It's None of My Business

by T.S. Arthur

"Wasn't that young Sanford?" asked Mrs. Larkin of her husband, asthe two stood at a window of their dwelling one Sunday afternoon,noticing the passers by. The individual she alluded to was a youngman who had ridden gaily along on a spirited horse."Yes," was the reply."He rides past here almost every Sunday afternoon, and often incompany with Harriet Meadows. He is quite a dashing young fellow.""He is dashing far beyond his ostensible means. I wonder at Millardfor keeping him in his store. I would soon cast adrift any one of myclerks who kept a fast horse, and sported about with the gayextravagance that Sanford does. His salary does not, I am sure, meethalf his expenses. I have heard some of my young men speak of hishabits. They say money with him is no consideration. He spends it asfreely as water.""Strange that his employer does not see this!""It is. But Millard is too unsuspicious, and too ignorant of what isgoing on out of the narrow business circle. He is like a horse in amill. He sees nothing outside of a certain limit. He gets up in themorning, dresses himself, goes to his store, and then devoteshimself to business until dinner time. Then he goes home and dines.After this he comes back to his store and stays until night. Hisevenings are either spent in reading or dozing at home, or with aneighbor at checkers. On Sunday morning he goes to church, in theafternoon he sleeps to kill time, and in the evening retires ateight, unless a friend steps in, to sleep away the tedious hours. Ofthe habits of his clerks, when out of his store, he knows as littleas the man in the moon.""But some one ought to give him a hint.""It would be a charity.""Why do n't you do it?""Me! Oh, it's none of my business. Let Millard look after his ownaffairs. I 'm not going to get myself into trouble by meddling withthings that do n't concern me. It is his place to see into thehabits of his clerks. If he neglects to do so, he deserves to becheated by them.""I do n't know. It seems to me that it would be no more than rightto give him a hint, and put him on his guard.""It would be a good turn, no doubt. But I'm not going to do it. It'sno affair of mine.""I do n't think he is fit company for Harriet Meadows," said Mrs.Larkin, after a pause."Nor I," returned her husband. "I should be very sorry to see ourJane riding with him, or indeed, associating with him in any way.Surely Harriet's father and mother cannot know that their daughterrides out with him almost every Sunday afternoon.""Of course not. They are religious people and would think it a sinfor her to do so. I am surprised that Harriet should act in suchdirect violation of what she knows to be their real sentiments.""Some one ought to give them a hint upon the subject.""I think so. If it were my child I would take it as a great favorindeed.""Yes, so would I. Suppose, Ellen, you drop a word in Mrs. Meadows'ear.""Me!" with a look and tone of surprise. "Oh no, I never interfere inother people's business. Every one ought to look after his or herown concerns. I hate your meddlesome folks. I 'll take good carethat my own child do n't form such associations. Let every body elsedo the same. The fact is, parents are too careless about where theirchildren go, and what kind of company they keep.""That's very true. Still I think no harm could come of your justgiving Mrs. Meadows a hint.""Oh, no indeed! It's none of my business.""Well, just as you like," returned Mr. Larkin, indifferently. "Letevery one see that his own stable door is locked before the horse isstolen."Mr. Millard, who was in the same line of business with Larkin, wasjust the plodding, unobserving, unsuspicious person that the latterhad described him. Sanford was an intelligent clerk and an activesalesman. These were valuable qualities, for which he wasappreciated by his employer. As to what he did or where he wentafter business hours, Millard never thought. He, doubtless, on thesupposition of the merchant, went into good company, and acted withthe same prudence that had governed himself under similarcircumstances. But in this he was mistaken. The young man's habitswere bad, and his associates often of a vicious character. Badhabits and bad associates always involve the spending of moneyfreely. This consequence naturally occurred in the case of Sanford.To supply his wants his salary proved insufficient. These wants werelike the horse-leech, and cried continually--" give, give." Theycould not be put off. The first recourse was that of borrowing, inanticipation of his quarterly receipt of salary, after his lastpayment was exhausted. It was not long before, under this system,his entire quarterly receipt had to be paid away to balance hisborrowed money account, thus leaving him nothing to meet hisincreasing wants for the next three months. By borrowing again fromsome friends immediately, and curtailing his expenses down to therange of his income, he was able to get along for two or threequarters. But, of course, he was always behind hand just the amountof three months' salary. At length, as new wants pressed upon him,he was tempted to exceed in his borrowed money account the sumreceived as his quarterly dues. This made it impossible for him topay off, when he received his instalments of salary, the wholeamount of borrowed money, and caused him to cast about for some newresource. In balancing the cash account one day,--he had charge ofthis,--he found that there was an error of one hundred dollars