Mr. Brackett, a loose-jointed, shambling figure of a man, was leaning against the well curb, smoking a pipe, when his wife appeared at the back door and called out:
“Jeremiah!”
“What’s wanted?” asked Brackett, impatiently.
“I want some firewood, right off!”
“You’re always wanting firewood!” grumbled her husband.
“I should like to know how you expect me to cook your supper without wood to burn,” retorted Mrs. Brackett.
“Send out Tom for some.”
Tom was the eldest of Mr. Brackett’s children, and had now attained the age of eight years.
“So I have; and he says there isn’t any split,” said Mrs. Brackett. “Just fly around and saw and split some, or I shall have the fire out.”
Mr. Brackett took the pipe from his mouth and sauntered toward the wood pile in a very discontented frame of mind.
“My wife burns a sight of wood,” he said to himself. “It’s saw and split all the time. That’s where I miss Peter. The lazy little vagabond, to leave me this morning, and now I’ve to do his work and my own, too.”
Peter might be a lazy little vagabond, but the work he did was certainly more than fell to the lot of his employer, though he had worked for almost nothing.
The fact was, Mr. Brackett was a lazy man, and considered that in superintending others he was doing all that could be expected of him.
Peter had milked three of the six cows, foddered them, cleaned out the stalls, sawed and split the wood, and done the numberless chores Mrs. Brackett found for him, besides doing a share of the farm work.
At times during the year, Mr. Brackett hired a man by the day, but generally had a quarrel with him when pay day came, being as mean as he was lazy.
Jeremiah Brackett began to ply the saw and ax, knowing that his supper depended upon it, and soon little Tommy was able to carry in an armful to his mother.
He sawed a little more, and then resumed his smoking.
“It’s slave, slave all the time!” he muttered. “The old man might help me a little, now that I’ve lost Peter—but no, he’s too much of a gentleman. He must take his cane and walk off for pleasure. I wish I had nothing else to do but to walk for pleasure.”
It would have occurred to any one else that at the age of seventy-five a man might have been allowed to rest, particularly when his life up to seventy had been spent in active duty; but Mr. Brackett was intensely selfish and grudged his father-in-law his well-earned leisure.
He never seemed to think of the rich and productive farm, worth fully ten thousand dollars, which he had received from Mr. Dodge, and was disposed to think that in giving the old gentleman a room for it in his own house, with fare at a very meager table, he was really making a hard bargain.
“If the old man would only give me two thousand dollars in money,” he reflected, “it would make me easy. Of course, it’s coming to me some time—there isn’t anybody else that has any claim—but it looks as if he meant to live forever.”
Mr. Brackett did not, however, feel quite so sure of the personal property as he wished. He knew that Mr. Dodge had relations in Hamilton, and it was the fear of his life that they would inherit the coveted stocks and bonds.
He was somewhat reassured, however, by the knowledge that his father-in-law never appeared to write or receive a letter.
Of the letter which had been received by Mrs. Gordon, and led to the journey of our young hero, he knew nothing. It would have occasioned him a great amount of uneasiness if he had heard anything of it.
He was still smoking when Simon Dodge, fresh from his interview with Andy, entered the yard.
“Been out walking, father?” asked Brackett.
He was careful never to let the old man forget the relationship which existed between them, though, in truth, there was no relationship at all.
“Yes, Jeremiah, I must take a little exercise, so as not to get stiff in the joints.”
“I have plenty of exercise at home,” grumbled Brackett. “I have had to attend to all Peter’s chores, in addition to my own work.”
“Oh, well, you’ll get another boy soon,” said old Simon, cheerfully.
“I hope so, for I don’t want to get worn out. When a man has a wife and children to support, he’s got a tough job before him.”
“Not when he’s got a good farm like this,” said Mr. Dodge.
“There ain’t any money to be made by farming,” muttered Brackett.
“That wasn’t my experience,” said Mr. Dodge. “When I was twenty-five I inherited this farm from my father; but there was a debt of three thousand dollars on it, which I was to pay my brother for his share. I hadn’t a cent outside. Well, I worked hard, and I waited patiently, and in time I paid off the mortgage I put on it to pay my brother, and when I gave it up to you, it was in good condition and well stocked. You started a good deal better off than I did.”
“Some folks have more luck than others,” said Brackett.
“If there was any difference in luck,” said the old man, dryly, “it was in your favor. It’s labor more than luck that counts in this world, according to my thinking.”
“You didn’t have four children to support, father.”
“I had three, and while only one lived to grow up, the other two lived to be older than any of yours.”
“I don’t know how it is,” said Brackett, “but I’m always hard up. The children ought to have new clothes, but where I am to get the money I don’t know.”
Mr. Dodge did not offer to tell Mr. Brackett where it was to be got, but he could have done so.
Mrs. Brackett had five hundred dollars in a savings-bank, which, in spite of his laziness, Brackett, with her help, had been able to save.
The two had decided that Mr. Dodge was on no account to know anything of this, as it might prevent his doing anything for them; but the old man had learned it indirectly; and the knowledge helped him to remain deaf to their application for assistance. So, when they pleaded poverty, he remained politely silent.
“Father,” said Brackett, “will you lend me fifty dollars for six weeks, till I’ve had a chance to sell some of my grain?”
Mr. Dodge knew very well from repeated experience that there wasn’t one chance in ten of any such loan being repaid to him. In fact, Brackett owed him, in the aggregate, nearly a thousand dollars, borrowed on just such conditions—to be repaid in six weeks.
“I think you must excuse me, Jeremiah,” said Simon Dodge, quietly.
“It would set me on my feet,” said Brackett.
As he leaned against the well curb in a languid attitude, it really seemed as if he needed somebody or something to set him on his feet.
“I think you will have to look for the money somewhere else,” replied his father-in-law.
“I thought you was having some interest coming in at this time, father.”
“Jeremiah, I gave you the farm, and with good management, you never need to borrow. It ought to support you handsomely, as it did me. I have told you that more than once.”
