Mr. Ephraim Huxter, on perceiving Ben, wreathed his homely features into what was intended for a gracious smile, and, rising, took his nephew's rather unwilling hand.
"So this is Ben," he said. "Bless me, what a young gentleman he's grown, to be sure! Don't you remember me, Ben?"
"No, I don't," said Ben, but not truly, for he had recognized his uncle at first sight. Indeed, any one who had ever seen Mr. Huxter would be likely to remember his harsh features and ungainly form.
"It is your Uncle Ephraim," said his mother.
"Humph!" said Ben, not feeling it necessary to express any pleasure. With his improved fortunes, his pride had developed, and he had come to look upon his mother's brother as a low person, who was immeasurably his inferior.
"Yes, Ben has become quite a gentleman," said his uncle, surveying his broadcloth suit, and goldwatch-chain ostentatiously displayed over his vest. "But I dare say he hasn't forgotten when he used to run round in a shirt and overalls, and hoed potatoes at three cents an hour."
Ben did remember distinctly, and the recollection was far from pleasing; so he thought it best to forget it.
"I don't remember anything of the kind," he said, rather roughly.
"I suppose you'd want to be paid better now, ha, ha!" said Mr. Huxter, laughing as if he thought it a capital joke.
"I don't know anything about hoeing potatoes," said Ben, haughtily. "I'm not a laborer."
"No, of course not," said Mr. Huxter. "You and your mother are now rich; but I hope you won't look down on your poor uncle and cousins, who have to grub along as well as they can for a living. Things were different once, to be sure. Once my humble home was thrown open to receive you, and I was glad to give you a shelter, though a lowly one, in your hour of need. I shall always be glad to think of that, though my wife and little ones should starve before my face."
Mr. Huxter deliberately drew from his pocket a red cotton handkerchief, and raised it to his eyes, not to wipe away the tears, for there were none, butto increase the pathos of his remarks. But even with this help they failed to produce the desired effect. Mrs. Oakley remained cool and unaffected, and Ben, turning from his uncle to his mother, said:—
"How soon will supper be ready?"
"You may go and ask Hannah to set the table at once," said Mrs. Oakley.
Ben left the room with alacrity, without taking further notice of his uncle.
"The young cub! I'd like to flog him!" thought his uncle; but he did not consider it polite to give utterance to this thought. "What a gentlemanly appearance Ben has!" he said, instead.
"Yes," said Mrs. Oakley, more graciously; for her pride in Ben was her great, and perhaps it might be said, her only weakness, cool and calculating woman as she was. "I think he will do me credit, brother Ephraim."
"Indeed he will. I am quite proud of him," said Mr. Huxter, who thought he saw the best way to ingratiate himself with his sister. "I can hardly believe he's the same little Ben that used to run round the farm barefooted. He don't like to think of those old times, ha, ha!"
"No," said Mrs. Oakley; "he has a proud spirit, Benjamin has."
"That's all well enough as long as he has money to support it. 'Poor and proud' don't go so well together, sister Jane."
"I don't know," said Mrs. Oakley. "I was once poor, but I never lost my pride. If I had I should have given right up, and made no effort to better myself."
"I know who you're thinking of. You're thinking of me. You think I haven't got any proper pride. Well, I don't know as I have. Misfortunes have come thick and fast, and I've had a hard row to hoe. Hard work and poverty are enough to take away a man's pride."
Mr. Huxter certainly did not look as if he could ever have had much to be proud of; but then, pride and merit do not always go together, and appearances are sometimes deceitful.
"Well," said Mrs. Oakley, now graciously, "perhaps matters may take a turn with you. I cannot do much, for I have Mr. Oakley's son to provide for, as well as Benjamin and myself; but I may be able to do something."
"Thank you, Jane," said Mr. Huxter, more cheerfully. "I was sure you would not harden your heart against your only brother, and leave his family to suffer, while you were living on the fat of the land."
"We will talk further this evening, Ephraim," said Mrs. Oakley. "Excuse me for five minutes, while I go out to the kitchen to see if supper is nearly ready."
"Certainly, Jane. I don't mind confessing that I feel rather hungry myself. I didn't take any dinner at the Half-way House, to-day, for dinner costs money, and with my narrow means I didn't feel as if I could spare half a dollar."
"I am glad you mentioned it. I will see that some cold meat be placed on the table. You must require something hearty."
"It's my praising Ben that fetched her," said Mr. Huxter, when, being left to himself, he began to reflect upon the cause of his sister's sudden and agreeable change of manners. "I shall have to flatter up the young rascal, I expect, though I'd a good deal rather give him a taste of a horsewhip. So he turns up his nose at me, does he? He forgets the time when he'd have been obliged to beg from house to house but for me. Maybe he won't always be prosperous. The race isn't always to the strong, nor the battle to the swift."
Mr. Huxter did not often read the Bible, and was not aware that he had made a trifling mistake in his quotation. His thoughts were turned into a differentand more agreeable channel by the reappearance of his sister, and the announcement that supper was ready. He rose with alacrity, and followed Mrs. Oakley into a room in the rear of the parlor, where an abundant and appetizing meal was spread. Mr. Huxter rubbed his hands with satisfaction,—for in his own household the meals were neither abundant nor inviting,—and took his seat at his sister's table. Ben took the head of the table opposite his mother, and John Oakley sat opposite Mr. Huxter.
"Who is this young man?" asked Mr. Huxter, glancing at John. "I have not had the pleasure of an introduction."
"That is John Oakley," said his stepmother, briefly.
"The son of your lamented husband," said Mr. Huxter.