infavor of cash--that is, there were on hand one hundred dollars morethan was called for by the account. He went over the account againand again, but could not discover the error. For more than an hourhe examined the various entries and additions, but with no bettersuccess. At last, however, a little to his disappointment, for hehad already began to think of quietly appropriating the surplus, hefound the error to consist in the carriage of tens--four instead offive having been carried to the third or column of hundreds on oneof the pages of the cash book, thus making the amount called for inthe book one hundred dollars less than the real sum on hand.For some time after this discovery, Sanford sat at his desk in astate of abstraction and irresolution. He was vexed that the errorhad been found out, for he had already nearly made up his mind tokeep the overplus and say nothing about it. He did not attempt tochange the erroneous figure.--Why should it not remain so?--he atlength asked himself. If it had cost him so much time and labor tofind it out, it was not probable that any one else would detect it.Indeed, no one but himself and Mr. Millard had any thing to do withthe general cash account of the establishment, and he knew very wellthat the latter did not examine it with a very close scrutiny.Finally, pressing demands for money determined him to put thesurplus into his pocket, at least for the present. He did so, and inthat act let into his mind a flood of evil counsellors, whosearguments, enforced by his own cupidities, could at any timeafterwards have sufficient control to guide him almost at will. Withthis sum of one hundred dollars, he paid off a portion of what heowed, and retained the rest to meet the demands that would be madeupon him before the arrival of the next quarter day. It was a rulewith Millard to pay off his clerks only in quarterly instalments. Noother payments were allowed them.It was not long before a deliberate false entry was made, by whichanother hundred dollars passed into Sanford's pockets. With thisincrease of income came a freer expenditure. Hitherto he had been inthe habit of riding out on Sundays on hired horses; but now he wasinspired with a wish to own a horse himself. A beautiful animal justat this time came under his eye. It was offered at one hundred andfifty dollars. The owner, knowing Sanford's fondness for a gay,fast-going horse, urged him to buy.The temptation was very strong. He looked at the animal again andagain, rode him out, talked about him, until, finally, the desire toown him became almost irresistible. He had not twenty dollars,however, and it would be two months before his salary came due,which at any rate was all wanted for current expenses. The cash bookwas looked at for a week or ten days before he could make up hismind to pen another false entry. At last, however, he picked up thecourage to do so. The horse was purchased, and for a few days thethought of possessing so noble an animal was very pleasant.On the third day after this act of dishonesty, Mr. Millard, who hadbeen looking over the cash book, discovered the erroneous figures."Look here, Sanford," said he, "you have made a mistake here. Thisfigure should be nine instead of eight, and this five instead offour."The young man's heart gave a quick throb, but he controlled himselfby a strong effort."Where?" he asked, quickly, coming at once to Mr. Millard, andlooking over the cash-book."Here--just add up these two columns."Sanford added them up, and then said--"Yes, that's a fact. I'm glad you have found it out. The cash hasbeen over about two hundred dollars for several days, and I havetried in vain to find where the error lay. Strange, after adding upthese columns for some twenty times or more, I should have stillbeen wrong in these figures. Let me strike a balance for you now, sothat you can count the cash, and see that there is just this amountover."This dispelled all suspicions from the mind of Millard, if any hadfound a place there."No," he replied, "I hav n't time now. I have no doubt of it beingright. Make the corrections required."And as he thus remarked, he turned away from the desk.Sanford trembled from head to foot the moment his employer left him.He tried to make the corrections, but his hand shook so that hecould not hold the pen. In a little while he mastered this agitationso far as to be externally composed. He then changed the erroneousfigures. But this did not make the matter straight. The cash accountnow called for two hundred dollars more than the funds on hand wouldshow. If the money should be counted before he could make otherfalse entries, he would be discovered and disgraced. And now thaterrors had been discovered, it was but natural to suppose that Mr.Millard would glance less casually at the account than he had beenin the habit of doing. At last, he determined to erase a few pagesback certain figures, and insert others in their places, and carrydown from thence the error by a regular series of erasures and newentries. This he did so skilfully, that none but the eye ofsuspicion could have detected it. It was some weeks before he againventured to repeat these acts. When he did so, he permitted thesurplus cash to remain in the drawer for eight or ten days, so thatif a discovery happened to be made, the balance on hand would showthat it was an error. But Mr. Millard thought no more about thematter, and the dishonest clerk was permitted to prosecute his baseconduct undetected. In this way