CHAPTER IV
A DISAGREEABLE SURPRISE
After his collision with the traveler, Herbert hurried on to the mill, intent upon making up for lost time. He was satisfied with having successfully maintained his rights; and, as he had no reason to suppose he should ever again see his unreasonable opponent, dismissed him from his thoughts.
On reaching the mill, he found he should have to remain an hour or two before he could have his grain ground. He was not sorry for this, as it would give him an opportunity to walk around the village.
“I wish,” he thought, “I could get a place in one of the stores here. There's more going on than there is in Waverley, and I could go over Sundays to see Dr. Kent's family.”
On the spur of the moment, he resolved to inquire if some of the storekeepers did not require help. There was a large dry-goods store—the largest in the village—kept by Beckford & Keyes. He entered and inquired for the senior partner.
“Mr. Beckford is not in,” said the clerk. “Mr. Keyes is standing at that desk.”
Herbert went up to the desk, and said inquiringly, “Mr. Keyes?”
“That is my name,” said that gentleman, pleasantly. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I am in search of a place,” said our hero, “and I thought you might have a vacancy here.”
“We have none just at present,” said Mr. Keyes, who was favorably impressed by Herbert's appearance; “but it is possible we may have in a few weeks. Where do you live? Not in the village, I suppose?”
“No, sir,” said Herbert, and a shadow passed over his face, “My mother died three weeks since, and I am now stopping at the house of Dr. Kent.”
“Dr. Kent—ah, yes, I know the doctor. He is an excellent man.”
“He is,” said Herbert, warmly. “He has been very kind to me.”
“What is your name?”
“Herbert Mason.”
“Then, Herbert, I will promise to bear you in mind. I will note down your name and address, and as soon as we have a vacancy I will write to you. Come into the store whenever you come this way.”
“Thank you,” said Herbert.
He left the store feeling quite encouraged. Even if the chance never amounted to anything, the kind words and manner of the storekeeper gave him courage to hope that he would meet with equal kindness from others. Kind words cost nothing, but they have a marvelous power in lightening the burdens of the sorrowful and cheering the desponding.
Herbert left the store, feeling that he should consider himself truly fortunate if he could obtain a place in such an establishment. But there was a rough experience before him, of which at present he guessed nothing.
After sauntering about the village a little longer, and buying a stick of candy for little Mary Kent, the doctor's only daughter, who was quite attached to Herbert, our hero got back to the mill in time to receive his bags of meal, with which he was soon on his way homeward.
About the place where he met Mr. Holden he was hailed by a man at work in the field—the same who had taken back that gentleman's horse to the stable.
“Well, boy, you had a kind of scrimmage, didn't you, coming over?”
“Did you see it?” asked Herbert.
“Yes,” said the other, grinning. “I seed the other feller in the mud puddle. He was considerably riled about it.”
“It was his own fault. I gave him half the road.”
“I know it; but there's some folks that want more than their share.”
“Was his buggy broken? I don't know but I ought to have stopped to help him, but he had been so unreasonable that I didn't feel much like it.”
“His wheel got broken. I drawed the buggy into the bushes. There 'tis now. It'll cost him a matter of ten dollars to fix it.”
“I'm sorry for that,” said Herbert; “but I can't see that I was to blame in the matter. If I had turned out as he wanted me to, I should have tipped over, and, as the wagon didn't belong to me, I didn't think it right to risk it.”
“Of course not. You wasn't called on to give in to such unreasonableness.”
“Where did the man go?”
“He concluded to walk on to Waverley, and hired me to take the horse back to the stable. He wanted to know who you were.”
“Did he?”
“Maybe he's goin' to sue you for damages.”
“I don't believe he'll get much if he does,” laughed our hero. “My property is where he can't get hold of it.”
“Ho! ho!” laughed the other, understanding the joke.
After this conversation Herbert continued on his way, and, after delivering the grain, took his way across the fields to his temporary home. He entered by the back yard. Little Mary came running out to meet him.
