The Man with the Wooden Spectacles. Harry Stephen Keeler
Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу The Man with the Wooden Spectacles - Harry Stephen Keeler страница 15

Название: The Man with the Wooden Spectacles

Автор: Harry Stephen Keeler

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Публицистика: прочее

Серия:

isbn: 9781479429806

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ Clear, that is, but for a 10th interest in itself. For you know, at least, how Uncle Silas is in on the ownership of the property by 1/10?”

      “Ob co’se, Chil’. An’ he one bad man—if you axe me. Ah wouldn’ trus’ yo’ daddy’s half bruddah fudder dan Ah could th’ow dat kitchen range. Eben if Ah does do cleanin’ now an’ den fo’ him, at dat vehy flat on Clebeland Ab’noo whah he now libbin’ all alone—alone, at leas’, ’ceptin’ fo’ dat ’oomatic ol’ Zeke whut runs things dah fo’ him. He a fah wussah puhson, Elsa, dan dat no-good daughtah Bella of his’n, whut is mahhy to dat Jewishah lawyah. Fo’ Ah don’ wash clothes now an’ den fo’ Bella, lak Ah does, widout luhnin’ dat she des lazy-no-good—but dat all. W’ile yo’ half-uncle—he got snek-pizen in he’ veins!” Despite the vehemency of her dictum, Aunt Linda rocked peaceably. “Ah ain’ nebah got it cleah in mah min’, do’, Honeh, how yo’ Unc’ Silas ebah shell out fi’ thousum dollahs cash fo’ you to git th’u collige an’ lawying school, w’en he ain’t can eben leg’ly take no mohga’ge o’ nothin’ on yo’ nine-tenfs de way yo’ nine-tenfs was lef’.”

      “How, Aunt Linda? Well I’ll tell you how! I simply signed what is known as an assignment of $15,000 of my receipts from the eventual sale of my 9/10ths share. Payable when I sell it.”

      “Hm! Ah unnastan’ dat all right. Assignment! Mah brothah Jake long long ago—he daid now—he sign one ob dem t’ings to secuh anoddah niggah’s note—an’ de niggah, he nebah pay—an’ de Law it took fi’ dollahs a week f’m Jake’s wages fo’ 10 long months. But see heah, Chil’, you done got fi’ thousum dollahs. Whut ’ventu’lly got yo’ th’u school. Yit you sign a assignment fo’ fifteen thousum dollahs? Da’s pretty big int’rust, ain’t it?”

      “Mighty big, Aunt, yes. When it’s calculated out. But my tied-up share in that tied-up property was the only thing on earth I could raise capital on.”

      “Well, da’s true—an’ ain’ no ’ticklah hahm did anyway by de big ’screpancy ’tween fi’ thousum an’ fifteen thousum dollahs. Fo’ w’en you is thutty yeahs ol’ dat Colby’s Nugget is gonna be des dat ma’ much valy’ble dan is w’en you harried de money. Specially sence, as you say now, de taxes ain’ in de pictah nohow!”

      “Yes, that’s quite true,” said Elsa. “For even today, Aunt, it’s conservatively appraised at $130,000—and my 9/10ths share alone, even minus the $15,000 assignment to Uncle Silas, is worth a round $100,000—plus a couple of thousand odd. But Aunt Linda—Aunt—did you ever hear of a quitclaim?”

      “Whooie! Has Ah? Da’s how Ah los’ mah cottage on Thutty-Ninf St’eet. Way back, w’en you was on’y a little gal. In fac’, da’s ’zac’ly how come Ah come to wuk fo’ ye’ daddy—whut wus des lef’ widout no mama to take keer ob you. Ah done signed a claimquit fo’ a real ’state man des to hol’—an’ not to use, onless an’ maybe—an’ whut he do but ignoh de ‘onless an’ maybe’ an’ put mah claimquit on—on recohd, yes, da’s whut it wuz called—on recohd—an’ mah cottage wuz gone. Ah go to two w’ite lawyahs ’bout it. One, he say: ‘Don’ nebbah sign no claimquit—fo’ dey ain’ no goin’ behin’t o’ back ob a claimquit—dey dynamite’. An’ de oddah lawyah, he lissen to mah sto’y an’ he say: ‘Claimquits, madam, is mos’ dang’ous t’ings in all real-’state law. W’en dey is recordened—de lawyin’ is all obah! Gooday, madam.’ ”

      Elsa might, under ordinary circumstances, have smiled, in spite of herself, at the picture Aunt Linda Cooksey had just drawn up: but smile, she did not, today—in the light of her own complications.

