"I might as well get a good breakfast," soliloquized Mr. Huxter. "I can charge it to Jane. She can't expect me to chase John Oakley over hill and dale on an empty stomach!"
Mr. Huxter began to indulge in pleasing anticipations of what he would do to John when he had captured him, forgetting the good old rule, that before cooking a hare you must catch him.
MeanwhileJohn was plodding along at a moderate pace. He had no idea of the danger that menaced him. He was now ten or eleven miles away from Jackson, and this gave him a feeling of security; not that the distance was so great, but that, of the many directions in which he might have gone, he saw no reason to think that Mr. Huxter would be likely to guess the right one.
On the whole, John felt in very good spirits. It was a bright, pleasant morning in September, with a clear, bracing air, that lent vigor to his steps. He decided to stop in Redport until after dinner, and then inquire his way more particularly. He determined to take the stage or cars, if he found any that ran across to Wilton. The expense would not be any greater, probably, than the cost of the meal and lodging for which, if he walked, he would be obliged to pay at the country inns.
He had got to the bottom of a hill when he heard the clattering of wheels behind him, and was startled by the sound of a voice only too familiar. "Stop, you rascal!"
John looked round, and his heart made a sudden bound when he recognized the well-known face of Mr. Huxter projecting out of a chaise, which was tearing down the hill at furious speed.
"So I've caught you, have I?" exclaimed his pursuer, in exultation. "I've got an account to settle with you, you young scamp!"
John was no coward, but he knew that in a physical contest, he, a boy of fifteen, would be no match for a man close upon six feet in height. Discretion was evidently the better part of valor. If he could not overcome his antagonist, could he elude him? He darted a quick glance around, in order to understand the situation and form his plans.
He couldn't keep on, that was evident. To the right, at the distance of a quarter of a mile, he saw a small pond gleaming in the sunlight. It might have been a mile in circumference. Behind it was a belt of woods. It occurred to John that he might find a boat somewhere along the shore. If so, he could paddle across, and Mr. Huxter would be left in the lurch. If he found no boat, his chances would besmall. But at any rate this seemed his only feasible plan. Mr. Huxter was already within a few rods, so there was no time to lose. John clambered up on the stone wall.
"Stop, you rascal!" shouted Mr. Huxter, as soon as he saw this movement.
"I'd rather not," said John, coolly.
"I'll give you the worst flogging you ever had!" said his pursuer, provoked.
"That's no inducement," said John, as he jumped on the other side, and began to run across the field.
"I'll make him pay for all the trouble he gives me," said Mr. Huxter, between his teeth.
He stopped the horse, and jumped into the road. He would like to have pursued John at once, but he did not dare to leave the horse loose, fearing that he would not stand. Although chafing at the delay, he felt that prudence required him to secure the horse, which was a valuable one, before setting out after the fugitive. "The more haste the worse speed," says an old proverb. So it proved in the present instance. Five minutes were consumed in attaching the horse to the branch of a tree. This done, Mr. Huxter jumped over the stone wall, and looked to see how far John had got. Our hero had already reached the shore of the pond, and was running alongbeside it. Mr. Huxter's eyes lighted up with exultation.
"I'll have him yet," he muttered. "The pond is in my favor."
He began to run diagonally to the point John was likely to reach. But suddenly John stopped and bent over.
"What's he doing?" thought the pursuer puzzled.
A moment revealed the mystery. Reaching the top of a little knoll, he saw John jump into a boat, rowing vigorously from shore. He was only just in time. One minute later, and Mr. Huxter stood at the edge of the pond. He was excessively provoked at the boy's escape.
"Come back here!" he shouted, authoritatively.
"I would rather not," said John.
He rested on his oars a moment, and looked calmly at his pursuer. There he was, only three rods distant, and yet quite out of reach. Certainly it was very tantalizing. If there had only been another boat! But there was not. The one which John was in was the only one upon the pond. John felt very comfortable. He fully appreciated the advantage he had over his antagonist.
"Come back here, I say!" screamed Mr. Huxter, stamping his foot.
"Why should I?" asked John, calmly.
"Why should you? Because I'm your guardian."
"I don't think you are, Mr. Huxter."
"At any rate, you're under my charge."
"Suppose I come to the shore, what then?" asked John.
"I'll give you such a flogging that you won't dare to run away again."
"In that case," said John, smiling, "I think I'd better not come."
"You'd better come, if you know what is best for yourself."
"But I don't think a flogging would be best for me," said John, smiling again.
Mr. Huxter was excessively angry; but he saw that he was on the wrong tack. It was not easy for him to change it, for he felt too provoked; but he saw that he must do it, or give up the chance of capturing John.
"Well," he said, after a little pause, "then I'll pass over the flogging this time. But you must come to shore. I want to go home as soon as I can."
"I am not going home with you," said John, composedly.
"Why not, I should like to know?"
"I should never be happy at your house."
"You're homesick. That will pass off."
John shook his head.
"I can't go back."
"Come, Oakley," said Mr. Huxter, changing his tone; "you think I bear malice for the little accident that happened yesterday. I don't mind confessing that it made me feel ugly when I fell into that tub of hot water. You wouldn't have liked it yourself, would you?"
"No, I don't think I should," said John, smiling in spite of himself, as the image of Mr. Huxter's downfall rose before him.
