Luck and Pluck

"Wouldn't I stick pins into him, that's all. I'd make him yell like—a locomotive," said Sam, the simile being suggested by the sound of the in-coming train.

John laughed.

"That's an old trick of yours," he said, "I remember you served me so once. And yet you profess to be my friend."

"I didn't stick it in very far," said Sam, apologetically; "it didn't hurt much, did it?"

"Didn't it though?"

"Well, I didn't mean to have it. Maybe I miscalculated the distance."

"It's all right, if you don't try it again. And now about the advice."

"I wouldn't be imposed upon," said Sam. "Between you and me I don't think much of your stepmother."

"Nor she of you," said John, slyly. "I heard her say the other day that you were a disgrace to the neighborhood with your mischievous tricks."

"That is the 'most unkindest' cut of all," said Sam. "I'd shed a few tears if I hadn't left my handkerchief at home. I have a great mind to tell you something," he added, more gravely.

"Well?" said John, inquiringly.

"It's something that concerns you, only I happened to overhear it, which isn't quite fair and aboveboard, I know. Still I think I had better tell you. You know my father was your father's lawyer?"

"Yes."

"Well, he as well as everybody else was surprised at the will that left everything to your stepmother, only he had the best reason to be surprised. I was sitting out on our piazza when I heard him tell my mother that only three months ago your father came to his office, and had a will drawn up, leaving all the property to you, except the thirds which your stepmother was entitled to."

"Only three months ago?" said John, thoughtfully.

"Yes."

"And did he take away the will with him?"

"Yes; he thought at first of leaving it in my father's charge, but finally decided to keep it himself."

"What can have become of it? He must have destroyed it since."

"My father doesn't think so," said Sam.

"What does he think?"

"Mind you don't say a word of what I tell you," said Sam, lowering his voice. "He thinks that Mrs. Oakley has put it out of the way, in order to get hold of the whole property herself."

"I can hardly think she would be so wicked," said John, shocked at the supposition.

"Isn't it easier to believe that of her, than to believe that your father would deal so unjustly by you?"

"I won't call it unjustly, even if he has really left her the whole property," said John. "Still, I was surprised at being left out of the will. Besides," he added, with a sudden reflection, "there's something that makes me think that the will you speak of is still in existence."

"What's that?" asked Sam.

In reply John gave the particulars of his father's attempt to communicate with him, and the few words he was able to make out.

"I understand it all now," said Sam, quickly.

"Then you're ahead of me."

"It's plain as a pike-staff. Your father hid the will, fearing that your stepmother would get hold of it and destroy it. He wanted to tell you where it was. Do you know of any secret drawer in your house?"

John shook his head.

"There must be one somewhere. Now, if you want my advice, I'll give it. Just hunt secretly for the drawer, wherever you think it may possibly be, and if you find it, and the will in it, just bring it round to my father, and he'll see that justice is done you. Come, I'm not a lawyer's son for nothing. What do you say?"

"I shouldn't wonder if you were right, Sam."

"You may depend upon it I am. I'm your lawyer, remember, and you are my client. I give advice on the 'no cure no pay' system. If it don't amount to anything I won't charge you a cent."

"And if it does?"

"If you get your property by my professional exertions, I trust to your generosity to reward me."

"All right, Sam."

"Of course you won't let your stepmother suspect what you're after. Otherwise she might get the start of you, and find it herself, and then much good it would do you."

"I'm glad to think it is still in existence, and that she hasn't destroyed it."

"She would if she could, you may depend on that."

"Well, Sam, I'm much obliged to you for your advice. I think I must be going now."

"Well, good-by, old fellow. Keep a stiff upper lip, and don't give up the ship—horsemanship, I mean. I must go round to the office, and see if father doesn't need a little professional assistance."

John leaped on Prince's back, and turned him in the direction of home. The revelation which Sam had made gave a new direction to his thoughts. If his father had really intended to give him a share of the estate, he felt that he ought to have it, and determined to institute a search as cautiously as possible.

Driving into the yard he saw Ben sitting sullenly on the door-step. He eyed John with no very friendly glance.

"Where've you been?" he demanded.

