Andy Gordon

“So I have; and he says there isn’t any split,” said Mrs. Brackett. “Just fly around and saw and split some, or I shall have the fire out.”

Mr. Brackett took the pipe from his mouth and sauntered toward the wood pile in a very discontented frame of mind.

“My wife burns a sight of wood,” he said to himself. “It’s saw and split all the time. That’s where I miss Peter. The lazy little vagabond, to leave me this morning, and now I’ve to do his work and my own, too.”

Peter might be a lazy little vagabond, but the work he did was certainly more than fell to the lot of his employer, though he had worked for almost nothing.

The fact was, Mr. Brackett was a lazy man, and considered that in superintending others he was doing all that could be expected of him.

Peter had milked three of the six cows, foddered them, cleaned out the stalls, sawed and split the wood, and done the numberless chores Mrs. Brackett found for him, besides doing a share of the farm work.

At times during the year, Mr. Brackett hired a man by the day, but generally had a quarrel with him when pay day came, being as mean as he was lazy.

Jeremiah Brackett began to ply the saw and ax, knowing that his supper depended upon it, and soon little Tommy was able to carry in an armful to his mother.

He sawed a little more, and then resumed his smoking.

“It’s slave, slave all the time!” he muttered. “The old man might help me a little, now that I’ve lost Peter – but no, he’s too much of a gentleman. He must take his cane and walk off for pleasure. I wish I had nothing else to do but to walk for pleasure.”

It would have occurred to any one else that at the age of seventy-five a man might have been allowed to rest, particularly when his life up to seventy had been spent in active duty; but Mr. Brackett was intensely selfish and grudged his father-in-law his well-earned leisure.

He never seemed to think of the rich and productive farm, worth fully ten thousand dollars, which he had received from Mr. Dodge, and was disposed to think that in giving the old gentleman a room for it in his own house, with fare at a very meager table, he was really making a hard bargain.

“If the old man would only give me two thousand dollars in money,” he reflected, “it would make me easy. Of course, it’s coming to me some time – there isn’t anybody else that has any claim – but it looks as if he meant to live forever.”

Mr. Brackett did not, however, feel quite so sure of the personal property as he wished. He knew that Mr. Dodge had relations in Hamilton, and it was the fear of his life that they would inherit the coveted stocks and bonds.

He was somewhat reassured, however, by the knowledge that his father-in-law never appeared to write or receive a letter.

Of the letter which had been received by Mrs. Gordon, and led to the journey of our young hero, he knew nothing. It would have occasioned him a great amount of uneasiness if he had heard anything of it.

He was still smoking when Simon Dodge, fresh from his interview with Andy, entered the yard.

“Been out walking, father?” asked Brackett.

He was careful never to let the old man forget the relationship which existed between them, though, in truth, there was no relationship at all.

“Yes, Jeremiah, I must take a little exercise, so as not to get stiff in the joints.”

“I have plenty of exercise at home,” grumbled Brackett. “I have had to attend to all Peter’s chores, in addition to my own work.”

“Oh, well, you’ll get another boy soon,” said old Simon, cheerfully.

“I hope so, for I don’t want to get worn out. When a man has a wife and children to support, he’s got a tough job before him.”

“Not when he’s got a good farm like this,” said Mr. Dodge.

“There ain’t any money to be made by farming,” muttered Brackett.

“That wasn’t my experience,” said Mr. Dodge. “When I was twenty-five I inherited this farm from my father; but there was a debt of three thousand dollars on it, which I was to pay my brother for his share. I hadn’t a cent outside. Well, I worked hard, and I waited patiently, and in time I paid off the mortgage I put on it to pay my brother, and when I gave it up to you, it was in good condition and well stocked. You started a good deal better off than I did.”

“Some folks have more luck than others,” said Brackett.

“If there was any difference in luck,” said the old man, dryly, “it was in your favor. It’s labor more than luck that counts in this world, according to my thinking.”

“You didn’t have four children to support, father.”

“I had three, and while only one lived to grow up, the other two lived to be older than any of yours.”

“I don’t know how it is,” said Brackett, “but I’m always hard up. The children ought to have new clothes, but where I am to get the money I don’t know.”

Mr. Dodge did not offer to tell Mr. Brackett where it was to be got, but he could have done so.

Mrs. Brackett had five hundred dollars in a savings-bank, which, in spite of his laziness, Brackett, with her help, had been able to save.