"You can't blame me for feeling mad. But I know it was an accident, and I forgive you. You know it's your duty to come back."
"I don't know about that," said John.
"Your stepmother made the arrangement for your good, and it's your duty to obey her."
"Mrs. Oakley has not treated me as I had a right to expect," said John. "There was no reason for her sending me away from home."
"She thought it best for you," said Mr. Huxter, condescending to reason with the boy, who was beyond his reach.
"She took me from school, though she knew thatmy father wished me to remain there, and get ready for college."
"She thinks you know enough already. You know more than Ben."
"Ben doesn't care for study. He could have prepared for college if he had wished."
"Well, perhaps you're right," said Mr. Huxter, with wily diplomacy. "I didn't see it in that light before. If your father wanted you to go to college, it's all right that you should go. I'll write to my sister as soon as we get home, and tell her how you feel about it. So just come ashore, and we'll talk it over as we go home."
Mr. Huxter's words were smooth enough, but they did not correspond very well with his tone, when the conference began. John detected his insincerity, and understood very well the cause of his apparent mildness.
"I shall be glad to have you write to Mrs. Oakley," he said; "but there won't be any need of my going home with you."
"How can you find out what she writes me?" asked Mr. Huxter, subduing his wrath.
"If Mrs. Oakley is willing to have me go home and attend the academy, as I have been accustomedto do, she can let Squire Selwyn know it, and he will get word to me."
"Does he know you are running away?" demanded Mr. Huxter, frowning.
"No, he does not; but I shall tell him."
"Come, Oakley," said Mr. Huxter, persuasively, "you know this is all wrong,—your running away, I mean. I don't want you to stay at my house if you don't like it, of course, but I don't like to have it said that you ran away. Just come ashore and go home with me, and to-morrow I'll take the responsibility of sending you home to my sister. I can write her that I think she hasn't done the right thing by you. That's fair, isn't it?"
John felt that it would be fair; but unfortunately he had no faith in Mr. Huxter's sincerity. He had seen too much of him for that. He could not help thinking of the spider's gracious invitation to the fly, and he did not mean to incur the fly's fate by imitating his folly.
"I don't think it will be wise for me to go back," said John.
"I wish I could get at you," said Mr. Huxter to himself.
"My sister will be very angry when she hears of your running away," he said, aloud.
"Yes," said John, "I suppose she will."
"You must take care not to provoke her. You are dependent upon her."
"That I am not!" said John, proudly.
"Didn't your father leave her all the property?"
"So it seems," said John, wincing.
"Then how can you live without her help?"
"I am old enough to earn my own living," answered John.
"Come, Oakley, don't be foolish. What's the use of working for your living, when, by behaving right, you can have a home without?"
Mr. Huxter seemed to forget that he had intended to set John at work in his shoe-shop as soon as he could obtain a supply of work.
"I am not afraid to work," said John. "What I dislike is to be dependent. I am not dependent upon Mrs. Oakley, for the property which my father left was partly intended for my benefit, even if it was not willed to me. If Mrs. Oakley intends me to feel dependent, and breaks up all my plans, I will go to work for myself, and make my own way in the world."
"Very fine talk; but you'll repent it within a week."
"No," said John; "I have made up my mind, and I shall do as I have determined."
"Then you won't come ashore?" demanded Mr. Huxter, his tone changing.
"No, I will not," said John.
"If I ever get hold of you, I'll make you smart for this," said Mr. Huxter, now wholly throwing off the mask which for prudential motives he had worn.
"I don't mean that you shall get hold of me," said John, coolly. And with a sweep of the oars, he sent the boat further from the shore.
Mr. Huxter was beside himself with rage, but perfectly powerless to do any harm. Nothing is more ludicrous than such a spectacle. He screamed himself hoarse, uttering threats of various kinds to John, who, instead of being frightened, took it all very coolly, dipping his oars tranquilly in the water.
"There's one way of getting at you," said Huxter, suddenly picking up a good-sized stone and flinging it at the boat.
If he had been a good marksman the stone might have hit John, for the boat was within range; but it veered aside and struck the water. Admonished of a new danger, John took several rapid strokes, and was quickly free from this peril. Mr. Huxter shook his fist wrathfully at the young boatman, and was considering if there was any way of getting at him, when an unexpected mischance called his attentionin another direction. Looking towards the road, he found that his horse had managed to break loose, and was now heading for home.
"Whoa!" he shouted, as he ran towards the retreating vehicle, forgetting that his voice would hardly reach a third of a mile.
Certainly this was not one of Mr. Huxter's lucky days. John was left master of the situation.
Atthe close of the last chapter we left John floating at his ease in a row-boat, while his pursuer was compelled, by the sudden departure of his horse, to give up his immediate purpose, and chase the flying animal. It was very much against his will that he left John; but the horse, as he knew, was the best in the stable, and valued at not less than three hundred dollars,—a sum which he would be unable to make up. Besides this, the chaise might be injured.
"Curse my luck!" exclaimed Mr. Huxter, as he glanced back at John, with a baffled look. "Every thing turns against me. But I'll come back after the young rascal as soon as I catch the horse."
But, unfortunately for Mr. Huxter, it proved that two legs were no match for four. When he got to the road, the horse was half a mile ahead. In spite of his haste, he was obliged to pause a moment and recover his breath, which the unusual exercise of running had exhausted.