"Up the road," said John, briefly.

"It's the last time you'll ride my horse."

"It's not your horse."

"You'll find out whose horse it is," muttered Ben.

"I don't care about disputing with you," said John, quietly, turning towards the stable.

"My mother wishes to see you at once; do you hear?" said Ben, unpleasantly. "She's going to make you apologize to me for your impudence."

"I'll go in and see her as soon as I have put the horse in the stable," John answered, quietly.

"I hate that fellow," muttered Ben, following our hero with lowering eyes; "he puts on too many airs altogether. But my mother'll fix him."

CHAPTER III.

JOHN'S TROUBLES BEGIN

After putting Prince in the stable, John went into the house slowly, for he was in no hurry to anticipate what he feared would be an unpleasant interview.

"Where is Mrs. Oakley, Jane?" he asked of a servant whom he met in the hall.

"She's in the sitting-room, Master John," said Jane. "She wants to see you immediately."

"Very well; I'll go in."

He heard steps behind him, and, turning, found that Ben was following him.

"He wants to hear me scolded," thought John. "However, I won't take any notice."

Mrs. Oakley was sitting in a rocking-chair. She looked up with a frown as John entered. She had never liked him, but since Ben had declared, falsely, as we know, that John had no more respect for her than a servant, this dislike was greatly increased.

She was inwardly determined to make his life as uncomfortable as possible.

"Well, sir," she said, "so you have come at last."

"I came as soon as Ben told me you wished to see me," said John. "I only waited till I had put my horse into the stable."

"His horse!" repeated Ben, by way of calling his mother's attention to the claim to ownership expressed in those words.

"I suppose I ought to consider it lucky that you paid any attention to my words," said Mrs. Oakley.

"I hope I have not failed in proper respect," said John.

"It was very respectful in you to ride off with the horse, when I had told Ben he might use it."

"It was my horse," said John, firmly. "If Ben wanted it, he might ask me."

"Ask you, indeed!" repeated Ben, scornfully; "you won't catch me doing that."

"It was enough that I told him that he might ride. Didn't he tell you that?"

"Yes."

"Then what right had you to refuse?"

"The horse is mine," said John. "It was given me by my father."

"He allowed you to use it."

"He gave it to me. At the same time he gave Ben a watch, which he is wearing now. He has no more right to demand my horse than I have to claim his watch."

"You seem to forget," said Mrs. Oakley, coldly, "that your father saw fit to leave me his property. The horse forms a part of that property, and belongs to me, and it is for me to say who shall ride on it. Ben, you may ride on the horse to-morrow."

"Do you hear that?" demanded Ben, triumphantly, looking towards John.

"I suppose," said John, quietly, "you will order Ben to let me have his watch to-morrow."

"I shall do no such thing," said Mrs. Oakley, sharply, "and it is impudent in you to ask such a thing."

"I don't see why it isn't fair," said John. "It appears to me rather mean in Ben to want both, and leave me neither."

"That is for me to decide," said Mrs. Oakley. "There is one thing more I have to speak to you about. My son tells me you were brutal enough to strike him with the whip. Do you deny that?"

"I never deny what's true."

"Then you did strike him."

"Yes, I struck him twice."

"And you have the impudence to stand there, and say it to my face!"

"You asked me, and I have answered you. I don't see why that should be called impudent."

"You glory in your disgraceful action," said Mrs. Oakley, sharply.

"Did Ben tell you that he struck me first?" asked John.

"I am very glad to hear it. It was what you deserved," said Mrs. Oakley.

"Then," said John, firmly, "I gave him what he deserved. You can't expect me to stand still and be struck without returning it."

"The only fault I find with Ben is, that he did not strike you more than once," said Mrs. Oakley, in an excited tone.

John glanced from the mother to her son, who was evidently pleased with the reproaches John was receiving, and said, quietly:—

"I think Ben had better not attempt it."

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Mrs. Oakley, quickly.

"I don't want to strike Ben, or injure him in any way," said John; "but I mean to defend myself if I am attacked."

