To be willing to work, and yet to be unable to find an opportunity, was certainly a hardship. Herbert was a boy of active temperament, and, even had he not needed the wages of labor, he would still have felt it necessary to his happiness to do something.
In the course of his walks about the village, he stopped at the house of a carpenter, who bore the rather peculiar name of Jeremiah Crane. Mr. Crane owned about an acre and a half of land, which might have been cultivated, but at the time Herbert called, early in April, there were no indications of this intention. The carpenter was at work in a small shop just beyond the house, and there Herbert found him.
“Well, Herbert,” said Mr. Crane, in a friendly manner, “what are you up to nowadays?”
“Nothing profitable, Mr. Crane; I am wandering about in search of work.”
“Can't you find any?”
“Not yet.”
“Have you been to Squire Leech?”
“Yes.”
“I should think he might find something for you to do.”
“There is a little difficulty in the way.”
“What is that?”
Then Herbert told Mr. Crane about the squire's wish to purchase their cottage, and his vexation because they were not willing to sell.
“Seems to me that's unreasonable in the squire. He acts as if it was your duty to oblige him.”
“I don't know but we shall have to come to his terms,” said Herbert, rather dejectedly. “We certainly shall if I don't find anything to do.”
“I wish I could help you; but, if you were to learn my trade, you wouldn't be worth any wages for nigh a year, and you couldn't afford to work so long without pay.”
“No, I couldn't.”
“Besides, in a village like this, there isn't more than enough work for one man. Why, there isn't more than one new house built a year. If the squire wants to provide Mr. Banks with a house, why doesn't he build him one? He might just as well as not.”
“It would cost him more than to buy our place at the price he offers.”
“So it would. Your place must have cost fifteen hundred dollars, land and all.”
“So I did, but the squire laughed at the idea. All he offers is eleven hundred.”
“Don't you sell at that price. It would be too much of a sacrifice.”
“We won't unless we are obliged to.”
“I hope you won't be obliged to. A man as rich as Squire Leech ought not to try to get it under price.”
“I suppose he wants to make a good bargain, no matter if it is at our expense. I wish you had a farm, Mr. Crane, so you could give me work on it.”
“I've got more farm now than I can take care of.”
“Don't you have a garden?”
“I've got the land, but no time to work on it. My wife often wishes we had our own vegetables, instead of having to buy, but you see, after working in the shop, or outside, all day, I'm too tired to work on land.”
“How much land have you?”
“About an acre that I could cultivate, I suppose.”
“Engage me to take care of it. I'll do all the work, and your wife can have her own vegetables.”
“Really, I never thought of that,” said the carpenter. “I don't know but it might be a good idea. How much pay would you want?”
“I'll tell you,” said Herbert, who had a business turn, and who had already matured the plan in his own mind. “If you will pay for plowing, and provide seed, I will do the planting, and gather it when harvest time comes, for one-third of the crop.”
“You mean, you will take your pay in vegetables?”
“Yes,” said Herbert, promptly. “If there is more than you need, I can sell the surplus. What do you say?”
“It strikes me as a fair offer, Herbert. Just wait a minute, and I'll go and ask my wife what she thinks of it.”
Mr. Crane went into the house, leaving Herbert in the shop. He reappeared in five minutes. Herbert, to whom the plan seemed every minute more desirable, awaited his report eagerly.
“My wife is all for your plan,” he said. “She says it is the only way she knows of likely to give her the fresh vegetables she wants. Besides, she thinks well of you. So, it's a settled thing, if you say so.”
“I do say so,” Herbert replied, promptly.
“Now, when will you have it plowed?”
“I shall leave all that to you. I haven't time to make arrangements. You can engage anybody you like to do the plowing, and I will pay the bill.”
“Then, as to the seed?”
“There, again, I trust all to you. You can buy what you find to be necessary, and the bill may be sent to me. You may ask Mrs. Crane what vegetables she wants.”
“All right,” said Herbert.