"Yes. Will you have milk and sugar in your tea?"
"Yes, thank you. I hope you are well, Mr. Oakley."
"Quite well, thank you, sir," said John, wondering who was addressing him.
"I am your stepmother's brother," continued Mr. Huxter, "and that makes me a sort of relation, you know."
"Will you help yourself to the toast, Ephraim?" said Mrs. Oakley, in a quick, sharp tone, for she didn't fancy the idea of her brother's paying so much attention to John.
"Thank you, Jane. If it is as nice as your tea, I shall want to help myself more than once. But you were always a good house-keeper."
Mrs. Oakley did not relish this allusion, for she would like to have had everybody forget that she had been a professional house-keeper. She thought her brother was succeeding admirably in making himself disagreeable, and determined that he should not long remain her guest, if she could conveniently get rid of him. But Mr. Huxter had not penetration enough to see that he was displeasing his sister, and continued, his mouth being full of toast:—
"Mr. Oakley must be near your Benjamin's age, Jane."
"I'm almost two years older," said Ben, who had so few points of superiority that he might well claim this.
"Indeed, I shouldn't have thought it," said his uncle; "but then Mr. Oakley is very well grown for his age."
"I don't know that Ben is deficient in that way," said Mrs. Oakley, coldly.
"Oh, no, of course not; I didn't mean to hint such a thing. The boys must be a good deal of company for each other."
"You're mistaken there," said Ben, shortly.
"They are not much together," said Mrs. Oakley. "John goes to school, but Benjamin has finished his education."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Huxter; "pray what studies do you pursue, Mr. Oakley?"
"I am studying Latin, Greek, and mathematics," answered John.
"I want to know! Why, you are quite a scholar! Are you going to college?" asked Mr. Huxter.
"That was what my father intended," said John.
"Mr. Oakley's death has interrupted all our plans," said Mrs. Oakley, coldly, "and we have not had time to form new ones."
"What are your plans for Benjamin?" asked his uncle. "Do you understand Latin and Greek, too, Ben?"
"No; and I don't want to," said Ben. "It's all nonsense, and won't do any good."
"Well, I can't say as I care much about either myself," said Mr. Huxter; "only it is fashionable to study them."
"I don't care whether it is fashionable or not," said Ben; "I shan't waste my time over them."
"Will you have some more toast, Ephraim?" asked Mrs. Oakley, heartily tired of the conversation.
"Thank you, I believe I will."
John mentally decided that Mr. Huxter was a singular man, but did not dream that he was likely to have considerable to do with him, and that ere long.
Aftersupper Mrs. Oakley and her brother were left together. Ben had no particular fancy for the society of his uncle, and John had no desire to intrude upon Mrs. Oakley.
"Well, Ephraim," said Mrs. Oakley, plunging into business at once, "I have been considering what I could do for you."
"I knew you had a good heart, sister Jane," said Mr. Huxter, who was disposed to be very complimentary to his sister, now that his interest lay in flattering her. Mrs. Oakley well remembered the time when he treated her in quite a different manner; but though she saw through his change of manner, and thoroughly understood what prompted it, she was well pleased to have it so. It made her feel the power which her wealth had brought her; and there was no woman who enjoyed that better than Mrs. Oakley.
"You mustn't expect too much," she continued. "You must remember that there are others who have claims upon me."
"But your means are large," said Mr. Huxter, who was resolved to extort as much as possible.
"No doubt you think so; but I am the best judge of what I can afford," said Mrs. Oakley.
"If I were rich I wouldn't see you and Ben suffer," said Mr. Huxter.
"As to that, your health is good, and your family ought not to suffer if I gave you no assistance at all. I don't think much of a man who can't support his family."
"I've been a very unlucky man," said Mr. Huxter. "I'd ought to be independent now, but something or nuther was always happening. There was my best cow, that I could have got fifty dollars for easy, up and died one night."
"How long ago was that?"
"Three years," said Mr. Huxter, rather reluctantly.
"It seems to me you've had time to get over that loss," said his sister, not betraying much sympathy in her tone.
"It wouldn't be much to you, I know; but to a poor man like me it was a great loss," said Mr. Huxter.
"Well, we won't say anything about that. I told you that I would help you, and I will. You observed John Oakley at the table?"
"Yes; he looks like a smart fellow."
"He's no smarter than Ben that I know of," said Mrs. Oakley, jealously.
"Of course not; I didn't suppose he was," said Mr. Huxter, seeing that he had got on the wrong tack. "Ben is a boy that you may be proud of, sister Jane. He is very genteel in his manners."
"I mean to bring him up as a gentleman," said Mrs. Oakley. "I think I shall make a lawyer of him."
"I hope you will. There's never been a lawyer in our family. I should be proud to speak of my nephew, Benjamin Brayton, Esq., the famous lawyer."
"I hope that time will come, brother Ephraim. But I was going to speak of John Oakley. Ben and he don't agree very well."
"Don't they?" asked Mr. Huxter, not so much surprised as he might have been if he had not made Ben's acquaintance. "I suppose it is John's fault."
"Of course it is. He doesn't treat Ben or myself with proper respect, and of course Ben resents it."
"Of course."
"He doesn't seem to realize that Ben is older thanhimself, and therefore entitled to more privileges. He went so far one day as to strike Ben with a whip."
"What did Ben do?" asked Mr. Huxter, curiously.
"Oh, of course he struck John," said Mrs. Oakley, not thinking it necessary to mention that Ben's blow came first.
"Well," said Mr. Huxter, "it seems natural for boys to quarrel."