“Have oo come back, Herbert?” she said. “Where have oo been?”
“Been to buy Mary some candy,” he said, lifting her up and kissing her.
“Whose horse is that at the gate?” asked Herbert, as the doctor's wife entered the room.
“It belongs to Captain Ross,” she said. “He has come on business connected with you.”
“Connected with me!” repeated Herbert, in surprise.
“Yes, my dear boy, I am afraid we must make up our minds to lose you.”
“Has he found a place for me?” asked Herbert, in a tone of disappointment.
“Yes, I believe he has bound you out to a man in Cranston.”
“I am sorry,” said Herbert.
“I shall be sorry to have you go, Herbert, but I thought you wanted to go.”
“So I do; but by waiting a few weeks I could probably get a place in Beckford & Keyes' store, at the mill village.”
“What makes you think so?”
Herbert detailed his interview of the morning with the junior partner. Just at this moment the doctor entered the kitchen.
“Have you told him?” he inquired, looking at his wife.
“Yes, and he says that but for this he might probably have got a chance to go into Beckford's store at the mill village.”
“I am sorry for this. They are good men, and he would have been near us, while Cranston is forty miles away.”
“Who is the man that wants me?” asked Herbert.
“A Mr. Holden. He is in the other room with Captain Ross. It was all arranged before they came. He wants you to go with him to-morrow morning.”
“So soon?” said Herbert, in dismay.
“Yes. At first he wished you to set off with him this afternoon; but I told him decidedly you could not be ready.”
“Quite impossible,” said Mrs. Kent. “Some of Herbert's clothes are in the wash, and I can't have them ready till evening.”
“You had better come into the other room, Herbert,” said the doctor. “I will introduce you to your new employer.”
Herbert followed the doctor into the sitting-room. His first glance rested on Captain Ross, whom he knew. He went up and shook hands with him. Next he turned to Mr. Holden, and to his inexpressible astonishment, recognized his opponent of the morning.
“Mr. Holden, Herbert,” introduced the doctor. “Mr. Holden, this is the boy we have been speaking of.”
“I have seen Mr. Holden before,” said Herbert, coldly.
“Yes,” said Mr. Holden, writhing his disagreeable features into an unpleasant smile. “We have met before.”
Dr. Kent looked from one to the other in surprise, as if seeking an explanation.
“Our acquaintance doesn't date very far back,” said Mr. Holden. “We met this morning between here and the mill village.”
“Indeed,” said the doctor; “you passed each other, I suppose.”
“Well, no; I can't say we did exactly,” said Mr. Holden, with the same unpleasant smile, “We tried to, but the road being narrow, there was a collision, and I came off second-best.”
“I hope there was no accident.”
“Oh, nothing to speak of. I got tipped out, and my clothes, as you may observe, suffered some. As for my young friend here, he rode on uninjured.”
“You must excuse my not stopping to inquire if I could help you,” said Herbert; “but my horse was frightened by the collision, and I could not easily stop him.”
“Oh, it's of no consequence,” said Mr. Holden, in an off-hand manner. He was determined not to show himself out in his true colors until he had got Herbert absolutely under his control.
“But where is your horse, Mr. Holden?” asked Captain Ross. “I think you were walking when you came to my house.”
“I sent it back to the village by a man I met on the road, my buggy being disabled.”
“Your carriage wasn't much injured, I hope.”
“Oh, no, not much.”
“I don't see exactly how it could happen,” said Captain Ross. “I thought the road from here to the mill village was broad enough at any point for carriages to pass each other.”
“I didn't dream,” said Mr. Holden, not noticing this remark, “that the young man I had engaged was my young acquaintance of the morning.”
Herbert looked at him, puzzled by his entire change of manner—a change so sudden that he suspected its genuineness.
The more he thought of it, the more unwilling he felt to live with Mr. Holden. But could it be avoided? He resolved to try. He accordingly told the doctor and Captain Ross of the promise that Mr. Keyes had made him.
“It would be a good place,” said the captain; “but it ain't certain. Now, here's Mr. Holden, ready to take you at once.”
