"What do you charge for your rolls?" he asked.

"Two cents."

"I'll take one. How do you sell your apples?"

"A cent apiece."

"I'll take two."

Thus for four cents Harry made quite a substantial addition to his meal. As he left the store, and walked up the road, with the roll in his hand, eating an apple, he called to mind Benjamin Franklin's entrance of Philadelphia with a roll under each arm.

"I hope I shall have as good luck as Franklin had," he thought.

Walking slowly, he saw, on a small building which he I had just reached, the sign, "Post Office."

"Perhaps the postmaster will know if anybody about here wants a boy," Harry said to himself. "At any rate, it won't do any harm to inquire."

He entered, finding himself in a small room, with one part partitioned off as a repository for mail matter. He stepped up to a little window, and presently the postmaster, an elderly man, presented himself.

"What name," he asked.

"I haven't come for a letter," said Harry.

"What do you want, then?" asked the official, but not roughly.

"Do you know of anyone that wants to hire a boy?"

"Who's the boy?"

"I am. I want to get a chance to work."

"What kind of work?"

"Any kind that'll pay my board and a little over."

"I don't know of any place," said the postmaster, after a little thought.

"Isn't there any shoe shop where I could get in?"

"That reminds me—James Leavitt told me this morning that his boy was going to Boston to go into a store in a couple of months. He's been pegging for his father and I guess they'll have to get somebody in his place."

Harry's face brightened at this intelligence.

"That's just the kind of place I'd like to get," he said.

"Where does Mr. Leavitt live?"

"A quarter of a mile from here—over the bridge. You'll know it well enough. It's a cottage house, with a shoe shop in the backyard."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry. "I'll go there and try my luck."

"Wait a minute," said the postmaster. "There's a letter here for Mr. Leavitt. If you're going there, you may as well carry it along. It's from Boston. I shouldn't wonder if it's about the place Bob Leavitt wants."

"I'll take it with pleasure," said Harry.

It occurred to him that it would be a good introduction for him, and pave the way for his application.

"I hope I may get a chance to work for this Mr. Leavitt," he said to himself. "I like the looks of this village. I should like to live here for a while."

He walked up the street, crossing the bridge referred to by the postmaster, and looked carefully on each side of him for the cottage and shop. At length he came to a place which answered the description, and entered the yard. As he neared the shop he heard a noise which indicated that work was going on inside. He opened the door, and entered.



CHAPTER XII

THE NEW BOARDER



Harry found himself in a room about twenty-five feet by twenty. The floor was covered with scraps of leather. Here stood a deep wooden box containing a case of shoes ready to send off. There was a stove in the center, in which, however, as it was a warm day, no fire was burning. There were three persons present. One, a man of middle age, was Mr. James Leavitt, the proprietor of the shop. His son Robert, about seventeen, worked at an adjoining bench. Tom Gavitt, a journeyman, a short, thick-set man of thirty, employed by Mr. Leavitt, was the third.

The three looked up as Harry entered the shop.

"I have a letter for Mr. Leavitt," said our hero.

"That is my name," said the eldest of the party.

Harry advanced, and placed it in his hands.

"Where did you get this letter?"

"At the post office."

"I can't call you by name. Do you live about here?"

"No, I came from Granton."

No further questions were asked just then, as Mr. Leavitt, suspending work, opened the letter.

"It's from your Uncle Benjamin," he said, addressing Robert. "Let us see what he has to say."

He read the letter in silence.

"What does he say, father?" asked Robert.

"He says he shall be ready to take you the first of September. That's in six weeks—a little sooner than we calculated. I wish it were a little later, as work is brisk, and I may find it difficult to fill your place without paying more than I want to."

"I guess you can pick up somebody," said Robert, who was anxious to go to Boston as soon as possible.

"Won't you hire me?" asked Harry, who felt that the time had come for him to announce his business.

Mr. Leavitt looked at him more attentively.

"Have you ever worked in a shop?"

"No, sir."

"It will take you some time to learn pegging."

"I'll work for my board till I've learned."

"But you won't be able to do all I want at first."

"Suppose I begin now," said Harry, "and work for my board till your son goes away. By that time I can do considerable."

"I don't know but that's a good idea," said Mr. Leavitt. "What do you think, Bob?"

"Better take him, father," said Robert, who felt that it would facilitate his own plans.

"How much would you want after you have learned?" asked the father.

"I don't know; what would be a fair price," said Harry.

"I'll give you three dollars a week and board," said Mr. Leavitt, after a little consideration—"that is, if I am satisfied with you."

"I'll come," said Harry, promptly. He rapidly calculated that there would be about twenty weeks for which he would receive pay before the six months expired, at the end of which the cow must be paid for. This would give him sixty dollars, of which he thought he should be able to save forty to send or carry to his father.

"How did you happen to come to me?" asked Mr. Leavitt, with some curiosity.

"I heard at the post office that your son was going to the city to work, and I thought I could get in here."

"Is your father living?"

"Yes, my father and mother both."

"What business is he in?"

"He is a farmer; but his farm is small, and not very profitable."

"So you thought you would leave home and try something else?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, we will try you at shoemaking. Robert, you can teach him what you know about pegging."

"Come here," said Robert. "What is your name?"

"Harry Walton."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Did you ever work much?"

"Yes, on a farm."

"Do you think you'll like shoemaking better?"

"I don't know yet, but I think I shall. I like almost anything better than farming."

"And I like almost anything better than pegging. I began when I was only twelve years old, and I'm sick of it."

"What kind of store is it you are going into?"

"Dry goods. My uncle, Benjamin Streeter, mother's brother, keeps a dry goods store on Washington street. It'll be jolly living in the city."

"I don't know," said Harry thoughtfully. "I think I like a village just as well."

"What sort of a place is Granton, where you come from?"

"It's a farming town. There isn't any village at all."

"There isn't much going on here."

"There'll be more than in Granton. There's nothing to do there but to work on a farm."

"I shouldn't like that myself; but the city's the best of all"

"Can you make more money in a store than working in a shoe shop?"

"Not so much at first, but after you've got learned there's better chances. There's a clerk, that went from here ten years ago, that gets fifty dollars a week."

"Does he?" asked Harry, to whose rustic inexperience this seemed like an immense salary. "I didn't think any clerk ever got so much."

"They get it often if they are smart," said Robert.

Here he was wrong, however. Such cases are exceptional, and a city fry goods clerk, considering his higher rate of expense, is no better off than many country mechanics. But country boys are apt to form wrong ideas on this subject, and are in too great haste to forsake good country homes for long hours of toil behind a city counter, and a poor home in a dingy, third-class city boarding house. It is only in the wholesale houses, for the most part, that high salaries are paid, and then, of course, only to those who have shown superior energy and capacity. Of course some do achieve success and become rich; but of the tens of thousand who come from the country to seek clerkships, but a very small proportion rise above a small income.

"I shall have a start," Robert proceeded, "for I go into my uncle's store. I am to board at his house, and get three dollars a week."

"That's what your father offers me," said Harry.

"Yes; you'll earn more after a while, and I can now; but I'd rather live in the city. There's lots to see in the city—theaters, circuses, and all kinds of amusements."

"You won't have much money to spend on theaters," said Harry, prudently.

"Not at first, but I'll get raised soon."

"I think I should try to save as much as I could."

"Out of three dollars a week?"

"Yes."

"What can you save out of that?"

"I expect to save half of it, perhaps more."

"I couldn't do that. I want a little fun."

"You see my father's poor. I want to help him all I can."

"That's good advice for you, Bob," said Mr. Leavitt.

"Save up money, and help me."

Robert laughed.

"You'll have to wait till I get bigger pay," he said.

"Your father's better off than mine," said Harry.

"Of course, if he don't need it, that makes a difference."

Here the sound of a bell was heard, proceeding from the house.

"Robert," said his father "go in and tell your mother to put an extra seat at the table. She doesn't know that we've got a new boarder."

He took off his apron, and washed his hands. Tom Gavitt followed his example, but didn't go into the house of his employer. He lived in a house of his own about five minutes' walk distant, but left the shop at the same time. In a country village the general dinner hour is twelve o'clock—a very unfashionably early hour—but I presume any of my readers who had been at work from seven o'clock would have no difficulty in getting up a good appetite at noon.

Robert went in and informed his mother of the new boarder. It made no difference, for the table was always well supplied.

"This is Harry Walton, mother," said Mr. Leavitt, "our new apprentice. He will take Bob's place when he goes."

"I am glad to see you," said Mrs. Leavitt, hospitably.

"You may sit here, next to Robert."

"What have you got for us to-day, mother?" asked her husband.

"A picked-up dinner. There's some cold beef left over from yesterday, and I've made an apple pudding."

"That's good. We don't want anything better."

So Harry thought. Accustomed to the painful frugality of the table at home, he regarded this as a splendid dinner, and did full justice to it.

In the afternoon he resumed work in the shop under Robert's guidance. He was in excellent spirits. He felt that he was very fortunate to have gained a place so soon, and determined to write home that same evening.



CHAPTER XIII

AN INVITATION DECLINED



The summer passed quickly, and the time arrived for Robert Leavitt to go to the city. By this time Harry was well qualified to take his place. It had not been difficult, for he had only been required to peg, and that is learned in a short time. Harry, however, proved to be a quick workman, quicker, if anything, than Robert, though the latter had been accustomed to the work for several years. Mr. Leavitt was well satisfied with his new apprentice, and quite content to pay him the three dollars a week agreed upon. In fact, it diminished the amount of cash he was called upon to pay.

"Good-by, Harry," said Robert, as he saw the coach coming up the road, to take him to the railroad station.

"Good-by, and good luck!" said Harry.

"When you come to the city, come and see me."

"I don't think I shall be going very soon. I can't afford it."

"You must save up your wages, and you'll have enough soon."

"I've got another use for my wages, Bob."

"To buy cigars?"

Harry shook his head. "I shall save it up to carry home."

"Well, you must try to make my place good in the shop."

"He can do that," said Mr. Leavitt, slyly; "but there's one place where he can't equal you."

"Where is that?"

"At the dinner table."

"You've got me there, father," said Bob, good-naturedly. "Well, good-by all, here's the stage."

In a minute more he was gone. Harry felt rather lonely, for he had grown used to working beside him. But his spirits rose as he reflected that the time had now come when he should be in receipt of an income. Three dollars a week made him feel rich in anticipation. He looked forward already with satisfaction to the time when he might go home with money enough to pay off his father's debt to Squire Green. But he was not permitted to carry out his economical purpose without a struggle.

