Kitabı oku: «Annabel», sayfa 3
CHAPTER V
WILL BECOMES A HERO
It was during this winter, his sixteenth year, when Will entered upon the footing of a successful “business man,” that two important adventures befell him.
The first was on one cold Saturday in November just before the snow fell. The gray sky warned the boy that a storm was likely to set in, and as he needed more firewood for the heater he resolved to go into the grove and pick up all the dead branches which the wind had blown from the trees, and to put them in piles so that Nick Wells, the carter, could come for them on Monday morning. So he put some luncheon in his basket and, telling his mother he would not be home for supper, hastened away to the grove, leaving Egbert to care for the fire in the “office”.
There was plenty of dead wood lying around the grove, and Will worked steadily piling it up until evening approached and it grew dusk. He was just about to stop work and return home when he heard a sound of footsteps approaching, and stood silent a little way from the path to watch Mr. Jordan pass by on his regular evening walk, which he permitted nothing to interrupt.
To Will’s astonishment the man stopped abruptly in the middle of the grove and gazed earnestly at an oak tree. Then, exactly as he had done on that other evening when Will had watched him, he walked up to the tree and passed his hand hurriedly up and down the rough bark, returning almost immediately to the path to continue on his way.
This repetition of the same curious action Will had before noticed filled the boy with surprise, and puzzled him greatly. What possible object could Mr. Jordan have in feeling of the bark of an oak tree situated in the center of a deserted grove, where few people ever passed?
But while he pondered the matter darkness fell upon the grove, and he was obliged to hasten home to relieve Egbert.
It snowed a little during the night, and all day Sunday a thin white mantle lay upon the frozen ground. Mr. Jordan took his usual evening walk, and Will looked after him thoughtfully, wondering if he made a regular practice of stopping to feel the bark of the oak tree. But he made no attempt to follow his mother’s boarder, as the boy would have considered it a mean trick to spy upon the man, however peculiar he might be.
Yet early on Monday morning, when he drove over to the grove with Nick Wells to load the wood he had piled up, Will could not resist the temptation to go to the tree and see if Mr. Jordan had indeed stopped there the evening before. Yes, there were the tracks of his boots, clearly outlined in the snow. Will knew exactly the way he had walked to the tree, cast that furtive glance over his shoulder, and then passed his hand up and down the bark.
But why? That was the question; and surely it might well puzzle older heads than that of Will Carden.
The other adventure referred to had a distinct bearing upon the boy’s future life, and made him the village hero for many months to come.
Christmas week arrived with weather sharp and cold, although wonderfully brisk and exhilarating. One of the chief pleasures of the young folks of Bingham in winter was to skate upon Marshall’s pond, a broad stretch of deep water lying just west of the town, and not far from the Williams homestead. This pond was fed by a small brook that wound for miles through the country, and here the Bingham ice man harvested his supply each winter, often cutting holes in the ice which, when lightly frozen over, made dangerous places for the skaters, who did well to avoid them.
The day following Christmas a large crowd of youngsters assembled at the pond for skating, many of the boys and girls being anxious to try the new skates Santa Claus had brought them. The Williams children were all there except little Gladys, and Will Carden came over also, for he was an expert skater and had decided that an afternoon’s sport would do him good.
It was a merry throng, indeed, and Will was gliding along over the ice with Mary Louise when a sharp scream reached his ears and he saw the children scattering from one spot like a flock of frightened sheep.
Will dropped Mary Louise’s hand and sped as quickly as possible toward the place. He had known in an instant that an accident had occurred, and as he drew near he saw that the ice had broken. Then a small arm came into view above the surface, its fingers clutching wildly for support before it again disappeared.
Without hesitation Will flew toward the hole. The ice cracked and gave way as he reached the edge, and immediately he plunged into the water, where he kept his wits and began reaching in every direction for the drowning form he had noted.
From those standing at a safe distance a cry of horror arose; but it quickly changed to a shout of joy as Will Carden rose to the surface and caught at the edge of the ice for support, for in one arm he held Annabel Williams’ almost lifeless form.
“Shove us a rail, you fellows!” he called, wisely refraining from trying to draw himself up by the flimsy edge of ice he clutched.
The boys were quick to understand what he wanted, and a score of willing hands tore the rails from a fence that came down to the shore of the pond, and slid them along the ice so that they reached across the hole and both ends rested on a firm foundation. Will seized the first one that came within reach, and then a couple of the boys crept out upon the rails and caught hold of Annabel, drawing her from the icy water and carrying her safely to land. Others assisted Will and although he was dripping wet and his teeth chattered with cold, as soon as he reached safe ice he shook off the supporting hands of his friends and walked over to the unconscious girl.