And Ben, though he chose to sneer, knew very well that, quietly as John spoke, he was thoroughly in earnest, and would do precisely as he said. He knew very well, too, that, though he was older and taller than John, he would very likely be worsted in an encounter. He preferred, therefore, that his mother should fight his battles for him.

"You hear, mother," he said. "He defies you. I knew he would. You remember what I told you."

Mrs. Oakley did remember very well, and the recollection made her angry.

"John Oakley," she said, "you will find that it won't do to insult me."

"I have no wish to insult you, Mrs. Oakley," said John. "I have not forgotten who you are, and I shall try to treat you accordingly."

"What do you mean by that?" said Mrs. Oakley, turning pale with rage.

She was misled by the statement Ben had made, and she thought John referred to the fact that she had been his father's house-keeper,—a point on which she felt sensitive.

"I mean," said John, a little surprised at this outburst, "that I have not forgotten that you are my father's widow, and as such are entitled to my respect."

"Was that what you meant?" asked Mrs. Oakley, suspiciously.

"Certainly," said John. "What else could I mean?"

Mrs. Oakley turned to Ben, who shrugged his shoulders, intimating that he did not believe it.

"All very fine," said his mother, "but words are cheap. If you think I am entitled to your respect, you will do as I require. Will you promise this?"

"I would rather not promise," said John. "If it is anything I ought to do, I will do it."

"It is something you ought to do," said Mrs. Oakley.

"What is it?"

"I require you immediately to apologize to my son Benjamin, for the blows you struck him with the whip this afternoon."

"I cannot do this," said John, firmly.

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I had a good reason for striking him. He ought to apologize to me for striking me first."

"Catch me doing it!" said Ben, scornfully.

"I have no fault to find with him for striking you," said Mrs. Oakley. "On the contrary, I think him perfectly justified in doing so. You forced him off the horse after I had given him permission to ride, and I should have been ashamed of him if he had not resisted. I am glad he gave you such a lesson."

Once more John looked at Ben, and was not surprised to see the smile of triumph that rose to his face as he listened to these words of his mother.

"Well," said Mrs. Oakley, impatiently, "what have you to say?"

"What can I say? You are determined to find me in the wrong."

"It is because you are wrong. I demand once more, John Oakley, will you apologize to my son?"

"I will not," said John, firmly.

"Please to remember that you are left dependent upon me, and that your future comfort will be a good deal affected by the way in which you decide."

"Whatever happens," said John, who partly understood the threat, "I refuse to apologize, unless—"

"Unless what?"

"If Ben will say that he is sorry that he struck me, I will say the same to him."

"Ben will do nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Oakley, promptly. "I should be ashamed of him if he did."

"Catch me apologizing to such a whipper-snapper as you!" muttered Ben.

"Then I have no more to say," said John.

"But I have," said Mrs. Oakley, angrily. "You have chosen to defy me to my face, but you will bitterly repent of it. I'll break your proud spirit for you!"

John certainly did not feel very comfortable as he left the room. He was not afraid of what his stepmother could do, although he knew she could annoy him in many ways, but it was disagreeable to him to feel at variance with any one.

"If my poor father had only lived," he thought, "how different all would have been!"

But it was useless to wish for this. His father was no longer on earth to protect and shield him from the malice of Ben and his mother. Trials awaited him, but he determined to be true to himself, and to the good principles which he had been taught.

As for Mrs. Oakley, having once resolved to annoy John, she lost no time in beginning her persecutions. She had a small, mean nature, and nothing was too petty for her to stoop to.

John and Ben had been accustomed to occupy bedrooms on the second floor, very prettily furnished, and alike in every respect. It had been the policy of Squire Oakley to treat the two boys precisely alike, although Ben had no claim upon him, except as the son of the woman whom he had married. Now that he was dead, Mrs. Oakley determined that Ben should occupy a superior position, and should be recognized throughout the house as the eldest son and heir. After her unsatisfactory interview with John, just described, in which he had refused to apologize, she summoned Jane, and said:—

"Jane, you may remove John's clothes from the bedchamber where he has slept to the attic room next to your own."

"Is Master John going to sleep there?" asked Jane, in amazement.

"Certainly."