Mr. Huxter was nearly two miles distant from the tavern where he had stopped. His only hope was that the horse would stop or be stopped there. As soon as he recovered his breath, he started for the tavern, therefore. Partly running, partly walking, he at length arrived, tired, heated, and in ill-humor.
Entering the yard, he saw a group of men and boys surrounding the horse and chaise, which had already arrived. Among them was Mr. Jones, the landlord.
"Why, here's the man himself!" exclaimed the landlord, advancing to meet him. "How came your horse to run away? Were you spilled out?"
"No; I tied him to a tree, and he broke loose and ran away. Has he done any harm?" asked Mr. Huxter, nervously.
"He's smashed one of the wheels in running against a post," said a bystander.
"Let me see," said Mr. Huxter, dolefully.
He found that it was as bad as had been told him. The horse made a short turn into the inn-yard, and managed to bring the chaise into collision with a post. The wheel was pretty well shattered.
"Looks bad," said the bystander. "It'll cost something to mend it."
"It can't be mended," said Mr. Jones. "You'll have to get a new wheel."
"What'll it cost?" said Mr. Huxter, with something very like a groan.
"I can't say exactly. Maybe twenty-five dollars will do it."
"It might have been worse," said the bystander, in what was meant to be an encouraging tone.
"It's bad enough," said Mr. Huxter, fiercely. "It's just my cursed luck."
"Was the carriage yours?" asked the landlord.
"No, I got it from a stable. They'll charge me about double price."
"Oh, by the way, did you catch the boy?" asked the landlord, in a tone of interest.
"No," said Mr. Huxter, with an oath which I will omit. "I had just overtaken him when the cursed horse ran away."
"Well, you are unlucky," said Jones. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I suppose I must get the carriage home somehow."
"You might get a new wheel put on here. There's an excellent wheelwright in the village. It will cost you less."
Mr. Huxter finally made an arrangement to thiseffect, the wheelwright agreeing for twenty-five dollars to put the chaise in repair. This, with the stable charge, made thirty dollars as the expense of Mr. Huxter's little excursion, which, as we have seen, ended in disappointment. He decided not to continue the pursuit of John, having good reason to doubt whether he would catch him.
There was one question which troubled Mr. Huxter: Would his sister be willing to pay this thirty dollars? If not, it would indeed be a bad morning's work for him. He lost no time, on getting home, in writing to Mrs. Oakley. His letter is subjoined.
"Dear Sister:—I hope these few lines will find you in good health. This comes to inform you that the young rascal that I took to board to accommodate you has run away, after treating me most shameful. I hired a team to go after him this morning; but the horse ran away and broke the carriage, which will cost me forty dollars to mend. (Mr. Huxter thought if Mrs. Oakley was to pay the bill he might as well add something to it.) As I was on your business, you will expect to pay this, of course. You can send the money in a letter. I will get back John Oakley if I can. He is a young scamp, and I don't wonder you had trouble with him. When I get him back, I will make him toe the mark, you may be sure of that. Please write to me by return mail, and don't forget the money. Your brother,""Ephraim Huxter."
"Dear Sister:—I hope these few lines will find you in good health. This comes to inform you that the young rascal that I took to board to accommodate you has run away, after treating me most shameful. I hired a team to go after him this morning; but the horse ran away and broke the carriage, which will cost me forty dollars to mend. (Mr. Huxter thought if Mrs. Oakley was to pay the bill he might as well add something to it.) As I was on your business, you will expect to pay this, of course. You can send the money in a letter. I will get back John Oakley if I can. He is a young scamp, and I don't wonder you had trouble with him. When I get him back, I will make him toe the mark, you may be sure of that. Please write to me by return mail, and don't forget the money. Your brother,"
"Ephraim Huxter."
Mr. Huxter did not have to wait long for an answer; but it proved to be less satisfactory than prompt. It ran as follows:—
"My dear Brother:—Your letter has just reached me. I am surprised that you could not manage to control a boy of fifteen. It seems that he has got the best of you. You need not trouble yourself to get him back. If he chooses to run away and earn his own living, he may, for all I care. He is a young rascal, as you say."As to the carriage which you say was damaged to the extent of forty dollars, I do not see how it could have happened, with ordinary care. How did it happen? You ought to have told me in your letter. Nor do I see how you can expect me to pay for the result of your carelessness. But even if I were to do it, you seem to forget that I advanced you seventy-five dollars on John's board. As he has remained only one week, that being deducted will leave a balance of sixty-nine dollars, or perhaps sixty, after taking out travelling expenses. I could rightfully require this back; but I will not be hard on you. You may pay for the damage done to the carriage (I am surprised that it should amount to forty dollars), and keep the balance as a gift from me. But it will be useless for you to make any further claim on me for a year, at least, as I have large expenses, and charity begins at home. Remember me to your wife.""Jane Oakley."
"My dear Brother:—Your letter has just reached me. I am surprised that you could not manage to control a boy of fifteen. It seems that he has got the best of you. You need not trouble yourself to get him back. If he chooses to run away and earn his own living, he may, for all I care. He is a young rascal, as you say.
