This was the explanation which he gave to his mother when he at
last came home.
"Rupert," she said to him, "you must not worry so. I see you are
sick--you're as pale as death now. Is there anything the matter, my
boy?"
Rupert seated himself on the sofa, resting his face in his hands, and
looked into the fire. He was haggard and pale.
"Mother--yes, mother, something's the matter but I cannot tell you, I
cannot tell you."
The mother sank beside him. "Rupert, what is it, are you sick?"
"No, dear mother, I'm not sick--only at heart." He put his arms around
her neck and resting his head on her shoulder, began to sob.
It had been a long time since she had seen her boy shed tears.
"Mother," he sprang to his feet and forced himself to talk, "I must tell
you. The bank has failed and--and--I have not always told you of my
business transactions, mother. I now owe more than we are worth in this
world. I have been investing in real estate. I paid a big price for the
Riverside Addition, and the paper I asked you to sign was a mortgage on
the farm to secure a loan.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103