On Saturday evening, after he had received his week's pay, Luke Harrison, who worked in a shop near by, met him at the post office.

"Come along, Harry," he said. "Let us play a game of billiards."

"You must excuse me," said Harry.

"Oh, come along," said Luke, taking him by the arm; "it's only twenty-five cents."

"I can't afford it,"

"Can't afford it! Now that's nonsense. You just changed a two-dollar note for those postage stamps."

"I know that; but I must save that money for another purpose."

"What's the use of being stingy, Harry? Try one game."

"You can get somebody else to play with you, Luke."

"Oh, hang it, if you care so much for a quarter, I'll pay for the game myself. Only come and play."

Harry shook his head.

"I don't want to amuse myself at your expense."

"You are a miser," said Luke, angrily.

"You can call me so, if you like," said Harry, firmly; "but that won't make it so."

"I don't see how you can call yourself anything else, if you are so afraid to spend your money."

"I have good reasons."

"What are they?"

"I told you once that I had another use for the money."

"To hoard away in an old stocking," said Luke, sneering.

"You may say so, if you like," said Harry, turning away.

He knew he was right, but it was disagreeable to be called a miser. He was too proud to justify himself to Luke, who spent all his money foolishly, though earning considerably larger wages than he.

There was one thing that Harry had not yet been able to do to any great extent, though it was something he had at heart. He had not forgotten his motto, "Live and Learn," and now that he was in a fair way to make a living, he felt that he had made no advance in learning during the few weeks since he arrived in Glenville.

The day previous he had heard, for the first time, that there was a public library in another part of the town, which was open evenings. Though it was two miles distant, and he had been at work all day, he determined to walk up there and get a book. He felt that he was very ignorant, and that his advance in the world depended upon his improving all opportunities that might present themselves for extending his limited knowledge. This was evidently one.

After his unsatisfactory interview with Luke, he set out for the upper village, as it was called. Forty minutes' walk brought him to the building in which the library was kept. An elderly man had charge of it—a Mr. Parmenter.

"Can I take out a book?" asked Harry.

"Do you live in town?"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't remember seeing you before. You don't live in this village, do you?"

"No, sir. I live in the lower village."

"What is your name?"

"Harry Walton."

"I don't remember any Walton family."

"My father lives in Granton. I am working for Mr. James Leavitt."

"I have no doubt this is quite correct, but I shall have to have Mr. Leavitt's certificate to that effect, before I can put your name down, and trust you with books."

"Then can't I take any book to-night?" asked Harry, disappointed.

"I am afraid not."

So it seemed his two-mile walk was for nothing. He must retrace his steps and come again Monday night.

He was turning away disappointed when Dr. Townley, of the lower village, who lived near Mr. Leavitt, entered the library.

"My wife wants a book in exchange for this, Mr. Parmenter," he said. "Have you got anything new in? Ah, Harry Walton, how came you here? Do you take books out of the library?"

"That's is what I came up for, but the librarian says I must bring a line from Mr. Leavitt, telling who I am."

"If Dr. Townley knows you, that is sufficient," said the librarian.

"He is all right, Mr. Parmenter. He is a young neighbor of mine."

"That is enough. He can select a book."

Harry was quite relieved at this fortunate meeting, and after a little reflection selected the first volume of "Rollin's Universal History," a book better known to our fathers than the present generation.

"That's a good, solid book, Harry," said the doctor.

"Most of our young people select stories."

"I like stories very much," said Harry; "but I have only a little time to read, and I must try to learn something."

"You are a sensible boy," said the doctor, emphatically.

"I'm afraid there are few of our young people who take such wise views of what is best for them. Most care only for present enjoyment."

"I have got my own way to make," said Harry, "and I suppose that is what influences me. My father is poor and cannot help me, and I want to rise in the world."

"You are going the right way to work. Do you intend to take out books often from the library?"

"Yes, sir."

"It will be a long walk from the lower village."

"I would walk farther rather than do without the books."

"I can save you at any rate from walking back. My chaise is outside, and, if you will jump in, I will carry you home."

"Thank you, doctor. I shall be very glad to ride."

On the way, Dr. Townley said: "I have a few miscellaneous book in my medical library, which I will lend to you with pleasure, if you will come in. It may save you an occasional walk to the library."

Harry thanked him, and not long afterwards availed himself of the considerate proposal. Dr Townley was liberally educated, and as far as his professional engagements would permit kept up with general literature. He gave Harry some valuable directions as to the books which it would benefit him to read, and more than once took him up on the road to the library.

Once a week regularly Harry wrote home. He knew that his letters would give pleasure to the family, and he never allowed anything to interfere with his duty.

His father wrote: "We are getting on about as usual. The cow does tolerably well, but is not as good as the one I lost. I have not yet succeeded in laying up anything toward paying for her. Somehow, whenever I have a few dollars laid aside Tom wants shoes, or your sister wants a dress, or some other expense swallows it up."

Harry wrote in reply: "Don't trouble yourself, father, about your debt to Squire Green. If I have steady work, and keep my health, I shall have enough to pay it by the time it comes due."



CHAPTER XIV

THE TAILOR'S CUSTOMER



At the end of six weeks from the date of Robert's departure, Harry had been paid eighteen dollars. Of this sum he had spent but one dollar, and kept the balance in his pocketbook. He did not care to send it home until he had enough to meet Squire Green's demand, knowing that his father would be able to meet his ordinary expenses. Chiefly through the reports of Luke Harrison he was acquiring the reputation of meanness, though, as we know, he was far from deserving it.

"See how the fellow dresses," said Luke, contemptuously, to two of his companions one evening. "His clothes are shabby enough, and he hasn't got an overcoat at all. He hoards his money, and is too stingy to buy one. See, there he comes, buttoned to the chin to keep warm, and I suppose he has more money in his pocketbook than the whole of us together. I wouldn't be as mean as he is for a hundred dollars."

"You'd rather get trusted for your clothes than do without them," said Frank Heath, slyly; for he happened to know that Luke had run up a bill with the tailor, about which the latter was getting anxious.

"What if I do," said Luke, sharply, "as long as I am going to pay for them?"

"Oh, nothing," said Frank. "I didn't say anything against it, did I? I suppose you are as able to owe the tailor as anyone."

By this time, Harry had come up.

"Where are you going, Walton?" asked Luke. "You look cold."

"Yes, it's a cold day."

"Left your overcoat at home, didn't you?"

Harry colored. The fact was, he felt the need of an overcoat, but didn't know how to manage getting one. At the lowest calculation, it would cost all the money he had saved up for one, and the purchase would defeat all his plans. The one he had worn at home during the previous winter was too small for him, and had been given to his brother.

"If I only could get through the winter without one," he thought, "I should be all right." But a New England winter is not to be braved with impunity, useless protected by adequate clothing. Luke's sneer was therefore not without effect. But he answered, quietly: "I did not leave it at home, for I have none to leave."

"I suppose you are bound to the tailor's to order one."

"What makes you think so?" asked Harry.

"You are not such a fool as to go without one when you have money in your pocket, are you?"

"You seem very curious about my private affairs," said Harry, rather provoked.

"He's only drumming up customers for the tailor," said Frank Heath. "He gets a commission on all he brings."

"That's the way he pays his bill," said Sam Anderson.

"Quit fooling, boys," said Luke, irritated. "I ain't a drummer. I pay my bills, like a gentleman."

"By keeping the tailor waiting," said Frank.

"Quit that!"

So attention was diverted from Harry by this opportune attack upon Luke, much to our hero's relief. Nevertheless, he saw, that in order to preserve his health, he must have some outer garment, and in order the better to decide what to do, he concluded to step into the tailor's, and inquire his prices.

The tailor, Merrill by name, had a shop over the dry goods store, and thither Harry directed his steps. There was one other person in the shop, a young fellow but little larger than Harry, though two years older, who was on a visit to an aunt in the neighborhood, but lived in Boston. He belonged to a rich family, and had command of considerable money. His name was Maurice Tudor. He had gone into the shop to leave a coat to be repaired.

"How are you, Walton?" he said, for he knew our hero slightly.

"Pretty well. Thank you."

"It's pretty cold for October."

"Yes, unusually so."

"Mr. Merrill," said Harry, "I should like to inquire the price of an overcoat. I may want to order one by and by."

"What sort of one do you want—pretty nice?"

"No, I can't afford anything nice—something as cheap as possible."

"This is the cheapest goods I have," said the tailor, pointing to some coarse cloth near by.

"I can make you up a coat from that for eighteen dollars."

"Eighteen dollars!" exclaimed Harry, in dismay. "Is that the cheapest you have?"

"The very cheapest."

After a minute's pause he added, "I might take off a dollar for cash. I've got enough of running up bills. There's Luke Harrison owes me over thirty dollars, and I don't believe he means to pay it al all."

"If I buy, I shall pay cash," said Harry, quietly.

"You can't get anything cheaper than this." said the tailor.

"Very likely not," said Harry, soberly. "I'll think about it, and let you know if I decide to take it."

Maurice Tudor was a silent listener to this dialogue. He saw Harry's sober expression, and he noticed the tone in which he repeated "eighteen dollars," and he guessed the truth. He lingered after Harry went out, and said:

"That's a good fellow."

"Harry Walton?" repeated the tailor. "Yes, he's worth a dozen Luke Harrisons."

"Has he been in the village long?"

"No, not more than two or three months. He works for Mr. Leavitt."

"He is rather poor, I suppose."

"Yes. The boys call him mean; but Leavitt tells me he is saving up every cent to send to his father, who is a poor farmer."

"That's a good thing in him."

"Yes, I wish I could afford to give him and overcoat. He needs one, but I suppose seventeen dollars will come rather hard on him to pay. If it was Luke Harrison, it wouldn't trouble him much."

"You mean he would get it on tick."

"Yes, if he found anybody fool enough to trust him. I've done it as long as I'm going to. He won't get a dollar more credit out of me till he pays his bill."

"You're perfectly right, there."

"So I think. He earns a good deal more than Walton, but spends what he earns on billiards, drinks and cigars."

"There he comes up the stairs, now."

In fact, Luke with his two companions directly afterwards entered the shop.

"Merrill," said he, "have you got in any new goods? I must have a new pair of pants."

"Yes, I've got some new goods. There's a piece open before you."

"It's a pretty thing, Merrill," said Luke, struck by it; "what's your price for a pair off of it?"

"Ten dollars."

"Isn't that rather steep?"

"No; the cloth is superior quality."