“Give me all the shawls and wraps you can spare!” he cried, and as they were eagerly offered he wrapped them around Annabel and then lifted her in his arms and started at his best pace for the Williams house, which was fortunately the nearest in the village to the pond.
Other boys offered to help him, but Will shook his head and plunged on, the curious crowd following at his heels, while one or two volunteered to run ahead and warn the family of the accident.
Mary Louise paced at Will’s side, sobbing bitterly.
“It’s all right; don’t cry,” he said to her. “I can feel Annabel stirring in my arms, and I’m sure she’s alive.”
As they reached the gate that marked the entrance to the grounds a stout little man bounded down the path toward them, bareheaded and with a look of fear in his protruding eyes.
“Give her to me! Give me my child!” he said; and Will placed his burden at once in the father’s arms and turned away. For he was shivering in every bone of his body, and knew he ought to get home and change his own clothes as soon as possible.
Mr. Williams carried Annabel into the house, issuing as he went a string of commands.
“Jane, prepare a hot water bath; Fanny, send Peter for the doctor; Nora, bring me some towels and warm flannels,” and so on until all the servants were running about upon their various errands.
He carried the girl to her room, and tore or cut away her clothing, plunging her as quickly as possible into a warm bath. She was quite conscious now, and kept saying: “I’m all right, papa! I’m all right.”
But the man grimly insisted on carrying out his plans, and after the bath rolled her in warm flannels and tucked his child snugly into bed.
“Mrs. Williams’ compliments, sir,” said the servant; “and she begs to know how is the little girl.”
“Tell Mrs. Williams not to disturb herself,” he answered, gruffly; but Annabel herself called a more satisfactory message, for she said:
“I’m all right, tell mamma.”
Nora, blubbering with joy and thankfulness, for Annabel was her especial pet, brought in a bowl of hot lemonade, which Mr. Williams forced the convalescent to drink. And then Doctor Meigs arrived, and after a glance around the room and a brief examination of his patient, nodded his shaggy head in approval.
“She’ll come along nicely, sir,” he said; “thanks to your prompt and intelligent methods. But it was a close call for the little one. Who pulled her out?”
“I haven’t heard,” replied the great man, looking up with sudden interest. “But I’ll find out at once, for whoever it was most certainly saved her life.”
“It was Will Carden,” said Theodore, who had entered unobserved, and stood just behind them.
“I might have suspected that,” remarked the doctor, dryly, but there was a tone of pride in his deep voice that he could not disguise.
“Carden?” said Mr. Williams, reflectively; “Carden? I wonder if he is any relation to John Carden, who – ”
“Just his son, sir,” interrupted Doctor Meigs, calmly. “The son of that John Carden who discovered the process of making steel which your mills are now using.”
“I know; I know!” said Mr. Williams hastily. Then he bent down and kissed Annabel’s white brow.
“I like Will,” she whispered.
“Try to sleep, my darling,” he answered, gently. “Fanny will sit by you; and, if you want me, send at once.”
Then he stood up, cast another loving glance at his daughter, and followed by the doctor left the room.
Few strangers would have supposed Chester D. Williams to be a successful business man, if they judged him superficially by his appearance. Unlike his lady wife, he assumed no airs or mannerisms that might distinguish him from any other man you came across. His clothes, although made by an excellent tailor, were carelessly worn, and had not his wife kept careful watch of him he would have continued to wear one necktie until its edges were disgracefully frayed. In build the man was not very prepossessing, being below the medium height and inclined to stoutness, while his beardless face was round and red and only his kindly eyes redeemed his features from being exceptionally plain.
Yet in the big outside world people liked Chester Williams, and respected his ability. No one knew better how to obtain a favorable contract for steel, or fulfilled it more exactly to the letter of the agreement. In mechanical industries he was acknowledged a great man, and was known to have accumulated an immense fortune. Here in Bingham, where he was seldom seen, for his business in the city claimed a large share of his time, the owner of the steel mills was an absolute autocrat, and his word was law to the simple villagers. Yet he had never abused their trust and confidence in him.
“Step in here a moment, doctor,” he said, pushing open the door to his study. So Doctor Meigs followed him in and sat down.
“I am very grateful for my child’s rescue,” began Mr. Williams, with a slight tremor in his voice. “Tell me, Doctor Meigs, what sort of boy is this Will Carden who proved himself so brave this afternoon?”
“I can’t say,” replied the doctor, a merry twinkle in his eye. “That is, with modesty. For Will is my partner.”
