CHAPTER XXVI.
ONE DISAPPOINTMENT FOLLOWS ANOTHER
At the close of the last chapter we left John floating at his ease in a row-boat, while his pursuer was compelled, by the sudden departure of his horse, to give up his immediate purpose, and chase the flying animal. It was very much against his will that he left John; but the horse, as he knew, was the best in the stable, and valued at not less than three hundred dollars,—a sum which he would be unable to make up. Besides this, the chaise might be injured.
"Curse my luck!" exclaimed Mr. Huxter, as he glanced back at John, with a baffled look. "Every thing turns against me. But I'll come back after the young rascal as soon as I catch the horse."
But, unfortunately for Mr. Huxter, it proved that two legs were no match for four. When he got to the road, the horse was half a mile ahead. In spite of his haste, he was obliged to pause a moment and recover his breath, which the unusual exercise of running had exhausted.
Mr. Huxter was nearly two miles distant from the tavern where he had stopped. His only hope was that the horse would stop or be stopped there. As soon as he recovered his breath, he started for the tavern, therefore. Partly running, partly walking, he at length arrived, tired, heated, and in ill-humor.
Entering the yard, he saw a group of men and boys surrounding the horse and chaise, which had already arrived. Among them was Mr. Jones, the landlord.
"Why, here's the man himself!" exclaimed the landlord, advancing to meet him. "How came your horse to run away? Were you spilled out?"
"No; I tied him to a tree, and he broke loose and ran away. Has he done any harm?" asked Mr. Huxter, nervously.
"He's smashed one of the wheels in running against a post," said a bystander.
"Let me see," said Mr. Huxter, dolefully.
He found that it was as bad as had been told him. The horse made a short turn into the inn-yard, and managed to bring the chaise into collision with a post. The wheel was pretty well shattered.
"Looks bad," said the bystander. "It'll cost something to mend it."
"It can't be mended," said Mr. Jones. "You'll have to get a new wheel."
"What'll it cost?" said Mr. Huxter, with something very like a groan.
"I can't say exactly. Maybe twenty-five dollars will do it."
"It might have been worse," said the bystander, in what was meant to be an encouraging tone.
"It's bad enough," said Mr. Huxter, fiercely. "It's just my cursed luck."
"Was the carriage yours?" asked the landlord.
"No, I got it from a stable. They'll charge me about double price."
"Oh, by the way, did you catch the boy?" asked the landlord, in a tone of interest.
"No," said Mr. Huxter, with an oath which I will omit. "I had just overtaken him when the cursed horse ran away."
"Well, you are unlucky," said Jones. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I suppose I must get the carriage home somehow."
"You might get a new wheel put on here. There's an excellent wheelwright in the village. It will cost you less."
Mr. Huxter finally made an arrangement to this effect, the wheelwright agreeing for twenty-five dollars to put the chaise in repair. This, with the stable charge, made thirty dollars as the expense of Mr. Huxter's little excursion, which, as we have seen, ended in disappointment. He decided not to continue the pursuit of John, having good reason to doubt whether he would catch him.
There was one question which troubled Mr. Huxter: Would his sister be willing to pay this thirty dollars? If not, it would indeed be a bad morning's work for him. He lost no time, on getting home, in writing to Mrs. Oakley. His letter is subjoined.
"Dear Sister:—I hope these few lines will find you in good health. This comes to inform you that the young rascal that I took to board to accommodate you has run away, after treating me most shameful. I hired a team to go after him this morning; but the horse ran away and broke the carriage, which will cost me forty dollars to mend. (Mr. Huxter thought if Mrs. Oakley was to pay the bill he might as well add something to it.) As I was on your business, you will expect to pay this, of course. You can send the money in a letter. I will get back John Oakley if I can. He is a young scamp, and I don't wonder you had trouble with him. When I get him back, I will make him toe the mark, you may be sure of that. Please write to me by return mail, and don't forget the money. Your brother,"
"Ephraim Huxter."
Mr. Huxter did not have to wait long for an answer; but it proved to be less satisfactory than prompt. It ran as follows:—
"My dear Brother:—Your letter has just reached me. I am surprised that you could not manage to control a boy of fifteen. It seems that he has got the best of you. You need not trouble yourself to get him back. If he chooses to run away and earn his own living, he may, for all I care. He is a young rascal, as you say.
