Kitabı oku: «Bound to Rise; Or, Up the Ladder», sayfa 11
CHAPTER XXXIV. IN DIFFICULTY
We must now transfer the scene to the Walton homestead.
It looks very much the same as on the day when the reader was first introduced to it. There is not a single article of new furniture, nor is any of the family any better dressed. Poverty reigns with undisputed sway. Mr. Walton is reading a borrowed newspaper by the light of a candle—for it is evening—while Mrs. Walton is engaged in her never-ending task of mending old clothes, in the vain endeavor to make them look as well as new. It is so seldom that anyone of the family has new clothes, that the occasion is one long remembered and dated from.
"It seems strange we don't hear from Harry," said Mrs. Walton, looking up from her work.
"When was the last letter received?" asked Mr. Walton, laying down the paper.
"Over a week ago. He wrote that the professor was sick, and he was stopping at the hotel to take care of him."
"I remember. What was the name of the place?"
"Pentland."
"Perhaps his employer is recovered, and he is going about with him."
"Perhaps so; but I should think he would write. I am afraid he is sick himself. He may have caught the same fever."
"It is possible; but I think Harry would let us know in some way. At any rate, it isn't best to worry ourselves about uncertainties."
"I wonder if Harry's grown?" said Tom.
"Of course he's grown," said Mary.
"I wonder if he's grown as much as I have," said Tom, complacently.
"I don't believe you've grown a bit."
"Yes, I have; if you don't believe it, see how short my pants are."
Tom did, indeed, seem to be growing out of his pants, which were undeniably too short for him.
"You ought to have some new pants," said his mother, sighing; "but I don't see where the money is to come from."
"Nor I," said Mr. Walton, soberly. "Somehow I don't seem to get ahead at all. To-morrow my note for the cow comes due, and I haven't but two dollars to meet it."
"How large it the note?"
"With six months' interest, it amounts to forty-one dollars and twenty cents."
"The cow isn't worth that. She doesn't give as much milk as the one we lost."
"That's true. It was a hard bargain, but I could do no better."
"You say you won't be able to meet the payment. What will be the consequence?"
"I suppose Squire Green will take back the cow."
"Perhaps you can get another somewhere else, on better terms."
"I am afraid my credit won't be very good. I agreed to forfeit ten dollars to Squire Green, if I couldn't pay at the end of six months."
"Will he insist on that condition?"
"I am afraid he will. He is a hard man."
"Then," said Mrs. Walton, indignantly, "he won't deserve to prosper."
"Worldly prosperity doesn't always go by merit. Plenty of mean men prosper."
Before Mrs. Walton had time to reply, a knock was heard at the door.
"Go to the door, Tom," said his father.
Tom obeyed, and shortly reappeared, followed by a small man with a thin figure and wrinkled face, whose deep-set, crafty eyes peered about him curiously as he entered the room.
"Good evening, Squire Green," said Mr. Walton, politely, guessing his errand.
"Good evenin', Mrs. Walton. The air's kinder frosty. I ain't so young as I was once, and it chills my blood."
"Come up to the fire, Squire Green," said Mrs. Walton, who wanted the old man to be comfortable, though she neither liked nor respected him.
The old man sat down and spread his hands before the fire.
"Anything new stirring, Squire?" asked Hiram Walton.
"Nothin' that I know on. I was lookin' over my papers to-night, neighbor, and I come across that note you give for the cow. Forty dollars with interest, which makes the whole come to forty-one dollars and twenty cents. To-morrow's the day for payin'. I suppose you'll be ready?" and the old man peered at Hiram Walton with his little keen eyes.
"Now for it," thought Hiram. "I'm sorry to say, Squire Green," he answered, "that I can't pay the note. Times have been hard, and my family expenses have taken all I could earn."
The squire was not much disappointed, for now he was entitled to exact the forfeit of ten dollars.
"The contrack provides that if you can't meet the note you shall pay ten dollars," he said. "I 'spose you can do that."
"Squire Green, I haven't got but two dollars laid by."
"Two dollars!" repeated the squire, frowning. "That ain't honest. You knew the note was comin' due, and you'd oughter have provided ten dollars, at least."
"I've done as much as I could. I've wanted to meet the note, but I couldn't make money, and I earned all I could."
"You hain't been equinomical," said the squire, testily. "Folks can't expect to lay up money ef they spend it fast as it comes in"; and he thumped on the floor with his cane.