"Well, darn the expense. I like it, and must have it. Just measure me, will you?"

"Are you ready to pay the account I have against you?"

"How much is it?"

The tailor referred to his books.

"Thirty-two dollars and fifty cents," he answered.

"All right, Merrill. Wait till the pants are done, and I'll pay the whole at once."

"Ain't my credit good?" blustered Luke.

"You can make it good," said the tailor, significantly.

"I didn't think you'd make such a fuss about a small bill."

"I didn't think you'd find is so difficult to pay a small bill," returned the tailor.

Luke looked discomfited. He was silent a moment, and then changed his tactics.

"Come, Merrill," he said, persuasively; "don't be alarmed. I'm good for it, I guess. I haven't got the money convenient to-day. I lent fifty dollars. I shall have it back next week and then I will pay you."

"I am glad to hear it," said Merrill.

"So just measure me and hurry up the pants."

"I'm sorry but I can't till you settle the bill."

"Look here, has Walton been talking against me?"

"No; what makes you think so?"

"He don't like me, because I twitted him with his meanness."

"I don't consider him mean."

"Has he ever bought anything of you?"

"No."

"I knew it. He prefers to go ragged and save his money."

"He's too honorable to run up a bill without paying it."

"Do you mean me?" demanded Luke, angrily.

"I hope not. I presume you intend to pay your bills."

Luke Harrison left the shop. He saw that he exhausted his credit with Merrill. As to paying the bill, there was not much chance of that at present, as he had but one dollar and a half in his pocket.



CHAPTER XV

"BY EXPRESS"



"There's a model for you," said the tailor to Maurice Tudor. "He won't pay his bills."

"How did you come to trust him in the first place?"

"I didn't know him then as well as I do now. I make it a practice to accommodate my customers by trusting them for a month or two, if they want it. But Luke Harrison isn't one to be trusted."

"I should say not."

"If young Walton wants to get an overcoat on credit, I shan't object. I judge something by looks, and I am sure he is honest."

"Well, good night, Mr. Merrill. You'll have my coat done soon?"

"Yes, Mr. Tudor. It shall be ready for you to-morrow."

Maurice Tudor left the tailor's shop, revolving a new idea which had just entered his mind. Now he remembered that he had at home and excellent overcoat which he had worn the previous winter, but which was now too small for him. He had no younger brother to wear it, nor in his circumstances was such economy necessary. As well as he could judge by observing Harry's figure, it would be an excellent fit for him. Why should he not give it to him?

The opportunity came. On his way home he overtook our hero, plunged in thought. In fact, he was still occupied with the problem of the needed overcoat.

"Good evening, Harry," said young Tudor.

"Good evening, Mr. Tudor," answered Harry. "Are you going back to the city soon?"

"In the course of a week or two. Mr. Leavitt's son is in a store in Boston, is he not?"

"Yes. I have taken his place in the shop."

"By the way, I saw you in Merrill's this evening."

"Yes; I was pricing an overcoat."

"I bought this one in Boston just before I came away. I have a very good one left from last winter but it is too small for me. It is of no use to me. If I thought you would accept it, I would offer it to you."

Harry's heart gave a joyful bound.

"Accept it!" he repeated. "Indeed I will and thank you for your great kindness."

"Then I will write home at once to have it sent to me. I also have a suit which I have outgrown; if you wouldn't be too proud to take it."

"I am not so foolish. It will be a great favor."

"I thought you would take it right," said Maurice, well pleased. "I will also send for the suit. I will get my mother to forward them by express."

"They will be as good as money to me," said Harry; "and that is not very plenty with me."

"Will you tell me something of your circumstances? Perhaps I may have it in my power to help you."

Harry, assured of his friendly interest, did not hesitate to give him a full account of his plans in life, and especially of his desire to relieve his father of the burden of poverty. His straightforward narrative made a very favorable impression upon Maurice, who could not help reflecting: "How far superior this boy is to Luke Harrison and his tribe!"

"Thank you for telling me all this," he said. "It was not from mere curiosity that I asked."

"I am sure of that," said Harry. "Thanks to your generosity, I shall present a much more respectable appearance, besides being made more comfortable."

Three days later a large bundle was brought by the village expressman to Mr. Leavitt's door.

"A bundle for you, Walton," said the expressman, seeing Harry in the yard.

"What is there to pay?" he asked.

"Nothing. It was prepaid in the city?"

Harry took it up to his room and opened it eagerly. First came the promised overcoat. It was of very handsome French cloth, with a velvet collar, and rich silk facings, far higher in cost than any Mr. Merrill would have made for him. It fitted as if it had been made for him. Next came, not one, but two complete suits embracing coat, vest and pants. One of pepper-and-salt cloth, the other a dark blue. These, also, so similar was he in figure to Maurice, fitted him equally well. The clothes which he brought with from form Granton were not only of coarse material but were far from stylish in cut, whereas these garments had been made by a fashionable Boston tailor and set off his figure to much greater advantage.

"I wonder what Luke Harrison will say?" said our hero to himself, smiling, as he thought of the surprise of Luke at witnessing his transformation.

"I've a great mind to keep these on to-night," he said.

"Perhaps I shall meet Luke. He won't have anything more to say about my going without an overcoat."

After supper Harry, arrayed in his best suit and wearing the overcoat, walked down tot he center of the village.

Luke was standing on the piazza of the tavern.

"Luke, see how Walton is dressed up!" exclaimed Frank Heath, who was the first to see our hero.

"Dressed up!" repeated Luke, who was rather shortsighted. "That would be a good joke."

"He's got a splendid overcoat," continued Frank.

"Where'd he get it? Merrill hasn't been making him one."

"It's none of Merrill's work. It's too stylish for him."

By this time Harry had come within Luke's range of vision. The latter surveyed him with astonishment and it must be confessed, with disappointment; for he had been fond of sneering at Harry's clothes, and now the latter was far better dressed than himself.

"Where did you get that coat, Walton?" asked Luke, the instant Harry came up.

"Honestly," said Harry, shortly.

"Have you got anything else new?"

Harry opened his coat and displayed the suit.

"Well, you are coming out, Walton, that's a fact," said Frank Heath. "That's a splendid suit."

"I thought you couldn't afford to buy a coat," said Luke.

"You see I've got one," answered Harry.

"How much did it cost?"

"That's a secret."

Here he left Luke and Frank.

"Well, Luke, what do you say to that?" said Frank Heath.

Luke said nothing. He was astonished and unhappy. He had a fondness for dress and spent a good share of his earnings upon it, paying where he must, and getting credit besides where he could. But he had never had so stylish a suit as this and it depressed him.



CHAPTER XVI

ASKING A FAVOR



There was one other tailor in the village, James Hayden, and to him Luke Harrison determined to transfer his custom, hoping to be allowed to run up a bill with him. He did not like his style of cut as well as Merrill's, but from the latter he was cut off unless he would pay the old bill, and this would be inconvenient.

He strolled into James Hayden's shop and asked to look at some cloth for pants.

Hayden was a shrewd man and, knowing that Luke was a customer of his neighbor, suspected the reason of his transfer. However, he showed the cloth, and, a selection having been made, measured him.

"When will you have them done?" asked Luke.

"In three days."

"I want them by that time sure."

"Of course you pay cash."

"Why," said Luke, hesitating, "I suppose you won't mind giving me a month's credit."

Mr. Hayden shook his head.

"I couldn't do it. My goods are already paid for and I have to pay for the work. I must have cash."

"Merrill always trusted me," pleaded Luke.

"Then why did you leave him?"

"Why," said Luke, a little taken aback, "he didn't cut the last clothes exactly to suit me."

"Didn't suit you? I thought you young people preferred his cut to mine. I am old-fashioned. Hadn't you better go back to Merrill?"

"I've got tired of him," said Luke. "I'll get a pair of pants of you, and see how I like them."

"I'll make them but I can't trust."

"All right. I'll bring the money," said Luke, who yet thought that he might get off by paying part down when he took the pants.

"The old fellow's deuced disobliging," said he o Frank Heath, when they got into the street.

"I don't know as I blame him," said Frank.

"I wish Merrill wasn't so stiff about it. He's terribly afraid of losing his bill."

"That's where he's right," said Frank, laughing. "I'd be the same if I were in his place."

"Do you always pay your bills right off?" said Luke.

"Yes, I do. I don't pretend to be a model boy. I'm afraid I keep bad company," he continued, "but I don't owe a cent to anybody except for board and that I pay up at the end of every week."

Luke dropped the subject, not finding it to his taste.

On Saturday night he went round to the tailor's.

"Have you got my pants done, Mr. Hayden?"

"Yes—here they are."

"Let me see," he said, "how much are they?"

"Nine dollars."

"I'll pay you three dollars to-night and the rest at the end of next week," he said.

"Very well; then you may have them at the end of next week."

"Why not now? They are done, ain't they?"

"Yes," said Mr. Hayden; "but not paid for."

"Didn't I tell you I'd pay three dollars now?"

"Our terms are cash down."

"You ain't afraid of me, are you?" blustered Luke.

"You understood when you ordered the pants that they were to be paid for when they were taken."

"I hate to see people so afraid of losing their money."

"Do you? Was that why you left Merrill?"

Luke colored. He suspected that the fact of his unpaid bill at the other tailor's was known to Mr. Hayden.

"I've a great mind to leave them on your hands."

"I prefer to keep them on my hands, rather than to let them go out of the shop without being paid for."

"Frank," said Luke, turning to his companion, "lend me five dollars, can't you?"

"I'm the wrong fellow to ask," said he; "I've got to pay my board and another bill to-night."

"Oh, let your bills wait."

"And lend you the money? Thank you, I ain't so green. When should I get the money again?"

"Next week."

"In a horn. No; I want to wear the pants to-morrow. I'm going out to ride."

"I don't see, unless you fork over the spondulies."

"I can't. I haven't got enough money."

"See Harry Walton."

"I don't believe he has got any. He bought a lot of clothes last week. They must have cost a pile."

"Can't help it. I saw him open his pocketbook last night and in it was a roll of bills."

Turning to the tailor, Luke said: "Just lay aside the pants and I'll come back for them pretty soon."

Mr. Hayden smiled to himself.

"There's nothing like fetching up these fellows with a round turn," he said. "'No money, no clothes'—that's my motto. Merrill told me all about that little bill that sent Luke Harrison over here. He don't run up any bill with me, if I know myself."

Luke went round to the village store. Harry Walton usually spent a part of every evening in instructive reading and study; but after a hard day's work he felt it necessary to pass an hour or so in the open air, so he came down to the center of center of the village.