"I shan't allow my son to be struck by John Oakley," said Mrs. Oakley, quickly.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"That is what I am coming to. I think of sending John away somewhere, so that we may live in peace and quiet, and not be disturbed by his quarrelsome disposition."
"Where do you think of sending him?"
"To your house."
"To my house?" exclaimed Mr. Huxter, in surprise, for he had not foreseen what was coming.
"Yes."
"I don't know as he would like the way we live," said Mr. Huxter, thinking of the "picked-up" dinners to which he was accustomed. "He's a rich man's son, and has been used to good living."
"Don't trouble yourself about that," said Mrs. Oakley; "if he has always lived well, he can standa little poor living now, by way of variety. It is his own fault that I send him away from home."
Mr. Huxter hardly knew what to think of this arrangement. He had hoped that his sister would settle an annual sum upon him, without any equivalent, or would give him, say a thousand dollars outright. Now she only proposed that he should take a boarder.
"I don't know what my wife will say," he remarked. "It will increase her work."
"Not much. There will only be one extra seat at the table."
"But we shall have to put ourselves out a little for him."
"I don't want you to put yourself out at all," said Mrs. Oakley, emphatically.
"He's a rich man's son."
"But he'll be a poor man himself. He will have to earn his living by hard work."
"I don't see how that can be. Didn't his father leave plenty of money?"
"No," said Mrs. Oakley, determined not to be entrapped into any such acknowledgment; "and if he had, John is no better off for it. You seem to forget that all the money is left to me."
"That's a fact," said Mr. Huxter. "I didn'tthink of that. Shan't you leave any of it to John?"
"That depends upon his behavior," said Mrs. Oakley. "I make no promises. The property is all mine, and I shall leave it to no one who treats me with disrespect. You see, therefore, that you need feel on no ceremony with him."
Mr. Huxter did see it. He was a selfish man, who had a great respect for the possessors of wealth merely on the score of their wealth, and he began to look upon John Oakley with quite different eyes now that he had been informed of his true position.
"You're carrying things with rather a high hand, Jane," he said.
"I mean to be treated with respect."
"So John is saucy, is he?"
"He is proud-spirited, and thinks himself justified in looking down upon me, because I was once his father's house-keeper," said Mrs. Oakley, in a tone of bitterness; "but I have vowed to subdue his proud spirit, and you will see that I shall do it."
"I have no doubt you will, Jane. But there is one thing you haven't mentioned."
"What is that?"
"How much am I to receive for John Oakley's board?"
"I will give you six dollars a week, and you know that this is considerably more than any other boarder would pay you."
"Six dollars a week!" said Mr. Huxter, slowly. "Yes, I suppose that would pay for what he would eat and drink, but I expected you would do something more for me than just to find me a boarder."
"You will make a pretty good profit out of that, Ephraim."
"You might do a little more than that for me, Jane."
"I will tell you what I will do. Besides paying you regularly for his board, I will allow you his labor, and that will be worth considerable."
"What can he do?"
"He can do what other boys do. You can take him into your shop, and set him to pegging shoes. It won't hurt him a bit, though it may trouble his pride a little."
"But will he be willing to go into the shop? He was expecting to go to college."
"I don't think much of you if you can't compel him to do it."
Mr. Huxter reflected a moment. John's work would be worth at least five dollars a week, and this,added to the six he would receive from his sister, would certainly pay munificently for John's board.
"Well, that is a consideration. We'll call it a bargain," he admitted.
"Very well; I think you'll find your account in it," said Mrs. Oakley, in a tone of satisfaction.
"Couldn't you pay me a quarter's board in advance?"
To this Mrs. Oakley assented with some hesitation.
After matters had thus been satisfactorily arranged, Mr. Huxter said:—
"I think, Jane, I will just take a little walk outside, and smoke a pipe. I always do after supper. By the way, when would you like to have young Oakley go?"
"To-morrow."
"To-morrow!" repeated Mr. Huxter, in some disappointment, for he had confidently hoped to avail himself of his sister's hospitality for a week at least. "Seems to me, Jane, you're in something of a hurry."
"I am. There is a good reason for it, which I am not at liberty to mention," said Mrs. Oakley.
"Not even to me?"
"Not even to you."
"Well, I dare say it is all right, but I am tired after my journey, and it don't give me much time to rest," said Mr. Huxter, with disappointment.
"Let it be day after to-morrow, then. I don't want to be inhospitable," said Mrs. Oakley.
Mr. Huxter thought this concession better than nothing, and, going out on the door-step, smoked his pipe in rather a cheerful frame of mind.
"It'll be a pretty good speculation," he reflected; "but I mistrust I'll have some trouble with young Oakley. But I guess I can manage him. He'll find me pretty ugly if he goes to oppose me."
Mr. Huxter was partly right. He was capable of being "pretty ugly" when he thought it safe to be so,—that is, to those who were weaker than himself, and in his power. He fawned upon those who had money or power, and was in the habit of tyrannizing over those who had neither. On the whole, I hardly think John is to be congratulated upon his prospects.
Mrs. Oakleyfelt very well pleased with the arrangement she had made about John. Her brother lived nearly one hundred miles distant. She would have liked John even further off; but this would remove him from the ability to interfere with her plans. She felt, too, that she would be more comfortable with him out of the house. Until the will was foundand destroyedshe would not feel safe, and she did not venture to search thoroughly till John was out of the way.
But there was one important question: Would John consent to go? On this point Mrs. Oakley felt doubtful. She knew that it would be a grievous disappointment to him to leave his class at the academy, and all his young friends in the village, not to speak of his natural regret at leaving the house where he had been born, and which had always been his home. Under the circumstances, therefore, she felt that it would be best to use a little stratagem.