“If I was in the mill village I could come over and see my friends here now and then. Besides, I think I should like being in a store.”
“Oh, I've got a store, too,” said Mr. Holden, “and I should expect you to tend there part of the time. I don't think I can let you off, my young friend,” he added, with a disagreeable smile. “I think we shall get along very well together.”
Herbert did not feel at all sure of this, but he saw that it would do no good to remonstrate farther, and kept silence. Soon after, Mr. Holden and Captain Ross rose to go.
“I'll call round for my young friend about nine to-morrow morning,” said Abner Holden, with an ingratiating smile.
“We will endeavor to have him ready,” said the doctor.
After they went away Herbert wandered about in not the best of spirits. He was convinced that he should not be happy with Mr. Holden, against whom he had conceived an aversion, founded partly upon the occurrences of the morning, and partly on the disagreeable impression made upon him by Abner Holden's personal appearance.
CHAPTER V
THE ENVELOPE
Herbert woke up early the next morning, and a feeling of sadness came over him as he reflected that it was his last morning in Waverley. He was going out into the world, and, as he could not help thinking, under very unfavorable auspices. New scenes and new experiences usually have a charm for a boy, but Mr. Holden's disagreeable face and unpleasant smile rose before him, and the prospect seemed far from tempting.
When he came downstairs, he found Mrs. Kent in the kitchen.
“You are up early, Mrs. Kent,” said Herbert.
“Yes, Herbert; I want you to have a good breakfast before you go.”
It certainly was a nice breakfast. Tender beefsteak, warm biscuit, golden butter, potatoes fried crisp and brown, and excellent coffee, might have tempted any appetite. Herbert, in spite of his sadness, did full justice to the bountiful meal.
The family had hardly risen from breakfast when the sound of wheels was heard outside, and directly there was a knock at the door.
“It's Mr. Holden,” said the doctor, looking from the front window.
“Must we part from you so soon, Herbert?” said Mrs. Kent, affectionately.
“Where oo goin', Herbert?” asked little Mary, clinging to his knee,
“Herbert's going away, Mary,” said he, stooping and kissing his little friend.
“Herbert mustn't go 'way,” said the little girl, in discontent.
“Herbert come back soon, and bring candy for Mary,” he said, wishing that his words might come true.
By that time Mr. Holden had entered, and was surveying the scene with his disagreeable smile.
“Little Mary is quite attached to Herbert,” said the doctor.
“I am sorry,” said Mr. Holden, “that I have no little girls, as Herbert seems fond of them.”
Herbert doubted if he could become attached to anyone related to Mr. Holden.
“I'm a bachelor,” said Mr. Holden, “though perhaps I ought to be ashamed to say so. If I had had the good fortune early in life to encounter a lady like your good wife here, it might have been different.”
“It isn't too late yet, Mr. Holden,” said the doctor.
“Well, perhaps not. If Mrs. Kent is ever a widow, I may try my luck.”
“What a disagreeable man,” thought the doctor's wife, not propitiated by the compliment. “Herbert,” she said, “here are a couple of handkerchiefs I bought in the village yesterday. I hope you will find them useful.”
“Yes; no doubt he will,” said Mr. Holden, laughing. “He will think of you whenever he has a bad cold.”
Nobody even smiled at this witty sally, and, Mr. Holden, a little disappointed, remarked: “Well, time's getting on. I guess we must be going, as we have a long journey before us.”
The whole family accompanied Herbert to the road. After kissing Mary and Mrs. Kent, and shaking the doctor cordially by the hand, Herbert jumped into the wagon. Just before the horse started the doctor handed our hero a sealed envelope, saying, “You can open it after a while.”
Though, like most boys of his age, Herbert had a great horror of making a baby of himself, he could hardly help crying as he rode up the street, and felt that he had parted from his best friends. His eyes filled with tears, which he quietly wiped away with the corner of his handkerchief.
“Come, come, don't blubber, boy,” said Mr. Holden, coarsely.