"As to the carriage which you say was damaged to the extent of forty dollars, I do not see how it could have happened, with ordinary care. How did it happen? You ought to have told me in your letter. Nor do I see how you can expect me to pay for the result of your carelessness. But even if I were to do it, you seem to forget that I advanced you seventy-five dollars on John's board. As he has remained only one week, that being deducted will leave a balance of sixty-nine dollars, or perhaps sixty, after taking out travelling expenses. I could rightfully require this back; but I will not be hard on you. You may pay for the damage done to the carriage (I am surprised that it should amount to forty dollars), and keep the balance as a gift from me. But it will be useless for you to make any further claim on me for a year, at least, as I have large expenses, and charity begins at home. Remember me to your wife."
"Jane Oakley."
"Well, if that isn't a cold-blooded letter!" said Mr. Huxter, bitterly. "Jane is rich now, and don't care for the privations of her poor brother. She blames me because the chaise got broken,—just as if I could help it."
Still Mr. Huxter had no real reason to complain. His sister had agreed to pay for the damage done, and there would be something left out of the money she had paid in advance. But Mr. Huxter, as soon as he had received it, had at once looked upon it as his own, though not yet earned, and to use it seemed as if he were paying the bill out of his own pocket. Then, again, the very decided intimation that he need not look for any more assistance at present was discouraging. Deducting expenses, it would leave him but a small amount to pay him for his journey to Hampton. He resolved not to pay the wheelwright, if he could possibly avoid it, not being very conscientious about paying his debts. But, as Mr. Huxter's reputation in that way was well known, the wheelwright refused to surrender the chaise till his bill was paid; and the stable-keeper made such a fuss that Mr. Huxter was compelled to pay the bill, though very much against his inclination.
The result of his disappointment was, that he began to drink worse than ever, and poor Mrs. Huxter, for some weeks, had a hard time of it. She was certainly very much to be pitied, as is every poor woman who finds herself yoked for life to a husband wedded to a habit so fatal to all domestic comfort and happiness.
CHAPTER XXVII.
JOHN OAKLEY'S AUNT
When John found that his enemy had abandoned the siege, he rowed ashore, and watched Mr. Huxter until he became satisfied that it would require a considerable time to catch the horse. He thought that he might venture to pursue his journey, without further fear of molestation. Of the incidents that followed, none are worth recording. It is sufficient to say that on the evening of the second day John entered the town of Wilton.
It was years since he had seen his aunt. She had been confined at home by the cares of a young family, and the distance between Wilton and Hampton seemed formidable. He knew, however, that his uncle, Thomas Berry, kept a small country store, and had done so ever since his marriage. In a country village it is always easy to find the "store," and John kept up the main road, feeling that it would not be necessary to inquire. He came at length to a meeting-house, and judged that the store would not be far off. In fact, a few rods further he came to a long, two-story building, painted white, with a piazza in front. On a large sign-board over it he read:—
"THOMAS BERRY
PROVISION AND DRY-GOODS STORE."
"This must be the place," thought John. "I think I'll go into the store first and see uncle."
He entered, and found himself in a broad room, low-studded, furnished with counters on two sides, and crowded with a motley collection of goods, embracing calicoes and dry goods generally, as well as barrels of molasses and firkins of butter. There chanced to be no customer in at the time. Behind the counter he saw, not his uncle, but a young man, with long, light hair combed behind his ears, not very prepossessing in his appearance,—at least so John thought.
"Is Mr. Berry in?" he asked, walking up to the counter.
"Mr. Berry is dead," was the unexpected reply.
"Dead!" exclaimed John, in surprise. "How long since he died?"
"A week ago."
"We never heard of it," said John, half to himself.
"Are you a relation?" asked the young man.
"He was my uncle."
"Is your name Oakley?"
"Yes, John Oakley."
"Of Hampton?"
"Yes."
"A letter was sent there, announcing the death."
This was true; but Mrs. Oakley, who received the letter, had not thought it necessary to send intelligence of its contents to John.
