Risen from the Ranks: Harry Walton's Success

The ROMANCE of A ring.

Ferdinand B. Kensington, as he called himself, removed the next morning to the house of Aunt Deborah.  The latter received him very cordially, partly because it was a pleasant relief to her solitude to have a lively and active young man in the house, partly because she was not forced to look upon him as a poor relation in need of pecuniary assistance.  She even felt considerable respect for the prospective recipient of an income of two thousand dollars, which in her eyes was a magnificent salary.

Ferdinand, on his part, spared no pains to make himself agreeable to the old lady, whom he had a mercenary object in pleasing.  Finding that she was curious to hear about the great city, which to her was as unknown as London or Paris, be gratified her by long accounts, chiefly of as imaginative character, to which she listened greedily.  These included some personal adventures, in all of which he figured very creditably.

Here is a specimen.

“By the way, Aunt Deborah,” he said, casually, “have you noticed this ring on my middle finger?”

“No, I didn’t notice it before, Ferdinand.  It’s very handsome.”

“I should think it ought to be, Aunt Deborah,” said the young man.

“Why?”

“It cost enough to be handsome.”

“How much did it cost?” asked the old lady, not without curiosity.

“Guess.”

“I aint no judge of such things; I’ve only got this plain gold ring.  Yours has got some sort of a stone in it.”

“That stone is a diamond, Aunt Deborah!”

“You don’t say so!  Let me look at it.  It aint got no color.  Looks like glass.”

“It’s very expensive, though.  How much do you think it cost?”

“Well, maybe five dollars.”

“Five dollars!” ejaculated the young man.  “Why, what can you be thinking of, Aunt Deborah?”

“I shouldn’t have guessed so much,” said the old lady, misunderstanding him, “only you said it was expensive.”

“So it is.  Five dollars would be nothing at all.”

“You don’t say it cost more?”

“A great deal more.”

“Did it cost ten dollars?”

“More.”

“Fifteen?”

“I see, aunt, you have no idea of the cost of diamond rings!  You may believe me or not, but that ring cost six hundred and fifty dollars.”

“What!” almost screamed Aunt Deborah, letting fall her knitting in her surprise.

“It’s true.”

“Six hundred and fifty dollars for a little piece of gold and glass!” ejaculated the old lady.

“Diamond, aunt, not glass.”

“Well, it don’t look a bit better’n glass, and I do say,” proceeded Deborah, with energy, “that it’s a sin and a shame to pay so much money for a ring.  Why, it was more than half your year’s salary, Ferdinand.”

“I agree with you, aunt; it would have been very foolish and wrong for a young man on a small salary like mine to buy so expensive a ring as this.  I hope, Aunt Deborah, I have inherited too much of your good sense to do that.”

“Then where did you get it?” asked the old lady, moderating her tone.

“It was given to me.”

“Given to you!  Who would give you such a costly present?”

“A rich man whose life I once saved, Aunt Deborah.”

“You don’t say so, Ferdinand!” said Aunt Deborah, interested.  “Tell me all about it.”

“So I will, aunt, though I don’t often speak of it,” said Ferdinand, modestly.  “It seems like boasting, you know, and I never like to do that.  But this is the way it happened.

“Now for a good tough lie!” said Ferdinand to himself, as the old lady suspended her work, and bent forward with eager attention.

“You know, of course, that New York and Brooklyn are on opposite sides of the river, and that people have to go across in ferry-boats.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that, Ferdinand.”

“I’m glad of that, because now you’ll know that my story is correct.  Well, one summer I boarded over in Brooklyn—­on the Heights—­and used to cross the ferry morning and night.  It was the Wall street ferry, and a great many bankers and rich merchants used to cross daily also.  One of these was a Mr. Clayton, a wholesale dry-goods merchant, immensely rich, whom I knew by sight, though I had never spoken to him.  It was one Thursday morning—­I remember even the day of the week—­when the boat was unusually full.  Mr. Clayton was leaning against the side-railing talking to a friend, when all at once the railing gave way, and he fell backward into the water, which immediately swallowed him up.”

