Luck and Pluck

"I don't like Ben much," said John.

"And he returns the compliment."

"Yes, he has taken a dislike to me, I don't know why, for I have always treated him well, though I couldn't like him."

"I say, John," said Sam, "if you don't go to college, it'll knock all my plans into a cocked hat. You were to room with me, you know."

"Yes, Sam, I have been looking forward to that a long time."

"What a jolly time we should have! I shan't have half so much pleasure in going to college if you don't go with me. You're such a good scholar, too, it would be a great pity. But perhaps it may not be so bad as you think. Mrs. Oakley may be only too glad to get rid of you."

By this time they had reached the door of the academy. The bell sounded, summoning the pupils to their morning exercises, and John and Sam had other things to think of, for a while at least.

At the close of the afternoon John returned home. He went into the house to carry his Virgil and Greek Reader, being accustomed to prepare a part of his lessons out of school. On going out into the yard, he saw Ben lounging lazily against a fence, whittling.

"Are you going out to ride, John?" he asked, in an unusually friendly tone.

"I think I will ride a little way," said John.

"I got enough of it yesterday," said Ben.

"You were unlucky. If you had not struck Prince it would have been all right."

"I don't care about trying it again. I hope you'll have a pleasant ride."

"Thank you," said John, unsuspiciously.

He went out to the barn, and opened the door that led to the stables. He made his way at once to Prince's stall, and looked in.

It was empty!

Surprised, but not yet suspecting what had really happened, he called out to Mike, whom he saw outside:—

"Where's Prince, Mike?"

"Shure, sir, didn't you know he was sold?"

"Sold? When?"

"This morning, Master John."

"Who bought him?"

"Mr. Barnes, the man that keeps the livery stable. He was here this morning. He and the mistress came in, and they soon struck a bargain."

John's heart swelled with anger and sorrow, but he asked, calmly:—

"Do you know what price Mr. Barnes gave for Prince?"

"Yes, Master John; I heard him say that he would give one hundred and ninety dollars. The mistress wanted two hundred; but she finally let him have Prince at that, and a good bargain it is to him too."

John left the stable outwardly calm, but much disturbed in mind.

"Mrs. Oakley might at least have let me know what she meant to do," he said, bitterly. "My poor father's gift too."

Ben waited for John's return with malicious interest. He wanted to witness and enjoy his disappointment.

"I thought you were going to ride?" he said, with a smile of mockery.

"Can you tell me where your mother is?" asked John, coldly.

"She's in the house, I suppose. Do you want to see her?"

"Yes."

John entered the house without taking any further notice of Ben. He found his stepmother in the sitting-room. She looked up, as he entered, with a glance of satisfaction, for she saw that she had made him unhappy.

"Mike tells me you have sold Prince, Mrs. Oakley," he commenced.

"Yes. What of it?"

"As he was my horse, I think you might have let me know what you intended to do."

"Prince was not your horse," she said, sharply.

"He was my poor father's gift to me."

"Nonsense! He merely let you call him yours. The horse was mine."

"He was as much mine as Ben's watch is his. Are you going to sell Ben's watch?"

"No, I am not. If that is all you have to say, you may leave the room."

"It is not. I will not object to your selling the horse, because it would cost something to keep him; but it is only fair that the money for which he was sold should be given to me, or enough to buy a watch and chain like Ben's."

"You are very modest in your expectations, young man," sneered Mrs. Oakley.

"I'm only asking what is just."

"You seem to forget whom you are speaking to. If you think you can bully me, you will find yourself entirely mistaken."

"I am not in the habit of bullying anybody. I only want my rights," said John.

"Then you'll have to want. You may as well understand, first as last, John Oakley,"—and his stepmother raised her voice angrily,—"that I am mistress in this house, and owner of this property. You are entirely dependent upon me for the bread you eat and the clothes you wear, and it will be prudent for you to treat me respectfully, if you want any favors. Do you understand that?"

"I understand what you say, Mrs. Oakley," said John, indignantly. "You seem to have forgotten that every cent of this property belonged to my father, and would now be mine, if my father had not married you. You had better remember that, when you talk about my being dependent upon you, and favor Ben at my expense."