"Didn't you get it?" continued the other.
"I haven't been at home for a week or more," said John. "I suppose that accounts for it. How is my aunt?"
"She is not very well."
"I think I will go into the house and see her."
John went around to the door of the house and knocked. A young girl of twelve answered. Though John had not seen her for six years, he concluded that it must be his Cousin Martha.
"How do you do, Cousin Martha?" he said, extending his hand.
"Are you my Cousin John Oakley?" she said, doubtfully.
"Yes. I did not hear till just now of your loss," said John. "How is your mother?"
"She is not very well. Come in, Cousin John. She will be glad to see you."
John was ushered into a small sitting-room, where he found his aunt seated in a chair by the window, sewing on a black dress for one of the children.
"Here's Cousin John, mother," said Martha.
An expression of pleasure came to Mrs. Berry's pale face.
"I am very glad to see you, John," she said. "You were very kind to come. Is your stepmother well?"
"Quite well," said John. "But I do not come directly from home."
"Indeed! How does that happen?" asked his aunt.
"It is rather a long story, aunt. I will tell you by and by. But now tell me about yourself. Of what did my uncle die?"
"He exposed himself imprudently in a storm one evening three months since," said Mrs. Berry. "In consequence of this, he took a severe cold, which finally terminated in a fever. We did not at first suppose him to be in any danger, but he gradually became worse, and a week since he died. It is a terrible loss to me and my poor children."
Here his aunt put her handkerchief to her face to wipe away the tears that started at the thought of her bereavement.
"Dear aunt, I sympathize with you," said John, earnestly, taking her hand.
"I know you do, John," said his aunt. "I don't know how I can get along alone, with four poor fatherless children to look after."
"God will help you, aunt. You must look to him," said John, reverently.
"It is that thought alone that sustains me," said Mrs. Berry. "But sometimes, when the thought of my bereavement comes upon me, I don't realize it as I should."
"I went into the store first," said John. "I suppose it was my uncle's assistant that I saw there?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Berry; "it was Mr. Hall."
"I suppose he manages the store now for you?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Berry, slowly. "But I hardly know that it is right to say that he manages it for me."
"Why not?" asked John, perplexed by his aunt's manner, which seemed to him strange.
"I will tell you, John," said his aunt. "When Mr. Berry died, I thought he owned the stock clear, and had no debts; but day before yesterday Mr. Hall called in, and showed me a note for two thousand dollars, signed by Mr. Berry. I don't suppose the stock is worth more than three thousand. Of course that makes a very great difference in my circumstances. In fact, it will leave me only a thousand dollars, at the utmost, to support my poor children. I don't know what I shall do." And the poor woman, whose nerves had been shaken by her grief, burst into tears.
"Didn't my uncle own this building, then?" asked John.
"No, he never owned it. He hired it at a low rent from Mr. Mansfield, one of the selectmen, and a rich man."
"Can't you keep up the store, aunt? Will not that give income enough to support the family?"
"But for this note, I could. But if I have to pay that, it will leave only a third of the store belonging to me. Then out of the profits I must pay the rent, the wages of a salesman and a boy, before I can get anything for myself. You see, John, there isn't much prospect."
"Yes," said John, thoughtfully. "It doesn't look very bright. You say, aunt, that uncle never mentioned this note to you?"
"He never mentioned a syllable about it."
"Did he generally mention his affairs to you?"
"Yes; he wasn't one of those husbands that keep everything secret from their wives. He always told me how he was getting along."
"When was the note dated?"
"A year and a half ago."
"Do you know whether my uncle had any particular use for so large a sum of money at that time?"
"No. That is what puzzles me," said Mrs. Berry. "If he got the money, I am sure I don't know what he did with it."
"Did he extend his business with it, do you think?"
"No, I am sure he did not. His stock is no larger now than it was six years ago. He always calculated to keep it at about the same amount."
"That seems strange," said John,—"that we can't find where the money went to, I mean; especially as it was so large a sum."
"Yes, John, that is what I think. There's some mystery about it. I've thought and thought, and I can't tell how it happened."
"What sort of a man is Mr. Hall?" asked John, after a pause.
"I don't know anything against him," said Mrs. Berry.