“Please understand,” said the carpenter, “that I will do what I have said, but I don't want to be worried about the details. You are a boy, but I shall trust to your judgment, as you are interested in the result.”
“Thank you,” said Herbert, rather proud of the confidence reposed in him. “I will do what I can to justify your confidence. I'll go right off and see about the plowing.”
“Very well.”
Whatever Herbert did was done promptly. He knew of a man named Kimball, a farmer on a small scale, who was accustomed to do work for neighbors, not having enough work of his own to occupy his whole time. He went to see him at once.
“Mr. Kimball,” he said, “I want to know if I can engage you to do some plowing for me.”
“For you!” repeated the farmer, opening his eyes. “Why, you haven't taken a farm, have you?”
“Not yet,” said Herbert, smiling; “but I've agreed to cultivate a little land on shares.”
“Sho! you don't say so! What land is it?”
“It's the field behind Mr. Crane's house.”
“So he's engaged you, has he? Well, I've often wondered why he didn't cultivate it. Might as well as not.”
“It's my idea. I proposed it to him. Now, when can you come?”
“Wait a minute,” said the farmer, cautiously; “who's a-going to pay me?”
“Mr. Crane. He told me to engage somebody, and he would pay the bill.”
“That's all right, then,” said the farmer, in a tone of satisfaction; “Crane's a man that always pays his bills.”
“I hope I shall have the same reputation,” said Herbert. “I hope you will, but you're only a boy, you know, and I couldn't collect of a minor. That's the law.”
“I shouldn't think anybody'd be dishonest enough to bring that as an excuse.”
“Plenty would do it, so I have to be careful What time do you want me to do the work for you?”
“As soon as you can.”
“Let me see, I guess I can come to-morrow. There ain't anything very pressing for me to do then.”
“That's good,” said Herbert, with satisfaction. “You'll find me there, and I can ride the horse to plow if you want me to.”
“I should like to have you.”
“Well,” thought Herbert, as he started for home to tell his mother what he had done, “I've made a beginning.”
“I suppose you haven't found any work yet, Herbert,” said his mother, in a tone of resignation, as he entered the little cottage.
“Yes, I have; though I shall have to wait some time for the pay.”
“What is it, Herbert?”
“I'm going to cultivate a garden on shares, mother; so next fall and winter you can have all the vegetables you want.”
“How is that, Herbert? Tell me all about it.”
When Herbert had detailed the contract he had entered into, he was glad to find that his mother approved of it. She declared that it would be very satisfactory to her to have an abundant stock of vegetables, but she said, doubtfully: “Do you think you know enough of farming to attend to all the work?”
“If I don't I can easily ask some farmer,” said Herbert, confidently. “I am not in the least afraid to undertake the job.”
He went to bed that night feeling that at last he had obtained something to do.
The reader will perhaps recall the statement in our first chapter that there was a little land connected with the cottage, which was used for the growth of vegetables. This, in fact, supplied nearly all that was required by the widow and her son, and the probability was that Herbert would be able to send to market nearly all his share of vegetables obtained under his new contract, and thus obtain payment in money, of which they were so much in need.
Herbert went to work in earnest. It took only part of one day to plow the field which he was to cultivate. He decided, after consultation with Mrs. Crane, to appropriate two-thirds of the land to potatoes, and the remainder to different kinds of vegetables. He was guided partly by the consideration of which would be most marketable.
On the third day, while at work, he heard his name called. It must be explained that Mr. Crane's house and land were on the corner of two streets, so that he was in full sight, while in the field, from the side street. Looking up, he recognized James Leech, who was surveying him with evident curiosity.
“Good morning, James,” said Herbert, going on with his work.
“I see you've got a job,” said James.
“Yes.”
“Has Mr. Crane hired you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then, why are you at work in his field?”
“Because I've agreed to work it on shares.”
“How is that?”
“I am to have a third of the crops to pay me for my services.”
“What can you do with it?”
“Part of the vegetables we can use at home, and the balance I shall sell.”