Herbert was not weak enough to melt into tears at an unkind word. It roused his indignation, and he answered, shortly, “When you see me blubbering, it'll be time enough to speak, Mr. Holden.”
“It looked a good deal like it, at any rate,” said Abner. “However, I'm glad if I'm mistaken. There's nothing to cry about that I can see.”
“No, perhaps not,” said Herbert; “but there's something to be sorry for.”
“Something to be sorry for, is there?” said Abner Holden.
“Yes.”
“Well, what is it?”
“I've left my best friends, and I don't know when I shall see them again.”
“Nor I,” said Mr. Holden. “But I think it's high time you left them.”
“Why?” asked Herbert, indignantly.
“Because they were petting you and making too much of you. You won't get such treatment as that from me.”
“I don't expect it,” said our hero.
“That's lucky,” said Abner Holden, dryly. “It's well that people shouldn't expect what they are not likely to get.”
Here a sense of the ludicrous came over Herbert as he thought of being Mr. Holden's pet, and he laughed heartily. Not understanding the reason of his sudden mirth, that gentleman demanded, in a tone of irritation, “What are you making a fool of yourself about?”
“What am I laughing at?” said Herbert, not liking the form of the question.
“Yes,” snarled Abner.
“The idea of being your pet,” explained Herbert, frankly.
Mr. Holden did not appreciate the joke, and said roughly, “You better shut up, if you know what's best for yourself.”
They rode along in silence for a few minutes. Then Abner Holden, thinking suddenly of the envelope which Dr. Kent had placed in Herbert's hand at parting, and feeling curious as to its contents, asked:
“What did the doctor give you just as you were starting?”
“It was an envelope.”
“I know that; but what was there in it?”
“I haven't looked,” said our hero.
He felt a little satisfaction in snubbing Mr. Holden, whom he saw he would never like.
“Why don't you open it?”
“I didn't think of it before.”
“I suppose there is some present inside.”
Herbert decided to open the envelope, out of respect for Dr. Kent. On opening it, he drew out a five-dollar bill, and a few penciled words, which were as follows:
“DEAR HERBERT: I would gladly give you more if I had the means. I hope you will use the inclosed money in any way that may be most serviceable to you. You must write to me often. Be a good boy, as you always have been; let your aims be noble; try to do right at all hazards, and may God bless your efforts, and make you a good and true man. Such is the prayer of your affectionate friend, GEORGE KENT.”
Herbert read these lines with emotion, and inwardly resolved that he would try to carry out the recommendations laid down. His thoughts were broken in upon by Mr. Holden, whose sharp eyes detected the bank-note.
“There's money in the letter, isn't there?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Five dollars.”
“Five dollars, hey?” he said. “You'd better give it to me to keep for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Holden; I can take care of it, myself.”
“It isn't a good plan for boys to have so large a sum of money in their possession,” said Abner Holden, who was anxious to secure it himself.
“Why not?” asked Herbert.
“Because they are likely to spend it improperly.”
“Dr. Kent didn't seem to think I was likely to do that.”
“No; he trusted you too much.”
“I hope it won't prove so.”
“You'd better keep out of the way of temptation. You might lose it, besides.”
“I don't often lose things.”
“Come, boy,” said Mr. Holden, getting impatient; “Dr. Kent, no doubt, intended that I should take care of the money for you. You'd better give it up without further trouble.”
“Why didn't he give it to you, then?” demanded Herbert.
“He supposed you would give it to me.”
Mr. Holden's motive for getting the money into his own hands was twofold. First, he knew that without money Herbert would be more helpless and more in his power. Secondly, as he had agreed to supply Herbert with clothing, he thought he might appropriate the money towards this purpose, and it would be so much of a saving to his own pocket. Perhaps Herbert suspected some such design. At any rate, he had no intention of gratifying Mr. Holden by giving up the money.
“Well, are you going to give me the money?” blustered Abner Holden, taking out his pocketbook, ready to receive it.
“No,” said Herbert.