“A doctor!”
“No; a mushroom grower.”
Mr. Williams seemed puzzled, but waited to hear more.
“You’d better see the boy yourself,” continued the doctor. “He’s proud, you’ll find; and he’s very poor.”
“Poor?”
“Yes. His father lost all his money in experimenting with that steel process; and then he started for London and was lost at sea. Therefore the family is dependent mostly upon the industry of this boy.”
“I see.”
For a moment the mill owner remained lost in thought. Then he asked:
“How did Jordan get the control of John Carden’s secret process?”
“I never knew the particulars,” replied Doctor Meigs; “but Mr. Jordan has told me that he loaned Mr. Carden money to carry on his experiments.”
“Bosh! Jordan never had a dollar in his life until after I made the deal with him and started these mills. He was nothing but an humble clerk in the bank here.”
“I remember,” said the doctor, regarding the other man with a blank expression.
“But at the time I made my arrangements with Jordan he showed me a paper signed by John Carden which transferred all his interest in the secret process, together with the formula itself, to Ezra Jordan, in consideration of the sum of ten thousand dollars.”
“Ten thousand dollars!” ejaculated the doctor.
“Which Jordan never owned,” said Williams, slapping his knee emphatically. “When I enquired at the bank, the cashier told me that Jordan had never had any money except his salary, and it is certain he had not embezzled a dollar while in the employ of the bank. But it was none of my business, after all. Only, Jordan drove such a hard bargain with me for the use of his process that I’m paying him a fortune every year, in royalties, and he runs the works himself, so as to be sure I don’t rob him. The paper executed by John Carden seems genuine, and the only thing that puzzles me is why he transferred such a valuable secret, just as it was proven a success, to a man he could not possibly have borrowed money from, because the man never had it to lend.”
“You astonish me,” said Doctor Meigs, with evident sincerity. “I’ve never been able to understand Mr. Jordan, myself. He is a very reserved individual, and I knew that he was quite intimate with John Carden, before the latter left Bingham on his fatal journey. But that there was anything wrong or at all suspicious in Jordan’s dealings with his old friend, I have never even dreamed.”
“There may be nothing wrong at all,” returned Mr. Williams. “But in that case the inventor of the best steel process in the world was a fool.”
Doctor Meigs made no reply, but rose to take his leave; and after showing the physician to the door Mr. Williams turned into the sitting room, where the lamps had been lighted. All the children were there but Annabel, who was reported to have fallen asleep, and it was good to observe how eagerly they clustered about their father’s knee, and how fond they seemed to be of him.
Mrs. Williams presently sent word that she was “so upset by Annabel’s careless accident” that she would dine alone in her own room, and the children greeted this announcement with a whoop of delight that made their father frown and turn more red than usual, with shamed chagrin. They trooped into the dining room happy and content, and as soon as they were seated, began to chatter of Will Carden.
“Do you know him?” asked the father.
“Know Will Carden! Well, I guess we do!” replied boisterous Reginald.
“We all like Will,” said Mary Louise, in her gentle voice; “and if he had not been so prompt to rescue Annabel I am sure she would have been drowned, for everyone else was too frightened to move. But Will didn’t wait a minute. He plunged right in after her.”
“He is a brave boy,” said Mr. Williams.
“And he can do lots of things,” remarked Theodore, slowly.
“He fixted my dolly’s leg!” shouted Gladys, anxious to testify in her friend’s behalf.
“Yes, and mamma sent him about his business, and wouldn’t let him play with us,” added Reggie, in a grieved tone.
“Why?” asked the father.
“Oh, because he’s a vegetable boy, and poor. She said we’d got to respect your position in society,” replied Reginald, with a grin.
“She scolded me awfully,” declared Gladys, nodding her head sagely.
“Hush, my daughter,” said Mr. Williams, with unaccustomed severity. “You must not criticise mamma’s actions, for she loves you all and tries to act for your best good. But it’s nothing against Will Carden to be a vegetable boy, you know. How old is he?”
“About sixteen, I think,” said Mary Louise.
“Well, when I was his age,” continued Mr. Williams, “I was shovelling coal in a smelting furnace.”
“That isn’t as respectable as being a vegetable boy, is it?” asked Theodore, gravely.
“Both callings are respectable, if they enable one to earn an honest livelihood,” returned his father, with a smile. “There is no disgrace at all in poverty. The only thing that hopelessly condemns a person is laziness or idle inaction.”
“But mother – ” began Reginald.