Simon Dodge left his son-in-law, and entered the house.
“How the old miser hangs on to his money!” growled Brackett. “He’s getting more and more selfish and mean as he grows older. I wish he’d make his will. If he should die now, I’m afraid them Eastern relatives would be after the property.”
Just then, however, his attention was drawn to a boy, with a bundle under his arm, who was entering the gate. It was Andy.
Jeremiah Brackett brightened up as his glance took in the strong, sturdy figure of our hero.
He stood very little chance of securing the services of a boy belonging to the village, for his penurious disposition was too well known; but here was a stranger, who knew nothing about him, and who was probably in search of employment.
“Is this Mr. Brackett?” asked Andy, politely.
“Yes; that’s my name.”
“I was told you wanted to hire a boy.”
“Who told you so?”
“Was his name Peter?”
“I believe he said so.”
“A lazy, shiftless boy!” said Brackett, warmly. “He had a good place here, and I looked after him as if he had been my own son; but he didn’t do his duty.”
“He didn’t say anything about that,” said Andy, gravely.
“No, I reckon not. Did he say anything about me?” asked Brackett.
“He said you and he couldn’t get along very well.”
“All his own fault,” returned the farmer, who wished to remove any prejudice which Peter’s story may have excited in the mind of Andy. “He had as nice a home as any boy would want, and easy work; but some boys are never satisfied. Was you looking for work?”
“I thought I might hire out for a while.”
“What do you call yourself?”
“Henry Miller.”
“Was you raised near here?”
“Not very.”
“Did you ever work on a farm?”
“I have worked a little in that way.”
“Can you milk?”
“Yes.”
“The next question is, how much did you calculate to get?” asked Brackett, cautiously.
“Peter told me how much you gave him,” said Andy.
Mr. Brackett was glad to hear this, as he knew that most boys expected larger wages. He was glad that Andy knew what his predecessor had received.
“Yes,” he said, with the air of a liberal man, “I gave Peter fifty cents a week, though he wasn’t really worth it. Fifty cents and board, and lodgings, and washing,” he added, by way of making the salary seem as munificent as possible.
“It doesn’t seem to me very high pay,” said Andy, who thought it politic to drive a bargain.
“Remember, you’re only a boy,” said Mr. Brackett, “and boys can’t do as much as men. Fifty cents is excellent pay for a boy of—how old be you?”
“Sixteen.”
“For a boy of sixteen. Of course, when you’re a man grown, you can get a good deal more. Why, I pay one man as much as a dollar and a quarter a day!”
“Would I have to work very hard?” asked Andy.
“Oh, no! Just enough for healthy exercise,” said Brackett, in a light, cheerful tone. “It does boys good to use their limbs. I was a dreadful hard worker when I was a boy.”
“You look as if you’d been tired ever since,” said Andy to himself, as he watched the lounging attitude of his future employer.
“You’ll have a nice, pleasant home,” continued Mr. Brackett—“plenty of life and fun. I’ve got four beautiful children, that’ll look upon you as a brother. Mrs. Brackett, who is a perfect lady, will take an interest in you and make you feel at home.”
Before Andy could reply, Mrs. Brackett made her appearance at the back door.
“Jeremiah!” she screamed. “I want some more wood—quick!”
“All right, Lucindy. Well, what do you say? Will you come?”
“I’ll try it a week,” said Andy.
“Then you can begin by sawing and splitting some wood. There’s the wood pile, and there’s the saw and ax. You’d better work up at a pretty good quantity.”
“Well, I’ve got rid of that job,” thought Brackett, with a sigh of relief. “He looks like a good, strong boy. I hope I’ll be able to keep him.”
It was not till supper-time that Andy was introduced to the members of Mr. Brackett’s family.
“I hope you’ll do better than the last boy,” said Mrs. Brackett.
“I hope so,” said Andy.
Here Mr. Dodge entered the room.
“Father, I’ve hired a new boy,” said Mr. Brackett.
“I see you have,” replied the old man, demurely, looking at Andy as if he had never seen him before. “What’s his name?”
“Henry Miller.”
“I am glad to see you, Henry,” said the old gentleman, with a smile.
“Thank you, sir!”
Just then Andy felt his next neighbor at the table, Tommy, trying to stick a pin into his leg. It was one of the engaging tricks of Mr. Brackett’s promising heir.
Now, Andy was not inclined to submit to anything of the kind, and he forcibly took the pin from the hands of the young mischief-maker.
“Gimme my pin!” screamed Tommy.
For answer, Andy stuck it into his coat lapel on the opposite side.
“Have you got Tommy’s pin?” asked Mrs. Brackett, angrily.
“Yes, ma’am,” answered Andy.
“Give it right back to him!”
“So I will, after supper; but I object to his using my leg for a pincushion,” answered our hero, coolly.
Mrs. Brackett’s temper was not of the best.
“Do you hear that, Mr. Brackett?” she snapped.
“Hear what, Lucinda?”
“Hear that boy defy me to my face?”
“I guess you’d better give Tommy his pin,” said Mr. Brackett, who stood in awe of his wife.
“You must excuse me, sir, unless you give him a different place at the table,” said Andy, firmly, but with perfect politeness.
“Come here and sit by your mother, my angel!” said Mrs. Brackett.
As Tommy rose to obey, Andy, with a smile, restored to him his pin.
I am sorry to relate the sequel. Tommy, emboldened by his success, seized an opportunity playfully to prick his mother, and found that he had made a decided blunder. The lady instantly seized the young culprit by the collar and dragged him from the room, shaking him vigorously.
“I’ll learn you to play tricks on your ma!” she exclaimed, angrily. “Not another mouthful shall you have to eat to-night, you saucy little imp! But what can be expected when your father upholds you in your bad actions?”
“Really, Lucindy,” exclaimed Mr. Brackett, justly astonished, “I don’t understand you!”
Mrs. Brackett volunteered no explanation, but flounced back to her seat, and the remainder of the meal was passed in solemn and dreary silence.