Meanwhile John had been thinking earnestly of his position and his duty. He felt that he needed advice, and he determined to call upon Squire Selwyn, who, as I have already said, was his father's legal adviser and intimate friend. His son Sam, also, was John's best friend, and thus the families had a double bond of union.
The day succeeding Mr. Huxter's arrival was Wednesday. On that day the afternoon session at the academy was over an hour earlier than usual, the only exercise being declamation, or, on alternate weeks, the reading of compositions. John thought this would be the most favorable opportunity he would have for consulting Mr. Selwyn.
Squire Selwyn's office was a small, neat one-story building situated on the main street, not far from the academy building. It was painted white, with green blinds, and had been built expressly for a law office.
Sam and John walked home from school together as usual. When they came to the office John said:—
"I'm going in to see your father, Sam; so I'll bid you good-afternoon."
"Got some law business for the governor?"
"Maybe."
"Then you better consult me," said Sam. "I swept out the office for a week once when the office-boy was off on vacation, and you can't think what a lot of law I picked up in that time."
"I dare say," said John, smiling. "I don't doubt your qualifications, but I think I'll consult your father this time."
"All right," said Sam, more seriously. "I'm glad you're going to. The fact is, Mrs. Oakley is doing her best to circumvent you, and you must do your best, or she'll succeed."
"I'm afraid she will at any rate," said John.
"I wish you could find that will."
"So do I."
"Do you believe in dreams, John?" asked Sam, lowering his voice.
"What makes you ask that?"
"Because I dreamed last night that I found the will. It seemed to me that it was very dark, and I came upon Mrs. Oakley and Ben, each with a lantern in their hand, searching about on the ground for it. I followed them softly, and all at once spied a white paper. Mrs. Oakley saw it at the same time, and reached out for it, but I was too quick, and carried it off in triumph."
"Is that all?"
"Not quite. When she and Ben saw that I had got it they dropped their lanterns and ran after me, or rather Ben threw his at my head. It was an awful whack. Just then I woke up, and found that I had struck my head against the bedpost."
"Well," said John, laughing, "how do you interpret that dream?"
"In this way. I think that the will is going to be found some day, and that I shall be the one to find it."
"I certainly hope you will. It would make a great change in my circumstances."
"What'll you give me if I find it, John?"
"A gold watch," said John.
"Well, that's worth working for."
"You seem to be in earnest about it."
"There's many a true word spoken in jest. The time may come when I shall remind you of your promise."
"I hope it will. You will find that I keep my promises."
"All right. Well, there's the squire looking out the window, so I'll leave you. Good luck!"
John entered the office.
"Good-afternoon, John," said Squire Selwyn. "How are things going on at home?"
"We are all well," said John.
"I'm glad to hear it. Won't you sit down?"
The lawyer was a man of middle height. He had a pleasant face and manner, but his eye was keen and penetrating, and seemed to be reading the person upon whom it rested. He was deservedly popular, for it was always his endeavor to conciliate rather than to foment quarrels, and he more than once succeeded in dissuading a client from a lawsuit which would have put a considerable sum of money into his own pocket. He was a safe legal adviser, and an honest lawyer. He was glad to see John, for he had always been attracted towards him, not only because of his friendship for the father, but because of John's truthfulness and straightforwardness.
Seeing that John hesitated, he said, by way of encouragement:—
"If there is anything I can do for you, don't hesitate to ask it. Your father was my friend, and I hope to be regarded by his son in the same light."
"It is because of that that I have called upon you, Squire Selwyn," said John. "You know, of course," he added, after a little hesitation, "how my father left his property?"
"I know how heappearsto have left it," said the lawyer, significantly.
"I would like to ask you a question, Squire Selwyn," said John; "but of course you will not answer it unless you think proper."
"Very properly put. Ask your question, and I will decide as to its fitness."
"It is this: Do you know whether my father made any later will than the one which was found?"
"I have no hesitation in answering your question. He did."
"How long since was it made?"
"Only three months before he died."
"I suppose that it disposed of the property differently?"
"It disposed of it as the law would have done if no will had been made. Your stepmother was to have her thirds; the rest of the property would have gone to you. The matter might have been left to the law but for the existence of the former will, which was in Mrs. Oakley's charge, and which she said that she had mislaid."
"Who would have been my guardian under the last will, Squire Selwyn?"
"Your father asked me to assume that office, and I consented cheerfully, not only from my friendshipfor him, but because I have a very good opinion of you," said Squire Selwyn.
"Thank you, sir," said John, earnestly.
"Let me add, my young friend," said the lawyer, kindly, "that I hope you will come to me as freely for advice as if I really filled this office."
"I will, sir," said John. "I am so situated that I need a friend to advise me who is older and wiser than myself."
"Apply to me freely at all times," said the lawyer, pleased with John's modest demeanor.
"There is one thing I want to tell you," said John; "I think my father's last will is still in existence."
"What grounds have you for such a belief?" asked Squire Selwyn, regarding him closely.
"I will tell you, sir," said John.
He then related the particulars of his last interview with his father, and the great effort which the sick man made to communicate something to him.
Squire Selwyn listened attentively.
"Will you repeat the words which you could distinguish?" he said.
"I distinctly heard father say, 'my will,' and I thought I heard him say also 'drawer.'"
"I am glad you told me this," said the lawyer, thoughtfully. "Did he attempt to say more?"
"There was no chance. Mrs. Oakley entered the chamber, and ordered me out. She said I was disturbing father."