“I shouldn't think you'd like that arrangement.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have so long to wait for your pay.”
“That is true, but it's better than not working at all, and I've tried all over the village in vain to get employment.”
“I don't think I shall make my fortune, but I shall make something.”
“Don't it tire you to work?” asked James, with some curiosity.
“Of course, if I work all day; but I don't mind that.”
“I should.”
“You are not used to work.”
“I should say not,” returned James, with pride. “I never worked in my life.” It was a strange thing to be proud of, but there are some who have nothing better to be proud of.
“I like to work,” said Herbert.
“You do?”
“Yes, only I like to get something for my labor. You expect to work some time, don't you?”
“Not with my hands,” said James. “I shall never be reduced to that.”
“Do you think it so very bad to work with your hands? Isn't it respectable?”
“Oh, I suppose it's respectable,” said James; “but only the lower classes do it.”
“Am I one of the lower classes?” asked Herbert, amused.
“Of course you are.”
“But suppose I should get rich some day,” said Herbert.
“That isn't very likely. You can't get rich raising vegetables.”
“No, I don't expect to. Still, I may in some other way. Didn't you ever know any poor boys that got rich?”
“I suppose there have been some,” admitted James.
“Haven't you ever heard of Vanderbilt?”
“Of course I have. Father says he's worth forty millions.”
“Don't you consider him a gentleman?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, he was a poor boy once, and used to ferry passengers across from Staten Island to New York.”
“Did he? I didn't know that.”
“Suppose my uncle had left me all his fortune—a hundred thousand dollars—would I have been a gentleman, then?”
“Yes, but it isn't the same as, if you had always been rich.”
“I don't agree with your ideas, James. It seems to me something besides money is needed to make a gentleman; still, I hope to get on in the world, and I shouldn't object to being rich, though I don't see any prospect of it just at present.”
“No,” said James. “You will probably always be poor.”
“That's very encouraging,” said Herbert, laughing. “How about yourself?”
“Oh, I shall be a rich man like father.”
“That's very encouraging for you. I hope when you are a man you'll give me work if I need it.”
“I will bear it in mind,” said James, with an important air. “Now I must be going.” That day, at dinner, James said to his father: “That Carter boy has got a job.”
“Has he?” asked the squire, not very well pleased.
“Yes, he's working at Mr. Crane's.”
“What is he doing?”
“Working in the garden.”
“What wages does Crane pay him?”
“None at all. He says he has agreed to work for the third of the crops.”
“Did he say that?” asked the squire, with satisfaction.
“Yes, he told me so this morning.”
“You are sure he gets no money?”
“Yes; he is paid wholly in vegetables. He said he couldn't find employment anywhere else in the village, so he had to work that way.”
“That boy stands very much in his own light,” said the squire.
“How is that, father?”
“I told him Mr. Banks would give him work if he would agree to sell me his cottage.”
“He doesn't own it, does he?”
“His mother, of course, I mean. It's the boy that keeps her from selling it.”
“Why does he do that?”
“Oh, they've got a silly notion that no other place would seem like home to them, and, besides, they think I don't offer them enough.”
“How much do you offer them?”
“Eleven hundred dollars; that is, I have a mortgage on the place for seven hundred and fifty. I offer them three hundred and fifty dollars besides.”
“Is that all the money they are worth?”
“Yes; they are very foolish to refuse, for they'll have to come to it some time. In about a week the interest comes due, and I'm very sure they won't be able to meet it.”
“Suppose they don't?”
“Then,” said the squire, with a satisfied smile, “I shall take possession, and they'll have to sell.”
“Herbert says he hopes to be rich some time.”
“I dare say,” said the squire, laughing heartily. “Everybody does, so far as I know.”
“Do you think there is any chance of it?”
“About one in a thousand.”
“I shouldn't want the lower classes to get rich,” said James, thoughtfully. “They'd think they were our equals.”
“Yes, no doubt.”