Andy was very much amused at the sudden change in Mrs. Brackett’s sentiments toward her angel boy, but of course said nothing.
Later in the evening he got a chance to speak a few words, unobserved, with the old gentleman.
“You did right, Henry,” said Mr. Dodge—(It was decided from motives of prudence that he had better call our hero by this name)—“in showing that young torment that he couldn’t play tricks on you. He is about the worst behaved boy I know.”
“Does he ever trouble you, sir?”
“ ‘No; not much. His parents think it would not be politic to let him.”
“Mrs. Brackett seems a very agreeable woman,” said Andy, laughing.
“She’s a good deal worse than her husband. She is very bad-tempered, mean and disagreeable. She isn’t lazy, like her husband, but he is better natured than she. How do you think you shall like staying here?”
“I wouldn’t stay a day longer if it were not for you, sir.”
“Thank you, Henry! You are a good boy. I shan’t stay long myself, but there are some things I must attend to before I can go away.”
Here Brackett came in sight, and the two separated, not wishing to excite his suspicions.
Andy soon found that his position was by no means an easy one. Though Mr. Brackett was a lazy man himself, he had no notion of allowing his hired boy to imitate his example. Even if he had been inclined to be indulgent, Mrs. Brackett would have taken care that Andy had enough to do. She had taken a dislike to our hero, dating from the first supper when Andy firmly resisted little Tommy’s attempt to use him as a cushion.
“I don’t know what you think, Mr. Brackett,” said his wife, one day, about a week after Andy’s term of service began, “but I consider that new boy of yours an impudent, good-for-nothing upstart!”
“He is a good worker, Lucindy,” said Mr. Brackett. “He does more work than any boy I ever had.”
“Maybe he does and maybe he doesn’t, but that ain’t the point.”
“It is the point with me, my dear. Between ourselves, we get him very cheap. I don’t believe I could get another boy that would do so much work for fifty cents a week.”
“Fifty cents a week seems to me very good wages,” answered Mrs. Brackett, whose ideas of compensation were not very liberal.
“I think it’s enough myself for an ordinary boy; but Henry is uncommonly smart.”
“He feels uncommonly smart, I can tell you that,” retorted the lady. “Why, Brackett, he seems to consider himself of as much importance as you or I.”
This was quite true. Andy had gauged Mr. and Mrs. Brackett pretty accurately, and felt a decided contempt for them both. Both were mean, one lazy and the other ill-tempered, while neither was up to the average in refinement or education. So he was disposed to rate himself considerably higher than either; and who of my young readers will deny that he has a right to do so?
“Well, Lucindy,” continued Brackett, in a pacific tone, “it doesn’t make any difference to us what the boy thinks of himself. If he chooses to make himself ridiculous by his airs, why let him, for all I care.”
“But there’s something more, Mr. Brackett,” said his wife.
“What more?”
“The way he treats Tommy. You haven’t forgotten how he treated him at supper the very first night?”
“Tommy was trying to prick him with a pin. You couldn’t expect him to stand that?”
“He could have mentioned it to you or me, then. Instead of that, what does he do? Why, he seizes the poor child’s hand and pulls the pin away from him. You ought to have flogged him for it.”
“You didn’t seem to like it yourself when Tommy attacked you with a pin,” said Mr. Brackett, laughing. “You didn’t stand on any ceremony, but hauled the boy out of the room,” and Mr. Brackett unguardedly laughed at the recollection.
His wife reddened and inquired, sharply:
“So you choose to compare me to your hired boy, do you, Mr. Brackett?”
“Not that I know of, Lucindy.”
“You seem to think it makes no difference whether Tommy pricks him or me—his ma and your wife,” said Mrs. Brackett, severely.
“Really, Lucindy, you twist my words so I don’t know hardly what I do mean.”
“I want you to stand by your own flesh and blood, Mr. Brackett. I don’t want you to allow them to be imposed on and ill-treated by a young tramp whom you have hired to do chores.”
“I don’t mean to. What do you expect me to do, anyway?”
“I expect you to teach that boy his place.”
“If I don’t treat him well he won’t stay. He’ll leave me all of a sudden, as Peter did.”
“Then you can get another boy.”
“That isn’t so easily done as you may suppose. I can’t get any of the boys round here to work for me—I’m sure I don’t know why—and new ones don’t come along every day. I don’t fancy being left without one to do the chores myself.”
“If you did them all, you wouldn’t work as hard as I do,” said his wife, contemptuously, and not altogether without a basis of truth.
“You can’t expect a woman to know anything about a man’s work,” said Mr. Brackett, in a complacent tone of superiority.
“I know I could do all your work, and get done in half the day,” said his wife.
Mr. Brackett shrugged his shoulders, and was about to saunter off, when his father-in-law made his appearance.
“Mr. Brackett,” said he, “if you can spare Henry and your horse and team, I would like to have him drive me over to Jefferson this afternoon.”
“Really, father,” said Brackett, who did not like the proposal, for it would throw upon his shoulders some of Andy’s work, “I’d like to oblige you, but it would be very inconvenient. You see, Henry’s got his work to do, and——”
“I didn’t ask it as a favor,” said Mr. Dodge. “I mean to pay you for the boy’s services, and also for the horse and team.”
Now, money was the god of both Mr. and Mrs. Brackett, and this put quite a different face on the matter.
“Let father have the boy and team,” said Mrs. Brackett. “You can spare them.”
“It would be worth as much as two dollars,” said Brackett.
“I will pay you two dollars,” said Simon Dodge promptly.
Here a new and brilliant idea struck Mr. Brackett, and he said, briskly:
“I’ll tell you what, father; I’ll drive you over myself, instead of Henry, and I won’t charge you a cent more, even if my time is more valuable than his.”
He reflected that it would be easier driving round the country than staying at home and doing the boy’s work.
“Thank you for your kind offer,” said the old man, quietly, “but I can’t accept it.”
