Miss Theodora: a West End Story
Copyright© 2026 by Helen Leah Reed
Chapter 14
“Now, Ernest, I don’t know what Theodora would do if she knew that I had told you, but since you insist I will say that your father left you nothing, absolutely nothing. He invested his small share of your grandfather’s property badly, and when we came to settle things there wasn’t a cent for you.” So said Richard Somerset in the interview which Ernest soon sought.
“So all that I have is just that much less for Aunt Teddy?”
“Yes, —if you put it that way. But she has told me many a time that whatever she has is yours. Just you do your best at college, and become a clever lawyer like your father and your grandfather, and she’ll be satisfied. You see, you are all she has in the world. Of course, if she had married, —” but here the good man grew silent, and Ernest never heard from him the story of Miss Theodora’s one love affair.
It was just as well that he stopped where he did, for, with an indiscretion worthy a younger man, he had already gone far beyond Miss Theodora’s instructions. He knew that it was her one desire that Ernest should not learn that he had no money of his own. When Ernest had heard the truth, much that previously he had not quite understood in his aunt’s management of affairs was explained.
“It’s all very well to talk about being a lawyer,” he cried. “It’s all very well to talk; but I have found out that I cannot possibly be one. It’s been worrying me lately. Of course, I might go through college in a sort of way; but after what you tell me I can’t see the sense in wasting time or money.”
Richard Somerset looked aghast. Was this the effect of his words? What would Miss Theodora say?
“Why—why, you wouldn’t disappoint your aunt like that, would you? What in the world would you do if you left college?”
“Well, I don’t know exactly, but I’m pretty sure that I’d take a course like Ben Bruce has had at the Technology. Then I’d go West and make some money. One thing I’ve found out since I went to College, —and that is that I don’t want to be poor the rest of my life.”
“Everybody who goes West doesn’t make money.”
“Maybe not, but I met a man crossing on the Altruria this summer, who told me that mining engineers have the best possible chance now. He’s a large stockholder in the ‘Wampum and Etna,’ and he said if only my profession were something in his line he could do a lot for me.”
“Rather presuming for a stranger,” said Richard Somerset, with the true Boston manner.
“He didn’t seem like a stranger. He used to know my father, I believe. But he said it wasn’t worth while to mention him to Aunt Theodora, as she probably wouldn’t remember him.”
“What was his name?”
“Easton—William Easton. I have his card and address somewhere. He used to be an army officer, captain of engineers, then he resigned and went into mining. He worked like everything until he made a lucky find. He was his own engineer for a time, but now he’s given up active work. He and his wife go abroad every summer.”
“No, it wasn’t worth while to mention him to your aunt,” said Richard Somerset, as Ernest left him. The older man gazed abstractedly after the boy, while his heart went out in sympathy with Miss Theodora.