The Fortunes of Oliver Horn [150]
for the motor. Then he thought of his mother. What a delight it would be when she could be freed from the millstone that had hung around her neck for years.
He must go and tell Margaret and take his father and Nathan with him. Yes, his lucky day HAD come.
Soon the two delighted and astonished old gentlemen, under Oliver's guidance, were making their way up Broadway ostensibly to see his picture at Snedecor's, but really to call upon the distinguished painter, Margaret Grant, whom everyone was talking about, both in New York and in Kennedy Square, for one of her pictures graced Miss Clendenning's boudoir at that very moment. Our young Romeo had waited too many months for someone from Kennedy Square to see the woman he loved, and now that the arms of his father and Nathan were linked in his own, and their legs subject to his orders, he did not intend to let many precious minutes pass before he rang Margaret's studio bell.
When Snedecor's window was reached Richard stopped short in amazement.
"Yours, Oliver! Marvellous! Marvellous!" Richard exclaimed, when the three had wedged their way into the crowd to see the better. "A fine strong picture, and a most superb looking woman. Why, I had no idea! Really! Really"--and his voice trembled. He was deeply touched. The strength of the coloring, the masterly drawing, the admiring crowd about the window, greatly surprised him. While he had been closeted with his invention, thinking only of its success and bending every energy for its completion, this boy of his had become a master.
"I didn't do my full duty to you, my son," he said, with a tone of sadness in his voice, when they had resumed their walk up Broadway. "You lost much time in finding your life's work. I should have insisted years ago that you follow the trend of your genius. Your dear mother was not willing and I let it go, but it was wrong. From something she said to me the other night I feel sure she sees her mistake now, but I never mention it to her, and do you never let her know I told you. Yes! You started too late in life, my boy."
"No, dear old daddy; I started just in the nick of time and in the right way."
How could he have thought anything else on this lovely spring morning, with the brightest of skies overhead, his first important order within his grasp, his dear old father and Nathan beside him, and the loveliest girl in the world or on the planets beyond waiting for him at the top of her studio stairs!
"It's most kind of you to say so," continued Richard, dodging the people as he talked, "but couldn't you have learned to work by following your own tastes?"
"No dad. I was too confounded lazy and too fond of fun. And then the dear mother wanted me to go to work, and that was always enough for me."
"Oh, my son, it does me good to hear you say so" --and a light shone on the old gentleman's face. "Yes! you ALWAYS considered your mother. You can't think how she has suffered during these terrible years. But for the good offices of Mr. Cobb whose kindness I shall never forget, I do not see how she could have gone through them as she has. Isn't it fine, my son, to think it is all over? She will never have to worry again--never--never. The motor will end all her troubles. She did not believe in it once, but she does now.
They continued on up Broadway, Oliver in the middle, Richard's arm in his; he hurrying them both along; steering them across the streets; avoiding the trucks and dragging them past the windows they wanted to look into, with promises of plenty of time for that to-morrow or next week. Only once did he allow them to catch their breath, and that was when they passed the big bronze statue overlooking Union Square, and then only long enough for the two to take in its outlines, and from its pedestal to fix their eyes on the little windows of Miss Teetum's boarding- house, where he' had spent so many happy and unhappy days.
Soon the two breathless old gentlemen and equally breathless young guide--the first condition due to the state of the two old gentlemen's lungs
He must go and tell Margaret and take his father and Nathan with him. Yes, his lucky day HAD come.
Soon the two delighted and astonished old gentlemen, under Oliver's guidance, were making their way up Broadway ostensibly to see his picture at Snedecor's, but really to call upon the distinguished painter, Margaret Grant, whom everyone was talking about, both in New York and in Kennedy Square, for one of her pictures graced Miss Clendenning's boudoir at that very moment. Our young Romeo had waited too many months for someone from Kennedy Square to see the woman he loved, and now that the arms of his father and Nathan were linked in his own, and their legs subject to his orders, he did not intend to let many precious minutes pass before he rang Margaret's studio bell.
When Snedecor's window was reached Richard stopped short in amazement.
"Yours, Oliver! Marvellous! Marvellous!" Richard exclaimed, when the three had wedged their way into the crowd to see the better. "A fine strong picture, and a most superb looking woman. Why, I had no idea! Really! Really"--and his voice trembled. He was deeply touched. The strength of the coloring, the masterly drawing, the admiring crowd about the window, greatly surprised him. While he had been closeted with his invention, thinking only of its success and bending every energy for its completion, this boy of his had become a master.
"I didn't do my full duty to you, my son," he said, with a tone of sadness in his voice, when they had resumed their walk up Broadway. "You lost much time in finding your life's work. I should have insisted years ago that you follow the trend of your genius. Your dear mother was not willing and I let it go, but it was wrong. From something she said to me the other night I feel sure she sees her mistake now, but I never mention it to her, and do you never let her know I told you. Yes! You started too late in life, my boy."
"No, dear old daddy; I started just in the nick of time and in the right way."
How could he have thought anything else on this lovely spring morning, with the brightest of skies overhead, his first important order within his grasp, his dear old father and Nathan beside him, and the loveliest girl in the world or on the planets beyond waiting for him at the top of her studio stairs!
"It's most kind of you to say so," continued Richard, dodging the people as he talked, "but couldn't you have learned to work by following your own tastes?"
"No dad. I was too confounded lazy and too fond of fun. And then the dear mother wanted me to go to work, and that was always enough for me."
"Oh, my son, it does me good to hear you say so" --and a light shone on the old gentleman's face. "Yes! you ALWAYS considered your mother. You can't think how she has suffered during these terrible years. But for the good offices of Mr. Cobb whose kindness I shall never forget, I do not see how she could have gone through them as she has. Isn't it fine, my son, to think it is all over? She will never have to worry again--never--never. The motor will end all her troubles. She did not believe in it once, but she does now.
They continued on up Broadway, Oliver in the middle, Richard's arm in his; he hurrying them both along; steering them across the streets; avoiding the trucks and dragging them past the windows they wanted to look into, with promises of plenty of time for that to-morrow or next week. Only once did he allow them to catch their breath, and that was when they passed the big bronze statue overlooking Union Square, and then only long enough for the two to take in its outlines, and from its pedestal to fix their eyes on the little windows of Miss Teetum's boarding- house, where he' had spent so many happy and unhappy days.
Soon the two breathless old gentlemen and equally breathless young guide--the first condition due to the state of the two old gentlemen's lungs