"I should like to have you tell us how we can economize any more than we have," said Mrs. Walton, with spirit. "Just look around you, and see if you think we have been extravagant in buying clothes. I am sure I have to darn and mend till I am actually ashamed."
"There's other ways of wastin' money," said the squire. "If you think we live extravagantly, come in any day to dinner, and we will convince you to the contrary," said Mrs. Walton, warmly.
"Tain't none of my business, as long as you pay me what you owe me," said the squire. "All I want is my money, and I'd orter have it."
"It doesn't seem right that my husband should forfeit ten dollars and lose the cow."
"That was the contrack, Mrs. Walton. Your husband 'greed to it, and—"
"That doesn't make it just."
"Tain't no more'n a fair price for the use of the cow six months. Ef you'll pay the ten dollars to-morrow, I'll let you have the cow six months longer on the same contrack."
"I don't see any possibility of my paying you the money, Squire Green. I haven't got it."
"Why don't you borrer somewhere?"
"I might as well owe you as another man, Besides, I don't know anybody that would lend me the money."
"You haven't tried, have you?"
"No."
"Then you'd better. I thought I might as well come round and remind you of the note as you might forget it."
"Not much danger," said Hiram Walton. "I've had it on my mind ever since I gave it."
"Well, I'll come round to-morrow night, and I hope you'll be ready. Good night."
No very cordial good night followed Squire Green as he hobbled out of the cottage—for he was lame—not—I am sure the reader will agree with me—did he deserve any. He was a mean, miserly, grasping man, who had no regard for the feelings or comfort of anyone else; whose master passion was a selfish love of accumulating money. His money did him little good, however, for he was as mean with himself as with others, and grudged himself even the necessaries of life, because, if purchased, it must be at the expense of his hoards. The time would come when he and his money must part, but he did not think of that.
CHAPTER XXXV. SETTLED
There was a general silence after Squire Green's departure. Hiram Walton looked gloomy, and the rest of the family also.
"What an awful mean man the squire is!" Tom broke out, indignantly.
"You're right, for once," said Mary.
In general, such remarks were rebuked by the father or mother; but the truth of Tom's observation was so clear, that for once he was not reproved.
"Squire Green's money does him very little good," said Hiram Walton. "He spends very little of it on himself, and it certainly doesn't obtain him respect in the village. Rich as he is, and poor as I am, I would rather stand in my shoes than his."
"I should think so," said his wife. "Money isn't everything."
"No; but it is a good deal I have suffered too much from the want of it, to despise it."
"Well, Hiram," said Mrs. Walton, who felt that it would not do to look too persistently upon the dark side, "you know that the song says, 'There's a good time coming.'"
"I've waited for it a long time, wife," said the farmer, soberly.
"Wait a little longer," said Mrs. Walton, quoting the refrain of the song.
He smiled faintly.
"Very well, I'll wait a little longer; but if I have to wait too long, I shall get discouraged."
"Children, it's time to go to bed," said Mrs. Walton.
"Mayn't I sit up a little longer?" pleaded Mary.
"'Wait a little longer,' mother," said Tom, laughing, as he quoted his mother's words against her.
"Ten minutes, only, then."
Before the ten minutes were over, there was great and unexpected joy in the little house. Suddenly the outer door opened, and, without the slightest warning to anyone, Harry walked in. He was immediately surrounded by the delighted family, and in less time than I am taking to describe it he had shaken hands with his father, kissed his mother and sister, and given Tom a bearlike hug, which nearly suffocated him.
"Where did you come from, Harry?" asked Mary.
"Dropped down from the sky," said Harry, laughing.
"Has the professor been giving exhibitions up there?" asked Tom.
"I've discharge the professor," said Harry, gayly. "I'm my own man now."
"And you've come home to stay, I hope," said his mother.
"Not long, mother," said Harry. "I can only stay a few days."
"What a bully overcoat you've got on!" said Tom.
"The professor gave it to me."
"Hasn't he got one for me, too?"
Harry took off his overcoat, and Tom was struck with fresh admiration as he surveyed his brother's inside suit.
"I guess you spent all you money on clothes," he said.
"I hope not," said Mr. Walton, whom experience had made prudent.
"Not quite all," said Harry, cheerfully. "How much money do you think I have brought home?"
"Ten dollars," said Tom.
"More."
"Fifteen."
"More."
"Twenty," said Mary.
"More."
"Twenty-five."
"I won't keep you guessing all night. What do you say to fifty dollars?"