month after month passed, until thedefalcation rose to over a thousand dollars. Nightly Sanfordattended places of public amusement, usually accompanied by a younglady, the daughter of some respectable citizen, who knew as littleof the habits and character of the young man as did his employerhimself. Among those with whom he had become intimate was HarrietMeadows, the daughter of a merchant possessing a high sense of honorand considerable wealth. Mr. Meadows, so soon as the young man beganto visit at his house, gave him to understand by his manner that hewas not welcome. This was so plainly done that there was no room formistake in the matter. Piqued at this, Sanford determined that hewould keep the daughter's company in spite of her crusty old father.Harriet was gay and thoughtless, and had been flattered by theattentions of Sanford. She met him a few times after his repulse, atballs, and hesitated not to dance with him. These meetings affordedfull opportunity for the young man to push himself still fartherinto her good opinion, and to prevail upon her at length to meet himclandestinely, which she frequently did on Sunday afternoons, when,as has already been seen, she would ride out in his company. Thiskind of intimacy soon led to a declaration of love on the part ofSanford, which was fully responded to by the foolish girl. Theformer had much, he thought, to hope for in in a union with MissMeadows. Her father was well off, and in a very excellent business.His fortune would be made if he could rise to the position of hisson-in-law. He did not hope to do this by a fair and open offer forHarriet's hand. The character of Meadows, which was decided,precluded all hope of gaining his consent after he had once frownedupon his approaches. The only road to success was a secret marriage,and to that he was gradually inclining the mind of the daughter atthe time our story opened.It is not always that a villain remains such alone. He generally, bya kind of intuition, perceives who are like him in interiors, and heassociates with these on the principle that birds of a feather flocktogether. He was particularly intimate with one of Larkin's clerks,a young man named Hatfield, who had no higher views of life thanhimself, and who was governed by no sounder principles. Hatfieldfound it necessary to be more guarded than Sanford, from the factthat his employer was gifted with much closer observation than wasMillard. He, too, rode a fast trotting horse on Sunday, but he knewpretty well the round taken by Larkin on that day, and the hourswhen he attended church, and was very careful never to meet him. Atsome place of public resort, a few miles from the city, he wouldjoin Sanford, and together they would spend the afternoon.On Jane Larkin, his employer's only daughter, Hatfield had for sometime looked with a favourable eye. But he felt very certain thatneither her father nor mother would favor his addresses.Occasionally, with her parents' knowledge, he would attend her toplaces of public amusement. But both himself and the young lady sawthat even this was not a thing that fully met their approbation.Hatfield would, on such occasions, ingeniously allude to this fact,and thus gather from Jane how she regarded their coldness. It wasnot agreeable to her, he quickly perceived. This encouraged him topush matters further.Soon the two understood each other fully, and soon after the tacitopposition of the parents to their intimacy was a matter ofconversation between them, whenever they could get an opportunity oftalking together without awakening suspicion.Harriet Meadows and Jane Larkin were particular friends, and soonbecame confidants. They were both quite young, and, we need not say,weak and thoughtless. Sanford and Hatfield, as the reader has seen,were also intimate. In a short time after the latter had made uptheir minds to secure the hands of these two young ladies, ifpossible, there was a mutual confession of the fact. This wasfollowed by the putting of their heads together for the contrivanceof such plans as would best lead to the effectuation of the end eachhad proposed to himself. It is a curious fact, that on the verySunday afternoon on which we have seen Mr. and Mrs. Larkinconversing about the danger and impropriety of Harriet Meadowskeeping company with a man like Sanford, their own daughter wasactually riding out with Hatfield. In this ride they passed theresidence of Mr. Meadows, who, in turn, commented upon the fact withsome severity of censure towards Mr. Larkin and his wife for notlooking more carefully after their only child."They certainly cannot know it," finally remarked Mr. Meadows."No, I should think not. It would be a real charity for some onejust to mention it to them.""It certainly would.""Suppose you speak to Mr. Larkin about it," said Mrs. Meadows."Me? Oh no!" was the reply. "It is none of my business. I nevermeddle with family affairs. It is their duty to look after theirdaughter. If they don't, and she rides about with Tom, Dick andHarry on Sundays, they have no one to blame but themselves for theconsequences."Thus their responsibility in the affair was dismissed. It was nobusiness of theirs.In the mean time the two clerks were laying their plans for carryingoff the young ladies, and marrying them secretly."Have you sounded Jane on this subject?" asked Sanford of his friendone evening, when the matter had come up for serious discussion."I have.""How does she stand?""I think there is no doubt of her. But how is