"Hello, Walton!" said Luke, accosting him with unusual cordiality. "You are just the fellow I want to see."

"Am I?" inquired Harry in surprise, for there was no particular friendship or intimacy between them.

"Yes; I'm going to ask a little favor of you—a mere trifle. Lend me five or ten dollars for a week. Five will do it, you can't spare more."

Harry shook his head.

"I can't do that, Luke."

"Why not? Haven't you got as much?"

"Yes, I've got it."

"Then why won't you lend it to me?"

"I have little money and I can't run any risk."

"Do you think I won't pay you back?"

"Why do you need to borrow of me? You get much higher wages than I do."

"I want to pay a bill to-night. I didn't think you'd be so unaccommodating."

"I shouldn't be willing to lend to anyone," said Harry.

"The money isn't mine. I am going to send it home."

"A great sight you are!" sneered Luke. "I wanted to see just how mean you were. You've got the money in your pocket but you won't lend it."

This taunt did not particularly disturb Harry. There is a large class like Luke, who offended at being refused a loan, though quite aware that they are never likely to repay it. My young readers will be sure to meet specimens of this class, against whom the only protection is a very firm and decided "No."



CHAPTER XVII

THE NIGHT SCHOLARS



Immediately after Thanksgiving Day, the winter schools commenced. That in the center district was kept by a student of Dartmouth college, who had leave of absence from the college authorities for twelve weeks, in order by teaching to earn something to help defray his college expenses. Leonard Morgan, now a junior, was a tall, strongly made young man of twenty-two, whose stalwart frame had not been reduced by his diligent study. There were several shoe shops in the village, each employing from one to three boys, varying in age from fifteen to nineteen. Why could he not form a private class, to meet in the evening, to be instructed in advanced arithmetic, or, if desired, in Latin and Greek? He broached the idea to Stephen Bates, the prudential committeeman.

"I don't know," said Mr. Bates, "what our boys will think of it. I've got a boy that I'll send, but whether you'll get enough to make it pay I don't know."

"I suppose I can have the schoolhouse, Mr. Bates?"

"Yes, there won't be no objection. Won't it be too much for you after teachin' in the daytime?"

"It would take a good deal to break me down."

"Then you'd better draw up a notice and put it up in the store and tavern," suggested the committeeman.

In accordance with this advice, the young teacher posted up in the two places the following notice:

"EVENING SCHOOL

"I propose to start an evening school for those who are occupied during the day, and unable to attend the district school. Instruction will be given in such English branches as may be desired, and also in Latin and Greek, if any are desirous of pursuing a classical course. The school will commence next Monday evening at the schoolhouse, beginning at seven o'clock. Terms: Seventy cents a week, or five dollars for the term of ten weeks.

"LEONARD MORGAN."

"Are you going to join the class, Walton?" asked Frank Heath.

"Yes," said Harry, promptly.

"Where'll you get the money?" asked Luke Harrison, in a jeering tone.

"I shan't have to go far for it."

"I don't see how you can spend so much money."

"I am willing to spend money when I can get my money's worth," said our hero. "Are you going?"

"To school? No, I guess not. I've got through my schooling."

"You don't know enough to hurt you, do you, Luke?" inquired Frank Heath, slyly.

"Nor I don't want to. I know enough to get along."

"I don't and never expect to," said Harry.

"Do you mean to go to school when you're a gray-headed old veteran?" asked Frank, jocosely.

"I may not go to school then but I shan't give up learning then," said Harry, smiling. "One can learn without going to school. But while I'm young, I mean to go to school as much as I can."

"I guess you're right," said Frank; "I'd go myself, only I'm too lazy. It's hard on a feller to worry his brain with study after he's been at work all day. I don't believe I was cut out for a great scholar."

"I don't believe you were, Frank," said Joe Bates.

"You always used to stand pretty well down toward the foot of the class when you went to school."

"A feller can't be smart as well as handsome. As long as I'm good-looking, I won't complain because I wasn't born with the genius of a Bates."

"Thank you for the compliment, Frank, though I suppose it means that I am homely. I haven't got any genius or education to spare."

When Monday evening arrived ten pupils presented themselves, of whom six were boys, or young men, and four were girls. Leonard Morgan felt encouraged. A class of ten, though paying but five dollars each, would give him fifty dollars, which would be quite an acceptable addition to his scanty means.

"I am glad to see so many," he said. "I think our evening class will be a success. I will take your names and ascertain what studies you wish to pursue."

When he came to Harry; he asked, "What do you propose to study?"

"I should like to take up algebra and Latin, if you are willing," answered our hero.

"Have you studied either at all?"

"No, sir; I have not had an opportunity."

"How far have you been in arithmetic?"

"Through the square and cube root?"

"If you have been so far, you will have no difficulty with algebra. As to Latin, one of the girls wishes to take up that and I will put you in the class with her."

It will be seen that Harry was growing ambitious. He didn't expect to go to college, though nothing would have pleased him better; but he felt that some knowledge of a foreign language could do him no harm. Franklin, whom he had taken as his great exemplar, didn't go to college; yet he made himself one of the foremost scientific men of the age and acquired enduring reputation, not only as a statesman and a patriot, but chiefly as a philosopher.

A little later, Leonard Morgan came round to the desk at which Harry was sitting.

"I brought a Latin grammar with me," he said, "thinking it probable some one might like to begin that language. You can use it until yours comes."

"Thank you," said Harry; and he eagerly took the book, and asked to have a lesson set, which was done.

"I can get more than that," he said.

"How much more?"

"Twice as much."

Still later he recited the double lesson, and so correctly that the teacher's attention was drawn to him.

"That's a smart boy," he said. "I mean to take pains with him. What a pity he can't go to college!"



CHAPTER XVIII

LOST, OR STOLEN



Harry learned rapidly. At the end of four weeks he had completed the Latin grammar, or that part of it which his teacher, thought necessary for a beginner to be familiar with, and commenced translating the easy sentences in "Andrews' Latin Reader."

"You are getting on famously, Harry," said his teacher. "I never had a scholar who advanced so."

"I wish I knew as much as you."

"Don't give me too much credit. When I compare myself with our professors, I feel dissatisfied."

"But you know so much more than I do," said Harry.

"I ought to; I am seven years older."

"What are you going to study, Mr. Morgan?"

"I intend to study law."

"I should like to be an editor," said Harry; "but I don't see much prospect of it."

"Why not?"

"An editor must know a good deal."

"There are some who don't," said Leonard Morgan, with a smile. "However, you would like to do credit to the profession and it is certainly in these modern days a very important profession."

"How can I prepare myself?"

"By doing your best to acquire a good education; not only by study but by reading extensively. An editor should be a man of large information. Have you ever practiced writing compositions?"

"A little; not much."

"If you get time to write anything, and will submit it to me, I will point out such faults as I may notice."

"I should like to do that," said Harry, promptly.

"What subject shall I take?"

"You may choose your own subject. Don't be too ambitious but select something upon which you have some ideas of your own."

"Suppose I take my motto? 'Live and learn.'"

"Do so, by all means. That is a subject upon which you may fairly be said to have some ideas of your own."

In due time Harry presented a composition on this subject. The thoughts were good, but, as might be expected, the expression was somewhat crude, and of course the teacher found errors to correct and suggestions to make. These Harry eagerly welcomed and voluntarily proposed to rewrite the composition. The result was a very much improved draft. He sent a copy home and received in reply a letter from his father, expressing surprise and gratification at the excellence of his essay.

"I am glad, Harry," the letter concluded, "that you have formed just views of the importance of learning. I have never ceased to regret that my own opportunities for education were so limited and that my time has been so much absorbed by the effort to make a living, that I have been able to do so little toward supplying my deficiencies. Even in a pecuniary way an education will open to you a more prosperous career, and lead, I hope, to competence, instead of the narrow poverty which has been my lot. I will not complain of my own want of success, if I can see my children prosper."

But while intent upon cultivating his mind, Harry had not lost sight of the great object which had sent him from home to seek employment among strangers. He had undertaken to meet the note which his father had given Squire Green in payment for the cow. By the first of December he had saved up thirty-three dollars toward this object. By the middle of January the note would come due.

Of course he had not saved so much without the strictest economy, and by denying himself pleasures which were entirely proper. For instance, he was waited upon by Luke Harrison on the first day of December, and asked to join in a grand sleighing excursion to a town ten miles distant, where it was proposed to take supper, and, after a social time, return late in the evening.

"I would like to go," said Harry, who was strongly, tempted, for he was by no means averse to pleasure; "but I am afraid I cannot. How much will it cost?"

"Three dollars apiece. That pays for the supper too."

Harry shook his head. It was for rum a week's wages. If he were not trying to save money for his father, he might have ventured to incur this expense, but he felt that under present circumstances it would not be best.

"I can't go," said Harry.

"Oh, come along," urged Luke. "Don't make such a mope of yourself. You'll be sure to enjoy it."

"I know I should; but I can't afford it."

"I never knew a feller that thought so much of money as you," sneered Luke.

"I suppose it looks so," said Harry; "but it isn't true."

"Everybody says you are a miser."

"I have good reasons for not going."

"If you would come, it would make the expense lighter for the rest of us and you would have a jolly time."

This conversation took place as they were walking home from the store in the evening. Harry pulled out his handkerchief suddenly from his pocket and with it came his pocketbook, containing all his savings. He didn't hear if fall; but Luke did, and the latter, moreover, suspected what it was. He did not call Harry's attention to it, but, falling back, said: "I've got to go back to the store. I forgot something. Good night!"

"Good night!" said Harry, unsuspiciously.

Luke stooped swiftly while our hero's back was turned, and picked up the pocketbook. He slipped it into his own pocket, and, instead of going back to the store, went to his own room, locked the door, and then eagerly pulled out the pocketbook and counted the contents.

"Thirty-three dollars! What a miser that fellow is! It serves him right to lose his money."



CHAPTER XIX

AN UNWELCOME VISITOR



Luke Harrison had picked up Harry's pocketbook, and, though knowing it to be his, concealed the discovery upon the impulse of the moment.

"What I find is mine," he said to himself. "Of course it is. Harry Walton deserves to lose his money."

It will be seen that he had already decided to keep the money. It looked so tempting to him, as his eyes rested on the thick roll of bills—for, though insignificant in amount, the bills were ones and twos, and twenty in number—that he could not make up his mind to return it.