Mrs. Oakley turned white with rage.

"What do you mean by your impertinence, you young rascal?" she shrieked, rising to her feet, and glaring at John.

"I mean this," he exclaimed, thoroughly provoked, "that I don't believe my father ever intended to leave you all his property. I believe there is another will somewhere, and I mean to find it."

"Leave the room!" exclaimed Mrs. Oakley, in a voice almost inarticulate with rage. "You'll repent those words, John Oakley. You're in my power, and I'll make you feel it."

John left the room, his anger hot within him. When he reflected coolly upon what had passed, he did repent having spoken about the will. It might set Mrs. Oakley upon the track, and if she found it, he feared that she would have no scruples in destroying it, and then his last chance of obtaining his rights would be gone.

CHAPTER VII.

MRS. OAKLEY DECIDES WHAT TO DO

Mrs. Oakley was not only angry, but very much disturbed at the words which John had imprudently uttered. They startled her, because they intimated John's suspicion of something which she had good reason for knowing to be a fact.

Mrs. Oakley knew that her husband had executed a later will, and, though she did not know where it was, she believed it still to be in existence!

The will under which she inherited bore a date only two months after her marriage with Squire Oakley. She had cunningly influenced him to make it. He did so without proper consideration, and gave the will into her custody. But, though his wife carefully concealed from him her real character, she could not do so entirely. Little things, which came under his observation, led him to believe that she entertained a secret dislike for John, and, only three months before his death, Squire Oakley, to protect John's interests, made a second will, which superseded the first, and limited his wife to that portion of his property which she could legally claim,—that is, one third.

He did not see fit to apprise his wife of this step. But she was watchful and observant, and something led her to suspect what had been done. She determined to find out secretly, and with this end went to the desk where her husband kept his private papers, one day when she supposed him to be absent, and began to search for the suspected will. After a while she found it, and, spreading it open, began to read:—

"I, Henry Oakley, being of sound mind," etc.

She had read so far, when a heavy hand was laid upon her shoulder. Turning with a start, she saw her husband, his face dark with anger, looking sternly at her.

"Give me that document, Mrs. Oakley," he said, abruptly.

She did not dare do otherwise than obey.

"By what right do you come here to pry into my private papers?" he demanded.

"I am your wife," she said.

"That is true. You are my wife; but that does not authorize your stealing in here like a thief, and secretly examining papers, which would have been shown you if they had been intended for your eyes."

"Does not that paper relate to me?" she asked, boldly.

"It relates to my property."

"It is your will."

"Yes."

"And it makes the one which I hold of no value."

"It does."

"So you are secretly plotting against my interests," she said, angrily. "I suspected as much, and I determined to find out."

"The will of which you speak never ought to have been made. It disinherits my son, and places him in your power."

"Could you not trust me to provide for him?" asked Mrs. Oakley.

"I fear not," said her husband. And her eyes fell before his steady glance. She felt that she was better understood than she had supposed.

"So you have placed me in John's power," she said, bitterly.

"I have done nothing of the kind."

"Have you not left the property to him?"

"You well know that you are entitled by law to one-third of my estate."

"One-third!"

"Yes."

"And he is to have two-thirds?"

"Why should he not? If I had not married a second time he would have had the whole."

"And my son Ben is left unprovided for?" questioned Mrs. Oakley, in a tone of mingled anger and disappointment.

"Ben has no claim upon me."

"Poor boy! so he will be penniless."

"You appear to forget that your share of the property will amount to twenty thousand dollars. He need not suffer, unless his mother should refuse to provide for him."

But this did not suit Mrs. Oakley's views. She was not at all reconciled to the thought that John Oakley, whom she disliked, would inherit forty thousand dollars, while she and Ben must live on half that sum. She was fond of money and the position it would bring, and although twenty thousand dollars would once have seemed to her a great fortune, her desires had increased with her prosperity, and she now thought it a hardship that she should be limited to such a trifle. She was by no means reconciled to the thought that Ben must play second fiddle to his rich stepbrother. Still John was young, and if she were his guardian that would be something. So she smoothed her face and said:—

"I suppose you have appointed me John's guardian?"

Squire Oakley shook his head.