Harriet?""All right. That point we settled last night. She is ready to go atany time that Jane is willing to take a similar step. She wouldrather not go all alone.""If she will only second me in urging the absolute necessity of thething upon Jane, there can be no doubt of the result. And she willdo that of course.""Oh yes--all her influence can be calculated upon. But how do youthink Larkin will stand affected after all is over?""It's hard to tell. At first he will be as mad as a March hare. ButJane is his only child, and he loves her too well to cast her off.All will settle down quietly after a few weeks' ebullition and Ishall be as cosily fixed in the family as I could wish. After that,my fortune is made. Larkin is worth, to my certain knowledge, fiftyor sixty thousand dollars, every cent of which will in the end comeinto my hands. And, besides, Larkin's son-in-law will have to be setup in business. Give me a fair chance, and I'll turn a bright pennyfor myself.""How are you off for funds at this present time?""Low, very low. The old fellow don't pay me half a salary. I'm indebt three or four hundred dollars, and dunned almost to deathwhenever I am in the way of duns. All the people I owe know betterthan to send their bills to the store, for if they were to do so,and by thus exposing me cause me to lose my situation, they are wellaware that they might have to whistle for their money.""Can't you make a raise some how? We must both have money to carryout this matter. In the first place, we must go off a hundred or twomiles and spend a week. After we return we may have to board forweeks at pretty high charges before a reconciliation can be broughtabout. During this time you will be out of a situation, for oldLarkin won't take you back into the store until the matter is madeup. You ought at least to have a couple of hundred dollars.""And I have n't twenty.""Bad, very bad. But don't you think you could borrow a couple ofhundred from Larkin, and pay him back after you become hisson-in-law?""Borrow from Larkin! Goodness! He'd clear me out in less than notime, if I were to ask him to loan me even fifty dollars.""No, but you don't understand me," remarked Sanford after athoughtful pause. "Can 't you borrow it without his knowledge, Imean? No harm meant of course. You intend borrowing his daughter,you know, for a little while, until he consents to give her to you."Hatfield looked into the face of his tempter with a bewildered airfor some moments. He did not yet fully comprehend his drift."How am I to borrow without his knowing it? Figure me that out ifyou please," he said."Who keeps the cash?""I do.""Ah! so far so good. You keep the cash. Very well. Now is n't itwithin the bounds of possibility for you to possess yourself of acouple of hundred dollars in such a way that the deficit need notappear? If you can, it will be the easiest thing in the world, afteryou come back, and get the handling of a little more money in yourright than has heretofore been the case, to return the little loan.""But suppose it possible for me thus to get possession of twohundred dollars, and suppose I do not get back safely after ouradventure, and do not have the handling of more money in my ownright--what then?""You'll only be supporting his daughter out of his own money--thatis all.""Humph! Quite a casuist.""But is n't there reason in it?""I do n't know. I am not exactly in a state to see reasons clearlyjust now.""You can see the necessity of having a couple of hundred dollars, Isuppose?""Oh yes--as clear as mud.""You must have that sum at least, or to proceed will be the heightof folly.""I can see that too.""It is owing to Larkin's mean pride that you are driven to thisextremity. He ought to pay for it.""But how am I to get hold of two hundred dollars? That's thequestion.""Is there ordinarily much cash on hand?""Yes. We deposit some days as high as ten thousand dollars;particularly at this season, when a good many merchants are in.""The chance is fair enough. Two hundred won't be missed.""No, not until the cash is settled, and then it will come to light.""That does n't follow.""I think it does.""You may prevent it.""How?""Miss a couple of tens in your additions on the debit side of thecash book. Do you understand?""Not clearly.""You are dull. Change a figure in footing up your cash book, so thatit will balance, notwithstanding a deficit of two hundred dollars.After you come back, this can be set right again. No one will thinkof adding up the back columns to see if there is any fraud.""After Sanford ceased speaking, his friend cast his eyes to thefloor, and reflected for some time. There was in his mind a powerfulstruggle between right and wrong. When the plan was first presented,he felt an inward shrinking from it. It involved an act of fraud,that, if found out, would blast his character. But the longer hereflected, and the more fully he looked in the face of the fact thatwithout money he could not proceed to the consummation of hiswishes, the more favorable the plan seemed."But," he said, lifting his eyes and drawing a long breath, "if itshould be found out?""Larkin will not expose his son-in-law for his daughter's sake.""True--there is something there to hope for. Well, I will think ofit. I must have two hundred dollars from some source."And he did think of it to evil purpose. He found no very greatdifficulty in getting Jane to consent to run away with him,especially as her particular friend, Harriet Meadows, was toaccompany her on a like mad-cap