Luke was fond of new clothes. He wanted to reestablish his credit with Merrill, for he was in want of a new coat and knew that it would be useless to order one unless he had some money to pay on account. He decided to use a part of Harry's money for this purpose. It would be better, however, he thought, to wait a day or two, as the news of the loss would undoubtedly spread abroad, and his order might excite suspicion, particularly as he had been in Harry's company at the time the money disappeared. He therefore put the pocketbook into his trunk, and carefully locked it. Then he went to bed.

Meanwhile, Harry reached Mr. Leavitt's unconscious of the serious misfortune which had befallen him. He went into the sitting room and talked a while with Mr. Leavitt, and at ten o'clock took his lamp and went up to bed. While he was undressing he felt in his pocket for his money, intending to lock it up in his trunk as usual. His dismay may be conceived when he could not find it.

Poor Harry sank into a chair with that sudden sinking of the heart which unlooked-for misfortune brings and tried to think where he could have left the pocketbook.

That evening he found himself under the necessity of buying a necktie at the store, and so had taken it from his trunk. Could he have left it on the counter? No; he distinctly remembered replacing it in his pocket. He felt the need of consulting with somebody, and with his lamp in his hand went downstairs again.

"You haven't concluded to sit up all night, have you?" asked Mr. Leavitt, surprised at his reappearance.

"Are you sick, Harry?" asked Mrs. Leavitt. "You're looking dreadfully pale."

"I've lost my pocketbook," said Harry. .

"How much was there in it?" asked his employer.

"Thirty-three dollars," answered Harry.

"Whew! that's a good deal of money to lose. I shouldn't want to lose so much myself. When did you have it last?"

Harry told his story, Mr. Leavitt listening attentively

"And you came right home?"

"Yes."

"Alone."

"No; Luke Harrison came with me."

"Are you two thick together?"

"Not at all. He doesn't like me, and I don't fancy him."

"What was he talking about?"

"He wanted me to join a sleighing party."

"What did you say?"

"I said I couldn't afford it. Then he charged me with being a miser, as he often does."

"Did he come all the way home with you?"

"No; he left me at Deacon Brewster's. He said he must go back to the store."

"There is something queer about this," said Mr. Leavitt, shrewdly. "Do you want my advice?"

"Yes; I wish you would advise me, for I don't know what to do."

"Then go to the store at once. Ask, but without attracting any attention, if Luke came back there after leaving you. Then ask Mr. Meade, the storekeeper, whether he noticed you put back your pocketbook."

"But I know I did."

"Then it will be well to say nothing about it, at least publicly. If you find that Luke's excuse was false, and that he did not go back, go at once to his boarding place, and ask him whether he saw you drop the pocketbook. You might have dropped it and he picked it up."

"Suppose he says no?"

"Then we must watch whether he seems flush of money for the next few days."

This seemed to Harry good advice. He retraced his steps to the store, carefully looking for the lost pocketbook. But of course, it was not to be seen and he entered the store troubled and out of spirits.

"I thought you went home, Harry," said Frank Heath.

"You see I am here again," said our hero.

"Time to shut up shop," said Mr. Meade, the storekeeper. "You boys will have to adjourn till to-morrow."

"Where's Luke Harrison?" asked Frank Heath.

"Didn't he go out with you?"

"Yes; but he left me some time ago. He came back here, didn't he?"

"No; he hasn't been here since."

"He spoke of coming," said Harry. "He wanted me to join that sleighing party."

"Good night, boys," said the storekeeper, significantly.

They took the hint and went out. Their way lay in different directions, and they parted company.

"Now I must call on Luke," said Harry to himself.

"I hope he found the pocketbook. He wouldn't be wicked enough to keep it."

But he was not quite so sure of this as he would like to have been. He felt almost sick as he thought of the possibility that he might never recover the money which he had saved so gladly, though with such painful economy. It represented the entire cash earnings of eleven weeks.

Luke Harrison boarded with a Mr. Glenham, a carpenter, and it was at his door that Harry knocked.

"Is Luke Harrison at home?" he inquired of Mrs. Glenham, who opened the door.

"At home and abed, I reckon," she replied.

"I know it's late, Mrs. Glenham, but it is about a matter of importance that I wish to see Luke."

"I reckon it's about the sleighing party."

"No, it is quite another thing. I won't stay but minute."

"Well, I suppose you can go up."

Harry went upstairs and knocked. Ordinarily, Luke would have been asleep, for generally he sank to sleep five minutes after his head touched the pillow; but to-night the excitement of his dishonest intention kept him awake, and he started uneasily when he heard the knock.

"Who's there?" he called out from the bed.

"It's I—Harry Walton."

"He's come about that pocketbook," thought Luke.

"I'm in bed," he answered.

"I want to see you a minute, on a matter of importance."

"Come to-morrow morning."

"I must see you now."

"Oh, well, come in, if you must," said Luke.



CHAPTER XX



"You seem to be in an awful hurry to see me," said Luke, grumbling. "I was just getting to sleep."

"I've lost my pocketbook. Have you seen it?"

"Have I seen it? That's a strange question. How should I have seen it?"

"I lost it on the way from the store to the house."

"Do you mean to charge me with taking it?"

"I haven't said anything of the sort," said Harry; "but you were with me, and I thought you might have seen it drop out of my pocket."

"Did you drop it out of your pocket?"

"I can't think of any other way I could lose it."

"Of course I haven't seen it. Was that all you woke me up about?"

"Is that all? You talk as if it was a little thing losing thirty-three dollars."

"Thirty-three dollars!" repeated Luke, pretending to be surprised. "You don't mean to say you've lost all that?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well," said Luke, yawning, "I wish I could help you; but I can't. Good night."

"Good night," said Harry, turning away disappointed.

"What success, Harry?" inquired Mr. Leavitt, who had deferred going to bed in order to hear his report.

"None at all," answered Harry.

"Is there anything by which you can identify any of the bills?"

"Yes," answered Harry, with sudden recollection, "I dropped a penful of ink on one of the bills—a two-dollar note—just in the center. I had been writing a letter, and the bill lay on the table near by."

"Good!" said Mr. Leavitt. "Now, supposing Luke has taken this money, how is he likely to spend it?"

"At the tailor's, most likely. He is always talking about new clothes; but lately he hasn't had any because Merrill shut down on him on account of an unpaid bill."

"Then you had better see Merrill and ask him to take particular notice of any bills that Luke pays him."

"Innocence must often be suspected, or guilt would never be detected. It is the only way to get on the track of the missing bills."

Harry saw that this was reasonable and decided to call on Merrill the next day.

"Do you think Luke took it?" asked the tailor.

"I don't know. I don't like to suspect him."

"I haven't much opinion of Luke. He owes me a considerable bill."

"He prefers your clothes to Hayden's, and if he has the money, he will probably come here and spend some of it."

"Suppose he does, what do you want me to do?"

"To examine the bills he pays you, and if you find an ink spot on the center of one let me know."

"I understand. I think I can manage it."

"My money was mostly in ones and twos."

"That may help you. I will bear it in mind."

Two days afterwards, Luke Harrison met Harry.

"Have you found your money, Walton?" he asked.

"No, and I am afraid I never shall," said our hero.

"What do you think has become of it?"

"That's just what I would like to find out," said Harry.

"The only thing you can do is to grin and bear it."

"And be more careful next time."

"Of course."

"He's given it up," said Luke to himself. "I think I can venture to use some of it now. I'll go round to Merrill's and see what he's got in the way of pants."

Accordingly he strolled into Merrill's that evening.

"Got any new cloths in, Merrill?" asked Luke.

"I've got some new cloths for pants."

"That's just what I want."

"You're owing me a bill."

"How much is it?"

"Some over thirty dollars."

"I can't pay it all, but I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll pay you fifteen dollars on account, and you can make me a new pair of pants. Will that answer?"

"All right. Of course I'd rather you'd pay the whole bill. Still I want to be accommodating."

"Let me look at your cloths."

The tailor displayed a variety of cloths, one of which suited Luke's fancy.

"Here's fifteen dollars," he said. "Just credit me with that on the bill, will you?"

"All right," said Merrill.

He proceeded to count the money, which consisted of consisted of ones and twos, and instantly came to the conclusion that it was from Harry's missing pocketbook, particularly as he came upon the identical note with the blot in the center.

Unaware of the manner in which he had betrayed himself, Luke felt quite complacent over his reestablished credit, and that without any expense to himself.

"Have you got any new cloth for coats?" he asked.

"I shall have some new cloths in next week."

"All right. When will you have the pants done?"

"You may call round in two or three days."

"Just make 'em in style, Merrill, and I'll send all my friends here."

"Very well. I hope you'll soon be able to pay me the balance of my bill."

"Oh, yes, to be sure. You won't have to wait long."

He swaggered out of the shop, lighting a cigar.

"My young friend," soliloquized the tailor, watching his exit, "you have walked into my trap neatly. Colman,"—turning to a young man present at the time—"did you see Luke Harrison pay me this money?"

"Yes; to be sure."

"Do you see this blot on one of the bills—a two?"

"Yes; What of it?"

"Nothing. I only called your attention to it."

"I don't see what there is strange about that. Anybody might get ink on a bill, mightn't he?"

"Of course."

Colman was puzzled. He could not understand why he should have been called upon to notice such a trifle; but the tailor had his reasons. He wanted to be able to prove by Colman's testimony that the blotted bill was actually put into his hands by Luke Harrison.



CHAPTER XXI

IN THE TAILOR'S POWER



"Is that the bill you spoke of, Walton?" asked the tailor, on Harry's next visit to the shop.

"Yes," said Harry, eagerly. "Where did you get it?"

"You can guess."

"From Luke Harrison?"

"Yes; he paid me, last evening, fifteen dollars on account. This note was among those he paid me."

"It is mine. I can swear to it."

"The rest of the money was yours, no doubt."

"What shall I do, Mr. Merrill?"

"The money is yours, and I will restore it to you after seeing Luke. I will send for him to be here at seven o'clock this evening."

As Luke was at work in his shop that day, the tailor's boy came in with a note.

Luke opened it and read as follows:

"Will you call at my shop at seven this evening about the pants you ordered?

"Henry Merrill."

"Tell your father I'll come," said Luke.

At seven o'clock he entered the tailor's shop once more.

"Well, Merrill, what do you want to see me about?" he asked. "Have you cut the pants?"

"No."

"You haven't? I wanted you to go to work on them at once."

"I know; but it was necessary to see you first."

"Why—didn't you take the measure right?"

"Luke," said Mr. Merrill, looking him steadily in the eye, "where did you get that money you paid me?"