James was not aware that his grandfather had once been a poor mechanic, or rather he ignored it. He chose to consider that he had sprung from a long line of wealthy ancestors. His father heard with pleasure that Herbert was not likely to realize any money at present for his services. Already he felt that the little cottage was as good as his. It was only a week now to the time of paying interest, and he was very sure that Mrs. Carter would be unprepared to meet it.
“In that case,” he decided, “I will certainly foreclose. There will be no sense in granting them any further indulgence. It will be for their interest to sell the cottage, and get rid of the burden which the interest imposes. Really, they ought to consider it a favor that I am willing to take it off their hands.”
We are very apt to think it is for the interest of others to do what we greatly desire, and I don't suppose the squire was singular in this. I think, however, that there are many who are less selfish and more considerate of others.
Herbert, too, was thinking, and thinking seriously, of the interest that was so soon coming due. In spite of his own and his mother's economy, when the preceding day arrived, all they could raise toward the payment was thirteen dollars, and the sum required was twenty-two dollars and a half.
“Mother,” said Herbert, at dinner the day before, “I see only one chance for us, and that is, to borrow the money. If anyone would lend us ten dollars we could pay the interest, and then we should be free from anxiety for six months.”
“I am afraid you will find that difficult,” said his mother. “The squire is the only rich man in the village, and of course we can't apply to him.”
“At any rate, I can but try. Instead of going to work this afternoon, I shall go about and try to borrow the money. If I can't, then I suppose we must give up the house.”
Certainly the prospect seemed far from cheerful.
It was with very little confidence in his ultimate success that Herbert set out on his borrowing expedition. The number of those who could be called capitalists in a small village like Wrayburn was very small, and it happened very remarkably that all of them were short of funds. One man had just bought a yoke of oxen, and so spent all his available cash; another had been shingling his barn; and still another confessed to having money, but it was in the savings bank, and he didn't like to disturb it.
So, at supper time, Herbert came in, depressed and dispirited.
“Well, mother, it's no use,” he said, as her anxious look met his.
“I didn't much think you could borrow the money,” she answered, trying to look cheerful.
“There's only one thing remains to be done,” said Herbert.
“What is that?”
“To try to induce the squire to give us more time.”
“I don't think he will do that.”
“Nor I. In that case we must come to his terms; but it's a pity to sacrifice the property, mother.”
“Yes, Herbert; I shall be sorry to leave the old place,” she sighed. “You were born here, and your father was always very much attached to it. But poor folks can't have everything they wish, and it might be worse.”
“Yes, it might be worse, and if the squire was not so bent in getting the place into his hands, it might be better.”
“I suppose we ought not to blame him for looking out for his own interest.”
“Yes, we ought; when it seems that he is ready to injure his poorer neighbors.”
Mrs. Carter did not reply. She did not wish further to incense her son against the squire, yet in her heart she could not help agreeing with him.
The next day Herbert did not go to work as usual. He did not feel like it, while matters were in such uncertainty. He knew the squire would be at the cottage a little before twelve o'clock, and he wanted to be with his mother at that time, for he felt that, if the place must be sold, he would be more likely to get good terms for it than his mother, who was of an easy and yielding disposition.
He took a little walk in the course of the forenoon, not with any particular object in view, but in order to pass the time. As he was passing the hotel—for there was a small hotel in the village—he heard his name called. Turning round, he found that it was the landlord who had called him.
“Come here a minute, Herbert,” he said.
Herbert obeyed the summons.
“What are you doing nowadays?” he asked.
“I have turned farmer,” said our hero.
“Whom are you working for?”
“For myself.”
“How is that? I don't understand.”
“I am cultivating Mr. Crane's land on shares.”
“Does it take up all jour time?”
“No; I would only work part of the day if I had anything else to do.”
“I'll tell you what I have been thinking of. There's a young man boarding with me from the city, a Mr. Cameron. He was a college student, but his eyes gave out, and the doctor sent him out of the city to get well. He wants some one to read to him part of the time, and go about with him for company. He is from a rich family—the son of a wealthy manufacturer—and he will be willing to pay a fair price.”