"Oh, what a lot of money!" said Mary.
"You have done well, my son," said Mr. Walton. "You must have been very economical."
"I tried to be, father. But I didn't say fifty dollars was all I had."
"You haven't got more?" said his mother, incredulously.
"I've got a hundred dollars, mother," said Harry.
"Here are fifty dollars for you, father. It'll pay your note to Squire Green, and a little over. Here are thirty dollars, mother, of which you must use for ten for yourself, ten for Mary, and ten for Tom. I want you all to have some new clothes, to remember me by."
"But Harry, you will have nothing left for yourself."
"Yes, I shall. I have kept twenty dollars, which will be enough till I can earn some more."
"I don't see how you could save so much money, Harry," said his father.
"It was partly luck, father, and partly hard work. I'll tell you all about it."
He sat down before the fire and they listened to his narrative.
"Well, Harry," said Mr. Walton, "I am very glad to find that you are more fortunate than your father. I have had a hard struggle; but I will not complain if my children can prosper."
The cloud that Squire Green had brought with him had vanished, and all was sunshine and happiness.
It was agreed that no hint should be given to Squire Green that his note was to be paid. He did not even hear of Harry's arrival, and was quite unconscious of any change in the circumstances of the family, when he entered the cottage the next evening.
"Well, neighbor," he said, "I've brought along that ere note. I hope you've raised the money to pay it."
"Where do you think I could raise money, Squire?" asked Hiram Walton.
"I thought mebbe some of the neighbors would lent it to you."
"Money isn't very plenty with any of them, Squire, except with you."
"I calc'late better than they. Hev you got the ten dollars that you agreed to pay ef you couldn't meet the note?"
"Yes," said Hiram, "I raised the ten dollars."
"All right," said the squire, briskly, "I thought you could. As long as you pay that, you can keep the cow six months more, one a new contrack."
"Don't you think, Squire, it's rather hard on a poor man, to make him forfeit ten dollars because he can't meet his note?"
"A contrack's a contrack," said the squire. "It's the only way to do business."
"I think you are taking advantage of me, Squire."
"No, I ain't. You needn't hev come to me ef you didn't want to. I didn't ask you to buy the cow. I'll trouble you for that ten dollars, neighbor, as I'm in a hurry."
"On the whole, Squire, I think I'll settle up the note. That'll be cheaper than paying the forfeit."
"What! Pay forty-one dollars and twenty cents!" ejaculated the squire, incredulously.
"Yes; it's more than the cow's worth, but as I agreed to pay it I suppose I must."
"I thought you didn't hev the money," said the squire, his lower jaw falling; for he would have preferred the ten dollars' forfeit, and a renewal of the usurious contract.
"I didn't have it when you were in last night; but I've raised it since."
"You said you couldn't borrow it."
"I didn't borrow it."
"Then where did it come from?"
"My son Harry has got home, Squire. He has supplied me with the money."
"You don't say! Where is he? Been a-doin' well, has he?"
"Harry!"
Harry entered the room, and nodded rather coldly to the squire, who was disposed to patronize him, now that he was well dressed, and appeared to be doing well.
"I'm glad to see ye, Harry. So you've made money, have ye?"
"A little."
"Hev you come home to stay?"
"No sir; I shall only stay a few days."
"What hev ye been doin'"
"I am going to be a printer."
"You don't say! Is it a good business?"
"I think it will be," said Harry. "I can tell better by and by."
"Well, I'm glad you're doin' so well. Neighbor Walton, when you want another cow I'll do as well by you as anybody. I'll give you credit for another on the same terms."
"If I conclude to buy any, Squire, I may come round."
"Well, good night, all. Harry, you must come round and see me before you go back."
Harry thanked him, but did not propose to accept the invitation. He felt that the squire was no true friend, either to himself or to his family, and he should feel no pleasure in his society. It was not in his nature to be hypocritical, and he expressed no pleasure at the squire's affability and politeness.
I have thus detailed a few of Harry's early experiences; but I am quite aware that I have hardly fulfilled the promise of the title. He has neither lived long nor learned much as yet, nor has he risen very high in the world. In fact, he is still at the bottom of the ladder. I propose, therefore, to devote another volume to his later fortunes, and hope, in the end, to satisfy the reader. The most that can be said thus far is, that he has made a fair beginning, and I must refer the reader who is interested to know what success he met with as a printer, to the next volume, which will be entitled:
