CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER IX

I

September 10, 1900.

Judith dearest: Christopher, I think, is going to sell Q 2 Ranch. It seems odd and perhaps not right that a private disaster like this should completely overshadow, for us, the terrible disaster in Galveston day before yesterday. But it has. I think that Christopher gave us credit for more altruism, and so told us yesterday when we were all so troubled over the Galveston sufferers. I think that he thought our own trouble would diminish by comparison. It has not.

When all the mortgages are paid, Christopher will have about $9,000 left over. If he and Irene take half, that will leave $4,500 for Grandfather, Father, Olympe, Uncle Phineas, Aunt Gracia, you, Greg, Neal, and me.

Christopher says that we can buy a pleasant Willamette Valley farm for less than half of that, and start free and clear. That will be much better, he says, since this place is too large for Father and Neal to handle, especially since Father’s health is so uncertain.

Indeed, Christopher declares, Father’s health is one of his chief reasons for selling. He thinks it is not fair to expect Father to carry on this struggle under a load of debt. Aside from the sentiment attached to the place, Christopher says, a smaller place, clear of debt, would be better for everyone. However, he says he will not act hastily, nor counter to our wishes in the matter. The offer is open for sixty days.

No one says anything. No one will say anything. I mean, not anything at all. I mean, not one single word. Not, “Yes, Christopher,” or, “No, Christopher.” I believe that Uncle Phineas might talk, if he were here. Uncle Phineas is lost.

Neal and I are the only ones who know this. After Christopher broke the news to us yesterday morning, Neal and I rode to Quilterville. We sent a telegram to Uncle Phineas, in care of Dr. Joe. Neal had to tell me what he was going to do because he had to borrow my pocket money, to put with his money, to send the telegram. We stayed in Quilterville several hours waiting for the reply. When it came it was from Dr. Joe. It said: “Phineas not here. Mum’s the word. No occasion for worry. He is O. K. Joe.”

We had no money to answer that telegram. Neal says he thinks that Uncle Phineas has gone on another prospecting trip. It is odd, because Olympe got a letter from him this morning, written in Portland and mailed from there. I picked up the envelope and looked to see the postmark.

Neal thinks that Uncle Phineas wrote several letters, and left them for Dr. Joe to mail in regular order. It would not be unlike Uncle Phineas. The fact that Olympe had sent him her garnet set to be cleaned, and that he did not mention it in this letter, might seem to prove Neal right. Olympe has written, now, to have him sell the set instead.

Aunt Gracia is going to sell Great-great-great-grandmother’s silver tea set. It is hers, you know. Olympe says the Turkey carpets belong to Uncle Phineas and have ever since he settled the estate in Virginia. She is going to have him sell them. The amount should keep you and Greg in comparative comfort for a long time, she thinks. Aunt Gracia is hoping for a teacher’s position. She is hunting out old books to bone up for the examinations. Neal plans to stay right here and work for his board only, if necessary. Grandfather will apply for his pension after all these years. It will be about seventeen dollars a month.

Aunt Gracia has asked me to come and help her now, so I must go. Dear, I love you and Greg very, very much.—Lucy.