expedition with Sanford.Nothing occurred to prevent the acts proposed. By false entries,Hatfield was enabled to abstract two hundred dollars in a way thatpromised a perfect concealment of the fraud, although in doing it hefelt much reluctance and many compunctions of conscience.About ten days after the conversation between the young men, justgiven, Jane Larkin obtained her mother's consent to spend a few dayswith a cousin who resided some miles from the city on a road alongwhich one of the omnibus lines passed. Harriet Meadows did not usethis precaution to elude suspicion. She left her father's house atthe time agreed upon, and joined young Sanford at an appointedplace, where a carriage was waiting, into which Hatfield and Janehad already entered. The two couples then proceeded to the house ofan alderman, who united them in marriage bonds. From thence theydrove to a railroad depot, took passage for a neighboring city, andwere soon gliding away, a suspicion unawakened in the minds of theyoung ladies' friends.The absence of Harriet on the night following alarmed the fears andawakened the suspicions of her father and mother. Early on the nextday, Mr. Meadows learned that his daughter had been seen enteringthe----cars in company with young Sanford. Calling upon Millard, heascertained that Sanford had not been to the store on the previousday, and was still absent. To merge suspicion and doubt intocertainty, the alderman who had married the couples was metaccidentally. He testified to the fact of his having united them.Sick at heart, Mr. Meadows returned home to communicate the sadintelligence to the mother of Harriet. When he again went out, hewas met by the startling rumor that a defalcation had beendiscovered on the part of young Sanford to a large amount. Hurryingto the store of Mr. Millard, he was shocked to find that the rumorwas but, alas! too true. Already false entries in the cash book hadbeen discovered to the amount of at least five thousand dollars. Anofficer, he also learned, had been despatched to----, for thepurpose of arresting the dishonest clerk and bringing him back tojustice."Quite an affair this," remarked Larkin to an acquaintance whom hemet some time during the day, in a half-serious, half-indifferenttone."About Meadows' daughter and Sanford? Yes, and rather a melancholyaffair. The worst part of it is, that the foolish young man has beenembezzling the money of his employer.""Yes, that is very bad. But Millard might have known that Sanfordcould not dash about and spend money as he did upon his salaryalone.""I do n't suppose he knew any thing about his habits. He is anunsuspicious man, and keeps himself quietly at home when not in hisstore.""Well, I did then. I saw exactly how he was going on, and could havetold him; but it wasn't any of my business.""I do n't care so much for Millard or his clerk as I do for thefoolish girl and her parents. Her happiness is gone and theirs withit.""Ah, yes--that is the worst part. But they might have known thatsomething of the kind would take place. They were together a gooddeal, and were frequently to be seen riding out on Sundayafternoons.""This was not with the knowledge of her parents, I am sure.""I do n't suppose it was. Still they should have looked morecarefully after their child. I knew it and could have told them howthings were going--but it was n't any of my business. I always keepmyself clear from these matters."Just at this moment a third person came up. He looked serious."Mr. Larkin," he said, "I have just heard that your daughter andHatfield, your clerk, were married at the same time that Sanfordwas, and went off with that young man and his bride. Alderman----,it is said, united them."Larkin turned instantly pale. Hatfield had been away since themorning of the day before, and his daughter was not at home, havingasked the privilege of going to see a cousin who resided a few milesfrom the city. A call upon Alderman----confirmed the afflictingintelligence. The father returned home to communicate the news tohis wife, on whom it fell with such a shock that she became quiteill."He might have known that something of this kind would havehappened," remarked the person who had communicated theintelligence, as soon as Larkin had left. "No man who does n't wishhis daughters to marry his clerks, ought to let them go to balls andconcerts together, and ride out when they please on Sundayafternoons.""Did Larkin permit this with Jane and Hatfield?""They were often thus together whether he permitted it or not.""He could n't have known it.""Perhaps not. I could have given him a hint on the subject, if I hadchosen--but it was none of my business."On the next day all the parties came home--Sanford compulsorily, inthe hands of an officer; Hatfield voluntarily, and in terriblealarm. The two brides were of course included. Sanford soon afterleft the city, and has not since been heard of. His crime was"breach of trust!" As for Hatfield, he was received on the principlethat, in such matters, the least said the soonest mended. In thecourse of a few months he was able to restore the two hundreddollars he had abstracted. After this was done he felt easier inmind. He did not, however, make the foolish creature he had marriedhappy. Externally, or to the world, they seem united, but internallythey are not conjoined. Too plainly is this apparent to the fatherand mother, who have many a heart-ache for their dearly loved child.

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