"As to the carriage which you say was damaged to the extent of forty dollars, I do not see how it could have happened, with ordinary care. How did it happen? You ought to have told me in your letter. Nor do I see how you can expect me to pay for the result of your carelessness. But even if I were to do it, you seem to forget that I advanced you seventy-five dollars on John's board. As he has remained only one week, that being deducted will leave a balance of sixty-nine dollars, or perhaps sixty, after taking out travelling expenses. I could rightfully require this back; but I will not be hard on you. You may pay for the damage done to the carriage (I am surprised that it should amount to forty dollars), and keep the balance as a gift from me. But it will be useless for you to make any further claim on me for a year, at least, as I have large expenses, and charity begins at home. Remember me to your wife."
"Jane Oakley."
"Well, if that isn't a cold-blooded letter!" said Mr. Huxter, bitterly. "Jane is rich now, and don'tcare for the privations of her poor brother. She blames me because the chaise got broken,—just as if I could help it."
Still Mr. Huxter had no real reason to complain. His sister had agreed to pay for the damage done, and there would be something left out of the money she had paid in advance. But Mr. Huxter, as soon as he had received it, had at once looked upon it as his own, though not yet earned, and to use it seemed as if he were paying the bill out of his own pocket. Then, again, the very decided intimation that he need not look for any more assistance at present was discouraging. Deducting expenses, it would leave him but a small amount to pay him for his journey to Hampton. He resolved not to pay the wheelwright, if he could possibly avoid it, not being very conscientious about paying his debts. But, as Mr. Huxter's reputation in that way was well known, the wheelwright refused to surrender the chaise till his bill was paid; and the stable-keeper made such a fuss that Mr. Huxter was compelled to pay the bill, though very much against his inclination.
The result of his disappointment was, that he began to drink worse than ever, and poor Mrs. Huxter, for some weeks, had a hard time of it. She was certainly very much to be pitied, as is every poor woman whofinds herself yoked for life to a husband wedded to a habit so fatal to all domestic comfort and happiness.
WhenJohn found that his enemy had abandoned the siege, he rowed ashore, and watched Mr. Huxter until he became satisfied that it would require a considerable time to catch the horse. He thought that he might venture to pursue his journey, without further fear of molestation. Of the incidents that followed, none are worth recording. It is sufficient to say that on the evening of the second day John entered the town of Wilton.
It was years since he had seen his aunt. She had been confined at home by the cares of a young family, and the distance between Wilton and Hampton seemed formidable. He knew, however, that his uncle, Thomas Berry, kept a small country store, and had done so ever since his marriage. In a country village it is always easy to find the "store," and John kept up the main road, feeling that it would not be necessary to inquire. He came at length to ameeting-house, and judged that the store would not be far off. In fact, a few rods further he came to a long, two-story building, painted white, with a piazza in front. On a large sign-board over it he read:—
"THOMAS BERRY.PROVISION AND DRY-GOODS STORE."
"This must be the place," thought John. "I think I'll go into the store first and see uncle."
He entered, and found himself in a broad room, low-studded, furnished with counters on two sides, and crowded with a motley collection of goods, embracing calicoes and dry goods generally, as well as barrels of molasses and firkins of butter. There chanced to be no customer in at the time. Behind the counter he saw, not his uncle, but a young man, with long, light hair combed behind his ears, not very prepossessing in his appearance,—at least so John thought.
"Is Mr. Berry in?" he asked, walking up to the counter.
"Mr. Berry is dead," was the unexpected reply.
"Dead!" exclaimed John, in surprise. "How long since he died?"
"A week ago."
"We never heard of it," said John, half to himself.
"Are you a relation?" asked the young man.
"He was my uncle."
"Is your name Oakley?"
"Yes, John Oakley."
"Of Hampton?"
"Yes."
"A letter was sent there, announcing the death."
This was true; but Mrs. Oakley, who received the letter, had not thought it necessary to send intelligence of its contents to John.
"Didn't you get it?" continued the other.
"I haven't been at home for a week or more," said John. "I suppose that accounts for it. How is my aunt?"
"She is not very well."
"I think I will go into the house and see her."
John went around to the door of the house and knocked. A young girl of twelve answered. Though John had not seen her for six years, he concluded that it must be his Cousin Martha.
"How do you do, Cousin Martha?" he said, extending his hand.
"Are you my Cousin John Oakley?" she said, doubtfully.
"Yes. I did not hear till just now of your loss," said John. "How is your mother?"
"She is not very well. Come in, Cousin John. She will be glad to see you."
John was ushered into a small sitting-room, where he found his aunt seated in a chair by the window, sewing on a black dress for one of the children.
"Here's Cousin John, mother," said Martha.
An expression of pleasure came to Mrs. Berry's pale face.
"I am very glad to see you, John," she said. "You were very kind to come. Is your stepmother well?"
"Quite well," said John. "But I do not come directly from home."
"Indeed! How does that happen?" asked his aunt.
"It is rather a long story, aunt. I will tell you by and by. But now tell me about yourself. Of what did my uncle die?"
"He exposed himself imprudently in a storm one evening three months since," said Mrs. Berry. "In consequence of this, he took a severe cold, which finally terminated in a fever. We did not at first suppose him to be in any danger, but he graduallybecame worse, and a week since he died. It is a terrible loss to me and my poor children."
Here his aunt put her handkerchief to her face to wipe away the tears that started at the thought of her bereavement.
"Dear aunt, I sympathize with you," said John, earnestly, taking her hand.