"I don't know why it is," said John, "but I don't like his looks. I took rather a prejudice against him when I saw him just now."
"I never liked him," said his aunt, "though I can't give any good reason for my dislike. He never treated me in any way of which I could complain."
"How long has he been in the store?"
"How long is it, Martha?" asked Mrs. Berry, turning to her oldest daughter, who, by the way, was a very pretty girl, with blooming cheeks and dark, sparkling eyes.
"It will be four years in October, mother."
"Yes, I remember now."
"He seems quite a young man."
"I think he is twenty-three."
"Does he get a large salary?"
"No, only forty dollars a month."
"Did you know of his having any property when he came here?"
"No; he seemed quite poor."
"Then I don't understand where he could have got the two thousand dollars which he says he loaned uncle."
"I declare, John, you are right," said Mrs. Berry, looking as if new light was thrown over the matter. "It certainly does look very strange. I wonder I didn't think of it before; but I have had so much to think of, that I couldn't think properly of anything. How do you account for it, John?"
"I will tell you, aunt," said John, quietly. "I think the note is a forgery, and that Mr. Hall means to cheat you out of two-thirds of your property."
CHAPTER XXVIII.
JOHN MAKES A DISCOVERY
"Do you really believe this, John?" asked Mrs. Berry, in excitement.
"I really do, aunt. I see no other way to account for the existence of the note."
"But the signature looked like Mr. Berry's," said his aunt, doubtfully.
"Did you examine it carefully, aunt?"
"No, I didn't," admitted Mrs. Berry.
"I should like to compare it with uncle's handwriting."
"I suppose Mr. Hall would think it strange if I should ask him to let me take it."
"Yes; but he must do it, if he wants the note acknowledged."
"I have no head for business," said Mrs. Berry. "A child could cheat me. I wish you could stay with me and look after things."
"Perhaps I can."
"But will your mother be willing?"
"I have no mother," said John.
"Your stepmother, then?"
"I might as well tell you, aunt, that there has been a serious difficulty between Mrs. Oakley and myself, and I have left home."
"Is it possible, John? Didn't your stepmother treat you right?"
"I will tell you all about it, aunt, and you shall judge."
It was a long story, but, as we already know all about it, it is unnecessary to give John's account. His aunt listened attentively, and sympathized fully with John in the matter.
"You have been badly treated, John," she said. "I am sure my poor brother would feel badly enough if he could know how Mrs. Oakley has driven you from home. You do not mean to go back?"
"No, aunt," said John, resolutely. "Until Mrs. Oakley restores me to my former privileges, I shall not go home."
"Then you must stay here, John," said his aunt.
"If I can be of any service to you, aunt, I will."
"You can be of great service to me, John. I do not feel confidence in Mr. Hall, and you know why I cannot be sure that he is not cheating me in the store. I want you to keep an eye upon him."
"I will go into the store as an assistant," said John. "That will give me the best opportunity."
"But you have never been used to work," said his aunt.
"I must work now. Remember, aunt, Mrs. Oakley holds the property, and I am dependent on my own exertions."
"It is disgraceful that it should be so, John."
"But it is so. Perhaps matters may come right by and by; but for the present I must work. I will go into the store, and you shall give me my board."
"You will earn more than that, John."
"If we get clear of Mr. Hall's note, you can do better by me. Until then, let that be the arrangement."
"You don't know what a load you have lifted from my mind, John. I am very sorry that you have been driven from home; but I am very glad to have you here. Martha, get ready the back bedroom for John."
"I begin to feel myself at home already," said John, brightly.
"Our home is a humble one compared with the one you have left, John," said his aunt.
"But you are here, aunt, and you seem like my own mother. That will make more than the difference to me."
"I hope we can make you comfortable, John. Martha, you may set the table for supper, and get John's room ready afterwards. I think he must be hungry."
"I am as hungry as a bear, aunt," said John, smiling.
In the evening Martha went into the store by her mother's request, and asked Mr. Hall to step in after closing the store.
He did so.
"I believe you wished to see me, Mrs. Berry," he said.
"Yes, Mr. Hall. Will you sit down?"
"Thank you." And the young man seated himself, looking furtively at Mrs. Berry, as if to inquire the object of his being summoned.