      “Well, Aunt Linda,” was all she said, “claimquits—or quitclaims, as the right name is—are all of what your two lawyers told you. As I also heard, and as I also knew—some number of years back. But anyway, Aunt Linda, here’s what happened. The assignment I have to Uncle Silas was an assignment, unless—”

      “On-less!” Aunt Linda stopped rocking. “Honey—you don’ mean you went an’ signed some kin’ ob a quitclaim?”

      “Some kind of a one—yes, Aunt Linda! No less than a so-called contingential quitclaim, the validity of which type of quitclaim has been affirmed completely by the United States Supreme Court in the case of the Idaho and Wyoming Oil Company versus one Henry Barrows. I quitclaimed—though contingentially, understand?—all my right, title and interest in Colby’s Nugget. For Uncle Silas, Aunt, put a clause in that assignment that specif—but do you know what a clause is?”

      “ ’Cose Ah do. ’Twas des account ob a clause in mah own grandfathah’s will dat Ah ’riginally ’herited dat house on Thutty-Ninf Street. So Ah knows w’ut it is. A clause, it’s a puhagraf whut state thus an’ so?”

      “That’s right, Aunt Linda. Well, Uncle Silas put a clause in that assignment stating that, should I fail to acquit my first client—specifically, Aunt, my client in my first criminal case before the Bar—or get disbarred during my first three months of practice, my paper was to constitute a quitclaim complete for my share in Colby’s Nugget—in exchange for the $5,000 cash I’d already received.”

      “W’y—dat ol’ rascal! He—but fus’, wut mean dis disbahhed?”

      “That means, Aunt—well Aunt, you used to go with a jockey, didn’t you—in the long long ago?”

      “Yes, Honey. De bes an’ de blackest one whut ebah ride de tracks. He uz so black dat he look, in a race, lak a empty suit pu’ched atop de hoss.”

      “Well, disbarred, Aunt, means—in law circles—‘ruled off the turf.’ ”

      “Oh—now Ah gits it cleah. Mah sweety he wuz rule’ off de tu’f mo’n once. Disbahhed means, den, dat some jedge o’ juhy o’ lawyah’s ‘sociation say you cain’t practice lawin’ fo a suttin length o’ time?”

      “Exactly that.”

      “Well den, w’y—but lissen, honeh, w’y you sign’ dis papah?”

      “Because I didn’t read it, Aunt Linda. I was just turned 18—was badly in love—and rushing off to a dance where my first boy-friend was to be, and—”

      “Oh yes—dat han’some no-good Barfin boy. Who he ebah mahhy an’way?”

      “Oh—he married Grace van Sant, the winner of a beauty prize contest on the northwest side. And a really beautiful girl too.”

      “Oh, he did, hey?” Aunt Linda was bridling up. “An’ Elsa Colby de mos’ beau’fullest chil’ in all Chicago, raght undah his snooty nose!”

      “Heavens—no, Aunt Linda! Never beautiful, Elsa Colby—then nor now. The difference is that today I know it—but then I didn’t!”

      “Well, you wrong, ’coze you hund’ed puh cent sweet. An’ clebah. An’ you—but let dat pass.” Aunt Linda surveyed Elsa solicitously. “You is got regretments, mebbe, honey—an’ hahtache, mebbe—dat you nebah get to mahhy wit’ de Barfin boy?”

      “Heavens no, Aunt! For after I found that good-looking boys are interested, at best, in homely girls only be. cause—” Elsa’s face pinked almost as red as her hair. “At least,” she broke off, “when I found he was interested in me in a quite different way than I in him—” She broke off again. “Well, I ceased to care for him in a jiffy. Anyway, Aunt, that first love is always a СКАЧАТЬ