“You'll repent this conduct, young man,” said Holden, scowling.
“I don't think I shall,” said our hero. “I don't understand why you are so anxious to get hold of the money.”
“It is for your good,” said Abner.
“I'd rather keep it,” said Herbert.
Abner Holden hardly knew what to do. The money was by this time safely stowed away in Herbert's pocket, where he could not very well get at it. However, he had a plan for getting it which he resolved to put into practice when they stopped for dinner.
CHAPTER VI
ON THE WAY
By the time they had ridden twenty miles both Herbert and Mr. Holden felt hungry. The fresh air had produced a similar effect upon both. They approached a broad, low building with a swinging sign and a long piazza in front, which it was easy to see was a country tavern.
“Do you feel hungry, boy?” inquired Abner Holden.
“Yes, sir,” returned our hero.
“So do I. I think I shall get some dinner here. You can get some, too, if you like.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Oh, there's no occasion to thank me,” said Mr. Holden, dryly. “I shall pay for my dinner, and if you want any, you can pay for yours.”
Herbert looked surprised. As he had entered Mr. Holden's employ, he supposed of course that the latter would feel bound to provide for him, and it certainly seemed mean that he should be compelled to pay for his own dinner. However, he was beginning to suspect that his new employer was essentially a mean man.
“How much will it cost?” asked Herbert, at length.
“Thirty-seven cents,” was the reply.
It must be remembered that this was in the day of low prices, when gold was at par, and board could be obtained at first-class city hotels for two dollars and a half a day, and in country villages at that amount by the week.
“Thirty-seven cents!” Herbert hardly liked to break in upon his scanty hoard, but the morning air had sharpened his appetite, and he felt that he must have something to eat. Besides, he remembered one thing which fortunately Mr. Holden did not know, that in addition to the five dollars which Dr. Kent had given him he had the ten dollars sent him by his uncle, and not only that, but a little loose change which he had earned.
“Well, are you going to get out?” asked Abner Holden. “It's nothing to me whether you take dinner or not.”
“Yes, I guess I will.”
“Very well,” said Holden, who had a reason for being pleased with his decision.
Both went into the tavern. There were two or three loungers on a settle, who gazed at them curiously. One of them at once appeared to recognize Abner Holden.
“How dy do, Holden?” he said. “Who've you got with you?”
“A boy I've taken,” said Holden, shortly.
“A pretty smart-looking boy. Where'd you pick him up?”
“Over in Waverley. He's got some pretty high notions, but I guess I'll take 'em out of him in time.”
“Yes,” chuckled the other; “I warrant you will.”
While this conversation was going on Herbert had entered the tavern, but he could not avoid hearing what was said, including Mr. Holden's reply. He was not frightened, but inwardly determined that he would do his duty, and then if Mr. Holden saw fit to impose upon him, he would make what resistance he was able.
“I wonder what high notions he means,” thought our hero. “If he expects to make a slave of me, he will be mistaken, that's all.”
“Sit down there, and I'll go and order dinner,” said Mr. Holden, entering.
Just then, however, the landlord came in and greeted Abner Holden, whom he appeared to know.
“I want dinner for two, Mr. Robinson,” he said.
“For two! You haven't brought your wife along with you, Holden?” he said, jocosely.
“No, I haven't come across any such lady yet. I've got a boy here who is bound to me. And hark you, landlord,” he added, in a lower voice, that Herbert might not hear, “he will pay you for his dinner out of a five-dollar bill which he has with him. YOU NEEDN'T GIVE BACK THE CHANGE TO HIM, BUT TO ME.”
“Yes, I understand,” said the landlord, winking.
“I prefer to keep the money for him. He has refused to give it up and this will give me a chance to get hold of it without any fuss.”
“All right.”
“If he kept it himself he'd spend it in some improper way.”
“Just so. I'll attend to it.”
Now our hero was gifted with pretty sharp ears, and he caught enough of this conversation to understand Mr. Holden's plot, which he straightway determined should not succeed.
