I DON'T OWN TITANIC
March 3, 1899
It was a cold and rainy day as William looked out his window. It had been cold and rainy for only a few days, but to William, if felt like this bad weather would never leave. Anyone who knew William well would tell you that he always had a look of melancholy on his face. It was all because of his father. His father had died in service to the United States in the Spanish-American war in 1898. William had very few memories of his father, but the memories he did have were good ones. William sighed, he was only 7 years old, which is much too young to lose a father. He got up from his chair and saw his mother slaving away in the kitchen. His family had been poor before his father's death, but now they were in dire poverty. They could barley afford to keep a roof over their heads, much less enough to eat. His mother was making cabbage stew. William hated cabbage, maybe he could tolerate it if they didn't have it almost every day. It was cheap though, and if you are as poor as William and his mother were, you can't afford to be picky.
"What else should I put in?" William's mother asked herself. She started at another head of cabbage and sighed. "Nothing goes better with cabbage than cabbage." she said as she began chopping it up. Once the stew was ready, William and his mother said grace and then ate. William often forced the cabbage down, but he never really felt full. Once they were finished, William went to put more firewood in the fireplace when he heard a knock at the door. William's mother went to open it and a sharply dressed man with short blonde hair and blue eyes walked in.
"Hello Mrs. Wopsle." he said as he removed his hat.
"Mr. Phipps." she said, everyone in the small town of Propel, New York knew who Alexander Baker Phipps was. He was the best attorney in the county. "How may we help you?" She asked.
"Madam, it seems that you are in need of the help." He replied. William didn't care for people commenting on his situation, no matter how wealthy they were. "I have here a letter for you concerning your son." Phipps took the letter out of his coat pocket, opened it, and began to read.
Mrs. Wopsle,
I am writing you concerning your son: William. You see, I became well acquainted with your husband: Warwick Wopsle in the war. I offer my sincerest condolences on his passing. As such, I feel that it is my duty to honor your dear departed husband by helping his son. Therefore, I will henceforth be providing young William with an allowance of one thousand dollars a month, to be looked after by Mr. A.B. Phipps until he comes of the legal age of 18. I intend to make a gentleman of your son madam and hopefully a man who would do his late father proud. Mr. Phipps will relay my instructions and see that they are followed to the letter.
Sincerely yours,
A friend of your husband's
William's mother could hardly believe her ears as Mr. Phipps read the letter.
"One...thousand...dollars..." She stammered.
"Yes indeed madam. William is to be a gentleman."
"Who is this man?" William asked.
"Your benefactor wishes to remain anonymous. He was...insistent on that point." Phipps replied. William was not sure what to think. He was to be raised as a gentleman on someone else's money.
REVIEWS NEEDED