The two had decided that Mr. Dodge was on no account to know anything of this, as it might prevent his doing anything for them; but the old man had learned it indirectly; and the knowledge helped him to remain deaf to their application for assistance. So, when they pleaded poverty, he remained politely silent.

“Father,” said Brackett, “will you lend me fifty dollars for six weeks, till I’ve had a chance to sell some of my grain?”

Mr. Dodge knew very well from repeated experience that there wasn’t one chance in ten of any such loan being repaid to him. In fact, Brackett owed him, in the aggregate, nearly a thousand dollars, borrowed on just such conditions – to be repaid in six weeks.

“I think you must excuse me, Jeremiah,” said Simon Dodge, quietly.

“It would set me on my feet,” said Brackett.

As he leaned against the well curb in a languid attitude, it really seemed as if he needed somebody or something to set him on his feet.

“I think you will have to look for the money somewhere else,” replied his father-in-law.

“I thought you was having some interest coming in at this time, father.”

“Jeremiah, I gave you the farm, and with good management, you never need to borrow. It ought to support you handsomely, as it did me. I have told you that more than once.”

Simon Dodge left his son-in-law, and entered the house.

“How the old miser hangs on to his money!” growled Brackett. “He’s getting more and more selfish and mean as he grows older. I wish he’d make his will. If he should die now, I’m afraid them Eastern relatives would be after the property.”

Just then, however, his attention was drawn to a boy, with a bundle under his arm, who was entering the gate. It was Andy.

CHAPTER XXXI.

ANDY IS ENGAGED

Jeremiah Brackett brightened up as his glance took in the strong, sturdy figure of our hero.

He stood very little chance of securing the services of a boy belonging to the village, for his penurious disposition was too well known; but here was a stranger, who knew nothing about him, and who was probably in search of employment.

“Is this Mr. Brackett?” asked Andy, politely.

“Yes; that’s my name.”

“I was told you wanted to hire a boy.”

“Who told you so?”

“A boy I met on the road.”

“Was his name Peter?”

“I believe he said so.”

“A lazy, shiftless boy!” said Brackett, warmly. “He had a good place here, and I looked after him as if he had been my own son; but he didn’t do his duty.”

“He didn’t say anything about that,” said Andy, gravely.

“No, I reckon not. Did he say anything about me?” asked Brackett.

“He said you and he couldn’t get along very well.”

“All his own fault,” returned the farmer, who wished to remove any prejudice which Peter’s story may have excited in the mind of Andy. “He had as nice a home as any boy would want, and easy work; but some boys are never satisfied. Was you looking for work?”

“I thought I might hire out for a while.”

“What do you call yourself?”

“Henry Miller.”

“Was you raised near here?”

“Not very.”

“Did you ever work on a farm?”

“I have worked a little in that way.”

“Can you milk?”

“Yes.”

“The next question is, how much did you calculate to get?” asked Brackett, cautiously.

“Peter told me how much you gave him,” said Andy.

Mr. Brackett was glad to hear this, as he knew that most boys expected larger wages. He was glad that Andy knew what his predecessor had received.

“Yes,” he said, with the air of a liberal man, “I gave Peter fifty cents a week, though he wasn’t really worth it. Fifty cents and board, and lodgings, and washing,” he added, by way of making the salary seem as munificent as possible.

“It doesn’t seem to me very high pay,” said Andy, who thought it politic to drive a bargain.

“Remember, you’re only a boy,” said Mr. Brackett, “and boys can’t do as much as men. Fifty cents is excellent pay for a boy of – how old be you?”

“Sixteen.”

“For a boy of sixteen. Of course, when you’re a man grown, you can get a good deal more. Why, I pay one man as much as a dollar and a quarter a day!”

“Would I have to work very hard?” asked Andy.

“Oh, no! Just enough for healthy exercise,” said Brackett, in a light, cheerful tone. “It does boys good to use their limbs. I was a dreadful hard worker when I was a boy.”

“You look as if you’d been tired ever since,” said Andy to himself, as he watched the lounging attitude of his future employer.

“You’ll have a nice, pleasant home,” continued Mr. Brackett – “plenty of life and fun. I’ve got four beautiful children, that’ll look upon you as a brother. Mrs. Brackett, who is a perfect lady, will take an interest in you and make you feel at home.”

Before Andy could reply, Mrs. Brackett made her appearance at the back door.

“Jeremiah!” she screamed. “I want some more wood – quick!”