“You mean you’d rather have the boy drive you?” asked Mr. Brackett, in amazement.
“I would,” answered his father-in-law, candidly.
“Really that doesn’t seem friendly,” said Mr. Brackett.
“I generally like to have my own way, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, quietly. “I don’t mind allowing you two dollars and a half, which is more than I should need to pay at the stable. Is it yes or no?”
“Oh, of course, I agree,” said Brackett, rather disappointed. “Do you want to go now?”
“Yes.”
“What in the world is he going to do?” thought Mr. and Mrs. Brackett; for this was a request out of the ordinary course. “It must be something he doesn’t want us to know.”
Doubtful as to how much information they could extract from Andy, a sharp plan suggested itself to Mrs. Brackett.
“Father,” said she, “have you any objection to taking Tommy along with you? The dear boy loves to be with his grandpa, and he can sit between you and Henry. He doesn’t take up much room.”
“I won’t take him this afternoon, Lucinda,” said Mr. Dodge, mildly.
“The poor child would enjoy it so much to ride with his grandpa,” pleaded Mrs. Brackett.
“Tommy must wait till another time,” said “grandpa,” firmly.
Mrs. Brackett was displeased, and, though she did not venture to say anything more, she showed by her manner that she considered her poor boy was slighted.
The team was soon ready, and the old man rode off with our hero.
Mr. and Mrs. Brackett looked after them, with a look of baffled curiosity.
“What does this mean, Jeremiah?” asked his wife, at last.
“That’s more than I can tell, Lucindy,” returned her husband.
“Seems mighty mysterious to me.”
“So it does.”
“If he’d only have taken Tommy, the dear child would have told us just where he went and what he did.”
“So he would. Maybe that was what he was afraid of.”
“I’ve been thinkin’——”
“Well, what have you been thinkin’, Jeremiah?” asked his wife, impatient at her husband’s pause.
“I’ve been thinkin’ that perhaps father is going to make his will this afternoon.”
“Why shouldn’t he let us know?”
“Oh, perhaps he wants to surprise us.”
“Jeremiah, do you think there is any fear of his leaving his property to them relations of his in the East?”
“I can’t say, but I guess not. He never hears from them. Like as not, he doesn’t know where they live.”
“We must find out, some way, whether he makes a will, and what’s in it,” said Mrs. Brackett, nodding vigorously. “When they get home, try to get it out of the boy what the old man did, and where he went.”
“I will, Lucindy.”
Andy had no previous intimation that he would be called upon to drive Mr. Dodge over to Jefferson, but he was very glad to do so.
When they were fairly started, Mr. Dodge said:
“Henry, probably Mr. and Mrs. Brackett will cross-examine you on our return, to learn where I went and what I did. They are very curious on that subject—so much so that Mr. Brackett offered to drive me over himself.”
“I won’t tell them,” said Andy, very promptly.
“You might find it a little awkward to refuse,” said the old man, “and for this reason I will not tell you precisely.”
“That will be the best way,” answered Andy, who was not troubled by idle curiosity.
“I will only say that the business I have to do will help prepare the way for our departure.”
“I am glad of that, sir, for I don’t much enjoy being in Mr. Brackett’s employment.”
“It will soon be over, Henry, and I will take care that you lose nothing by what you are doing in my behalf.”
“I don’t want to be paid for that, Uncle Simon.”
“Have you heard from your mother since you came here?”
“No, sir; I have not dared to write, for fear the letter might be seen by Mr. Brackett or his wife.”
“You shall have an opportunity of writing from Jefferson. We will drive directly to the hotel and put up our team. You can write your letter in the hotel while I am out attending to my business.”
Andy was very glad of this permission, for he knew that his mother would feel anxious till she had heard of his safe arrival.
When the team was disposed of, Andy entered the hotel office.
Jefferson was the shire town of the county, and was therefore at times the resort of a considerable number of visitors. For this reason it required and possessed a very commodious hotel.
At the desk Andy saw a pleasant-looking boy of about his own age, whose name, as he afterward learned, was George Tierney. The boy looked social and friendly, and he addressed him.
“Can you let me have a sheet of paper and an envelope?” he asked.
“Certainly,” said George, briskly. “Do you want to write a letter?”
“Yes, I should like to do so.”
“You will find a table and ink in there,” said George, pointing to a small room leading from the office. “Of course you will want a postage stamp.”
“Yes, I would like one.”
George produced one, and Andy paid for it. Then our hero, who had thought of a plan for carrying on a correspondence with his mother, asked:
“Would you be willing to do me a favor?”
“Of course I would,” said George, pleasantly—“that is, unless you want to borrow a thousand dollars,” he added, with a laugh. “I could not oblige you there.”
“It isn’t anything of that kind. I want to know if I may have a letter directed to me in your care?”
“Of course; but why don’t you have it sent to where you live?”
“There is an objection which I can’t mention just now.”
“Over at Cato. I am working for Mr. Brackett, a farmer.”
George whistled.
“I thought so when I saw you with Mr. Dodge,” he said. “I worked there once myself.”
“You did? How long did you stay?” inquired Andy, with interest.
“I stood it a week,” laughed George, “and then left. I came here, where I have an excellent place. Mr. Jones, the landlord, treats me tiptop.”
“I should think you’d like it a good deal better.”
“Can’t you get a better place?” asked George, in a tone of sympathy.
“I am willing to stay for the present,” said Andy. “Mr. Dodge is kind to me.”
“Yes, he is a kind man. If Brackett had been as good, I would have stayed longer, though I only got fifty cents a week. Did you ever hear of such mean pay?”
“That’s what I get myself,” answered Andy.
“You won’t get rich on it very soon.”
“No, I don’t expect to.”
Andy went into the adjoining room and wrote his letter. He had finished it, and given it to George Tierney to mail, when Mr. Dodge returned.