“You shan't take me in this time, Mr. Holden,” he thought.
He opened his pocketbook to see if he had enough small change to pay for his dinner without intrenching upon his bill. There proved to be a quarter and two half-dimes, amounting, of course, to thirty-five cents. This would not be quite sufficient.
“I must change the bill somewhere,” he said to himself.
Looking out of the tavern window, he saw the village store nearly opposite. He took his cap and ran over. There was a clerk leaning with his elbows upon the counter, appearing unoccupied.
It occurred to Herbert that he might want some paper and envelopes. He inquired the price.
“We sell the paper at a penny a sheet, and the envelopes will cost you eight cents a package.”
“Then you may give me twelve sheets of paper and a package of envelopes,” said Herbert.
The package was done up for him and in payment he tendered the bill.
The clerk gave him back four dollars and eighty cents in change. He put the money in his pocketbook, and the paper and envelopes in his jacket-pocket, and returned to the tavern well pleased with his success. Mr. Holden was in the barroom, taking a glass of “bitters,” and had not noticed the absence of our hero.
Dinner was soon ready.
There was some beefsteak and coffee and a whole apple pie. Herbert surveyed the viands with satisfaction, having a decidedly good appetite. He soon found, however, that hungry as he was, he stood a poor chance with Abner Holden; that gentleman, being a very rapid eater, managed to appropriate two-thirds of the beefsteak and three-quarters of the pie. However, the supply being abundant, Herbert succeeded in making a satisfactory repast, and did not grudge the amount which he knew he should have to pay for it before leaving.
“Now,” said Abner Holden, his eyes twinkling at the thought of our hero's coming discomfiture, “we'll go and settle our bill.”
“Very well,” said Herbert, quietly.
They entered the public room and advanced to the bar.
“This boy wants to pay for his dinner, Mr. Robinson,” said Abner, significantly.
“How much will it be?” asked Herbert.
“Thirty-seven cents.”
Herbert took out of his vest pocket a quarter, a dime and two cents, and handed them over.
To say that Abner Holden looked amazed is not sufficient. He looked disgusted and wronged, and glared at Herbert as if to inquire how he could have the face to outrage his feelings in that way.
“Ho! ho!” laughed the landlord, who, having no interest in the matter, was amused at the course affairs had taken.
Herbert suppressed his desire to laugh, and looked as if he had no knowledge of Mr. Holden's plans.
“Where did you get that money?” growled Abner, with a scowl.
“Out of my vest pocket,” said Herbert, innocently.
“I know that, of course, but I thought you had only a bill.”
“Oh, I got that changed at the store.”
“How dared you go over there without my permission?” roared Abner.
“I didn't think it necessary to ask your permission to go across the street.”
“Well, you know it now. Don't you go there again without my knowledge.”
“Very well, sir.”
“Did you buy anything at the store?” continued Mr. Holden.
“Yes, sir.”
“What was it?”
“Some paper and envelopes.”
“Humph!” muttered Abner, discontentedly.
He proceeded to pay his own bill and in a few minutes got into the wagon and drove off rather sulkily. Herbert saw that Mr. Holden was disturbed by the failure of his little plan, and felt amused rather than otherwise. But when he reflected that he was going to live with this man, and be, to a considerable extent under his control, he felt inclined to be sad. One thing he resolved that he would not submit to tyranny. The world was wide, and he felt able to earn his own living. He would give Mr. Holden a trial, and if he treated him with reasonable fairness he would remain with him. But he was not going to be any man's slave.
Meanwhile they were getting over the road, and a few more hours brought them to their journey's end.
Abner Holden's house stood in considerable need of paint. It had no great pretensions to architectural beauty, being about as handsome for a house as Abner Holden was for a man. There was a dilapidated barn, a little to one side, and the yard was littered up with a broken wagon, a woodpile and various odds and ends, giving the whole a very untidy look.
“Is this where you live, Mr. Holden?” asked Herbert, looking about him.