"Do you think she heard the words which your father uttered?"
"I know she could not, for it was only by placing my ear close to his mouth that I could distinguish the little I did."
"How did your father seem affected by the interruption?"
"He seemed disappointed."
"Didn't you have any further chance to speak with your father?"
"No; Mrs. Oakley would never admit me again."
The lawyer sat for a moment plunged in thought. At length he said:—
"Have you ever chanced, since your father's death, to see your stepmother searching the papers he left behind?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell me when."
John related the circumstances.
"Did she give any explanation?"
"She said she was looking for a receipt."
"Didn't she seem disturbed at your seeing her thus engaged?"
"She seemed angry, and accused me of prying into her actions."
"What opinion did you form of her object at that time?" asked the lawyer.
"I thought she was looking for the will," said John, frankly.
"Are your relations with your stepmother pleasant?" asked Squire Selwyn.
"I am sorry to say they are not," said John. "If they had been, I would not have troubled myself about the will. But I can see that Mrs. Oakley is determined to persecute me, and make my life unhappy, and that she is determined not to carry out any of my father's plans about my education. She has already taken away my horse, and sold it. She intended to give it to Ben, but he had an unlucky adventure with it one afternoon."
"I heard of that," said the lawyer, smiling. "He got thrown, didn't he?"
"Yes, sir. That cured him of wanting to ride, and so the horse was sold."
"It was a present to you from your father, was it not?"
"Yes, sir. Ben received at the same time a gold watch, which he still has."
"That seems hardly fair. One question more: Have you any knowledge of any secret drawer in your father's desk, or in any article which he used to own?"
"No, sir."
"I suppose not. If there had been one, he would hardly have disclosed its whereabouts to a boy. Well, my young friend," said the lawyer, rising, as if to terminate the interview, "I am glad to have received this call from you. I regard your information as important. It strengthens the conviction which I before entertained, thatyour father's last will is in existence somewhere. Out of regard to your interests, as well as to carry out his last wishes, I sincerely hope that it may be found. But I need not tell you that in the present position of affairs the greatest caution is absolutely necessary. I am not prepared to advise you at present, but shall take your case under my most serious consideration."
John took his cap and books, and Squire Selwyn accompanied him to the door of the office. As they stood on the threshold, an open wagon drove by. Both looked up simultaneously, and an expression of vexation swept over the lawyer's face as herecognized Mrs. Oakley and her brother. Mrs. Oakley's eye lighted up as it rested upon John.
"He is getting dangerous," she thought. "It is well I am going to be rid of him."
Johncould not help wondering what inference Mrs. Oakley would draw from seeing him in consultation with the lawyer. He anticipated that it would arouse her suspicions, and lead to his being treated with greater coldness and harshness than ever. It was with considerable surprise, therefore, that on presenting himself at the supper-table he received a very pleasant greeting from his stepmother. She made no allusion to having met him, but, in her conversation with her brother, asked two or three questions of John, in an easy way, as if the relations between them were perfectly cordial. Ben glanced at his mother once or twice in surprise, for she had not seen fit to take him into her confidence, and he did not understand what this sudden cordiality meant. John, who had usually been excluded from any share in the conversation, was not only surprised, but pleased, and hoped that the change would be permanent.His resentment was not lasting, and he was prepared to respond to his stepmother's advances. Mr. Huxter's conduct puzzled him a little. That gentleman seemed disposed to be quite affable and social.
"I hope, Mr. Oakley, you and Benjamin will some time favor me with a visit at my humble home. I cannot promise you as good accommodations as you have at home, but I shall be very glad to see you—very."
"Thank you, sir," said John.
Ben, who was not remarkable for politeness, did not deign a word in reply to his uncle's invitation.
In spite of Mr. Huxter's not very prepossessing exterior John began to think him quite a pleasant man, and felt obliged to him for his invitation, though he felt no particular desire to accept it.
After supper was over, Mr. Huxter turned to John:—
"I am going out on the door-step to smoke my pipe. I suppose you don't smoke?"
"No, sir," said John.
"I was going to ask you to join me; but of course you don't smoke. It isn't good for boys. Do you smoke, Ben?"
"I don't smoke apipe," said Ben, glancing withsome disgust at the clay pipe, the bowl of which his uncle was filling.
"I suppose you, being a young gentleman, smoke cigars. They are more aristocratic. But I'm a poor man, and I can't afford them. Well, if you'll get your cigar, we'll have a social smoke together."
"I've got an engagement," said Ben, not very graciously, and, putting on his hat, he stalked off.
"He's an impudent puppy," said Mr. Huxter to himself. "I wish I had the training of him for a little while. But I must put up with his insults, or lose all hope of help from my sister."
"Come home early, Benjamin," said his mother.
"Oh, you needn't sit up for me. You go to bed so precious early it doesn't give me any evening at all."
Mrs. Oakley followed him with her eyes a little uneasily. While Mr. Oakley was alive Ben kept pretty straight, for he stood somewhat in awe of his stepfather; but since his death he had shown a disposition to have his own way, and his mother's wishes weighed very little with him. She could not help feeling that the boy in whom her dearest hopes centred, and for whom she was willing even to wrong another, manifested very little gratitude for her devotion to him. John, whom she charged with lack of respect, treated her at all times much more respectfullythan her own son. But Mrs. Oakley was prejudiced, and would not see this. She shut her eyes alike to John's merits and Ben's faults, and the latter took his own way, spending the evening in the bar-room and billiard saloon, and learning much that he ought not to have learned.