“All right, Lucindy. Well, what do you say? Will you come?”

“I’ll try it a week,” said Andy.

“Then you can begin by sawing and splitting some wood. There’s the wood pile, and there’s the saw and ax. You’d better work up at a pretty good quantity.”

“Well, I’ve got rid of that job,” thought Brackett, with a sigh of relief. “He looks like a good, strong boy. I hope I’ll be able to keep him.”

CHAPTER XXXII.

TOMMY’S INNOCENT TRICK

It was not till supper-time that Andy was introduced to the members of Mr. Brackett’s family.

“I hope you’ll do better than the last boy,” said Mrs. Brackett.

“I hope so,” said Andy.

Here Mr. Dodge entered the room.

“Father, I’ve hired a new boy,” said Mr. Brackett.

“I see you have,” replied the old man, demurely, looking at Andy as if he had never seen him before. “What’s his name?”

“Henry Miller.”

“I am glad to see you, Henry,” said the old gentleman, with a smile.

“Thank you, sir!”

Just then Andy felt his next neighbor at the table, Tommy, trying to stick a pin into his leg. It was one of the engaging tricks of Mr. Brackett’s promising heir.

Now, Andy was not inclined to submit to anything of the kind, and he forcibly took the pin from the hands of the young mischief-maker.

“Gimme my pin!” screamed Tommy.

For answer, Andy stuck it into his coat lapel on the opposite side.

“Have you got Tommy’s pin?” asked Mrs. Brackett, angrily.

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Andy.

“Give it right back to him!”

“So I will, after supper; but I object to his using my leg for a pincushion,” answered our hero, coolly.

Mrs. Brackett’s temper was not of the best.

“Do you hear that, Mr. Brackett?” she snapped.

“Hear what, Lucinda?”

“Hear that boy defy me to my face?”

“I guess you’d better give Tommy his pin,” said Mr. Brackett, who stood in awe of his wife.

“You must excuse me, sir, unless you give him a different place at the table,” said Andy, firmly, but with perfect politeness.

“Come here and sit by your mother, my angel!” said Mrs. Brackett.

As Tommy rose to obey, Andy, with a smile, restored to him his pin.

I am sorry to relate the sequel. Tommy, emboldened by his success, seized an opportunity playfully to prick his mother, and found that he had made a decided blunder. The lady instantly seized the young culprit by the collar and dragged him from the room, shaking him vigorously.

“I’ll learn you to play tricks on your ma!” she exclaimed, angrily. “Not another mouthful shall you have to eat to-night, you saucy little imp! But what can be expected when your father upholds you in your bad actions?”

“Really, Lucindy,” exclaimed Mr. Brackett, justly astonished, “I don’t understand you!”

Mrs. Brackett volunteered no explanation, but flounced back to her seat, and the remainder of the meal was passed in solemn and dreary silence.

Andy was very much amused at the sudden change in Mrs. Brackett’s sentiments toward her angel boy, but of course said nothing.

Later in the evening he got a chance to speak a few words, unobserved, with the old gentleman.

“You did right, Henry,” said Mr. Dodge – (It was decided from motives of prudence that he had better call our hero by this name) – “in showing that young torment that he couldn’t play tricks on you. He is about the worst behaved boy I know.”

“Does he ever trouble you, sir?”

“ ‘No; not much. His parents think it would not be politic to let him.”

“Mrs. Brackett seems a very agreeable woman,” said Andy, laughing.

“She’s a good deal worse than her husband. She is very bad-tempered, mean and disagreeable. She isn’t lazy, like her husband, but he is better natured than she. How do you think you shall like staying here?”

“I wouldn’t stay a day longer if it were not for you, sir.”

“Thank you, Henry! You are a good boy. I shan’t stay long myself, but there are some things I must attend to before I can go away.”

Here Brackett came in sight, and the two separated, not wishing to excite his suspicions.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

MR. DODGE’S MYSTERIOUS JOURNEY

Andy soon found that his position was by no means an easy one. Though Mr. Brackett was a lazy man himself, he had no notion of allowing his hired boy to imitate his example. Even if he had been inclined to be indulgent, Mrs. Brackett would have taken care that Andy had enough to do. She had taken a dislike to our hero, dating from the first supper when Andy firmly resisted little Tommy’s attempt to use him as a cushion.

“I don’t know what you think, Mr. Brackett,” said his wife, one day, about a week after Andy’s term of service began, “but I consider that new boy of yours an impudent, good-for-nothing upstart!”