"I have appointed Mr. Selwyn to that position. It is more fitting that a lawyer should have the care of property," he said.

There was another reason which he did not mention. He thought that John's interests would be safer in Mr. Selwyn's hands than in those of his wife.

"This is an insult to me," said Mrs. Oakley, angry and disappointed. "It will be declaring to the world that you have no confidence in me."

"Nothing of the kind. Even were you his real mother, there would be nothing strange in my leaving him to the guardianship of another."

But Mrs. Oakley looked angry, and for days afterwards wore an offended and injured look. She appeared to forget from what poverty and dependence Squire Oakley had delivered her, and how many favors he had lavished upon Ben, who had no claim upon him save in his relationship to her.

Three days afterwards, Squire Oakley asked his wife for the will which she had had in her possession for nearly three years.

"Why do you want it?" she asked.

"Because it is of no value now, since I have made a later will. I wish to destroy it."

Mrs. Oakley said she would look for it. If she did so, she took care not to look in the right place, for she reported that it was mislaid, and she could not find it.

"It is rather strange that you should have mislaid a document which might have been of such importance," said Squire Oakley, significantly.

"I am always mislaying things," said she, forcing a laugh. "I will look again to-morrow."

But the will was not found, and Squire Oakley drew his own deductions from this fact. Painful as it was to suspect his wife, he feared that his second will would not be safe if she could once get it into her possession. He saw, too late, that he had married a selfish and unscrupulous woman. He determined, therefore, to conceal the document, which so vitally affected his son's interests, in a hiding-place where it would be safe from Mrs. Oakley's prying disposition. He did so. But he did not foresee at that time how soon he would be struck with paralysis that would affect his speech, and render it difficult for him to reveal the secret to those who ought to know it. So it happened, however. From the time paralysis attacked him, Mrs. Oakley kept vigilant watch over him, and did all she could to keep John away from his father's bedside, lest the secret should be revealed to him. Meanwhile, she sought everywhere for the missing will, but couldn't find it. The most she feared was that it had been placed in the lawyer's hands for safe-keeping. It ought to have been. Squire Oakley, as he lay on his sick-bed, regretted bitterly that it had not been so disposed of. It would have saved him from much anxiety. John obtained one interview with him, as we know, but his father was unable to impart to him the desired information, and the sudden entrance of Mrs. Oakley destroyed his last chance.

The rest we know. Squire Oakley died; his wife produced the earlier will, which she now had no difficulty in finding, and under that claimed and inherited the whole property. A search was instituted for the late will, under the lawyer's directions, but it was not found. Mrs. Oakley found herself, to her secret delight, the undisputed mistress of her late husband's handsome estate. She had hoped that John knew nothing of the later will; but the words to which he gave utterance at the close of the last chapter undeceived her. It was clear that he knew something of it, and he had expressed a determination to find it. That it was somewhere in the house, Mrs. Oakley believed, and, if so, it was very possible that John might stumble upon it. The result would be that she would be compelled to surrender two-thirds of the property, and he would become independent of her. Aside from the large pecuniary loss, she could not bear to think of John's release from her persecutions. At present, she pleased herself with thinking that he was in her power, and that she could "break his proud spirit," as she termed it, though, as we have seen, John was disposed to be respectful, and only displayed such a proper spirit as his self-respect demanded.

"If I could only find the will myself," thought Mrs. Oakley, "there would be no further trouble."

She did not say to herself, that, should such a discovery be made, it would plainly be her duty to make it known to Squire Selwyn, who had always been her late husband's lawyer. She did not consider what she should do with it, but we who have obtained a glimpse of her character may easily guess that in her hands it would not have benefited John much.

The point for Mrs. Oakley to consider was how to protect herself against any sudden discovery of John's. She saw that it would be dangerous for her to have him continue in the house, and she resolved to send him away. Where, she could not at once decide.

Having determined upon this, it occurred to her once more to visit her husband's desk, and examine it carefully, in the hope of discovering some secret drawer, in which the will might have been concealed.

It was now evening. She lit a lamp, and went to the small room which Squire Oakley had used for reading and writing in, and went at once to the desk. It was old-fashioned, with a variety of small drawers. These she had examined more than once, but she opened them again, in the hope of discovering some false bottom, which had served as a means of concealment. While she was intent upon her search, she heard a slight noise at the door, and, looking up, was startled to find John looking into the room.