About half-past nine in the evening, when John was studying his lesson in "Xenophon's Anabasis," he heard a low knock at the door. Supposing it to be one of the servants, he said, carelessly, "Come in!"
Looking up, as the door opened, he was not a little surprised at the entrance of his stepmother. With the instincts of a young gentleman, he rose hastily, and, drawing a chair, said:—
"Won't you sit down, Mrs. Oakley?"
"Thank you, John," said his stepmother; "I will sit down a moment. You are studying, I suppose."
"Yes, I was preparing my Greek lesson for to-morrow."
John tried not to look surprised, but he wondered very much what should have led to a call from Mrs. Oakley, especially at so late an hour.
"You are getting on well in your studies, I have no doubt."
"Thank you. So my teacher says."
"I am glad to hear it. I am afraid it will be aninterruption for you to be absent from school a few days."
"Yes, it would be an interruption; but if you wish it, I could try to make it up afterwards."
"I came to ask a favor of that kind."
"Does she want me to work on the farm?" thought John, puzzled.
But he was not long kept in doubt.
"My brother, who is now stopping here, leaves for home to-morrow morning," proceeded Mrs. Oakley. "There's a little business I want attended to, which makes it desirable that some one should go back with him. I might send Ben, but I don't think he would answer the purpose. So I have thought of you."
"Does Mr. Huxter go to-morrow morning?" asked John.
"He has just decided to do so. That, I am aware, gives you but short notice," said Mrs. Oakley.
"Shall I need to be away long?"
"A few days at least. Have you a carpet-bag?"
"A small one."
"That will answer. You can put in a couple of shirts, some collars, stockings, and handkerchiefs."
"How shall I know what to do?"
"My brother will give you all the needful information.And now, good-night. We shall breakfast at six, in order to be in time for the stage."
"Very well, I will be ready."
Mrs. Oakley left the room, and went downstairs, leaving John considerably puzzled by what had happened. He was sorry to be kept from school for a few days even, for he was at the head of his class both in Greek and Latin, and would lose his standing temporarily at least. But it was characteristic of him to be obliging, even at the cost of some self-sacrifice, and therefore he had made no opposition to the wishes of his stepmother, though it did occur to him that, as Ben neither attended school nor did anything else except amuse himself, he might have executed his mother's commission. However, John knew enough of Ben's disobliging disposition to suspect that he had been applied to and refused, especially as he could see that he had no great affection for his uncle. Of course he could have no suspicion of the trap which Mrs. Oakley had artfully laid for him, and that the few days' absence were intended by her to extend to months and possibly years.
"If I am going early to-morrow morning," thought John, "I may as well stop studying and pack my carpet-bag. I wish I had asked Mrs. Oakley where her brother lives."
John closed his "Anabasis," and found his carpet-bag. Into it he put whatever he thought would be needed in a week's absence. He did not suppose he should be away longer than that.
"If it were not so late," he thought, "I would run over and tell Sam that I am to be away for a few days. He will be surprised when he don't see me at school."
But it was too late, for the village clock just then struck ten, and as he must be up early, John felt that the best thing he could do was to go to bed and get a good night's sleep, to prepare him for the fatigues of the succeeding day.
After a sound and refreshing night's sleep, John went downstairs the next morning, with his carpet-bag in his hand. The table was spread for breakfast, and Mr. Huxter and Mrs. Oakley had already taken their seats.
"Good-morning, John," said Mrs. Oakley; "you are just in time. Are you all ready to go?"
"Yes," said John.
"Then sit down to breakfast, for the stage will be here very soon."
"So I am to have the pleasure of your company, Mr. Oakley?" said Mr. Huxter. "I did not anticipate that I should so soon receive a visit fromyou when I invited you yesterday to my humble home."
"In what town do you live, Mr. Huxter?" asked John.
"Well, folks call it Hardscrabble," said Mr. Huxter, with a laugh.
"Is it far away?"
"We'll get there to-night if nothing happens," said Mr. Huxter.
John did not know whether to conclude that Hardscrabble was, or was not, the real name of the town, but did not like to press the inquiry. He never remembered to have heard of a town bearing that name. However, he would know by evening at any rate. He could not help feeling some curiosity as to Mr. Huxter's home; but neither that gentleman's appearance nor description of it led him to form a very high idea of its sumptuousness.
The breakfast was a substantial one, and Mr. Huxter did justice to it. Indeed, he was seldom wanting in a good appetite, especially when the repast was an inviting one.
"I suppose I shan't see Ben before I go?" said he, leaning back in his chair, and picking his teeth with a fork.
"I am afraid not," said Mrs. Oakley. "Ben gothome rather late last night, and I suppose the poor boy is tired this morning. I think I had better not disturb him."
"Don't disturb him on my account," said his uncle, who did not seem much disappointed by Ben's absence. "He'd better have his sleep out. But, sister Jane, if I were you I wouldn't let him stay out so late in the evening."
"You must remember, Ephraim, he's a young gentleman now. It won't do to keep him in leading-strings, just as if he were a boy."
"I'd keep him in check if he were my boy," thought Mr. Huxter; but he saw that it would not be best to say so.
"Well, Jane, of course you know best," he said. "When are you coming to make us a visit?"
"Not very soon, I am afraid. I can't leave the farm very well. There are too many things which need attending to."
"There's the stage," said John, suddenly.
The rumbling of the wheels was faintly heard up the road. All rose from the table, and prepared to go. Mrs. Oakley brought out a covered basket and handed it to her brother.
"I've put some sandwiches in this basket," she said. "You'll be hungry by and by, and it willsave you the expense of stopping at a hotel for dinner."