“He is a good worker, Lucindy,” said Mr. Brackett. “He does more work than any boy I ever had.”

“Maybe he does and maybe he doesn’t, but that ain’t the point.”

“It is the point with me, my dear. Between ourselves, we get him very cheap. I don’t believe I could get another boy that would do so much work for fifty cents a week.”

“Fifty cents a week seems to me very good wages,” answered Mrs. Brackett, whose ideas of compensation were not very liberal.

“I think it’s enough myself for an ordinary boy; but Henry is uncommonly smart.”

“He feels uncommonly smart, I can tell you that,” retorted the lady. “Why, Brackett, he seems to consider himself of as much importance as you or I.”

This was quite true. Andy had gauged Mr. and Mrs. Brackett pretty accurately, and felt a decided contempt for them both. Both were mean, one lazy and the other ill-tempered, while neither was up to the average in refinement or education. So he was disposed to rate himself considerably higher than either; and who of my young readers will deny that he has a right to do so?

“Well, Lucindy,” continued Brackett, in a pacific tone, “it doesn’t make any difference to us what the boy thinks of himself. If he chooses to make himself ridiculous by his airs, why let him, for all I care.”

“But there’s something more, Mr. Brackett,” said his wife.

“What more?”

“The way he treats Tommy. You haven’t forgotten how he treated him at supper the very first night?”

“Tommy was trying to prick him with a pin. You couldn’t expect him to stand that?”

“He could have mentioned it to you or me, then. Instead of that, what does he do? Why, he seizes the poor child’s hand and pulls the pin away from him. You ought to have flogged him for it.”

“You didn’t seem to like it yourself when Tommy attacked you with a pin,” said Mr. Brackett, laughing. “You didn’t stand on any ceremony, but hauled the boy out of the room,” and Mr. Brackett unguardedly laughed at the recollection.

His wife reddened and inquired, sharply:

“So you choose to compare me to your hired boy, do you, Mr. Brackett?”

“Not that I know of, Lucindy.”

“You seem to think it makes no difference whether Tommy pricks him or me – his ma and your wife,” said Mrs. Brackett, severely.

“Really, Lucindy, you twist my words so I don’t know hardly what I do mean.”

“I want you to stand by your own flesh and blood, Mr. Brackett. I don’t want you to allow them to be imposed on and ill-treated by a young tramp whom you have hired to do chores.”

“I don’t mean to. What do you expect me to do, anyway?”

“I expect you to teach that boy his place.”

“If I don’t treat him well he won’t stay. He’ll leave me all of a sudden, as Peter did.”

“Then you can get another boy.”

“That isn’t so easily done as you may suppose. I can’t get any of the boys round here to work for me – I’m sure I don’t know why – and new ones don’t come along every day. I don’t fancy being left without one to do the chores myself.”

“If you did them all, you wouldn’t work as hard as I do,” said his wife, contemptuously, and not altogether without a basis of truth.

“You can’t expect a woman to know anything about a man’s work,” said Mr. Brackett, in a complacent tone of superiority.

“I know I could do all your work, and get done in half the day,” said his wife.

Mr. Brackett shrugged his shoulders, and was about to saunter off, when his father-in-law made his appearance.

“Mr. Brackett,” said he, “if you can spare Henry and your horse and team, I would like to have him drive me over to Jefferson this afternoon.”

“Really, father,” said Brackett, who did not like the proposal, for it would throw upon his shoulders some of Andy’s work, “I’d like to oblige you, but it would be very inconvenient. You see, Henry’s got his work to do, and – ”

“I didn’t ask it as a favor,” said Mr. Dodge. “I mean to pay you for the boy’s services, and also for the horse and team.”

Now, money was the god of both Mr. and Mrs. Brackett, and this put quite a different face on the matter.

“Let father have the boy and team,” said Mrs. Brackett. “You can spare them.”

“It would be worth as much as two dollars,” said Brackett.

“I will pay you two dollars,” said Simon Dodge promptly.

Here a new and brilliant idea struck Mr. Brackett, and he said, briskly:

“I’ll tell you what, father; I’ll drive you over myself, instead of Henry, and I won’t charge you a cent more, even if my time is more valuable than his.”

He reflected that it would be easier driving round the country than staying at home and doing the boy’s work.

“Thank you for your kind offer,” said the old man, quietly, “but I can’t accept it.”