"I know you do, John," said his aunt. "I don't know how I can get along alone, with four poor fatherless children to look after."
"God will help you, aunt. You must look to him," said John, reverently.
"It is that thought alone that sustains me," said Mrs. Berry. "But sometimes, when the thought of my bereavement comes upon me, I don't realize it as I should."
"I went into the store first," said John. "I suppose it was my uncle's assistant that I saw there?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Berry; "it was Mr. Hall."
"I suppose he manages the store now for you?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Berry, slowly. "But I hardly know that it is right to say that he manages it for me."
"Why not?" asked John, perplexed by his aunt's manner, which seemed to him strange.
"I will tell you, John," said his aunt. "WhenMr. Berry died, I thought he owned the stock clear, and had no debts; but day before yesterday Mr. Hall called in, and showed me a note for two thousand dollars, signed by Mr. Berry. I don't suppose the stock is worth more than three thousand. Of course that makes a very great difference in my circumstances. In fact, it will leave me only a thousand dollars, at the utmost, to support my poor children. I don't know what I shall do." And the poor woman, whose nerves had been shaken by her grief, burst into tears.
"Didn't my uncle own this building, then?" asked John.
"No, he never owned it. He hired it at a low rent from Mr. Mansfield, one of the selectmen, and a rich man."
"Can't you keep up the store, aunt? Will not that give income enough to support the family?"
"But for this note, I could. But if I have to pay that, it will leave only a third of the store belonging to me. Then out of the profits I must pay the rent, the wages of a salesman and a boy, before I can get anything for myself. You see, John, there isn't much prospect."
"Yes," said John, thoughtfully. "It doesn't lookvery bright. You say, aunt, that uncle never mentioned this note to you?"
"He never mentioned a syllable about it."
"Did he generally mention his affairs to you?"
"Yes; he wasn't one of those husbands that keep everything secret from their wives. He always told me how he was getting along."
"When was the note dated?"
"A year and a half ago."
"Do you know whether my uncle had any particular use for so large a sum of money at that time?"
"No. That is what puzzles me," said Mrs. Berry. "If he got the money, I am sure I don't know what he did with it."
"Did he extend his business with it, do you think?"
"No, I am sure he did not. His stock is no larger now than it was six years ago. He always calculated to keep it at about the same amount."
"That seems strange," said John,—"that we can't find where the money went to, I mean; especially as it was so large a sum."
"Yes, John, that is what I think. There's some mystery about it. I've thought and thought, and I can't tell how it happened."
"What sort of a man is Mr. Hall?" asked John, after a pause.
"I don't know anything against him," said Mrs. Berry.
"I don't know why it is," said John, "but I don't like his looks. I took rather a prejudice against him when I saw him just now."
"I never liked him," said his aunt, "though I can't give any good reason for my dislike. He never treated me in any way of which I could complain."
"How long has he been in the store?"
"How long is it, Martha?" asked Mrs. Berry, turning to her oldest daughter, who, by the way, was a very pretty girl, with blooming cheeks and dark, sparkling eyes.
"It will be four years in October, mother."
"Yes, I remember now."
"He seems quite a young man."
"I think he is twenty-three."
"Does he get a large salary?"
"No, only forty dollars a month."
"Did you know of his having any property when he came here?"
"No; he seemed quite poor."
"Then I don't understand where he could have gotthe two thousand dollars which he says he loaned uncle."
"I declare, John, you are right," said Mrs. Berry, looking as if new light was thrown over the matter. "It certainly does look very strange. I wonder I didn't think of it before; but I have had so much to think of, that I couldn't think properly of anything. How do you account for it, John?"
"I will tell you, aunt," said John, quietly. "I think the note is a forgery, and that Mr. Hall means to cheat you out of two-thirds of your property."
"Doyou really believe this, John?" asked Mrs. Berry, in excitement.
"I really do, aunt. I see no other way to account for the existence of the note."
"But the signature looked like Mr. Berry's," said his aunt, doubtfully.
"Did you examine it carefully, aunt?"
"No, I didn't," admitted Mrs. Berry.
"I should like to compare it with uncle's handwriting."
"I suppose Mr. Hall would think it strange if I should ask him to let me take it."
"Yes; but he must do it, if he wants the note acknowledged."
"I have no head for business," said Mrs. Berry. "A child could cheat me. I wish you could stay with me and look after things."
"Perhaps I can."
"But will your mother be willing?"
"I have no mother," said John.
"Your stepmother, then?"
"I might as well tell you, aunt, that there has been a serious difficulty between Mrs. Oakley and myself, and I have left home."
"Is it possible, John? Didn't your stepmother treat you right?"
"I will tell you all about it, aunt, and you shall judge."
It was a long story, but, as we already know all about it, it is unnecessary to give John's account. His aunt listened attentively, and sympathized fully with John in the matter.
"You have been badly treated, John," she said. "I am sure my poor brother would feel badly enough if he could know how Mrs. Oakley has driven you from home. You do not mean to go back?"
"No, aunt," said John, resolutely. "Until Mrs. Oakley restores me to my former privileges, I shall not go home."
"Then you must stay here, John," said his aunt.
"If I can be of any service to you, aunt, I will."
"You can be of great service to me, John. I do not feel confidence in Mr. Hall, and you know whyI cannot be sure that he is not cheating me in the store. I want you to keep an eye upon him."