"Mr. Hall, this is my nephew, John Oakley. I believe you have already met."
"Yes, he came into the store," said Mr. Hall, glancing at John.
"He has agreed to remain here for the present, and will assist you in the store."
Mr. Hall looked as if he was not pleased with this intelligence.
"I do not think that I shall need any assistance," he said.
"I am surprised to hear that," said Mrs. Berry. "Certainly you cannot expect to do alone the business which formerly required Mr. Berry and yourself to do."
"The business is not so large as it was," said Hall.
"Then you must try to bring it up to where it used to be. You must remember that I have a young family to support, and it will require an effort to do it."
"That is why I thought it would be better to save the wages of an extra clerk," said Hall.
"You are considerate, especially as it would require you to work harder yourself. But my nephew knows my circumstances, and does not wish large compensation."
"Has he any experience in tending store?" asked Hall.
"No," said John.
"Then I should have to teach you. It would be more trouble than the help I would get."
"I don't think you would find me so hard to learn," said John, quietly. "I have always lived in the country, and know something about the business of a country store. I don't think I shall be long in learning."
"I agree with John," said Mrs. Berry.
"Of course it must be as you say," said Mr. Hall, appearing dissatisfied; "but I hoped to save you the expense. And I cannot say I think any help necessary; or, if it were, it would be better, with all respect to Mr. Oakley, to take James Sanford, who has had some experience at Trafton."
"Very well, Mr. Hall," said John, taking no notice of the opposition, "then I will come in to-morrow morning. What time do you open the store?"
"At six o'clock."
"Won't that be rather early for you, John?" asked his aunt.
"You are making me out to be lazy, aunt," said John.
"There isn't much business early in the morning," said Hall. "You need not come till seven."
"I would rather go early," said John. "I want to learn the business as soon as I can."
"Did you wish to speak about anything else, Mrs. Berry?" said Mr. Hall.
"No, Mr. Hall; but you need not be in haste."
"Thank you; I am feeling rather tired."
"Good-night, then."
"Good-night."
"It seems to me," said John, when they were alone, "that Mr. Hall did not much want me to enter the store."
"No; I was surprised at that. It must be very hard for one."
"I have my thoughts about it," said John.
"What are they?" asked his aunt.
"I will not say anything now. They may amount to nothing. But I think Mr. Hall is afraid I will find out something, and therefore he objects to my going into the store. I shall keep good watch, and if I find out anything I will let you know."
"I think you must be tired, John. You can go to bed when you please."
"Then I think I will go now, particularly as I am to be up by six in the morning."
"Never mind about to-morrow morning."
"I had better begin as I am going to hold out, aunt. Good-night."
John took the lamp and entered his bedchamber with a happier and more home-like feeling than he had had for months. He felt so interested in his aunt's troubles that he almost forgot that he had any of his own.
In the morning, as the village clock struck six, John stood in front of the store. A minute later, Mr. Hall, who boarded at a little distance, came up. He greeted John coldly, and they entered.
"Now I hope you will make me useful," said John.
"You may sweep out," said Hall.
"Where shall I find the broom?"
Hall told him and John commenced. It was new work to him, but he did it well, and then went to work to arrange things a little more neatly. Occasionally he asked information of Mr. Hall, which was ungraciously given. Still John learned rapidly, and in a fortnight had learned as much as many boys in three months.
One day, when Hall was gone to dinner, John chanced to open the stove, in which there had been no fire for the summer months. It was full of papers and letters of various kinds, which had been crowded into it, as a convenient receptacle. It was so full that, on the door being opened, a considerable portion fell on the floor. John began to pick them up, and, in doing so, naturally looked at some of the papers.
All at once he started with excitement as a particular paper caught his attention. He read it eagerly, and his eyes lighted up with pleasure.
"I must show this to my aunt," he said. "I suspected that note of Mr. Hall's was a forgery, and now I feel sure of it."
He carefully deposited the paper in his pocket-book, and, putting back the rest of the papers, shut the stove door, and resumed his place behind the counter, just as Mr. Hall returned from dinner.
He little guessed that John had made a discovery of the utmost consequence to him.