Though the old gentleman did not mention the nature of the business in which he had been engaged, we may state that he had been to the office of the lawyer with whom he had for years been on friendly and confidential terms, and there executed a will, which gave his entire property, invested in stocks and bonds, to his niece, Mrs. Gordon, in trust for Andy, to become the property of our hero when he should have attained his majority. He named the lawyer as his executor.
“There,” he said, when the document was duly signed and attested, “that takes a burden from my mind.”
“What would the Bracketts say if they knew what you have done this day?” said the lawyer, smiling; for between him and his client there were no secrets.
“They have no right to feel disappointed,” said the old man, “for I have acted very generously by them. I gave them half of all I had, and I didn’t wait till my death to do it.”
“You have dealt a good deal more generously by them than I would have done,” said the lawyer, emphatically.
“If it were to do over again, I would act differently; but what is done can’t be undone. Perhaps it is all for the best.”
On the way home Mr. Dodge seemed to be in unusually good spirits. As he had said to the lawyer, he felt that a burden had been lifted from his mind. He had made his will and provided that his property should go where he wished it to go, and felt no further anxiety on that point.
But if he felt no anxiety, Mr. and Mrs. Brackett did.
They felt that something was in the wind. Mr. Dodge must have some object in going to Jefferson and refusing the company of his son-in-law, and even of dear Tommy.
They waited impatiently for the return of the team, and were on the alert when it drove into the yard.
“Did you have a pleasant ride, father?” asked Brackett.
“Yes, Jeremiah, thank you.”
“Did you attend to all your business, or will you want the horse another day?”
“I didn’t say I went on business,” said the old man, shrewdly. “I may want the horse another day. Here is your money, Jeremiah.”
Mr. Brackett extended his hand with alacrity, and took the proffered two dollars and a half, which he put in his pocket.
“You can have it any time, father,” he said. “I’m always ready to oblige you.”
Mr. Dodge went into the house, leaving Andy in the hands of his son-in-law.
“Did father call round much over in Jefferson, Henry?” asked Mr. Brackett, with an assumption of careless indifference.
“No, sir,” answered Andy, demurely.
“Where did he go?” pursued Brackett, in the same tone, but with an expression of restrained eagerness.
“He drove right to the hotel,” answered Andy.
“Yes, but after that?”
“He put up the horse there, and left me there.”
“He did!” ejaculated Brackett, disappointed.
“Yes.”
“Did he leave the hotel?”
“Yes, but he didn’t tell me where he went.”
Brackett looked hard at Andy, to see if he were keeping anything back, but our hero’s manner was perfectly honest and sincere, and he was forced to conclude that the boy knew nothing more than himself of Mr. Dodge’s errand.
“I didn’t think father was so sharp,” said Brackett to his wife. “He wouldn’t let the boy know where he went.”
But Mr. Brackett had his curiosity satisfied, after all. One of his neighbors had been over to Jefferson the same afternoon, and reported to the farmer that he had seen Mr. Dodge coming out of the office of Mr. Brief, the lawyer.
“What was he doing there?” thought Brackett, perplexed. “Did he make a will? That’s what I would like to know.”
But that was a question more easily asked than answered.
Tommy Brackett may have been an angel in the eyes of an indulgent mother, but most people who had anything to do with him regarded him as a perverse and mischievous imp. He had always been a thorn in the side of the successive boys who had been employed by Mr. Brackett. The little boy was quite aware of his position as the son of the master of the house, and felt at liberty to tease and annoy his father’s hired boys in any manner that presented itself to his ingenious fancy.
As we already know, he had made a beginning with Andy at the very first meal of which the latter partook of at the farm, but somehow the experiment did not succeed. Instead of submitting, our hero had very coolly and composedly deprived him of the pin, which he had selected as a means of annoyance.
Tommy was rather surprised, but he was not disposed to give up at the failure of the first attempt. He was encouraged, indeed, by his mother taking his part against Andy, though she resented any trick upon herself.
Andy was naturally fond of children. Had Tommy been a well-behaved boy, he would have regarded him with favor and affection, but he very soon decided that any such feeling for his employer’s son was not deserved and would be thrown away.
One morning, as Tommy was wondering what he should do for amusement, his attention was drawn to the family cat, which was dozing in the yard, unconscious of danger.
“I’ll have some fun with you, puss,” said he. “Come along!”
He took the cat and drew her to the trough at which the cattle were accustomed to drink. Seizing the poor animal by the head, he thrust it into the water till the poor thing was near strangulation. Of course, she made her dissatisfaction known by shrill cries.
They attracted the attention of Andy, who was splitting wood only a few rods distant. Looking up, he saw the poor cat’s predicament, and became justly indignant.
“What are you doing there, Tommy?” he demanded, sternly.
Tommy looked up and answered with characteristic impudence:
“None of your business!”
“Stop hurting the cat!” said Andy, imperatively.
“Go on with your work and let me alone,” answered Tommy, preparing to plunge the cat’s head into the trough once more.
Andy’s answer was to drop the ax and rush to the trough. Seizing the boy by the collar, he forcibly took away the cat and said:
“You ought to be ashamed of your cruelty!
“How dare you touch me?” demanded Tommy, furiously, stamping his foot.
“It doesn’t require much daring, you mischievous little scamp!” said Andy.
“I’ll get my father to turn you away,” threatened Tommy.
“Just as you like,” said Andy, amused. “I am doing him a favor by staying; and he knows it.”
“I’ll get him to give you a flogging!” said Tommy, finding that the first threat had very little effect.
“If he would give you a sound whipping, it’s only what you deserve,” said our hero, going back to his work.
“He wouldn’t whip me. My mother wouldn’t let him!” said Tommy.
Andy laughed. He was disposed to think that the boy was only telling the truth, since Mrs. Brackett appeared to have her husband under her thumb, as he had already found out.
Tommy felt outraged by the thought that his father’s hired boy had dared to lay hands on him, and thirsted for revenge. If he had only been stronger than Andy, our hero would have stood a chance of a thrashing then and there; but, unfortunately for Tommy, his strength was not equal to his spirit.
“What shall I do?” he thought.