"I will go into the store as an assistant," said John. "That will give me the best opportunity."
"But you have never been used to work," said his aunt.
"I must work now. Remember, aunt, Mrs. Oakley holds the property, and I am dependent on my own exertions."
"It is disgraceful that it should be so, John."
"But it is so. Perhaps matters may come right by and by; but for the present I must work. I will go into the store, and you shall give me my board."
"You will earn more than that, John."
"If we get clear of Mr. Hall's note, you can do better by me. Until then, let that be the arrangement."
"You don't know what a load you have lifted from my mind, John. I am very sorry that you have been driven from home; but I am very glad to have you here. Martha, get ready the back bedroom for John."
"I begin to feel myself at home already," said John, brightly.
"Our home is a humble one compared with the one you have left, John," said his aunt.
"But you are here, aunt, and you seem like my own mother. That will make more than the difference to me."
"I hope we can make you comfortable, John. Martha, you may set the table for supper, and get John's room ready afterwards. I think he must be hungry."
"I am as hungry as a bear, aunt," said John, smiling.
In the evening Martha went into the store by her mother's request, and asked Mr. Hall to step in after closing the store.
He did so.
"I believe you wished to see me, Mrs. Berry," he said.
"Yes, Mr. Hall. Will you sit down?"
"Thank you." And the young man seated himself, looking furtively at Mrs. Berry, as if to inquire the object of his being summoned.
"Mr. Hall, this is my nephew, John Oakley. I believe you have already met."
"Yes, he came into the store," said Mr. Hall, glancing at John.
"He has agreed to remain here for the present, and will assist you in the store."
Mr. Hall looked as if he was not pleased with this intelligence.
"I do not think that I shall need any assistance," he said.
"I am surprised to hear that," said Mrs. Berry. "Certainly you cannot expect to do alone the business which formerly required Mr. Berry and yourself to do."
"The business is not so large as it was," said Hall.
"Then you must try to bring it up to where it used to be. You must remember that I have a young family to support, and it will require an effort to do it."
"That is why I thought it would be better to save the wages of an extra clerk," said Hall.
"You are considerate, especially as it would require you to work harder yourself. But my nephew knows my circumstances, and does not wish large compensation."
"Has he any experience in tending store?" asked Hall.
"No," said John.
"Then I should have to teach you. It would be more trouble than the help I would get."
"I don't think you would find me so hard tolearn," said John, quietly. "I have always lived in the country, and know something about the business of a country store. I don't think I shall be long in learning."
"I agree with John," said Mrs. Berry.
"Of course it must be as you say," said Mr. Hall, appearing dissatisfied; "but I hoped to save you the expense. And I cannot say I think any help necessary; or, if it were, it would be better, with all respect to Mr. Oakley, to take James Sanford, who has had some experience at Trafton."
"Very well, Mr. Hall," said John, taking no notice of the opposition, "then I will come in to-morrow morning. What time do you open the store?"
"At six o'clock."
"Won't that be rather early for you, John?" asked his aunt.
"You are making me out to be lazy, aunt," said John.
"There isn't much business early in the morning," said Hall. "You need not come till seven."
"I would rather go early," said John. "I want to learn the business as soon as I can."
"Did you wish to speak about anything else, Mrs. Berry?" said Mr. Hall.
"No, Mr. Hall; but you need not be in haste."
"Thank you; I am feeling rather tired."
"Good-night, then."
"Good-night."
"It seems to me," said John, when they were alone, "that Mr. Hall did not much want me to enter the store."
"No; I was surprised at that. It must be very hard for one."
"I have my thoughts about it," said John.
"What are they?" asked his aunt.
"I will not say anything now. They may amount to nothing. But I think Mr. Hall is afraid I will find out something, and therefore he objects to my going into the store. I shall keep good watch, and if I find out anything I will let you know."
"I think you must be tired, John. You can go to bed when you please."
"Then I think I will go now, particularly as I am to be up by six in the morning."
"Never mind about to-morrow morning."
"I had better begin as I am going to hold out, aunt. Good-night."
John took the lamp and entered his bedchamber with a happier and more home-like feeling than he had had for months. He felt so interested in hisaunt's troubles that he almost forgot that he had any of his own.
In the morning, as the village clock struck six, John stood in front of the store. A minute later, Mr. Hall, who boarded at a little distance, came up. He greeted John coldly, and they entered.
"Now I hope you will make me useful," said John.
"You may sweep out," said Hall.
"Where shall I find the broom?"
Hall told him and John commenced. It was new work to him, but he did it well, and then went to work to arrange things a little more neatly. Occasionally he asked information of Mr. Hall, which was ungraciously given. Still John learned rapidly, and in a fortnight had learned as much as many boys in three months.
One day, when Hall was gone to dinner, John chanced to open the stove, in which there had been no fire for the summer months. It was full of papers and letters of various kinds, which had been crowded into it, as a convenient receptacle. It was so full that, on the door being opened, a considerable portion fell on the floor. John began to pick them up, and, in doing so, naturally looked at some of the papers.
All at once he started with excitement as a particular paper caught his attention. He read it eagerly, and his eyes lighted up with pleasure.
"I must show this to my aunt," he said. "I suspected that note of Mr. Hall's was a forgery, and now I feel sure of it."