"Very good!" said Mr. Huxter, with satisfaction. "That's what I meant to speak about, but I forgot it. I begrudge paying for dinner at a tavern. They always charge you about double what it's worth. Come, Mr. Oakley, are you ready?"
"All ready, sir."
The rumbling of the stage was now distinctly heard. They opened the front door, and made signals for it to stop. The lumbering vehicle was brought to in front of the gate, and the driver jumped from his elevated perch, and opened the door for the passengers to enter.
"I think I'll take a seat outside, if it makes no difference to you, Mr. Huxter," said John.
"Just as you like," was the reply.
So, while Mr. Huxter got inside, John took a seat beside the driver.
"Where are you going, John?" asked the driver, who knew everybody in the village, and was on intimate terms with all.
"I'm going away with the gentleman who has just got inside," said John.
"Where does he live?"
"I don't know the name of the place," said ourhero, suspecting that Hardscrabble was only a local appellation.
"Be gone long?"
"Not more than a week."
Meanwhile, Mrs. Oakley watched the receding stage with satisfaction. When it was out of sight, she entered the house.
"Now," said she, "I'll look for the will without John Oakley to spy upon me."
AlthoughJohn would prefer to have remained at home, in order that his studies might be uninterrupted, he nevertheless could not help deriving enjoyment from the ride on the stage-coach. It was a beautiful morning. The sun was gilding with its beams the fields and brooks, and a beautiful breeze rustled in and out among the leaves of the trees that for some distance lined the road. John, from his elevated perch, had an excellent view of the scenes through which they passed. As they rode by the house of Squire Selwyn, lie hoped to catch sight of his friend Sam; but Sam was nowhere to be seen.
"Sam is lazy this morning," thought John, disappointed.
But there he did Sam injustice. He had risen early, and with hook and line had gone to the pond to fish. From a distance he caught a glimpse of the stage rumbling along the village street, but it wastoo far off for him to distinguish the outside passengers. He would have been surprised had he known that among them was his friend John.
Ere long they were beyond the limits of the township. Occasionally the stage stopped to take in a fresh passenger, or to discharge a portion of its living freight. At intervals of a few miles they came to some village tavern, with a broad swinging sign, where the driver would pause to water his horses, or, at longer intervals, to exchange them for a fresh supply. Once or twice John descended to stretch his legs, stiff with long sitting. More than once he observed Mr. Huxter enter the tavern, and come out with his nose a little redder than usual.
"I went in to get a glass of bitters," he explained to John, whom he encountered at the door on one of these occasions. "I'll get you some if you want it."
"Thank you," said John. "I don't care for any."
"Well, you're young and strong, and don't need them. When you get to my age, you'll need a little something to stimulate you."
John, who rightly conjectured that the glass of "bitters" was only another name for New England rum, could not help thinking that Mr. Huxter would have been quite as well off without it; but this thought he of course kept to himself.
"The old gentleman is rather fond of 'wetting his whistle,' isn't he?" said the driver, familiarly.
"So it seems," said John, briefly.
He did not care to discuss the conduct of his stepmother's brother with any one, and therefore confined himself to this remark. At twelve o'clock they had travelled forty miles.
"The stage will stop half an hour for dinner," said the driver, as he drew up in front of an old-fashioned country tavern.
"This is as far as I go," said the driver to John. "Do you stop here?"
"No, we go further on."
"I suppose you'll be comin' back this way in a few days?"
"I expect so. By the way, if you see Sam Selwyn to-night, just tell him that I was one of your passengers this morning."
"All right."
"John Oakley!" said Mr. Huxter, from below.
"Here, sir," said John.
"Just get down, and bring that basket with you. We'll go under the trees and have a bite."
John followed directions, and the two sat down together, with the basket between them.
"Travelling is hungry work," said Mr. Huxter. "Let's see what my sister has put up for us."
The basket, being uncovered, proved to be full of sandwiches, with a few doughnuts on top. They were all excellent of their kind; for Mrs. Oakley, whatever might be said of her in other respects, was a good house-keeper, and took care that whatever food was prepared in the house should be good.
"Now, Oakley," said Mr. Huxter, "we needn't have any ceremony here. Just make yourself at home and pitch in."
It may be observed that Mr. Huxter was gradually beginning to treat John with greater familiarity. When first introduced, he had addressed him as "Mr. Oakley." Next it was "John Oakley." Now it was "Oakley," without any prefix. John, who had no inordinate sense of his own dignity, was not much disturbed by this, but continued to treat Mr. Huxter with the same outward respect as at first.
Mr. Huxter followed his own recommendations strictly. He did "pitch in," and with such vigor that he consumed two-thirds of the contents of the basket, while John, whose appetite had also been stimulated by the long ride, was eating the remaining third.
"Well, there aint much left, that's a fact," he said,surveying the empty basket. "The ride's given you a pretty good appetite, Oakley."
"Pretty good," said John, smiling at the unexpected inference drawn from the empty basket.
"That's lucky, for we shan't get anything more till we get home," said Mr. Huxter.
"When will that be?" inquired John.
"Somewhere about seven. It's a long pull; but I guess we can stand it," said Mr. Huxter.
"I think I can," said John.
"The old lady won't be expecting us," said Mr. Huxter. "I told her I might, maybe, be gone a fortnight."
"She'll be glad to see you so soon," said John, who did not think of anything else to say.
"Umph!" said Mr. Huxter, in a tone which might be interpreted as conveying a little doubt on this point. "I feel a little dry," he said, rising and stretching himself. "I think I'll go into the house, and see if I can find a little water."