“You mean you’d rather have the boy drive you?” asked Mr. Brackett, in amazement.

“I would,” answered his father-in-law, candidly.

“Really that doesn’t seem friendly,” said Mr. Brackett.

“I generally like to have my own way, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, quietly. “I don’t mind allowing you two dollars and a half, which is more than I should need to pay at the stable. Is it yes or no?”

“Oh, of course, I agree,” said Brackett, rather disappointed. “Do you want to go now?”

“Yes.”

“What in the world is he going to do?” thought Mr. and Mrs. Brackett; for this was a request out of the ordinary course. “It must be something he doesn’t want us to know.”

Doubtful as to how much information they could extract from Andy, a sharp plan suggested itself to Mrs. Brackett.

“Father,” said she, “have you any objection to taking Tommy along with you? The dear boy loves to be with his grandpa, and he can sit between you and Henry. He doesn’t take up much room.”

“I won’t take him this afternoon, Lucinda,” said Mr. Dodge, mildly.

“The poor child would enjoy it so much to ride with his grandpa,” pleaded Mrs. Brackett.

“Tommy must wait till another time,” said “grandpa,” firmly.

Mrs. Brackett was displeased, and, though she did not venture to say anything more, she showed by her manner that she considered her poor boy was slighted.

The team was soon ready, and the old man rode off with our hero.

Mr. and Mrs. Brackett looked after them, with a look of baffled curiosity.

“What does this mean, Jeremiah?” asked his wife, at last.

“That’s more than I can tell, Lucindy,” returned her husband.

“Seems mighty mysterious to me.”

“So it does.”

“If he’d only have taken Tommy, the dear child would have told us just where he went and what he did.”

“So he would. Maybe that was what he was afraid of.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ – ”

“Well, what have you been thinkin’, Jeremiah?” asked his wife, impatient at her husband’s pause.

“I’ve been thinkin’ that perhaps father is going to make his will this afternoon.”

“Why shouldn’t he let us know?”

“Oh, perhaps he wants to surprise us.”

“Jeremiah, do you think there is any fear of his leaving his property to them relations of his in the East?”

“I can’t say, but I guess not. He never hears from them. Like as not, he doesn’t know where they live.”

“We must find out, some way, whether he makes a will, and what’s in it,” said Mrs. Brackett, nodding vigorously. “When they get home, try to get it out of the boy what the old man did, and where he went.”

“I will, Lucindy.”

CHAPTER XXXIV.

WHAT MR. DODGE DID IN JEFFERSON

Andy had no previous intimation that he would be called upon to drive Mr. Dodge over to Jefferson, but he was very glad to do so.

When they were fairly started, Mr. Dodge said:

“Henry, probably Mr. and Mrs. Brackett will cross-examine you on our return, to learn where I went and what I did. They are very curious on that subject – so much so that Mr. Brackett offered to drive me over himself.”

“I won’t tell them,” said Andy, very promptly.

“You might find it a little awkward to refuse,” said the old man, “and for this reason I will not tell you precisely.”

“That will be the best way,” answered Andy, who was not troubled by idle curiosity.

“I will only say that the business I have to do will help prepare the way for our departure.”

“I am glad of that, sir, for I don’t much enjoy being in Mr. Brackett’s employment.”

“It will soon be over, Henry, and I will take care that you lose nothing by what you are doing in my behalf.”

“I don’t want to be paid for that, Uncle Simon.”

“Have you heard from your mother since you came here?”

“No, sir; I have not dared to write, for fear the letter might be seen by Mr. Brackett or his wife.”

“You shall have an opportunity of writing from Jefferson. We will drive directly to the hotel and put up our team. You can write your letter in the hotel while I am out attending to my business.”

Andy was very glad of this permission, for he knew that his mother would feel anxious till she had heard of his safe arrival.

When the team was disposed of, Andy entered the hotel office.

Jefferson was the shire town of the county, and was therefore at times the resort of a considerable number of visitors. For this reason it required and possessed a very commodious hotel.

At the desk Andy saw a pleasant-looking boy of about his own age, whose name, as he afterward learned, was George Tierney. The boy looked social and friendly, and he addressed him.

“Can you let me have a sheet of paper and an envelope?” he asked.

“Certainly,” said George, briskly. “Do you want to write a letter?”

“Yes, I should like to do so.”

“You will find a table and ink in there,” said George, pointing to a small room leading from the office. “Of course you will want a postage stamp.”