“Mother sometimes forgets how very poor we ourselves used to be,” interrupted Mr. Williams, looking earnestly into the circle of eager faces; “and I am very glad she can forget it. I’ll talk to her, however, about your friend Will Carden, and I’ve no doubt when she learns how brave he has been she will at once withdraw her objections to his playing with you.”
“Thank you, papa,” said Mary Louise, reaching out to take his hand in her slim white one.
“You’re all right, daddy; and we love you!” exclaimed Reggie, earnestly.
The great mill owner flushed with pleasure, and his eyes grew bright and moist.
“But,” observed Gladys, her mouth full of bread and butter, “mamma scolds me lots a’ times.”
“Hush!” commanded her father, sternly; and a cloud came over his face and drove the joy from his eyes.
CHAPTER VI
A BOY AND A MILLIONAIRE
Will Carden, little the worse for his ducking of the day before, sat in his little “office” at the end of the barn, his feet braced against the heater, his chair tipped backward, and his eyes fastened upon an open letter he held in both hands.
He had read it a dozen times since Peter, the coachman up at the big house, had brought it to him, and he was now reading it once more.
It was very brief, simply saying: “Please call at my office at your convenience;” but it was signed “Chester D. Williams,” in big, bold script, and that signature, Will reflected, would be good for thousands of dollars – even hundreds of thousands – if signed to a check.
While the boy was thus engaged, the door burst open and Doctor Meigs entered, stamping the snow from his feet and shaking it from his shoulders as a shaggy Newfoundland dog shakes off the rain. It had been snowing for an hour, and the big flakes were falling slowly and softly, as if they had a mission to fulfill and plenty of time to accomplish it.
“Hello, Doctor,” said Will, cheerily. “Read that.”
Doctor Meigs took the letter, sat down, and read it carefully. Then he looked up.
“How’s your throat?” he asked.
“All right,” said Will.
“Sore, any?”
“Not a bit.”
“Feel chills creeping up your back?”
“No.”
“Head hot?”
“Why, I’m all right, Doctor.”
“Put out your tongue!”
Will obeyed, just as he had done ever since he could remember.
“H – m! Strange; very strange,” muttered the doctor.
“What’s strange?” asked the boy.
“That you’re fool enough to jump into ice-water, and clever enough to beat the doctor out of his just dues afterward.”
Will laughed.
“How’s Annabel?” he asked.
“As good as ever. Why did you pull her out so quick, you young rascal? Don’t you know Chester D. Williams is rich enough to pay a big doctor’s bill?”
“I was afraid, at first,” answered the boy, reflectively, “that I hadn’t pulled Nan out quick enough. It was a close call, and no mistake.”
“Well, your reward is at hand. The whole town is praising you, and calling you a hero. And the great man himself has sent for you.”
Will shifted uneasily in his chair.
“You know, Doctor, it wasn’t anything at all,” he said.
“Of course not. One girl, more or less, in the world doesn’t make much difference.”
“I don’t mean that. Annabel’s a brick, and worth jumping into twenty ponds for. But anyone could have done the same as I did.”
“To be sure. How are the toad-stools coming?”
Will knew the doctor was in a good humor when he called their product “toad-stools.” If he was at all worried he spoke of them as “mushrooms.”
“Pretty good. But what does Mr. Williams want to see me about?” he enquired.
“Wants to give you ten dollars for saving his daughter’s life, perhaps.”
Will straightened up.
“I won’t go,” he said.
The doctor grinned.
“Throwing away good money, eh? We’ll have to raise the price of toad-stools again, to even up. But, seriously, I advise you to go to Mr. Williams, as he requests you to. He isn’t half a bad fellow. His only fault is that he makes more money than any one man is entitled to.”
“You don’t really think he’ll – he’ll want to pay me anything, do you?”
“No; he wants to thank you, as any gentleman would, for a brave, manly action.”
For the first time Will grew embarrassed, and his face became as red as a June sunset.
“I’d rather not, you know,” he said, undecidedly.
“It’s the penalty of heroism,” remarked the doctor, with assumed carelessness. “Better go at once and have it over with.”
“All right,” said Will, with a sigh of resignation.
“I’m going back to town, and I’ll walk with you.”
So Will stopped at the house and sent Egbert to mind the fire, and then he tramped away to the village beside the burly form of his friend.
It was not as cold as it had been before it began to snow, and the boy enjoyed the walk. He liked to hear the soft crunching of the snow under his feet.
When he shyly entered the office at the steel works his face was as rosy as an apple, and he shook off the snow and wiped the moisture from his eyes and looked around him.
There were two long rows of desks in the main room, and at one corner, railed in to separate it from the others, was the secretary’s office and desk. Will could see the bald head of Mr. Jordan held as rigidly upright as ever, and recognized the two side locks of hair that were plastered firmly to his skull.