He waited till he got a few rods away, and picking up a pebble, threw it at Andy. It whizzed within a foot of our hero’s face.
Andy looked up, and saw the boy laughing with evident enjoyment.
“Did you fire that stone, Tommy?” he asked.
“Yes, I did.”
“What did you do it for?”
“I’ll do it again!”
And Tommy suited the action to the word.
Andy was upon him in a moment, and seized him as he was entering the back door.
“Ma!” yelled Tommy, at the top of his voice. “Come here! Henry’s murdering me!”
Mrs. Brackett rushed to the door, her hands covered with dough, and her indignation was intense when she saw her darling in the grasp of her husband’s hired boy.
“What’s all this?” she exclaimed. “Let go my child, you young ruffian! How dare you?”
“Mrs. Brackett,” said Andy, “Tommy has been firing stones at me. If you will make him stop, I shall let him alone.”
“You have no business to touch him, anyway! I’ll make you smart for it!” exclaimed the angry woman. “I presume you are telling lies about my poor child. Tell me all about it, Tommy. Did you fire a stone at him?”
“Yes; but he began it.”
“How did he begin it?”
“He took the cat away from me,” exclaimed the virtuous Tommy.
“Did you take the cat away from my boy?” demanded Mrs. Brackett, in a tragical tone.
“How dared you do it?”
“Because he was teasing it. If I had not interfered, he would have drowned her. He was putting her head into the trough.”
“ ‘Tain’t so, ma! Don’t you believe him!” vociferated Tommy, with unblushing falsehood.
“I don’t believe it,” said Mrs. Brackett, forcibly. “I know he is telling lies about you, my angel!”
Andy was not in the least excited, but he was rather amused.
“You may believe it or not, Mrs. Brackett,” he said. “I only tell you that it is so.”
“Tain’t so! ’tain’t so!” yelled Tommy.
“Of course it isn’t,” said his mother. “I won’t believe any of that bad boy’s lies. Go back to your work, you young brute; and take care how you touch my darling boy again.”
“You had better advise him not to touch me again, Mrs. Brackett,” said Andy.
And, without waiting for an answer, he went back to his work.
Not a word was said to Tommy about what he had done, and he was emboldened to continue his persecutions.
Five minutes afterward, he went out into the yard again and shied a stone at Andy’s head.
Our hero was prepared. He sprang for Tommy, seized him, and drawing him to the trough, took a dipper of water, and dashed it into his face.
“The next time you’ll get something worse,” he said, coolly.
Tommy roared with anger and mortification, and again ran into the house, to complain to his mother.
She came out like an avenging fury, and began to revile Andy, and threaten all sorts of punishment when her husband got home.
“Do you expect me to stand still, and let Tommy throw stones at me?” asked Andy.
“I didn’t throw a stone,” denied Tommy.
“Of course you didn’t, my angel!” said Mrs. Brackett. “Henry Miller, when Mr. Brackett gets home, he shall whip you till you are black and blue.”
“Mrs. Brackett,” said an indignant voice behind her, “you are blaming the wrong boy. Tommy did throw stones at Henry, for I saw the whole transaction from my window. Henry treated him just as he ought to be treated. If he were my boy, I would give him a good, sound whipping.”
Knowing that Mr. Dodge had money to leave, Mrs. Brackett did not dare to reply as she wished to do.
“So you turn against my poor boy, too,” she said.
“I tell the truth about him,” said the old man, disgusted. “Had he treated me as he has Henry, I would make him suffer.”
Mrs. Brackett was white with anger, but she did not dare to show it.
“Come into the house, Tommy,” she said. “It seems you have no friends but your mother. Even your grandpa turns against you.”
“I thank Heaven he is not my grandson!” said Mr. Dodge, after mother and child had left the scene. “Henry, don’t let that little rascal impose upon you, or his mother either.”
“I won’t, sir,” assured Andy, firmly.
From that moment Mrs. Brackett positively hated Andy, and anxiously sought for some means of revenge.
Mrs. Brackett took the earliest opportunity of informing her husband of the way in which Andy had abused poor Tommy, but he did not enter wholly into her feeling of resentment, not being quite so blind to the faults of his oldest cherub as Tommy’s mother.
He was still more disinclined to move in the matter when he learned that his father-in-law had taken Andy’s part.
“We’ve got to move slow, wife,” he said, cautiously. “We don’t want to stir up the old man.”
“Father ought to be ashamed to turn against his own grandson,” said Mrs. Brackett, indignantly.
“If we come to that, Tommy isn’t exactly Mr. Dodge’s grandson.”
“Well, it’s the same thing,” persisted his wife. “He seems to think more of this new boy than of poor Tommy.”
“It won’t do to make a fuss about it, Lucindy. We must be patient, and humor the old man. He’s seventy-five years old, and can’t live much longer.”
“That’s what you’ve been saying for the last five years,” grumbled Mrs. Brackett. “I don’t see, for my part, but he’s likely to live till you and I are in our graves.”
“Not as bad as that, Lucindy. I’m getting a little anxious to have him make a will. I don’t want him to die till he’s left the property to us, safe and sure.”
“It would go to us anyway, wouldn’t it, Jeremiah?”
“It ought to, but there’s those Eastern relations. They might claim it.”
“That would be shameful!” said Mrs. Brackett, warmly.
“So it would—so it would, Lucindy. I’ll tell you what, I’ll speak to the old man about it this very day.”
“I wish you would.”
“So you see we’d better not irritate him by scolding Henry.”
“I suppose you’re right, Jeremiah,” assented Mrs. Brackett, reluctantly; “but I was in hopes you would give him a good flogging.”
“It wouldn’t be politic, Lucindy, just at this time.”
“Is he going to abuse my poor darling without anybody’s interfering?” demanded Mrs. Brackett, discontentedly.
“No. I’ll speak to him about it.”
Accordingly, Mr. Brackett sought out Andy, and said:
“Henry, I hear there was some trouble this morning between you and Tommy.”