“Yes, and I'm glad to get home. Do you know how to unharness a horse?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then jump out and unharness this horse. A man will come for it to-morrow.”
Herbert did as directed. Then he took his little trunk from the wagon, and went with it to the back door and knocked.
CHAPTER VII
A NEW HOME
The door was opened by an elderly woman, rather stout, who acted as Abner Holden's housekeeper. Though decidedly homely, she had a pleasant look, which impressed Herbert favorably. He had feared she might turn out another edition of Mr. Holden, and with two such persons he felt that it would be difficult to get along.
“Come right in,” said Mrs. Bickford, for that was her name. “Let me help you with your trunk. You can set it down here for the present.”
“Thank you,” said Herbert.
“You must be tired,” said the housekeeper.
“No, not very,” said our hero. “We rode all the way.”
“Well, it's tiresome riding, at any rate, when it's such a long distance. You came from Waverley, Mr. Holden tells me.”
“Yes.”
“And that is more than thirty miles away, isn't it?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“So you've come to help Mr. Holden?” she added, after a pause.
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Herbert, rather seriously.
“What is your name?”
“Herbert Mason.”
“I hope, Herbert, we shall be able to make you comfortable.”
“Thank you,” said Herbert, a little more cheerful, as he perceived that he was to have one friend in Mr. Holden's household.
“Has Mr. Holden generally kept a boy?” he asked.
“Yes, he calculates to keep one most of the time.”
“Who was the last one?”
“His name was Frank Miles.”
“Was he here long?” asked Herbert, in some curiosity.
“Well, no,” said the housekeeper, “he did not stay very long.”
“How long?”
“He was here 'most a month.”
“'Most a month? Didn't he like it?”
“Well, no; he didn't seem to like Mr. Holden much.”
Herbert was not much surprised to hear this. He would have thought Frank Miles a singular sort of a boy if he had liked Abner Holden.
“Have any of the boys that have been here liked Mr. Holden?” he asked.
“I can't say as they have,” said Mrs. Bickford, frankly; “and somehow they don't seem to stay long.”
“Why didn't they like him?”
“Sh!” said the housekeeper, warningly.
Herbert looked round and saw his employer entering the room.
“Well, boy, have you put up the horse?” he asked, abruptly.
“Yes sir.”
“Did you give him some hay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And some grain?”
“No, I didn't know where it was kept. If you'll tell me, I'll do it now.”
“No, you needn't. He isn't to have any. He's only a hired horse.”
Considering that the hired horse had traveled over thirty miles, Herbert thought he was entitled to some oats; but Mr. Holden was a mean man, and decided otherwise.
“Where is Herbert to sleep, Mr. Holden?” asked the housekeeper.
“Up garret.”
“There's a small corner bedroom in the second story,” suggested Mrs. Bickford, who knew that the garret was not very desirable.
“I guess he won't be too proud to sleep in the garret,” said Mr. Holden. “Shall you?” he continued, turning to Herbert.
“Put me where you please,” said Herbert, coldly.
“Then it shall be the garret. You can take your trunk up now. Mrs. Bickford will show you the way.”
“It's too heavy for you, Herbert,” said the housekeeper; “I will help you.”
“Oh, he can carry it alone,” said Abner Holden. “He isn't a baby.”
“I'd rather help him,” said the housekeeper, taking one handle of the trunk. “You go first, Herbert, You're young and spry, and can go faster than I.”
On the second landing Herbert saw the little bedroom in which the housekeeper wanted to put him. It was plainly furnished, but it was light and cheerful, and he was sorry he was not to have it.
“You could have had that bedroom just as well as not,” said Mrs. Bickford. “It's never used. But Mr. Holden's rather contrary, and as hard to turn as a—”
“A mule?” suggested Herbert, laughing.
“It's pretty much so,” said the housekeeper, joining in the laugh.
They went up a narrow staircase and emerged into a dark garret, running the whole length of the house without a partition. The beams and rafters were visible, for the sloping sides were not plastered. Herbert felt that he might as well have been in the barn, except that there was a small cot bedstead in the center of the floor.