"Where did I get the money?" repeated Luke, flushing up. "What makes you ask me that question? Isn't it good money? 'Tisn't counterfeit, is it?"

"I asked you where you got it from?"

"From the man I work for, to be sure," said Luke.

"Will you swear to that?"

"I don't see the use. Can't you take my word?"

"I may as well tell you that Harry Walton recognizes one of the bills as a part of the money he lost."

"He does, does he?" said Luke, boldly. "That's all nonsense. Bills all look alike."

"This one has a drop of ink just in the center. He remembered having dropped a blot upon it."

"What have I to do with that?"

"It is hardly necessary to explain. The evening he lost the money you were with him. Two days after, you pay me one of the bills which he lost," said the tailor.

"Do you mean to say I stole 'em?" demanded Luke.

"It looks like it, unless you can explain how you came by the blotted bill."

"I don't believe I paid you the bill. Very likely it was some one else."

"I thought you would say that, so I called Colman's attention to it. However, if your employer admits paying you the bills, of course you are all right."

Luke remembered very well that he was paid in fives, and that such an appeal would do him no good.

"Does Walton know this?" he asked, sinking into a chair, and wiping the perspiration from his brow.

"Yes; he suspected you."

"I'd like to choke him!" said Luke, fiercely. "The miserly scoundrel!"

"It seems to me he is justified in trying to recover his money. What have you done with the rest of it?"

"Tell me what will be done to me," said Luke, sullenly.

"I didn't steal it. I only picked it up when he dropped it. He deserves to lose it, for being so careless."

"Why didn't you tell him you had found it?"

"I meant to give it to him after a while. I only wanted to keep it long enough to frighten him."

"That was dangerous, particularly as you used it."

"I meant to give him back other money."

"I don't think that excuse will avail you in court."

"Court of justice!" repeated Luke, turning pale.

"He won't have me taken up—will he?"

"He will unless you arrange to restore all the money."

"I've paid you part of it."

"That I shall hand over to him. Have you the rest?"

"I've spent a few dollars. I've got eight dollars left."

"You had better give it to me."

Reluctantly, Luke drew out his pocketbook and passed the eight dollars to Mr. Merrill.

"Now when will you pay the rest?"

"In a few weeks," said Luke.

"That won't do. How much do you earn a week?"

"Fifteen dollars."

"How much do you pay for board?"

"Four dollars."

"Then you will be able to pay eleven dollars at the end of this week."

"I can't get along without money," said Luke.

"You will have to till you pay back the money, unless you prefer appearing before a court of justice."

Luke was just going out when the tailor called him back.

"I believe you owe me thirty dollars. When are you going to pay it?"

"I can't pay it yet a while," said Luke.

"I think you had better," said the tailor quietly.

"I'll pay you as soon as I can."

"You make eleven dollars a week over and above your board and spend it on drink, billiards and fast horses. You are fully able to pay for your clothes promptly and I advise you to do it."

"I'll pay you as soon as I can."

"If you neglect to do it, I may as well tell you that I shall let it be known that you stole Walton's pocketbook."

An expression of alarm overspread Luke's face, and he hastily made the required promise. But he added, "I didn't steal it. I only found it."

"The whole story would be told, and people might think as they pleased. But it is much better for you to avoid all this by paying your bills."

Luke Harrison left the tailor's shop in a very unhappy and disgusted frame of mind.

"If I had the sense to wait till it blew over," he said to himself, "I should have escaped all this: I didn't think Merrill would act so mean. Now I'm in for paying his infernal bill besides. It's too bad."

Just then he came upon Frank Heath, who hailed him.

"Luke, come and play a game of billiards."

"If you'll promise not to beat me. I haven't got a cent of money."

"You haven't? What have you done with those bills you had this afternoon?"

"I've paid 'em over to Merrill," said Luke, hesitating.

"He was in a deuced stew about his bill."

"When are your pants going to be ready?"

"I don't know," said Luke, with a pang of sorrow.

"Merrill's making them, isn't he?"

"He says he won't till I pay the whole bill."

"Seems to me your credit ain't very good, Luke."

"It's good enough, be he's hard up for money. I guess he's going to fail. If you'll lend me a couple of dollars, I'll go around and have a game."

Frank Heath laughed.

"You'll have to go to some one else, Luke," he said.

Luke passed a disagreeable evening. Cut off by his want of money from his ordinary amusements, and depressed by the thought that things would be no better till he had paid his bills, he lounged about, feeling that he was a victim of ill luck. It did not occur to him that that ill luck was of his own bringing.



CHAPTER XXII

THE COMING OF THE MAGICIAN



The week passed and Luke carefully avoided our hero going so far as to cross the street so as not to meet him. On Saturday evening, according to his arrangement, Luke was to have paid the surplus of his wages, after meeting his board bill, to Mr. Merrill, for Harry.

But he did not go near him. On Monday, the tailor meeting him, inquired why he had not kept his agreement.

"The fact is," said Luke, "I have been unlucky."

"How unlucky?"

"I had my wages loose in my pocket, and managed to lose them somehow."

"That is very singular," said the tailor, suspiciously.

"Why is it singular?" asked Luke. "Didn't Harry Walton lose his money?"

"You seem to have lost yours at a very convenient time."

"It's hard on me," said Luke. "Owing so much, I want to pay as quick as I can, so as to have my wages to myself. Don't you see that?"

"Where do you think you lost the money?"

"I'm sure I don't know," said Luke.

"Well," said Merrill, dryly, "I hope you will take better care of your wages next Saturday evening."

"I mean to. I can't afford to lose anymore."

"I don't believe, a word of what he says about losing his money," said the tailor, privately, to Harry. "I think it's only a trick to get rid of paying you."

"Don't you think he'll pay me?" asked Harry.

"He won't if he can help it," was the answer. "He's a slippery customer. I believe his money is in his pocket at this moment."

Mr. Merrill was not quite right; but it was only as to the whereabouts of the money. It was in Luke's trunk. He intended to run away, leaving all his creditors in the lurch. This was the "new way to pay old debts," which occurred to Luke as much the easiest.

The next Saturday evening, Mr. Merrill waited in vain for a call from his debtor.

"What excuse will he have now?" he thought.

On Monday morning he learned that Luke had left town without acquainting anyone with his destination. It transpired, also, that he was owing at his boarding house for two weeks' board. He was thus enabled to depart with nearly thirty dollars, for parts unknown.

"He's a hard case," said Mr. Merrill to Harry. "I am afraid he means to owe us for a long time to come."

"Where do you think he is gone?" asked Harry.

"I have no idea. He has evidently been saving up money to help him out of town. Sometime we may get upon his track, and compel him to pay up."

"That won't do me much good," said Harry, despondently. And then he told the tailor why he wanted the money. "Now," he concluded, "I shan't be able to have the money ready in time."

"You'll have most of it ready, won't you?"

"I think I will."

"I would lend you the money myself," said the tailor, "but I've got a heavy payment to meet and some of my customers are slow pay, though I have not many as bad as Luke Harrison."

"Thank you, Mr. Merrill," said Harry. "I am as much obliged to you as if you could lend the money."

But it is said that misfortunes never come singly. The very next day Mr. Leavitt received a message from the wholesale dealer to whom he sold his shoes, that the market was glutted and sales slow.

"I shall not want any more goods for a month or two," the letter concluded. "I will let you know, when I more."

Mr. Leavitt read this letter aloud in the shop.

"So it seems we are to have a vacation," he said. "That's the worst of the shoe trade. It isn't steady. When it's good everybody rushes into it, and the market soon gets overstocked. Then there's no work for weeks."

This was a catastrophe for which Harry was no prepared. He heard the announcement with a grave face, for to him it was a serious calamity. Twenty-three dollars were all that he had saved from the money lost and this would be increased by a dollar or two only, when he had settled up with Mr. Leavitt. If he stayed here did not obtain work, he must pay his board, and that would soon swallow up his money. Could he get work in any other shop? That was an important question.

"Do you think I can get into any other shop in town?" he inquired anxiously of Mr. Leavitt.

"You can try, Harry; but I guess you'll find others no better off than I."

This was not very encouraging, but Harry determined not to give up without an effort. He devoted the next day to going around among the shoe shops; but everywhere he met with unfavorable answers. Some had ready suspended. Others were about to do so.

"It seems as if all my money must go," thought Harry, looking despondently at his little hoard. "First the ten dollars Luke Harrison stole. Then work stopped. I don't know but it would be better for me to go home."

But the more Harry thought of this, the less he liked it. It would be an inglorious ending to his campaign. Probably now he would not be able to carry out his plan of paying for the cow; but if his father should lose it, he might be able, if he found work, to buy him another Squire Green's cow was not the only cow in the world and all would not be lost if he could not buy her.

"I won't give up yet," said Harry, pluckily. "I must expect to meet with some bad luck. I suppose everybody does. Something'll turn up for me if I try to make it."

This was good philosophy. Waiting passively for something to turn up is bad policy and likely to lead to disappointment; but waiting actively, ready to seize any chance that may offer, is quite different. The world is full of chances, and from such chances so seized has been based many a prosperous career.

During his first idle day, Harry's attention was drawn to a handbill which had been posted up in the store, the post office, the tavern, and other public places in the village. It was to this effect:

"PROFESSOR HENDERSON,

"The celebrated Magician,

"Will exhibit his wonderful feats of Magic and Sleight of Hand in the Town Hall this evening, commencing at 8 o'clock. In the course of the entertainment he will amuse the audience by his wonderful exhibition of Ventriloquism, in which he is unsurpassed.

"Tickets 25 cents. Children under twelve, 15 cents."

In a country village, where amusements are few, such entertainments occupy a far more important place than in a city, where amusements abound.

"Are you going to the exhibition, Walton?" asked Frank Heath.

"I don't know," said Harry.

"Better come. It'll be worth seeing."

In spite of his economy, our hero wanted to go.

"The professor's stopping at the tavern. Come over, and we may see him," said Frank.



CHAPTER XXIII

THE VENTRILOQUIST



The boys went into the public room of the tavern. In the center was a stove, around which were gathered a miscellaneous crowd, who had assembled, as usual, to hear and talk over the news of the day. At the farther end of the room was a bar, where liquor and cigars were sold. The walls of the room, which was rather low-studded, were ornamented by sundry notices and posters of different colors, with here and there an engraving of no great artistic excellence—one representing a horse race, another a steamer of the Cunard Line, and still another, the Presidents of the United States grouped together, with Washington as the central figure.

"Have a cigar, Walton?" asked Frank Heath.

"No, thank you, Frank."

