat Corner,” and ”Water Front Gable Style,” a humorous trifling that did not, however, prevent a few who were artists from accepting Maecenas's liberal compensation for their services in giving shape to those ideas.

Relinquis.h.i.+ng to a groom his fast-trotting team, the second relay in his two hours' drive from San Francisco, he leaped to the ground to meet the architect, already awaiting his orders in the courtyard. With his eyes still fixed upon the irregular building before him, he mingled his greeting and his directions.

”Look here, Barker, we'll have a wing thrown out here, and a hundred-foot ballroom. Something to hold a crowd; something that can be used for music--sabe?--a concert, or a show.”

”Have you thought of any style, Mr. Rushbrook?” suggested the architect.

”No,” said Rushbrook; ”I've been thinking of the time--thirty days, and everything to be in. You'll stop to dinner. I'll have you sit near Jack Somers. You can talk style to him. Say I told you.”

”You wish it completed in thirty days?” repeated the architect, dubiously.

”Well, I shouldn't mind if it were less. You can begin at once. There's a telegraph in the house. Patrick will take any message, and you can send up to San Francisco and fix things before dinner.”

Before the man could reply, Rushbrook was already giving a hurried interview to the gardener and others on his way to the front porch. In another moment he had entered his own hall,--a wonderful temple of white and silver plaster, formal, yet friable like the sugared erection of a wedding cake,--where his major-domo awaited him.

”Well, who's here?” asked Rushbrook, still advancing towards his apartments.

”Dinner is set for thirty, sir,” said the functionary, keeping step demurely with his master, ”but Mr. Appleby takes ten over to San Mateo, and some may sleep there. The char-a-banc is still out and five saddle-horses, to a picnic in Green Canyon, and I can't positively say, but I should think you might count on seeing about forty-five guests before you go to town to-morrow. The opera troupe seem to have not exactly understood the invitation, sir.”

”How? I gave it myself.”

”The chorus and supernumeraries thought themselves invited too, sir, and have come, I believe, sir. At least Signora Pegrelli and Madame Denise said so, and that they would speak to you about it, but that meantime I could put them up anywhere.”

”And you made no distinction, of course?”