“Do you think I would suit him?” asked Herbert, eagerly.
“Yes, I think you would. You are a good scholar, and when I mentioned you to him, he said he would like to see you. He said he would prefer a boy, as he would be more ready to adapt himself to his wishes.”
“When can I see Mr. Cameron?” asked our hero.
“Come in now. You will find him in his room. Here, John, show Herbert up to number six.”
Herbert was ushered into one of the best rooms the hotel afforded. A young man, of pleasant appearance, was sitting at the window, with a green shade over his eyes. He pushed up this, that he might see Herbert.
“This is Herbert Carter, Mr. Cameron,” said John, unceremoniously.
“I am glad to see you, Herbert,” said the young man, smiling as he extended his hand. He was secretly pleased with Herbert's open and manly face. “Did the landlord say why I might need your assistance?”
“He said your eyes were affected.”
“Yes, they broke down a month since. I am a student of Yale College, in the junior class. I suppose I tasked my eyes too severely. At any rate, they gave out, and I am forbidden to use them at all.”
“That must be a great loss to you,” said Herbert, with sympathy.
“It is. I am very fond of reading and study, and the time passes very heavily in the absence of my usual employment.”
“I don't know what I should do if I could not use my eyes.”
“You would find it a great hardship. Now I must tell you why I came here. The doctor told me I should be better off in the country than in the city. He said that the sight of the green grass would be good for me, and the fresh air, in improving my general health, would help my eyes also. I hadn't much choice as to a place, but some one mentioned Wrayburn, and so I came here. But I soon found that, unless I got some pleasant company and some one who could read to me, I should die of weariness. That brings me to my object in asking you to call upon me. How is your time occupied?”
“I have taken an acre of land to cultivate on shares,” answered Herbert. “It was because I could find nothing else to do, and must do something.”
“Does that keep you pretty busy?”
“It is planting time now, but I could get along with working there half a day.”
“And could you place yourself at my disposal the other half?”
“I should be glad to do it,” answered Herbert.
“Suppose, then, that you work in the field in the forenoon, and give me every afternoon.”
“All right,” said Herbert, promptly.
“Now comes another question. What pay would you expect for giving me so much of your time?”
“I shouldn't know what to charge, Mr. Cameron. I leave that matter entirely with you.”
“Would you be satisfied with five dollars a week?”
Five dollars a week! Herbert could hardly believe his ears. Why, he would have been well paid if this had been given him for the whole of his time, but for half it seemed munificent.
“I am afraid I can't earn that much,” he answered. “I would be willing to take less.”
“You don't know how hard I shall make you work,” said the young man, smiling. “I insist upon paying you five dollars a week.”
“I don't seriously object,” said Herbert, smiling; “but if you think, after the first week, that it is too much, you can pay me less.”
“I see that we are not likely to quarrel on the subject of salary then. When can you begin?”
“This afternoon, if you wish.”
“I do wish it, otherwise the afternoon would pass very slowly to me.”
“Then, I will be here at one o'clock.”
“Half past one will do.”
“I will be on hand. Till then I will bid you good morning, as I shall be wanted at home.”
“Very well, Herbert.”
Herbert left the room and hurried home, for it was nearly twelve. On the way he stopped at the post office, and found a letter addressed to his mother. He did not recognize the handwriting, nor, such was his hurry, did he notice where it was postmarked. He had no watch, but thought it must be close upon twelve o'clock. So he thrust the letter into his pocket, and continued his way homeward on a half run. He was in time, for, just as he reached the front gate from one direction, the squire reached it from the other.
“Good morning,” said the squire, a little stiffly. “Is your mother at home?”
“I presume she is. Won't you come in?”
“I wonder if they've got the money ready,” thought the squire, as he followed Herbert into the modest sitting room.
Leaving the squire in the sitting room, Herbert went in quest of his mother.