When Mr. Huxter reappeared, John inferred from his appearance that, if he had been drinking water, it had been largely mingled with a different beverage. He satisfied his own thirst at the pump, where he drank a deep and refreshing draught of clear coldwater, purer and better than any liquid which the art of man has devised.
So the afternoon passed. Twice more Mr. Huxter got out of the stage, and entered a wayside tavern, on the same mysterious errand. Each time he reappeared with his nose redder, and his eyes more inflamed. The liquor which he had drunk made him quarrelsome, and so disagreeable to his fellow-passengers. Finally one of them called to the driver in an authoritative voice to stop, and insisted that Mr. Huxter should travel outside for the remainder of the way. With some difficulty he was induced to make the change, and from that time John had the pleasure of his society.
"Who are you?" asked Mr. Huxter, fixing his eyes upon John with a vacant stare.
"I am John Oakley," said our hero.
"Oh, yes, I know. You're the son of old Oakley that my sister Jane married."
It was painful to John to hear his father spoken of as old Oakley, but he understood Mr. Huxter's situation, and felt that it would be idle to resent anything said under such circumstances.
"Old Oakley left all his property to Jane," continued Mr. Huxter, with a drunken laugh. "Oh,she's a deep one, is Jane! She knows how her bread is buttered."
John turned away in disgust, and tried not to heed what was said.
"But she's hard on her poor brother," whined Mr. Huxter. "She ought to have come down with something handsome."
His mutterings became incoherent, and John ceased to notice them. At length, about seven o'clock, the stage drove into a small village, of not particularly attractive appearance.
"Well," said the driver, turning to John, "you're most home."
"Am I?" asked John.
"Of course you are. Aint you travelling withhim?" indicating Mr. Huxter by a gesture.
"Yes; I've come with him on a little business."
"Then you're not going to stay?"
"Oh, no!"
"Lucky for you!"
John didn't inquire why the driver thought it lucky for him. He thought he understood without any explanation.
"Do you go any further?" he asked of the driver.
"To the next town."
"What is the name of this place?"
"Some folks call it Hardscrabble; but the real name is Jackson."
"Where does Mr. Huxter live?"
"Up the road apiece. I go right by the gate. I'll stop and leave you there."
A little less than a mile further the driver reined up his horses.
"Here you are," he said. "Now look sharp, for I'm behind time."
With some difficulty Mr. Huxter, who had now become quite drowsy, was made to understand that he had reached home. With still greater difficulty, he was assisted in safety to the ground, and the stage drove on.
John now for the first time looked about him to see what sort of a place he had reached. He distinguished a two-story house, old-fashioned in appearance, standing a few rods back from the road. It was sadly in need of a fresh coat of paint, as was also the fence which surrounded it. A little distance from the house, at one side, was a small building of one story, liberally supplied with windows, which John afterwards learned to be a shoe-shop. It was Mr. Huxter's place of business, when he saw fit to work, which was by no means regularly. An old cart, a wood-pile, and some barrels littered up thefront yard. A field alongside was overgrown with weeds, and everything indicated shiftlessness and neglect.
John had no difficulty in opening the front gate, for it hung upon one hinge, and was never shut. He supported Mr. Huxter to the door and knocked, for there was no bell. The summons was answered by a girl of ten, in a dirty calico dress and dishevelled hair.
"Mother," she screamed, shrilly, as she saw who it was, "here's father come home, and there's somebody with him!"
At this intimation, a woman came from a back room to the door. She looked thin and careworn, as if the life which she led was not a very happy one.
"Mrs. Huxter, I suppose?" asked John.
"Yes," said she.
"Your husband does not feel quite well," said John, expressing in as delicate a manner as possible the fact that something was out of order with Mr. Huxter.
"Who said I wasn't well?" exclaimed Mr. Huxter, in a rough voice. "Never was better in my life. I say, Polly, can't you get us something to eat? I'm most starved."
Mrs. Huxter looked inquiringly at John, whose presence with her husband she did not understand.
"I believe I am to stop here for a day or two," said John, responding to her look. "My name is John Oakley. I am the stepson of Mr. Huxter's sister."
"Oh, yes, I know," said Mrs. Huxter. "I am afraid we can't accommodate you very well, Mr. Oakley, but we'll do our best."
"What's good enough for us is good enough for him," said Mr. Huxter, fiercely. "He's as poor as we are. Sister Jane's got all the money. She's a deep one, is sister Jane."
"I hope you won't be offended at what he says, Mr. Oakley," said Mrs. Huxter, in an apologetic tone. "He don't mean what he says."
"Shut up, Mrs. Huxter!" said her husband, who was disposed to be quarrelsome. "Don't make a fool of yourself, but get supper as soon as you can."
"We haven't got any meat in the house," said Mrs. Huxter, timidly. "You know you only left me a little money."
"Here's some money," said Mr. Huxter, fumbling in his pocket, and producing a five-dollar bill.
Mrs. Huxter took the bill, surprised at its large amount, for she seldom got more than one dollar at atime. Forthwith the girl of ten was sent for some steak at the butcher's, and in a reasonable time supper was declared to be ready. Meanwhile Mr. Huxter had been to the pump, and by the free use of cold water, applied externally, succeeded in getting the better of his intoxication, and was prepared to do full justice to the meal provided.
By the time supper was over, it was half-past eight. John felt fatigued with his long journey, and asked permission to retire. He was shown to an attic chamber, furnished only with a cot bed and a broken chair. But, rude as were the accommodations, John slept soundly, little dreaming the unwelcome news that awaited him on the morrow.