“It isn't very pleasant,” said the housekeeper.
“No,” said Herbert, “I don't think it is.”
“I declare, it's too bad you should have to sleep here. Mr. Holden isn't very considerate.”
“I guess I can stand it,” said our hero, “though I should rather be downstairs.”
“I'll bring up the trap and set it before you go to bed,” said Mrs. Bickford.
“The trap!” repeated Herbert, in surprise.
“Yes, there's rats about, and I suppose you'd rather have a trap than a cat.”
“Yes; the cat would be about as bad as the rats.”
At this moment Abner Holden's voice was heard at the bottom of the stairs, and Mrs. Bickford hurried down, followed by our hero.
“I thought you were going to stay up there all day,” said Mr. Holden. “What were you about up there?”
“That is my business,” said Mrs. Bickford, shortly.
The housekeeper was independent in her feelings, and, knowing that she could readily obtain another situation, did not choose to be browbeaten by Mr. Holden. He was quite aware of her value, and the difficulty he would experience in supplying her place, and he put some constraint over himself in the effort not to be rude to her. With Herbert, however, it was different. HE was BOUND to him, and therefore in his power. Abner Holden exulted in this knowledge, and with the instinct of a petty tyrant determined to let Herbert realize his dependence.
“You may go out and saw some wood,” he said. “You'll find the saw in the woodshed.”
“What wood shall I saw?”
“The wood in the woodpile, stupid.”
“Very well, sir,” said our hero, quietly.
Herbert thought Mr. Holden was losing no time in setting him to work. However, he had resolved to do his duty, unpleasant as it might be, as long as Abner Holden only exacted what was reasonable, and Herbert was aware that he had a right to require him to go to work at once. Mrs. Bickford, however, said a word in his favor.
“I've got wood enough to last till to-morrow, Mr. Holden,” she said.
“Well, what of it?”
“It's likely the boy is tired.”
“What's he done to make him tired, I should like to know? Ridden thirty miles, and eaten a good dinner!”
“Which I paid for myself,” said Herbert.
“What if you did?” said Abner Holden, turning to him. “I suppose you'll eat supper at my expense, and you'd better do something, first, to earn it.”
“That I am willing to do.”
“Then go out to the woodpile without any more palavering.”
“Mr. Holden,” said the housekeeper, seriously, after Herbert had gone out, “if you want to keep that boy, I think you had better be careful how you treat him.”
“Why do you say that?” demanded Abner, eying her sharply. “Has he been saying anything to you about me?”
“No.”
“Then why did you say that?”
“Because I can see what kind of a boy he is.”
“Well, what kind of a boy is he?” asked Abner, with a sneer.
“He is high-spirited, and will work faithfully if he's treated well, but he won't allow himself to be imposed upon.”
“How do you know that?”
“I can read it in his face. I have had some experience with boys, and you may depend upon it that I am not mistaken.”
“He had better do his duty,” blustered Abner, “if he knows what's best for himself.”
“He will do his duty,” said the housekeeper, firmly, “but there is a duty which you owe to him, as well as he to you.”
“Don't I always do my duty by boys, Mrs. Bickford?”
“No, Mr. Holden, I don't think you do. You know very well you can never get a boy to stay with you.”
“This boy is bound to me, Mrs. Bickford—legally bound.”
“That may be; but if you don't treat him as he ought to be treated, he will run away, take my word for it.”
“If he does, he'll be brought back, take my word for that, Mrs. Bickford. I shall treat him as I think he deserves, but as to petting and pampering the young rascal I shall do nothing of the kind.”
“I don't think you will,” said the housekeeper. “However, I've warned you.”
“You seem to take a good deal of interest in the boy,” said Abner, sneeringly.
“Yes, I do.”
“After half an hour's acquaintance.”
“I've known him long enough to see that he's better than the common run of boys, and I hope that he'll stay.”
“There's no doubt about that,” said Abner Holden, significantly. “He'll have to stay, whether he wants to or not.”