"And shall I move Master Ben's things upstairs, also?"

"Of course not," said Mrs. Oakley, sharply. "What made you think of such a thing?"

"Beg pardon, ma'am; but who is going to have Master John's room?"

"You ask too many questions, Jane. It is no concern of yours that I am aware of."

Jane did not venture to reply, but went out muttering:—

"It's a shame, so it is, to put Master John upstairs in that poor room, while Ben stays downstairs. He's a young reprobate, so he is, just for all the world, like his mother."

The fact was, that John was a favorite in the house, and Ben was not. The latter was in the habit of domineering over the servants, and making all the trouble in his power, while John was naturally considerate, and always had a pleasant word for them. However, Mrs. Oakley's commands must be obeyed, and Jane, much against her will, found herself obliged to remove John's things to the attic. She found John already in his chamber.

"Excuse me, Master John," she said, "but I have orders to move your things up to the attic."

"What!" exclaimed John, in amazement.

Jane repeated her words.

"Did Mrs. Oakley tell you to do that?"

"Yes, Master John, and a shame it is."

"Is Ben to go up into the attic too?"

"The mistress said no."

"Wait a minute, Jane; I'll go and speak to Mrs. Oakley."

John went downstairs, and found his stepmother in the room where he had left her.

"May I speak to you a moment, Mrs. Oakley?" he said.

"Have you come to apologize for your impertinence to me, and your rudeness to my son?"

"No, I have not," said John.

"Then I don't care to speak to you."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Oakley, but Jane tells me that you have ordered her to remove my things to the attic."

"Well?"

"Is Ben to go into the attic too?"

"No, he is not."

"Then why are you driving me from my room?"

"You seem to forget that you are only a boy. This house is mine, and I shall make what arrangements I please."

"The room in the attic is not nearly as good as my present room."

"It is good enough for you."

"I am willing to go up there if Ben goes up, but I claim to be treated as well as he."

"Ben is older than you. Besides, he is respectful and dutiful, while you are impertinent and disobedient. I shall treat you as well as you deserve."

"Why did you not make this change while my father was alive, Mrs. Oakley?" said John, significantly.

Mrs. Oakley colored, for she understood very well the meaning of this question.

"I do not intend to be catechised by you," she said, sharply. "I intend to do what I please in my own house, and I shall not submit to have my arrangements questioned."

"May I ask how my room is going to be used?" said John, who wanted to be sure whether his stepmother had any motive for the change except hostility to himself.

"No, you may not ask," she said, angrily; "or if you do, you need not expect any answer. And now I will thank you to leave the room, as I have something else to do besides answering impertinent questions."

There was nothing more to say, and John left the room.

"Well, Master John," said Jane, who had waited till his return, "what will I do?"

"You may move the things upstairs, Jane," said John.

"It's a shame," said Jane, warmly.

"Never mind, Jane," said John. "I don't like it much myself, but I dare say it'll all come out right after a while. I'll help you with that trunk. It's rather heavy to carry alone."

"Thank you, Master John. Ben wouldn't offer to help if he saw me breakin' my back under it. It's easy to see which is the gentleman."

The room to which John's things were removed was uncarpeted, the floor being painted yellow. It had been used during Squire Oakley's life by a boy who was employed to run errands, but who had been dismissed by Mrs. Oakley, who was disposed to be economical and save his wages. The bed was a common cot bedstead, comfortable indeed, but of course quite inferior to the neat French bed in which John had been accustomed to sleep. There was a plain pine table and bureau, in which John stored his things. There was a small cracked mirror, and a wash-stand with the paint rubbed off in spots. Altogether it was hardly suitable for a gentleman's son to sleep in. John, however, was not proud, and would not have minded if there had not been malice on the part of his stepmother. He had scarcely got moved when a step was heard on the attic stairs, and Ben came up to enjoy the sight of John's humiliation.

"So you've got a new room, John?" he said, smiling maliciously.

"So it seems," said John, quietly.

"I'm sorry to lose so agreeable a neighbor," he continued.

"Are you?" said John, looking at him searchingly.

"But you'll be more at home up here," said Ben.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean it's more suitable for you."