He carefully deposited the paper in his pocket-book, and, putting back the rest of the papers, shut the stove door, and resumed his place behind the counter, just as Mr. Hall returned from dinner.
He little guessed that John had made a discovery of the utmost consequence to him.
Thepaper which John had discovered among the rubbish in the stove was a half sheet of foolscap, which was covered with imitations of Mr. Berry's handwriting, the words occurring being those of the note of hand which Hall had presented for payment. The first attempts were inexact, but those further down, with which pains had evidently been taken, were close copies of Mr. Berry's usual handwriting. This of course John could not know, not being familiar with his uncle's hand, but his aunt confirmed it.
"It is clear," said John, "that Mr. Hall has forged the note which he presented against my uncle's estate."
"What a wicked man," said Mrs. Berry, "to seek to defraud me and my poor fatherless children! I never could have suspected him."
"It was the love of money, aunt. He thought you would not detect the fraud."
"I should not but for you, John. How lucky it was you came! Now tell me what I ought to do."
"Is there a lawyer in the place?" asked John.
"Yes; there is Mr. Bradley."
"Then, aunt, you had better send for him, and ask his advice."
"I will do so; I think that will be the best way."
Mr. Bradley, though a country lawyer, was a man of sound judgment, and quite reliable. When the circumstances were communicated to him, he gave his opinion that John's suspicions were well founded.
"I should like to see Mr. Hall here," he said. "Can you not ask him to be present, and bring the note with him?"
"The store closes at nine. I will invite him then, if you can meet him at that hour."
"That will suit me, Mrs. Berry," said the lawyer.
Mr. Hall was not surprised at the message he received. He expected that the widow would be troubled about the claim he had presented, and he was prepared to listen to entreaties that payment might be postponed. That his fraud was suspected he did not dream.
When Mr. Hall entered the little sitting-room he was somewhat surprised to see Mr. Bradley, the lawyer;but it occurred to him that Mrs. Berry in her trouble had applied to him to mediate between them.
"Good-evening, Mr. Bradley," he said.
"Good-evening, Mr. Hall," said the lawyer, rather coldly.
"It is rather cool this evening," said Hall, trying to appear at ease.
"I understand," said Mr. Bradley, not appearing to notice this remark, "that you have a claim against the estate of my late friend, Mr. Berry."
"Yes, sir."
"And the amount is—"
"Two thousand dollars," said Hall, promptly.
"So I understood. Did you bring the note with you?"
Hall opened his pocket-book, and produced the note. The lawyer took it, and scanned it closely.
"Do you know what led Mr. Berry to borrow this amount?" asked the lawyer.
"He wanted to put it into his business."
"Did he extend his business then? He might have done it to a considerable extent with that sum."
"No, I believe not," said Hall, hesitating.
"But I thought he borrowed the money with that object."
"The truth is," said Hall, after a pause, "he wasowing parties in Boston for a considerable portion of his stock, and it was to pay off this sum that he borrowed the money."
"I suppose you are aware, Mr. Hall, that this claim will sweep away two-thirds of Mr. Berry's estate?"
"I am sorry," said Hall, hesitating. "I didn't know but he left more."
"Scarcely a thousand dollars will be left to the family. Mrs. Berry will have a very hard time."
"I won't be hard upon her," said Hall. "I don't need all the money now. I will let half of it, say, stand for a year."
"But it will have to be paid finally."
"Yes, I suppose I must have my money."
"It is rather strange that Mrs. Berry never knew anything of this. Her husband usually told her of his business affairs."
"She thought so," said Mr. Hall, significantly,
"Do you mean to imply that he did not?"
"It seems that he did not tell her of this."
"So it appears, and yet it is a very important matter. By the way, Mr. Hall, it was very creditable to a young man, like yourself, to have saved up so considerable an amount of money. Two thousand dollars is quite a little sum."
"I did not save it up,—that is, not all of it," said Hall, perceiving that this would lead to suspicion. In fact, he was beginning to feel rather uneasy under the lawyer's questioning.
"You did not save it up?"
"Not all of it. I received a legacy a little more than two years since from a relative."
"You were fortunate. What was the amount of the legacy?"
"Fifteen hundred dollars."
"And you loaned all this to Mr. Berry?"
"Yes, sir."
"And five hundred dollars more."
"Yes."
"You never mentioned this legacy at the time."
"Only to Mr. Berry."
"Where did your relative live, Mr. Hall?"
"In Worcester," said Hall, hesitating.
"What relative was it?"
"My aunt," answered Hall, beginning to feel uncomfortable.
"What was her name?"
"I don't see why you ask so many questions, Mr. Bradley," said Hall, beginning to find this catechising embarrassing, especially as he had to make up the answers on the spot.
"Surely you have no objection to answer my question, Mr. Hall?" said the lawyer, looking fixedly at the young man, who changed color.
"It isn't that," said Hall; "but it seems unnecessary."
"You must consider, Mr. Hall, that this claim is a very unexpected one. Mr. Berry never mentioned to any one, so far as I know, that he had borrowed this money of you. Remember, also, that it will reduce Mrs. Berry to poverty, and you will not be surprised that we want to know all the particulars respecting the transaction."
"I should think the note ought to be sufficient," said Hall.
"True, the note. Let me examine it once more." The lawyer scrutinized the note, and, raising his eyes, said:—
"This note is in Mr. Berry's handwriting, is it?"