“Yes, sir. Did Mrs. Brackett tell you about it?”
“Yes. She is very angry.”
“I think I have more reason to be angry, sir.”
“She says you dragged him into the house by the collar, and afterward threw water in his face.”
“Did she tell you what Tommy did to me?” asked Andy.
“She said he was rather playful, and that you got mad.”
“He playfully fired stones at my head,” said Andy. “If he had hit me I should have been severely hurt. I don’t like that kind of playfulness.”
“I know he is a mischievous boy. Still, you should remember that he is a little boy, much younger and smaller than you are.”
“So I did, and for that reason I wouldn’t hurt him. I don’t think,” continued Andy, “I could make up my mind to hurt a little boy. But I can’t let him fire stones at me.”
“I guess there has been no harm done, but you must try not to provoke Mrs. Brackett. She can’t see any fault in Tommy, though I am not so blind.”
“I certainly shall let him alone if he will let me alone, and I won’t hurt him, at any rate. I will only defend myself if he tries to play any tricks on me.”
Mr. Brackett seemed to be satisfied, and Andy was disposed to think favorably of him, not being aware that he was moderate and reasonable because he did not think it politic to be otherwise.
Just at this moment Mr. Dodge came out of the house, and Mr. Brackett decided to attack him on the subject of the will.
“How do you feel, father?” he inquired.
“Very well, thank you, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, rather surprised at his son-in-law’s solicitude.
“You are remarkably well for a man of your age, as I was remarking ta Lucindy yesterday. By the way, how old are you, father?”
“Seventy-five years last birthday,” answered the old man, “but I don’t feel any older than I did fifteen years ago.”
“Just so! Still, you are older; but I suppose you’ve fixed things so you’ve no worldly anxieties?”
“I think I’ve got enough to carry me through, Jeremiah.”
“Of course you have, father; and more, too. You can’t begin to spend your income?”
This was said in an inquiring tone, but the old gentleman did not make any reply.
“It’s only prudent to make your will, father, for, of course, a man of your age may be cut off sudden. Death comes like a thief in the night,” added Mr. Brackett, utilizing one of the few passages of Scripture with which he happened to be acquainted.
“I dare say you are right, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, with a smile.
“You mustn’t think I am anxious on my own account,” said Mr. Brackett. “Of course, money’s a consideration to me, and I’m willing to have you fix things as you think best. But don’t you think you would feel better if you had things all fixed straight and sure on paper?”
“Perhaps you are right, Mr. Brackett,” said his father-in-law, with the same provoking smile, which Mr. Brackett was utterly unable to understand.
“I feel kinder delicate about speaking of it,” pursued Mr. Brackett, “but I thought I ought to do it. Folks are so apt to put off the important duty to the last.”
“By the way, Jeremiah, have you made your will?” asked the old man.
“I?” ejaculated Mr. Brackett, in surprise.
“Yes.”
“No; I can’t say I have.”
“You’d better think of it. You’re not as old as I am, but men younger than you die every day.”
“You don’t think I’m looking poorly, do you?” queried Mr. Brackett, nervously.
“Oh, no! And I hope I am not. Still, you may die before me.”
“That’s so, of course; but it ain’t hardly likely.”
“No; I hope you won’t. I hope you will live to be as old as I am.”
“I’ll tell you what, father,” said Brackett, cunningly, “I’ll make my will if you make yours.”
“I’ll think of it, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, politely.
“Confound the old man! I can’t get anything out of him,” said Brackett to himself. “I think he teases me on purpose. The idea of thinking he doesn’t need to make a will because I don’t! One thing’s pretty certain, though—he hasn’t made his will yet. If he should die without one, I will prevent them Eastern relations from hearing of it, if I can. I ought to have that property—and I mean to.”
Mr. Dodge smiled to himself when his son-in-law left him.
“Mr. Brackett thinks he is shrewd,” he said to himself, “but his shrewdness and cunning are of a very transparent character. What would he say if he knew that I have already made my will, and that his name is not mentioned in it? What would he say if he knew that my chief heir is at present in his employ, working for fifty cents a week? I suspect there would be a storm—in fact, a hurricane.
“Henry,” said the old man, to our hero, “has Mr. Brackett spoken to you about your little trouble with Tommy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was he angry?”
“No, he spoke very reasonably. I have no fault to find with what he said.”
“He isn’t quite such a fool as his wife, nor is he as ill-tempered. If I had given the Bracketts all my property, reserving none to myself, I should be in a bad position. Fortunately I was saved from such folly.”
“It strikes me,” reflected Mrs. Brackett, looking out of the kitchen window, “that father’s pretty thick with that boy of ours. If I had my way, I’d send him packing. He’s a low, artful boy, and if I were Mr. Brackett, I would send him off, if I had to do his work myself.”
Jeremiah Brackett, however, was by no means of his wife’s opinion. He appreciated the fact that Henry Miller—to use the name by which he knew him—was more faithful and a more steady worker than any of his predecessors, and he did not mean to part with him for any light cause, his wife’s prejudices to the contrary, notwithstanding.
Half an hour later, Andy was destined to a considerable surprise.
“Boy, does Mr. Brackett live here?”
Andy looked up from his work, and saw standing at a little distance a man, apparently about thirty years of age.
He started in amazement, for he had no difficulty in recognizing the younger of the two highwaymen who had so nearly robbed him of the money intrusted to him by the Misses Peabody. There are cases of remarkable resemblance, but Andy was a close observer, and he was satisfied this was not such a case, but that the companion of Mike Hogan stood before him.
Owing to his surprise, he delayed answering the question.
“Well, boy, what are you gaping at?” demanded the young man, impatiently. “Did you hear my question?”
“Excuse me, sir! Yes, Mr. Brackett does live here.”
“Is Mrs. Brackett at home?” continued the newcomer.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, pilot me in, then,” said the other, carelessly. “Are you Brackett’s hired boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, it seems to me he might get a smarter one.”