Then Mr. Jordan turned slowly around and saw him, and after calmly staring at the boy for a time he motioned to a clerk.
The young man approached Will and enquired his business.
“I want to see Mr. Williams,” he answered.
“Mr. Jordan transacts all the business here,” said the clerk, stiffly.
“It isn’t exactly business,” replied the boy, and drew out the letter he had received.
At once the clerk became more obsequious, and begged Will to be seated. He watched the man whom he knew to be the son of a local store-keeper, go to a glass door and rap upon it gently. Then he entered and closed the door carefully behind him, only to emerge the next moment and beckon Will to advance.
“Mr. Williams will see you at once, sir.”
Will walked into the private office feeling queer and uncomfortable, and the clerk closed the door behind him.
Mr. Williams was sitting at his desk, but at once jumped up and met the boy with both hands extended to a cordial greeting.
“I’m glad to see you, Will Carden,” he said, simply. “My little girl is very dear to me, and I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
“Why, Nan’s dear to me, too, Mr. Williams,” replied the youth, feeling quite at ease again. “And I’m glad and grateful that I happened to be around just when she needed me. We’re in the same class at high school, you know, and Annabel and I have always been chums.”
“That’s good,” said the great man, nodding as if he understood. “I hope you will be better friends than ever, now. She wants to see you, and Mrs. Williams has asked me to send you up to the house, if you will go.”
Will flushed with pleasure. To be invited to the big house by the very woman who had snubbed him a few months ago was indeed a triumph. He didn’t suspect, of course, that Mr. Williams had kept his promise to the children, and “talked to” his wife with such energy that she was not likely soon again to banish one of their playmates because he chanced to be poor. Indeed, Mrs. Williams had no especial dislike to the “vegetable boy;” she merely regarded him as a member of a class to be avoided, and her sole objection to him as a companion to her children was based upon a snobbish and vulgar assumption of superiority to those not blessed with money.
“I’ll be glad to see Annabel again,” said Will. “I hope she’s none the worse for her accident?”
“Just a slight cold, that’s all. But sit down, please. I want a little talk with you about – yourself.”
Will became uncomfortable again. But he sat down, as the great man requested.
“Tell me something of your life; of your family and your work; and let me know what your ambitions are,” said Mr. Williams.
It was a little hard for Will to get started, but the man led him on by asking a few simple questions and soon he was telling all about Flo and Egbert, and how hard his mother was obliged to work, and of the mushroom business the doctor had started and all the other little details of his life.
Mr. Williams listened attentively, and when the boy mentioned the fact that Mr. Jordan had always boarded with them since his father had gone away, the millionaire seemed especially interested, asking various questions about his secretary’s habits and mode of life which plainly showed he was unfamiliar with Mr. Jordan’s private affairs.
“Do you remember your father?” he enquired.
“Not very well, sir,” Will replied. “You see, I was very young when he went away, and he was accustomed to working so steadily night and day at his steel factory that he wasn’t around the house very much. I’ve heard mother say he was so occupied with thoughts of his invention that he didn’t pay a great deal of attention to us children, although his nature was kind and affectionate.
“Was Mr. Jordan with him much in those old days?”
“I can’t remember about that. But mother has always said that Mr. Jordan was father’s best friend, and for years he always came to our house on Sunday to dinner. He was a bank clerk, then; and that was before he boarded with us, you know.”
“Is he kind to you now?”
“Mr. Jordan? Why, he’s neither kind nor unkind. But he pays his board regular, and in a way that’s kindness, although he doesn’t say a word to anyone. The boarder helps us to live, but it also wears out mother’s strength, for she’s very particular to cook the things he likes to eat, and to make him comfortable. I’m in hopes that the mushroom business will prosper, for then we can let our boarder go, and it will be much easier for mother.”
“I, too, hope you will succeed. But if you don’t, Will, or if you ever need help in any way, come straight to me. It would make me very happy to be of some use to you, you know.”
“Thank you,” said the boy. “I’ll not forget.”
The great mill owner was not at all a hard person to talk to. He seemed to understand “just as a boy would,” Will afterward told Mrs. Carden. And when he left the office it was with the pleasant sensation that he had made a new friend – one that could be relied upon almost as much as old Dr. Meigs.
Mr. Jordan was staring at him fixedly as he walked out; but he said nothing about the visit, either then or afterward, when he met Will at supper. But once in a while he would turn his queer spectacled eyes upon the boy, as if he had just discovered a new interest in him.