"Yes."
"By the way, Mr. Hall, the interest has been paid on this note at regular intervals."
"Ye—es," said Hall.
"How often?"
"Every six months," he answered, more boldly.
"Ah, then I suppose we shall find corresponding entries on Mr. Berry's books."
"I suppose so," said Hall; but he began to feel very uncomfortable.
"So that no interest is due now."
"About a month's interest; but never mind about that, I won't say anything about that," said Hall, magnanimously.
"You are very considerate, Mr. Hall," said the lawyer; "but I am sure Mrs. Berry will not accept this favor. She intends to pay you every penny she owes you."
Mr. Hall brightened up at this intimation. He thought it looked encouraging.
"I don't want to be hard," he said. "I don't care for the trifle of interest due."
"I repeat that Mrs. Berry means to pay every penny that is justly due,but not one cent that is not so due," said the lawyer, emphasizing the last words.
"Of course," said the clerk, nervously; "but why do you say that?"
"Do you wish me to tell you, Mr. Hall?" asked Mr. Bradley, fixing his keen glance upon the young man.
"Yes."
"Then I will tell you. Because I believe this note which I hold in my handto be a base forgery."
Hall jumped to his feet in dismay.
"Do you mean to insult me?" he asked, with quivering lips.
"Sit down, Mr. Hall. It is best that this matter should be settled at once. I have made a charge, and it is only fair that I should substantiate it, or try to do so. Did you ever see this sheet of paper?"
So saying, he produced the crumpled half sheet which John found in the stove.
Mr. Hall turned pale.
"I don't know what you mean," he faltered; but there was a look upon his face which belied his words.
"I think youdoknow, Mr. Hall," said the lawyer. "You must be aware that forgery is a serious matter."
"Give me back the note," said Hall.
"Do you admit it to be a forgery?"
"I admit nothing."
"Mr. Hall, I will hand you the note," said the lawyer, after a slight pause, "merely reminding you that, if it is what I suppose, the sooner you destroy it the better."
Hall took the note with nervous haste, and thrust it into the flame of the lamp. In an instant it was consumed.
"You have done wisely, Mr. Hall," said Mr. Bradley. "I have no further business with you."
"I shall leave Wilton to-morrow, Mrs. Berry," said Hall. "I must ask you to get somebody else in my place."
"I will pay you to-night whatever wages are due you" said the lawyer, "in behalf of Mrs. Berry."
"But how shall I manage about the store?" asked Mrs. Berry.
"I will take charge of it, aunt," said John, promptly, "if you will get some one to assist me."
"Very well, John; but I am afraid it will be too much for you."
"Never fear, aunt; I haven't been in the store long, but I've learned a good deal about the business."
Hall was paid, and that was the last that was seen of him. He went away in the stage the next morning, and it is to be hoped that he has found out that honesty is the best policy.
After he had left the room, Mr. Bradley advanced to Mrs. Berry, and, grasping her hand, said, cordially:—
"I congratulate you on the new and improved look of your affairs."
"It has lifted a great weight from my mind," saidthe widow. "Now I feel sure that I shall be able to get along, especially with John's help. He was the first to suspect Mr. Hall of attempting to cheat me."
"You ought to be a lawyer, John," said Mr. Bradley. "You have shown that you have a good head on your shoulders."
"Perhaps I may be one some time," said John, smiling.
"If you ever do, my office is open to you. Good-night, Mrs. Berry; we've done a good evening's work."
The next day John undertook the chief management of his aunt's store. He engaged James Sanford, who had had some experience in another town, to help him, and things went on smoothly for a few weeks. At the end of that time John received an important letter from Hampton.
WhileJohn was attending to his aunt's interests at Wilton, important events were occurring at Hampton.
It has already been stated that Ben Brayton was accustomed to spend most of his time in lounging at the tavern, or in a billiard saloon close by. It was at the latter place that he had the privilege of forming an acquaintance with Arthur Winchester, a young man from the city of New York (or so he represented). He was dressed in the extreme of the fashion, sported a heavy gold chain, wore a diamond ring, and carried a jaunty cane. I cannot guarantee the genuineness of the gold or the diamond; but there was no one in Hampton who could distinguish them from the real articles.
The appearance of Mr. Arthur Winchester created something of a sensation among the young men of Hampton, or at least that portion who aspired towear fashionable clothes. Mr. Winchester's attire was generally regarded as "nobby" in the extreme.
They exhibited an elegance which the highest efforts of the village tailor had never succeeded in reaching. Forthwith the smart young men in Hampton became possessed with the desire to have their clothes made in the same faultless style, and Mr. Winchester was accommodating enough to permit the village tailor to take a pattern from his garments.
Among those who gazed with admiration at the new-comer was Ben Brayton. He was the first, indeed, to order a suit like Mr. Winchester's, in which, when obtained, he strutted about proudly, arm in arm with the young man himself.
Various circumstances served to strengthen the intimacy between the two. In the first place neither had any weighty occupations to prevent their drinking or playing billiards together, and it chanced after a time that this became a regular business with them.
Ben Brayton was an average player, and appeared nearly equal to his new friend. At all events, in the friendly trials of skill that took place between them, Ben came off victorious perhaps a third of the time.
"Come, Ben," said Winchester, one morning, "this is slow. Suppose we make the games a little more exciting by staking a little on the game."