"Ben Brayton," said John, his eyes flashing, "if you have come up here to insult me, the sooner you go down the better. Your mother has moved me up here, for what reason I don't know. The only satisfaction I have in the change is, that it removes me further from you."

"You're uncommon polite since you've moved into this elegant apartment," said Ben, tauntingly.

"Elegant or not, it is mine, and I want it to myself," said John. "Leave the room!"

He advanced towards Ben as he spoke. Ben thought a moment of standing his ground, but there was something in John's eye that looked threatening, and he concluded that it would be the best policy to obey. With a parting taunt he backed out of the chamber, and John was left to himself.

CHAPTER IV.

BEN BRAYTON'S RIDE

John took his place at the supper-table as usual; but neither Mrs. Oakley nor Ben, though they spoke freely to each other, had a word to say to him. If John had been conscious of deserving such neglect, he would have felt disturbed; but as he felt that all the blame for what had occurred rested with Ben and his mother, he ate with his usual appetite, and did not appear in the least troubled by their silence, nor by the scornful looks which from time to time Mrs. Oakley directed towards him. After supper he went up into his little room, and prepared his lesson in Virgil for the next day. He was at the head of his class, and was resolved to let no troubles at home interfere with his faithful preparation of his lessons.

Ben did not attend school. In fact, he was not very partial to study, and though Squire Oakley had offered to bear his expenses at the academy, and afterwards at college, Ben had persuaded his mother that his health was not firm enough to undertake a long course of study. While, therefore, John was occupied daily for several hours at the academy, Ben had lived like a gentleman of leisure, spending considerable time at the billiard rooms in the village, and in lounging on the hotel piazza. He managed to get through considerable money, but his mother had always kept him well supplied.

Although he did not wish to go to college himself, he did not fancy the idea of John's going, since this would increase the superiority of the latter over him. He knew very well that a liberal education would give John a certain position and influence which he was not likely to attain, and he determined to prevent his obtaining it. When, therefore, John had gone to school the next morning, Ben attacked his mother on the subject.

"Are you going to send John to college, mother?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I don't want him to go."

"Why not?"

"He'll put on no end of airs if he goes, and turn up his nose at me, because I don't happen to know so much about Latin and Greek, and such rigmarole."

"I wish you would make up your mind to go to college, Ben," said his mother, earnestly, for she was very ambitious for her son.

"It's of no use, mother. I'm seventeen, and it would take three years to get ready, and hard study at that."

"You have studied Latin already."

"I don't remember anything about it. I should have to begin all over again."

"Well," said Mrs. Oakley, reluctantly giving up the idea, "you might study law without going to college."

"I don't think I should like to be a lawyer. It's too hard work."

"You needn't be, but you could go to the Law School, and study long enough to get a degree. You would make some aristocratic acquaintances, and it would be an honorable profession to belong to."

"Well," said Ben, "I don't know but I'll enter the Law School in a year, or two. There is no hurry. I suppose you'll give me enough money so that I won't have to earn my living? I say, mother, how much property did old Oakley leave?"

Considering the obligations under which Mrs. Oakley was placed to her late husband it might have been supposed that she would reprove Ben for the disrespectful manner in which he spoke of him; but, as may be guessed, she cared nothing for her husband, except for what she could get out of him, and was not in the least disturbed by the manner in which Ben referred to him.

"This house and the land around it," she said, "are estimated at ten thousand dollars. There are, besides, stocks, bonds, and mortgages to the amount of fifty thousand dollars."

"Sixty thousand dollars in all!" exclaimed Ben, his eyes sparkling. "You're quite a rich woman, mother."

"Yes," said Mrs. Oakley, complacently, "I suppose I am."

"It's a little different from when you came here four years ago on a salary of twenty dollars a month. You were pretty hard up, then."

"Yes, Ben, but we can hold up our heads with anybody now."

"I say, mother," said Ben, persuasively, "as I'm your only son, I think you might give me ten thousand dollars right out. You'd have fifty thousand left."

Mrs. Oakley shook her head.

"You're too young, Ben," she said. "Some time or other you shall be well provided for."