“Squire Leech is here,” he said.
“What shall we say to him?” asked his mother, soberly.
“Wait a minute and I will tell you,” said Herbert, his face brightening.
“I've had a stroke of luck, mother. I've been engaged to work afternoons, at five dollars a week.”
“Who has engaged to pay you such high wages?” asked Mrs. Carter, astonished.
“A young man staying at the hotel, whose eyes are weak. I am to read to him, and do whatever else he requires. I got the chance through the landlord.”
“You are certainly fortunate,” said his mother, gratified.
“Now, what I am going to propose to the squire is to wait two or three weeks for the balance of the interest till I can make it up out of my wages.”
“If he weren't so anxious to get possession of the place he would; but I am afraid on that account he will refuse But we ought to go in.”
Mrs. Carter removed the apron which she had worn about her work, and entered the sitting room, followed by Herbert.
“I hope you will excuse my keeping you waiting, Squire Leech,” she said.
“Certainly, ma'am, though I am rather in a hurry.”
“I suppose you have come about the interest?”
“It is due to-day, as, of course, you know.”
“Yes.”
“I suppose you have it ready,” said the squire, eyeing her shrewdly.
“I can pay you fifteen dollars of it,” said the widow, nervously.
Squire Leech felt exultant, but he only frowned.
“It amounts to twenty-two dollars and a half,” he said, sharply.
“I know that, and I shall be able to pay the remainder if you will be kind enough to wait two or three weeks.”
Not knowing anything of Herbert's good fortune, Squire Leech utterly disbelieved this. He knew no source from which the widow could get the money.
“It is easy enough to make promises,” he said, with a sneer, “but that doesn't satisfy me. I want my money.”
Now Herbert felt it time for him to take part in the conversation.
“My mother can keep her promise,” he said.
“Can she? Perhaps you will explain where you expect to get the money.”
“From my wages,” answered Herbert, proudly.
“I wasn't aware that you received any,” sneered the squire.
“I have just made an engagement to work for five dollars a week,” said our hero, enjoying the squire's look of surprise.
“Indeed! Who pays you that?”
“A gentleman boarding at the hotel has engaged me to read to him as his eyes are weak.”
“A fool and his money are soon parted,” said Squire Leech. “You may retain the position a week.”
“I hope to keep it. I feel sure that I shall.”
“I don't,” said the squire, emphatically.
“Then are you willing to wait—say two weeks—for the rest of the interest?”
“No, I am not, and you ought to have known I shouldn't be. There is a way of arranging the whole matter.”
“By selling the place, you mean?”
“Yes; I mean just that. It is folly for you to think of keeping the property with such a heavy mortgage upon it on which you are unable to pay the interest. I have offered you a fair price for it.”
“You offered four hundred dollars less than it cost.”
“That is nonsense! It never cost fifteen hundred dollars.”
“I have my husband's word for it,” said the widow.
“Then, he made some mistake, you may be sure.”
“I am sure father was right,” said Herbert. “Besides, we have his bills to prove it.”
“That's neither here nor there,” said Squire Leech, impatiently. “Even if it cost ten thousand dollars, it's only worth eleven hundred now; that is to say, three hundred and fifty dollars over and above the mortgage.”
“You are hard upon me, Squire Leech,” said Mrs. Carter, despondently.
“You are a woman, ma'am, and women never understand business. I make allowance for you; but your son ought to know better than to encourage you.”
“I want my mother to be treated fairly and justly.”
“Do you mean to imply that I would treat her otherwise, young man?” demanded the squire, angrily. “I advise you not to make an enemy of me.”
Herbert looked sober. The squire might not be right but certainly he had the power to carry his point and that power he was certain to exercise.
“Will you give my mother and myself a little time to consult what is to be done?” he asked.
“Yes,” said the squire, feeling that he had carried his point. “I might refuse, of course, but I wish to be easy with you and therefore I will give you till half past twelve. I will be back at that time.”