"You haven't got so far along, hey?"

"I don't think it would do me any good," said Harry.

"Maybe not; but jolly comfortable on a cold night. The worst of it is, it's mighty expensive."

Frank walked up to the bar and bought a ten-cent cigar. He returned and sat down on a settee.

"The magician isn't here," said Harry.

"Hush, he is here!" said Frank, in a low voice, as the door opened, and a tall, portly man entered the room.

Professor Henderson—for it was he—walked up the bar, and followed Frank Heath's example in the purchase of a cigar Then he glanced leisurely round the apartment. Apparently, his attention was fixed by our hero, for he walked up to him, and said: "Young man, I would like to speak to you."

"All right, sir," said Harry, in surprise.

"If you are not otherwise occupied, will you accompany me to my room?"

"Certainly, sir," returned Harry, in fresh wonder.

"Perhaps he's going to take in Walton as partner," Frank Heath suggested to Tom Frisbie.

"I wonder what he want anyway?" said Frisbie. "Why didn't he take you?"

"Because I'm too sharp," said Frank. "I should see through his tricks."

Meanwhile, Harry had entered the professor's chamber.

"Sit down," said the magician. "I'll tell you what I want of you. I want you to take tickets at the door of hall to-night. Can you do it?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, promptly.

"It seems easy enough," said the professor; "but not everyone can do it rapidly without making mistakes. Are you quick at figures?"

"I am usually considered so," said our hero.

"I won't ask whether you are honest, for you would so, of course."

"I hope—" commenced Harry.

"I know what you are going to say; but there is no need of saying it," interrupted the magician. "I judge from your face, which is an honest one. I have traveled about a good deal, and I am a good judge of faces."

"You shall not be disappointed, sir."

"I know that, in advance. Now, tell me if you are at work, or do you attend school?"

"I have been at work in a shoe shop in this village, sir."

"Not now?"

"No, sir; business is dull, and work has given out."

"What are you going to do next?"

"Anything by which I can earn an honest living."

"That's the way to talk. I'll take you into my employ, if you have no objection to travel."

Objection to travel! Who ever heard of a boy of fifteen who had an objection to travel?

"But will your parents consent? That is the next question. I don't want to entice any boys away from home against their parents' consent."

"My parents do not live here. They live farther north, in the town of Granton."

"Granton? I never was there. Is it a large place?"

"No, sir, it is a very small place. My father consented to have me leave home and he will have no objection to my earning my living in any honest way."

"Well, my young friend, I can assure you that my way is an honest one, though I frankly confess I do my best to deceive the people who come to my entertainments."

"What is it you want me to do, sir?"

"Partly what you are going to do to-night—take tickets at the door; but that is not all. I have to carry about considerable apparatus and I need help about arranging it. Sometimes, also, I need help in my experiments. I had a young man with me; but he is taken down with a fever and obliged to go home. It is not likely, as his health is delicate, that he will care to resume his position. I must have somebody in his place. I have no doubt you will answer my purpose."

"How much pay do you give, sir?"

"A practical question," said the professor, smiling.

"To begin with, of course I pay traveling expenses, and I can offer you five dollars a week besides. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, his heart giving a great throb of exultation as he realized that his new business would give him two dollars week more than his work in the shop, besides being a good deal more agreeable, since it would give him a chance to see a little of the world.

"Can you start with me to-morrow morning?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then it is settled. But it is time you were at the hall. I will give you a supply of small bills and, change, as you may have to change some bills."

He drew from his side pocket a wallet, which he placed in the hands of our hero.

"This wallet contains twenty dollars," he said: "Of course you will bring me back that amount, in addition to what you take at the door this evening."

"Very well, sir."

"You can wait for me at the close of the evening, and hand me all together. Now go over to the hall, as the doors are to be open at half past seven o'clock."

When Frank Heath and his companion went over to the Town Hall they found Harry making change.

"Hello, Walton!" said Frank. "Are you the treasurer of this concern?"

"It seems so," said Harry.

"You'll let in your friends for nothing, won't you?"

"Not much. I charge them double price."

"Well here's our money. I say, Tom, I wonder the old fellow didn't take me instead of Walton."

"That's easily told. You don't look honest enough."

"Oh, if it comes to that, he passed over you, too, Tom."

"He wouldn't insult a gentleman of my dignity. Come on; there's room on the front seat."

Harry was kept busy till ten minutes after eight. By that time about all who intended to be present were in the hall and the magician was gratified by seeing that it was crowded. He was already well known in the village, having been in the habit of visiting it every for years and his reputation for dexterity, and especially for ventriloquism, had called out this large audience.

The professor's tricks excited great wonder in the younger spectators. I will only dwell slightly on his ventriloquism. When he came to this part of the entertainment, he said: "Will any young gentleman assist me?"

Frank Heath immediately left his seat and took up his position beside the professor.

"Now, sir," said the professor, "I want to ask you a question or two. Will you answer me truly?"

A gruff voice appeared to proceed from Frank's mouth, saying: "Yes, sir."

"Are you married, sir?"

Again the same gruff voice answered: "Yes, sir; I wish I wasn't;" to the great delight of the small boys.

"Indeed, sir! I hope your wife doesn't make it uncomfortable for you."

"She licks me," Frank appeared to answer.

"I am sorry. What does she lick you with?"

"With a broomstick."

Frank looked foolish and there was a general laugh.

"I hope she doesn't treat you so badly very often, sir."

"Yes, she does, every day," was the answer. "If she knowed I was up here telling you, she'd beat me awful."

"In that case, sir, I won't be cruel enough to keep you here any longer. Take my advice, sir, and get a divorce."

"So I will, by hokey!"

And Frank, amid hearty laughter, resumed his seat, not having uttered a word, the professor being responsible for the whole conversation.



CHAPTER XXIV

HARRY'S LETTER



During Harry's absence, the little household at Granton had got along about as usual. They lived from hand to mouth. It required sharp financiering to provide food and clothes for the little family.

There was one neighbor who watched their progress sharply and this was Squire Green. It will be remembered that he had bound Mr. Walton to forfeit ten dollars, if, at the end of six months, he was not prepared to pay the forty dollars and interest which he had agreed to pay for the cow. It is a proof of the man's intense meanness that, though rich while his neighbor was poor, he was strongly in hopes that the latter would incur the forfeit and be compelled to pay it.

One morning Squire Green accosted Mr. Walton, the squire being at work in his own front yard.

"Good morning, neighbor Walton," he said.

"Good morning, squire."

"How is that cow a-doin'?"

"Pretty well."

"She's a good cow."

"Not so good as the one I lost."

"You're jokin' now, neighbor. It was my best cow. I wouldn't have sold her except to obleege."

"She doesn't give as much milk as my old one."

"Sho! I guess you don't feed her as well as I did."

"She fares just as well as the other one did. Of course, I don't know how you fed her."

"She allers had her fill when she was with me. Le' me see, how long is it since I sold her to ye?"

Though the squire apparently asked for information, he knew the time to a day and was not likely to forget.

"It's between four and five months, I believe."

"Jus'so. You was to be ready to pay up at the end of six months."

"That was the agreement."

"You'd better be a-savin' up for it."

"There isn't much chance of my saving. It's all I can do to make both ends meet."

"You don't say so," said the squire, secretly pleased.

"My farm is small and poor, and doesn't yield much."

"But you work out, don't you?"

"When I get a chance. You don't want any help, do you, squire? I might work off part of the debt that way."

"Mebbe next spring I'd like some help."

"That will be too late to meet my note, unless you'll renew."

"I'll see about it," said the squire, evasively. "What do you hear from that boy of yours? Is he doin' well?"

"He's at work in a shoe shop."

"Does it pay well?"

"He doesn't get much just at first."

"Then he won't be able to pay for the cow," thought the squire. "That's what I wanted to know."

"He'd better have gone to work for me," he said

"No, I think he will do better away from home. He will get a good trade that he can fall back upon hereafter, even if he follows some other business."

"Wal, I never learned no trade but I've got along middlin' well," said the squire, in a complacent tone. "Farmin's good enough for me."

"I would say the same if I had your farm, squire. You wouldn't exchange, would you?"

"That's a good joke, neighbor Walton. When I make up my mind to do it. I'll let you know."

"What a mean old curmudgeon he is!" thought Hiram Walton, as he kept on his way to the village store. "He evidently intends to keep me to my agreement and will exact the ten dollars in case I can't pay for the cow at the appointed time. It will be nothing but a robbery."

This was not the day for a letter from Harry but it occurred to Mr. Walton to call at the post office. Contrary to his anticipations, a letter was handed him.

"I won't open it till I get home," he said to himself.

"I've got a letter from Harry," he said, as he entered the house.

"A letter from Harry? It isn't his day for writing," said Mrs. Walton. "What does he say?"

"I haven't opened the letter yet. Here, Tom, open and read it aloud."

Tom opened the letter and read as follows:

"Dear Father:—I must tell you, to begin with, that I have been compelled to stop work in the shoe shop. The market is overstocked and trade has become very dull.

"Of course, I felt quite bad when Mr. Leavitt told me this, for I feared it would prevent my helping you pay for the cow, as I want so much to do. I went round to several other shops, hoping to get in, but I found it impossible. Still, I have succeeded in getting something to do that will pay me better than work in the shop. If you were to guess all day, I don't believe you would guess what business it is. So, to relieve your suspense, I will tell you that I have engaged as assistant to Professor Henderson, the famous magician and ventriloquist and am to start to-morrow on a tour with him."

"Assistant to a magician!" exclaimed Mrs. Walton

"What does the boy know about magic?"

"It's a bully business," said Tom, enthusiastically. "I only wish I was in Harry's shoes. I'd like to travel round with a magician first-rate."

"You're too thick-headed, Tom," said Marry.

"Shut up!" said Tom. "I guess I'm as smart as you, any day."

"Be quiet, both of you!" said Mr. Walton. "Now, Tom, go on with your brother's letter."

Tom proceeded: "I am to take money at the door. We are going about in the southern part of the State and shall visit some towns in Massachusetts, the professor says. You know I've never been round any and I shall like traveling and seeing new places. Professor Henderson is very kind and I think I shall like him. He pays my traveling expenses and five dollars a week, which is nearly twice as much money as I got from Mr. Leavitt. I can't help thinking I am lucky in getting so good a chance only a day after I lost my place in the shoe shop. I hope, yet, to be able to pay for the cow when the money comes due.

"Love to all at home.

"Harry."

"Harry's lucky," said Mary. "He can get along."