"What are you prying into my actions for?" she demanded, sharply, a little embarrassed at being caught thus employed, and especially by John.

"I am not," said John.

"Why are you here, then?"

"By accident entirely; I was passing through the entry, and, seeing a light in here, I just glanced in."

"I wanted to find a receipt," said Mrs. Oakley, thinking it best to offer some plausible explanation. "A bill was presented me for payment that I think has already been paid."

"Can I assist you?"

"No," said Mrs. Oakley, coldly. "I shall probably find it soon."

John was not deceived by this explanation. He felt sure that Mrs. Oakley was searching for the will; but this he kept to himself.

"I must get rid of him at once," said his stepmother. "Once get him out of the house, and I'll explore it thoroughly. I shan't feel safe till the will is found."

CHAPTER VIII.

MR. EPHRAIM HUXTER

Mrs. Oakley had determined to send John away, This resolution was easily formed, but it was not quite so easy to decide where to send him. There were plenty of boarding-schools where he might be sent, but these would be expensive, and, besides, Mrs. Oakley was of opinion that John knew enough already. He was very much the superior of Ben in scholarship, and for this she was sorry. She would like to have apprenticed him to a trade; but if this was done while Ben lived in idleness, Mr. Selwyn would be sure to remonstrate, and as the will was not yet found she felt in some fear of his opinion.

It was about this time that the stage arrived one afternoon before the gate, and a tall, shabbily dressed man, with a battered valise, descended, and walking up the front path rang the bell.

The servant who answered the summons thought she recognized him as a peddler who had called there about a month before.

"We don't want anything," she said, abruptly, nearly shutting the door in the stranger's face.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, staring at her in surprise. "I want to see your mistress."

"It's no use. She won't take anything of you."

"What do you mean by your impudence?" he said, angrily.

"Hoity-toity," said the girl. "You put on airs enough for a peddler; but it's of no use. You may take your rubbish off somewhere else."

"Who's a peddler, I should like to know? If you don't open that door pretty quick, I'll tell my sister to dismiss you without a character."

"Your sister!" repeated the girl, taken by surprise. "What has your sister got to do with me?"

"She gives you a home, and pays you wages, I reckon."

"Aint you a peddler, then?" demanded the girl, incredulously.

"I am Mrs. Oakley's brother, and you'd better invite me into the house, if you want to stay in it yourself."

"Excuse me, sir. I made a mistake. If you'll walk in I'll tell Mrs. Oakley you're here."

"That's the first sensible word you've spoken. I'll put my valise here in the entry."

"Well," thought the servant, "if that's Mrs. Oakley's brother, I don't think much of her family. I always thought she belonged to a poor set."

She went upstairs to the front chamber, where her mistress liked to sit, and said:—

"Your brother's downstairs. He says he would like to see you."

"My brother!" repeated her mistress, not looking overpleased.

"Yes, he is down in the parlor."

"Very well, I will go down and see him."

The ill-dressed stranger was stretched out in a rocking-chair, in an attitude more comfortable than graceful. He was gazing about the room, and noting with much complacency the evidences of comfort and luxury which the handsome furniture exhibited. It was thus that Mrs. Oakley found him.

"How do you do, brother Ephraim?" she said, coldly, advancing, and just giving him the tips of her fingers.

"I'm pretty well," he answered. "So the old gentleman's dead, hey?"

"If you mean my husband," she answered, still with coldness, "you are right."

"It's all right about the property, hey? How much is left to you?"

"The whole."

"Whew!" whistled Mr. Ephraim Huxter.—"Well, you have worked your cards well, that's a fact."

"I'll thank you, Ephraim," said Mrs. Oakley, with dignity, "not to use such low language, or indulge in such insinuations. I did my duty by my husband, and he showed his confidence in me by leaving me his property."

"Well, perhaps that's the right way to put it," said Mr. Huxter. "I'm glad you have feathered your nest so well."

"I must again request you not to indulge in such language," said Mrs. Oakley, in tones of displeasure.