He took his cane and left the house.
His reference to the post office reminded Herbert of the letter he had in his pocket for his mother.
“Here's a letter for you, mother,” he said.
“A letter! Who can it be from?”
“It's postmarked at Randolph,” said Herbert.
“Perhaps it's from Aunt Nancy,” suggested the widow. “I don't know anyone else in Randolph that would be likely to write to me.”
She opened the envelope and uttered a cry of surprise as two bills dropped out and fluttered to the floor.
Herbert picked them up eagerly and cried: “Why, mother, they are ten-dollar bills. Twenty dollars in all!”
“Twenty dollars!” repeated Mrs. Carter, in amazement.
“Hurrah! now we can pay the interest!” exclaimed Herbert. “Won't the squire be mad!” and he laughed joyously. “Read the letter aloud, mother.”
Mrs. Carter read as follows:
“MY DEAR NIECE: I have thought of you often, and wish we were not so far distant from each other. I should enjoy seeing you and that good son of yours often. I am afraid you have had a hard time getting along. My wants are few and I have more than enough to supply them. I inclose twenty dollars in this letter. I shall not need them, for an old woman like me can live on very little.
“I wish you would write to me sometimes or ask Herbert to. I feel lonely and it would be a great favor to me. If it were not so far, I would ask you and Herbert to come over and spend a day or two with me. Perhaps you can manage to do it some time. Only don't delay too long, for I am getting old and can't expect to live much longer,
“Your affectionate aunt,
“How good of Aunt Nancy! If her brother had possessed her kind heart, we should be better off to-day.”
“It came just in the nick of time, mother. How lucky!”
“Say, rather, how providential, my son. We owe to the kindness of God. He will not see us want.”
“Of course you are right, mother; but the squire won't regard it in the same light. He will be terribly disappointed, for he thinks he has got us in his power.”
“I am thankful that this is to be our home for six months more.”
“Longer than that, mother. I am earning something now, and I will save up money to pay our next interest.”
“Squire Leech is coming back,” said Mrs. Carter.
“See how briskly he walks!” said Herbert. “I don't think he'll be so cheerful when he leaves the house.”
“I don't think we ought to exult, Herbert.”
“I can't help it, mother and I'm not ashamed of it, either. You are carrying benevolence too far.”
Here the squire's knock was heard, and Herbert went to admit him.
The squire was in very good spirits. All the way back from the post office he had been congratulating himself on the elegant bargain he was about to make. The widow and her son had been obliged to yield. Squire Leech thought more of Herbert than of his mother, for he was convinced that but for him he could have talked over Mrs. Carter six months before.
“Serves the boy right,” he said to himself. “It was preposterous in him to oppose my wishes. He might have known I would advise what was best.”
The squire meant what was best for him. He had not given much thought what would be best for Mrs. Carter.
“Some men would take advantage of their situation and reduce their offer,” thought the squire, virtuously, “but I won't be hard on them. They shall have the three hundred and fifty dollars.”
“Well,” said he cheerfully, as Herbert opened the door, “I believe I have given you the time I agreed upon.”
“Yes, sir,” said Herbert.
“Please walk in.”
The squire expected to find him sober and depressed, but in spite of himself Herbert could not help looking in good spirits. This puzzled the squire a little, but he said to himself: “Probably they have decided that my offer wasn't so bad a one, after all.”
“Well,” said the village magnate, “well, Mrs. Carter, now that you have had time to think over my proposal, you have probably seen its advantages.”
“I should not be willing to give up the house, sir. My husband built it, and—”
The squire's brow darkened. What a perverse, obstinate woman she was!
“That ain't the question,” he exclaimed, pounding his cane on the floor. “There are many things we don't want to do that we've got to do. You stand in your own light, ma'am. I have my rights.”
“We don't deny that, sir,” said Herbert, who enjoyed the squire's excitement, knowing how it must end.
“I am glad to hear it,” said the squire; “but it appears to me you think you and your mother are the only persons to be considered in this matter.”