“Merciful man!” ejaculated Aunt Deborah, intensely interested.  “Go on, Ferdinand.”

“Of course there was a scene of confusion and excitement,” continued Ferdinand, dramatically.  ‘Man overboard!  Who will save him?’ said more than one.  ‘I will,’ I exclaimed, and in an instant I had sprang over the railing into the boiling current.”

“Weren’t you frightened to death?” asked the old lady.  “Could you swim?”

“Of course I could.  More than once I have swum all the way from New York to Brooklyn.  I caught Mr. Clayton by the collar, as he was sinking for the third time, and shouted to a boatman near by to come to my help.  Well, there isn’t much more to tell.  We were taken on board the boat, and rowed to shore.  Mr. Clayton recovered his senses so far as to realize that I had saved his life.

“‘What is your name, young man?’ he asked, grasping my hand.

“‘Ferdinand B. Kensington,’ I answered modestly.

“‘You have saved my life,’ he said warmly.

“‘I am very glad of it,’ said I.

“’You have shown wonderful bravery.”

“‘Oh no,’ I answered.  ’I know how to swim, and I wasn’t going to see you drown before my eyes.’

“‘I shall never cease to be grateful to you.’

“‘Oh, don’t think of it,’ said I.

“‘But I must think of it,’ he answered.  ’But for you I should now be a senseless corpse lying in the bottom of the river,’ and he shuddered.

“‘Mr. Clayton,’ said I, ’let me advise you to get home as soon as possible, or you will catch your death of cold.’

“‘So will you,’ he said.  ‘You must come with me.’

“He insisted, so I went, and was handsomely treated, you may depend.  Mr. Clayton gave me a new suit of clothes, and the next morning he took me to Tiffany’s—­that’s the best jeweller in New York—­and bought me this diamond ring.  He first offered me money, but I felt delicate about taking money for such a service, and told him so.  So he bought me this ring.”

“Well, I declare!” ejaculated Aunt Deborah.

“That was an adventure.  But it seems to me, Ferdinand, I would have taken the money.”

“As to that, aunt, I can sell this ring, if ever I get hard up, but I hope I sha’n’t be obliged to.”

“You certainly behaved very well, Ferdinand.  Do you ever see Mr. Clayton now?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t seek his society, for fear he would think I wanted to get something more out of him.”

“How much money do you think he’d have given you?” asked Aunt Deborah, who was of a practical nature.

“A thousand dollars, perhaps more.”

“Seems to me I would have taken it.”

“If I had, people would have said that’s why I jumped into the water, whereas I wasn’t thinking anything about getting a reward.  So now, aunt, you won’t think it very strange that I wear such an expensive ring.”

“Of course it makes a difference, as you didn’t buy it yourself.  I don’t see how folks can be such fools as to throw away hundreds of dollars for such a trifle.”

“Well, aunt, everybody isn’t as sensible and practical as you.  Now I agree with you; I think it’s very foolish.  Still I’m glad I’ve got the ring, because I can turn it into money when I need to.  Only, you see, I don’t like to part with a gift, although I don’t think Mr. Clayton would blame me.”

“Of course he wouldn’t, Ferdinand.  But I don’t see why you should need money when you’re goin’ to get such a handsome salary in San Francisco.”

“To be sure, aunt, but there’s something else.  However, I won’t speak of it to-day.  To-morrow I may want to ask your advice on a matter of business.”

“I’ll advise you the best I can, Ferdinand,” said the flattered spinster.

“You see, aunt, you’re so clear-headed, I shall place great dependence on your advice.  But I think I’ll take a little walk now, just to stretch my limbs.”

“I’ve made good progress,” said the young man to himself, as he lounged over the farm.  “The old lady swallows it all.  To-morrow must come my grand stroke.  I thought I wouldn’t propose it to-day, for fear she’d suspect the ring story.”