“I was smart enough to foil you once, Mr. Highwayman,” thought Andy; but he only answered, “Very likely he might.”
“Come, that’s candid! It makes me think better of you. Go ahead, and I’ll follow.”
“What does this robber want of Mrs. Brackett, I wonder?” thought Andy. “Ought I to warn her of his character?”
Mrs. Brackett was ironing in the kitchen, when Andy entered, followed by the stranger. She was not feeling very good-natured, and jumped to the conclusion that the intruder was a peddler.
“Henry,” said she, sharply, “what makes you bring a peddler into the house? You know I never have anything to do with them.”
Andy was going to plead in excuse that the stranger had inquired particularly for her, but he was spared the trouble.
“I must say, Lucinda,” said the young man, bursting out laughing, “that you give a curious reception to your only brother.”
“George, is it really you?” exclaimed Mrs. Brackett, laying down her flatiron, in surprise and joy.
“I reckon it is. How are you, old girl?”
Mrs. Brackett, who was really attached to her younger brother, advanced eagerly and imprinted a kiss on his cheek, and began to express her wonder at his sudden appearance.
Andy, concluding that his presence was no longer required, left the kitchen, and returned to work.
He, too, was full of surprise.
“It is strange enough that the man who tried to rob me should be the brother of my employer’s wife,” he soliloquized. “Of course, she can’t be aware of his mode of life.”
Was Andy called upon to inform her? He decided not, but if this man took up his residence for any length of time at Mr. Brackett’s house, he would feel compelled to watch him narrowly, lest he should fall into his old dishonest practices.
“He didn’t recognize me,” Andy reflected, with satisfaction. “If he had, he might have tried to do me an injury lest I should betray him.”
Meanwhile, the brother and sister were chatting together in the kitchen.
“What have you been doing, George?” asked Mrs. Brackett. “Why is it that you have been silent for so long?”
“Oh, I’ve been drifting about, Lucinda!” said her brother.
“But haven’t you been engaged in any business?” asked his sister.
“Oh, well, part of the time I’ve been a collector,” said George, with a quizzical smile.
He did not care to explain that his collecting had been from unoffending travelers, nor did he care to mention that he had served a three-years’ term at Sing Sing prison, under an assumed name.
“It must be eight years since we met, George,” went on Mrs. Brackett.
“Is it as long as that?” said George, indifferently.
“Yes, I know it is, for my dear little Tommy was a baby, and now he is a fine boy of eight years.”
“Inherits your sweet disposition, Lucinda, I suppose,” said her brother, banteringly.
“You always would have your joke, George,” said Mrs. Brackett, coloring and looking annoyed.
“Have you got any more children, Lucinda?”
“Yes—three more.”
“They must be a great nuisance,” said her brother, shrugging his shoulders.
“You were a nuisance when you were a small boy,” said his sister, with spirit.
“I dare say I was. Well, how are you and Brackett getting along?”
“We ain’t getting rich,” said Mrs. Brackett, with a critical glance at her brother, as if to determine whether he was likely to want assistance.
He seemed very well dressed, and she hoped his circumstances were good, for, though she was attached to him, she was, on the whole, more attached to her money.
“You seem to be pretty prosperous,” said George.
“Oh, yes! We have enough to eat, and drink and wear, but we can’t save any money.”
Mrs. Brackett conveniently forgot the five hundred dollars which she had in the savings bank.
“Is the old man Dodge still living?”
“He’s living, and likely to live,” said his sister, in a dissatisfied tone.
“Must be most a hundred, isn’t he?”
“He’s seventy-five, and can eat as much as a young man.”
“How about the property? Is it all fixed right?” asked her brother, now showing some genuine interest.
“He gave Jeremiah the farm some years ago, but he won’t give anything else, and we have to give him his board out of it.”
“Has he got much money besides?”
“He must have somewhere from ten to fifteen thousand dollars.”
“Whew! that’s a pile! It will go to you in the end, won’t it?”
“I don’t know; it ought to. But he’s got some relations off in the East, who may come in.”
“Then you must get him to make a will in your favor.”
“I wish he would. Brackett’s spoken to him about it more than once, but he can be very obstinate when he chooses.”
“You must introduce me to the old chap. Perhaps I can soften his obstinacy. I’m rather soft-spoken when I choose to be.”
“You’ll stay and make us a visit, won’t you, George?”
“Yes, I’ll stay a few days. I am tired of work, and shall find it pleasant to rest a while. Where’s Brackett?”
“Here he is.”
Mr. Brackett entered the kitchen at this moment, and glanced with some surprise at the young man, whom he did not at first recognize.
“It’s brother George, Jeremiah,” said Mrs. Brackett. “I don’t wonder you don’t recognize him, it’s so long since we’ve seen him.”
“How are you, George?” said his brother-in-law. “Where did you drop from?”
“Oh, I fancied I’d like to see you and Lucinda again, so I took the cars, and here I am.”
“Business good with you, George?”
“Rather slow! Still, I’ve managed to live. You seem pretty comfortable.”
Mr. Brackett shook his head.
“Farming’s hard work and poor pay,” he said. “I can’t get ahead at all.”
“When the old man pops off, you’ll be pretty comfortable—hey?”
“I hope so; but there is no knowing how he’ll leave the property.”
“Mr. Brackett,” said his wife, when they were alone, “we’d better not say anything to George about that money we’ve got in the savings bank. He might want to borrow it, and he was always careless about money.”
“You’re quite right, Lucindy,” said her husband, approvingly. “You’ve got a long head of your own. I shall be silent as the grave. We had too hard work in laying it up to run any risk with it.”
At supper the newcomer, George White, was introduced to Mr. Dodge and to Andy.
For the first time he seemed to see something familiar in our hero’s face.
“It seems to me I’ve seen you somewhere before,” he said.
“Perhaps you have,” said Andy, indiferently. “Where?”
“I suppose I’m mistaken,” said White, looking puzzled; “but you look some like a boy I met some distance from here.”