"He is fortunate to find employment at once," said his father; "though something which he can follow steadily is better. But the pay is good and I am glad he has it."

"How long it seems since Harry was at home," said his mother. "I wish I could see him."

"Yes, it would be pleasant," said Mr. Walton; "but the boy has his own way to make, so we will be thankful that he is succeeding so well."



CHAPTER XXV

A STRANGE COMPANION



At ten o'clock the next day, Harry presented himself at the hotel. He carried in his hand a carpetbag lent him by Mr. Leavitt, which contained his small stock of under-clothing. His outside suits he left at Mr. Leavitt's, not wishing to be encumbered with them while traveling.

"I see you are on time," said the professor.

"Yes, sir; I always mean to be."

"That's well; now if you'll jump into my buggy with me, we will ride round to the Town Hall and take in my apparatus. I have to keep a carriage," said the magician, as they rode along. "It saves me a great deal of trouble by making me independent of cars and stages."

The apparatus was transferred to a trunk in the back part of the buggy and securely locked.

"Now we are all ready," said Professor Henderson,

"Would you like to drive?"

"Yes, sir," answered Harry, with alacrity.

"I am going to give an entertainment in Holston this evening," said his new employer. "Were you ever there?"

"No, sir."

"It is a smart little place and although the population is not large, I always draw a full house."

"How far is it, sir?"

"About six miles."

Harry was sorry it was not farther, as he enjoyed driving. His companion leaned back at his ease and talked on various subjects. He paused a moment and Harry was startled by hearing a stifled child's voice just behind him: "Oh, let me out! Don't keep me locked up here!"

The reins nearly fell from his hands. He turned and heard the voice apparently proceeding from the trunk.

"What's the matter?" asked Professor Henderson.

"I thought I heard a child's voice."

"So you did," said the voice again.

The truth flashed upon Harry. His companion was exerting some of his powers as a ventriloquist.

"Oh, it is you, sir," he said, smiling.

His companion smiled.

"You are right," he said.

"I don't see how you can do it," said Harry.

"Practice, my boy."

"But practice wouldn't make everybody a ventriloquist, would it?"

"Most persons might become ventriloquists, though in an unequal degree. I often amuse myself by making use of it for playing practical jokes upon people.

"Do you see that old lady ahead?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll offer her a ride. If she accepts, you'll see sport. I shall make you talk but you must be careful to say nothing yourself."

A few rods farther on, they overtook an old woman.

"Good morning, ma'am" said the professor. "Won't you get in and ride? It's easier riding than walking."

The old women scanned his countenance and answered: "Thank you, sir, I'm obleeged to ye. I don't mind if I do."

She was assisted into the carriage and sat at one end of the seat, Harry being in the middle.

"I was going to see my darter, Nancy," said the old women. "Mrs. Nehemiah Babcock her name is. Mebbe you know her husband."

"I don't think I do," said the professor.

"He's got a brother in Boston in the dry goods business. Mebbe you've been at his store."

"Mebbe I have."

"I ginerally call to see my darter—her name is Nancy—once a week; but it's rather hard for me to walk, now I'm getting' on in years."

"You're most eighty, ain't you?" appeared to proceed from Harry's mouth. Our hero's face twitched and he had hard work to keep from laughing.

"Indeed, I'm not!" said the old lady, indignantly.

"I'm only sixty-seven and folks say I don't look more'n sixty," and the old lady looked angrily at Harry.

"You must excuse him, ma'am," said the professor, soothingly. "He is no judge of a lady's age."

"I should think not, indeed."

"Indeed, madam, you are very young looking."

The old lady was pacified by this compliment but looked askance at Harry.

"Is he your son?"

"No, ma'am."

The old lady sniffed, as if to say, "So much the better for you."

"Are you travelin' far?" asked the old lady.

"What do you want to know for?" Harry appeared to ask.

"You're a sassy boy!" exclaimed the old woman.

"Harry," said Professor Henderson, gravely, "how often have I told you not to be so unmannerly?"

"He orter be whipped," said the old lady. "Ef I had a boy that was so sassy, I'd larn him manners!"

"I'm glad I ain't your boy," Harry appeared to reply.

"I declare I won't ride another step if you let him insult me so," said the old woman, glaring at our hero.

Professor Henderson caught her eye and significantly touched his forehead, giving her to understand that Harry was only "half-witted."

"You don't say so" she ejaculated, taking the hint at once. "How long's he been so?"

"Ever since he was born."

"Ain't you afraid to have him drive?"

"Oh, not at all. He understands horses as well as I do."

"What's his name?"

Before the professor's answer could be heard, Harry appeared to rattle off the extraordinary name: "George Washington Harry Jefferson Ebenezer Popkins."

"My gracious! Has he got all them names?"

"Why not? What have you got to say about it, old women?" said the same voice.

"Oh, I ain't got no objection," said the old woman.

"You may have fifty-'leven names ef you want to."

"I don't interfere with his names," said the professor.

"If he chooses to call himself—"

"George Washington Harry Jefferson Ebenezer Popkins," repeated the voice, with great volubility.

"If he chooses to call himself by all those names, I'm sure I don't care. How far do you go, ma'am?"

"About quarter of a mile farther."

The professor saw that he must proceed to his final joke.

"Let me out! Don't keep me locked up here!" said the child's voice, from behind, in a pleading tone.

"What's that?" asked the startled old lady.

"What's what?" asked the professor, innocently.

"That child that wants to get out."

"You must have dreamed it, my good lady."

"No, there 'tis agin'," said the old lady, excited.

"It's in the trunk behind you," said the assumed voice, appearing to proceed from our hero.

"So 'tis," said the old lady, turning halfway round.

"Oh, I shall die! Let me out! Let me out!"

"He's locked up his little girl in the trunk," Harry seemed to say.

"You wicked man, let her out this minute," said the old lady, very much excited. "Don't you know no better than to lock up a child where she can't get no air?"

"There is no child in the trunk, I assure you," said Professor Henderson, politely.

"Don't you believe him," said Harry's voice.

"Do let me out, father!" implored the child's voice

"If you don't open the trunk, I'll have you took up for murder," said the old lady.

"I will open it to show you are mistaken."

The professor got over the seat, and, opening the trunk, displayed its contents to the astonished old lady.

"I told you that there was no child there," he said; "but you would not believe me."

"Le' me out," gasped the old woman. "I'd rather walk. I never heerd of such strange goin's on afore."

"If you insist upon it, madam, but I'm sorry to lose your company. Take this with you and read it."

He handed her one of his bills, which she put in her pocket, saying she couldn't see to read it.

When they were far enough off to make it safe, Harry gave vent to his mirth, which he had restrained till this at difficulty and laughed long and loud.



CHAPTER XXVI

PAGES FROM THE PAST



"What will the old lady think of you?" said Harry.

"She will have a very bad opinion till she puts on her specs and read the bill. That will explain all. I shouldn't be surprised to see her at my entertainment."

"I wonder if she'll recognize me," said Harry.

"No doubt; as soon as she learns with whom she rode, she'll be very curious to come and see me perform."

"How old were you when you began to be a ventriloquist?"

"I was eighteen. I accidentally made the discovery, and devoted considerable time to perfecting myself in it before acquainting anyone with it. That idea came later. You see when I was twenty-one, with a little property which I inherited from my uncle, I went into business for myself; but I was young and inexperienced in management, and the consequence was, that in about two years I failed. I found it difficult to get employment as a clerk, business being very dull at the time. While uncertain what to do, one of my friends, to whom I had communicated my power, induced me to give me a public entertainment, combining with it a few tricks of magic, which I had been able to pick up from books. I succeeded so well my vocation in life became Professor Henderson."

"It must be great fun to be a ventriloquist."

"So I regarded it at first. It may not be a very high vocation but I make the people laugh and so I regard myself as a public benefactor. Indeed, I once did an essential service to a young man by means of my ventriloquism."

"I should like very much to hear the story."

"I will tell you. One day, a young man, a stranger, came to me and introduced himself under the name of Paul Dabney. He said that I might, if I would, do him a great service. His father had died the year previous, leaving a farm and other property to the value of fifteen thousand dollars. Of course, being as only son, he expected that this would be left to himself, or, at least, the greater part of it. Conceive his surprise, therefore, when the will came to be read, to find that the entire property was left to his Uncle Jonas, his father brother, who, for three years past, had been a member of the family. Jonas had never prospered in life, and his brother, out of pity, had offered him an asylum on his farm. He had formerly been a bookkeeper and was an accomplished penman.

"The will was so extraordinary—since Paul and his father had always been on perfectly good terms—that the young man was thunderstruck. His uncle expressed hypocritical surprise at the nature of the will.

"'I don't believe my father made that will,' exclaimed Paul, angrily.

"'What do you mean by that?' demanded the uncle.

"His anger made Paul think that he had hit upon the truth, particularly as his uncle was an adroit penman.

"He carefully examined the will; but the writing so closely resembled his father's that he could see no difference. The witnesses were his Uncle Jonas and a hired man, who, shortly after witnessing the signature, had been discharged and had disappeared from the neighborhood. All this excited Paul's suspicions.

"His uncle offered him a home on the farm; but positively refused to give him any portion of the property.

"'I sympathize with you,' I said at the conclusion of Paul's story; 'but how can I help you?'

"'I will tell you, sir,' he replied. 'You must know that my Uncle Jonas is very superstitious. I mean, through your help, to play upon his fears and thus induce him to give up the property to me.'

"With this he unfolded his plan and I agreed to help him. His uncle lived ten miles distant. I procured a laborer's disguise and the morning after—Paul having previously gone back—I entered the yard of the farmhouse. The old man was standing outside, smoking a pipe.

"'Can you give me work?' I asked.

"'What kind of work?' inquired Jonas.

"'Farm work,' I answered.

"'How much do you want?'

"'Eight dollars a month.'

"'I'll give you six,' he said.

"'That's too little.'

"'It's the most I'll give you.'

"'Then I'll take,' I replied, and was at once engaged.

"Delighted to get me so cheap, the sordid old man asked me no troublesome questions. I knew enough of farm work to get along pretty well and not betray myself.

"That night I concealed myself in the old man's apartment without arousing his suspicions, Paul helping me. After he had been in bed about twenty minutes, I thought it time to begin. Accordingly I uttered a hollow groan.

"'Eh! What's that?' cried the old man, rising in bed.

"'I am the spirit of your dead brother,' I answered, throwing my voice near the bed.

"'What do you want?' he asked, his teeth chattering.

"'You have cheated Paul out of his property.'