Mr. Huxter was evidently perplexed.

"Come, Jane," said he, "there's no use in trying to deceive me. You made a good thing of it in marrying old Oakley, and you needn't pretend to be broken-hearted because he is dead, and has left you his fortune."

"Hush!" said Mrs. Oakley, closing the door; "what if the servants should hear you talking in this way?"

"Well, there is something in that. That girl of yours that came to the door took me for a peddler. She wasn't going to let me in."

Mrs. Oakley glanced at her brother's soiled linen and stained clothes, and did not express any surprise.

"I brought my valise," said her brother. "I suppose it'll be convenient for me to stay a few days."

Mrs. Oakley assented rather ungraciously,—in truth she did not care much to present such a man as her brother. She felt that it would make it still more difficult to obtain the position which she desired to maintain in the village.

"I thought maybe I could help you in settling up the estate," said Mr. Huxter.

"I don't think I shall require any assistance. Mr. Oakley was a good business man, and the task is an easy one," said his sister, coldly.

"How much does the property amount to?" asked Mr. Huxter,—the property being in his eyes the main thing to be considered.

"I can't say exactly."

"Well, you can give a guess."

But Mrs. Oakley did not care to have her brother understand her exact position as regarded money matters. She saw clearly enough that he was already speculating how to turn her prosperity to his own advantage, and this she was determined he should not do. She would like to have kept him at a distance, but she was already feeling one of the inconveniences of wealth. There are some whose chief enjoyment of wealth arises from the happiness which it enables them to impart to others, and some, in Mrs. Oakley's position, would have been glad to do something for such of their relatives as were in struggling circumstances; but it was not so with her. She was of a stingy, penurious disposition, and did not mean that her money should benefit any one but Benjamin and herself, except the small sum which she felt obliged to spend on John.

"No, I don't think I could form any estimate," she said. "Mr. Oakley has recently died, you know."

"Has he left as much as fifty thousand?"

"Fifty thousand!" exclaimed Mrs. Oakley; "what are you thinking of?"

"It isn't much less, I am thinking. At any rate, you're a rich woman."

"I am comfortably provided for."

"I wish I was as comfortably provided for," said Mr. Huxter. "Seems to me your ideas have risen some, Jane, since you used to live with me, and bind shoes for a living. You and Ben wouldn't have been very comfortable, I reckon, if I hadn't helped you once upon a time."

"As to that," said Mrs. Oakley, "I worked for my board. It was no great favor on your part."

"At any rate, you thought yourself lucky to get a home. Now, things are changed considerably. You are a rich woman, and—well, I'm hard up."

"You always were shiftless, Ephraim," said Mrs. Oakley, who saw what her brother was coming to.

"Shiftless!" repeated Mr. Huxter, in an injured tone. "I don't know what you call shiftless. I've been a hard-working man; but luck's never been on my side."

Mr. Huxter's nose had a suspicious redness, which seemed to indicate whiskey might have had something to do with his want of luck. This was in fact the case. If he had never made much headway, it was partly, at least, his own fault, as his sister knew well enough. But she knew also that there was very little chance of his amending in that particular, and though she gave him little encouragement by her manner, she felt that she should have to help him at last.

"How are your family?" asked Mrs. Oakley.

"Oh, about as usual. Wife's always scoldin' and complainin', and the children are fractious. I don't know what makes 'em behave so. My home aint a very happy one, that's a fact."

Mrs. Oakley knew that very well. For more than two years, when left a widow, with Ben on her hands, she had found a home in her brother's family, which proved so far from agreeable, that she finally determined to leave it, and do as well as she could for herself outside. She had been lucky enough to obtain a situation in Mr. Oakley's family as house-keeper, and this proved the starting-point of a new and prosperous career. During Mr. Oakley's life, Mr. Huxter had never been near her. This had been at Mrs. Oakley's special request. She felt that her brother was not calculated to do her any particular credit, and she had succeeded, though with some difficulty, in keeping him at a distance. She had accomplished this by an occasional present, and the distinct intimation that these would cease unless her brother should respect her wishes. Now that she was a widow, he considered that the prohibition was at an end, and had presented himself unexpectedly, and was by no means welcome.