“I think my mother is entitled to some consideration.”
“Haven't I considered her? Haven't I offered her a most liberal price for the place?”
“We don't call it liberal.”
“Then you are unreasonable. Many men in my position would offer less. Indeed, I don't think I ought to offer more than three hundred dollars.”
“We would thank you, Squire Leech, if we could see any favor in offering three or four hundred dollars less than the house is worth.”
“We have had enough of this nonsense,” said the squire, angrily. “It is not too late to withdraw my offer.”
“You had better withdraw it,” said Herbert, composedly, “for mother and I have decided to refuse it.”
“Refuse it!” gasped the squire. “What do you mean by such outrageous impudence?”
“I don't see how it can be considered impudence. We are not obliged to accept every offer made us.”
“You are obliged to accept this,” cried Squire Leech, stamping his cane upon the floor again. “You know there is no help for it.”
“How do you make that out, sir?” inquired our hero.
“You can't pay the interest.”
“I beg your pardon, sir; we are ready to pay.”
“I mean the whole of the interest.”
“So do I.”
“It must be paid at once.”
“It shall be paid at once, Squire Leech. Please make out a receipt.”
Squire Leech was never more astonished in his life. He was not convinced till Herbert produced what he could distinguish as two ten-dollar bills and one five.
“There will be two dollars and a half change,” said Herbert in a business-like manner.
“What did you mean by telling me you could not pay the interest when I was here at twelve o'clock?”
“We could not, then, or thought we could not.”
“Then how can you pay me now?”
“We received some money in a letter this morning. The letter had not been opened when you were here, so we didn't know we could meet your claims.”
Squire Leech was very angry. He felt that he had been defeated, and that triumph had slipped over to the other side. But he resolved to make one more attempt.
“I have the right to refuse this money,” he said. “It comes too late. It should have been paid at twelve.”
“I beg your pardon. Squire Leech; you yourself gave us time to consult what to do.”
“Because,” said the squire, unguardedly, “I thought you could not pay the interest.”
Herbert could not help smiling.
“We have nothing to do with what you thought.”
The squire frowned and bit his lips with vexation. He tried to think of some way of getting over the difficulty but none presented itself. As he dashed off the signature and took the money, he said, angrily: “The time will come when I will have this place. Your convenient letters won't always come just in the nick of time.”
“I hope to be prepared for you next time, without having to depend on that.”
Still, the squire lingered. The fact was, that, though very angry, he was anxious to know from whom Mrs. Carter had received this opportune help.
“Who sent you this letter?” he asked.
“I don't think we need to tell you that,” said Herbert.
“I have no objection to tell,” said Mrs. Carter. “It was my aunt, Nancy Carter, of Randolph, who so kindly remembered us.”
“I wish she'd kept back her letter a day or two,” thought the squire.
“Is she rich?” he asked, abruptly.
“No; she has a very modest income left by her brother; but her wants are few, and she thought we might need help. She has a good heart.”
“Well, ma'am, as my business is over, I will leave you,” said the squire, sulkily. “As for that boy of yours,” pointing his finger at Herbert, “I advise you to teach him better manners. He won't gain anything by his impertinence. If he had acted differently I would have given him employment, or got my superintendent to do so.”
“I should have been unable to accept it. Squire Leech,” said Herbert. “I have made an engagement already.”
The squire had forgotten this, and it was mortifying to expect that his patronage was of no importance to the boy whom he detested.
“Good morning!” he said abruptly and left the room
“I am afraid, Herbert, you treated the squire disrespectfully,” said Mrs. Carter.
“I don't think so, mother, unless to oppose his wishes is to be disrespectful.”
“He spoke as if he thought you did.”
“I know that, but he wouldn't if he hadn't been unreasonable. But I've got to go to the hotel in fifteen minutes. Just give me a bite, for I'm awful hungry.”
So the day which Herbert had so much dreaded in advance was marked by two pieces of good luck.