Luck and Pluck

At this moment Ben, who wished to see his mother, and was not aware of his uncle's arrival, entered the room, and, observing the shaggy appearance of the visitor, whom apparently he did not recognize, surveyed him with unconcealed contempt.

CHAPTER IX.

MORE ABOUT MR. HUXTER

Mr. Ephraim Huxter, on perceiving Ben, wreathed his homely features into what was intended for a gracious smile, and, rising, took his nephew's rather unwilling hand.

"So this is Ben," he said. "Bless me, what a young gentleman he's grown, to be sure! Don't you remember me, Ben?"

"No, I don't," said Ben, but not truly, for he had recognized his uncle at first sight. Indeed, any one who had ever seen Mr. Huxter would be likely to remember his harsh features and ungainly form.

"It is your Uncle Ephraim," said his mother.

"Humph!" said Ben, not feeling it necessary to express any pleasure. With his improved fortunes, his pride had developed, and he had come to look upon his mother's brother as a low person, who was immeasurably his inferior.

"Yes, Ben has become quite a gentleman," said his uncle, surveying his broadcloth suit, and gold watch-chain ostentatiously displayed over his vest. "But I dare say he hasn't forgotten when he used to run round in a shirt and overalls, and hoed potatoes at three cents an hour."

Ben did remember distinctly, and the recollection was far from pleasing; so he thought it best to forget it.

"I don't remember anything of the kind," he said, rather roughly.

"I suppose you'd want to be paid better now, ha, ha!" said Mr. Huxter, laughing as if he thought it a capital joke.

"I don't know anything about hoeing potatoes," said Ben, haughtily. "I'm not a laborer."

"No, of course not," said Mr. Huxter. "You and your mother are now rich; but I hope you won't look down on your poor uncle and cousins, who have to grub along as well as they can for a living. Things were different once, to be sure. Once my humble home was thrown open to receive you, and I was glad to give you a shelter, though a lowly one, in your hour of need. I shall always be glad to think of that, though my wife and little ones should starve before my face."

Mr. Huxter deliberately drew from his pocket a red cotton handkerchief, and raised it to his eyes, not to wipe away the tears, for there were none, but to increase the pathos of his remarks. But even with this help they failed to produce the desired effect. Mrs. Oakley remained cool and unaffected, and Ben, turning from his uncle to his mother, said:—

"How soon will supper be ready?"

"You may go and ask Hannah to set the table at once," said Mrs. Oakley.

Ben left the room with alacrity, without taking further notice of his uncle.

"The young cub! I'd like to flog him!" thought his uncle; but he did not consider it polite to give utterance to this thought. "What a gentlemanly appearance Ben has!" he said, instead.

"Yes," said Mrs. Oakley, more graciously; for her pride in Ben was her great, and perhaps it might be said, her only weakness, cool and calculating woman as she was. "I think he will do me credit, brother Ephraim."

"Indeed he will. I am quite proud of him," said Mr. Huxter, who thought he saw the best way to ingratiate himself with his sister. "I can hardly believe he's the same little Ben that used to run round the farm barefooted. He don't like to think of those old times, ha, ha!"

"No," said Mrs. Oakley; "he has a proud spirit, Benjamin has."

"That's all well enough as long as he has money to support it. 'Poor and proud' don't go so well together, sister Jane."

"I don't know," said Mrs. Oakley. "I was once poor, but I never lost my pride. If I had I should have given right up, and made no effort to better myself."

"I know who you're thinking of. You're thinking of me. You think I haven't got any proper pride. Well, I don't know as I have. Misfortunes have come thick and fast, and I've had a hard row to hoe. Hard work and poverty are enough to take away a man's pride."

Mr. Huxter certainly did not look as if he could ever have had much to be proud of; but then, pride and merit do not always go together, and appearances are sometimes deceitful.

"Well," said Mrs. Oakley, now graciously, "perhaps matters may take a turn with you. I cannot do much, for I have Mr. Oakley's son to provide for, as well as Benjamin and myself; but I may be able to do something."

"Thank you, Jane," said Mr. Huxter, more cheerfully. "I was sure you would not harden your heart against your only brother, and leave his family to suffer, while you were living on the fat of the land."

"We will talk further this evening, Ephraim," said Mrs. Oakley. "Excuse me for five minutes, while I go out to the kitchen to see if supper is nearly ready."

"Certainly, Jane. I don't mind confessing that I feel rather hungry myself. I didn't take any dinner at the Half-way House, to-day, for dinner costs money, and with my narrow means I didn't feel as if I could spare half a dollar."

"I am glad you mentioned it. I will see that some cold meat be placed on the table. You must require something hearty."

"It's my praising Ben that fetched her," said Mr. Huxter, when, being left to himself, he began to reflect upon the cause of his sister's sudden and agreeable change of manners. "I shall have to flatter up the young rascal, I expect, though I'd a good deal rather give him a taste of a horsewhip. So he turns up his nose at me, does he? He forgets the time when he'd have been obliged to beg from house to house but for me. Maybe he won't always be prosperous. The race isn't always to the strong, nor the battle to the swift."

Mr. Huxter did not often read the Bible, and was not aware that he had made a trifling mistake in his quotation. His thoughts were turned into a different and more agreeable channel by the reappearance of his sister, and the announcement that supper was ready. He rose with alacrity, and followed Mrs. Oakley into a room in the rear of the parlor, where an abundant and appetizing meal was spread. Mr. Huxter rubbed his hands with satisfaction,—for in his own household the meals were neither abundant nor inviting,—and took his seat at his sister's table. Ben took the head of the table opposite his mother, and John Oakley sat opposite Mr. Huxter.

"Who is this young man?" asked Mr. Huxter, glancing at John. "I have not had the pleasure of an introduction."

"That is John Oakley," said his stepmother, briefly.

"The son of your lamented husband," said Mr. Huxter.

"Yes. Will you have milk and sugar in your tea?"

"Yes, thank you. I hope you are well, Mr. Oakley."

"Quite well, thank you, sir," said John, wondering who was addressing him.

"I am your stepmother's brother," continued Mr. Huxter, "and that makes me a sort of relation, you know."

"Will you help yourself to the toast, Ephraim?" said Mrs. Oakley, in a quick, sharp tone, for she didn't fancy the idea of her brother's paying so much attention to John.

"Thank you, Jane. If it is as nice as your tea, I shall want to help myself more than once. But you were always a good house-keeper."

Mrs. Oakley did not relish this allusion, for she would like to have had everybody forget that she had been a professional house-keeper. She thought her brother was succeeding admirably in making himself disagreeable, and determined that he should not long remain her guest, if she could conveniently get rid of him. But Mr. Huxter had not penetration enough to see that he was displeasing his sister, and continued, his mouth being full of toast:—

"Mr. Oakley must be near your Benjamin's age, Jane."

"I'm almost two years older," said Ben, who had so few points of superiority that he might well claim this.

"Indeed, I shouldn't have thought it," said his uncle; "but then Mr. Oakley is very well grown for his age."

"I don't know that Ben is deficient in that way," said Mrs. Oakley, coldly.

"Oh, no, of course not; I didn't mean to hint such a thing. The boys must be a good deal of company for each other."

"You're mistaken there," said Ben, shortly.

"They are not much together," said Mrs. Oakley. "John goes to school, but Benjamin has finished his education."

"Indeed!" said Mr. Huxter; "pray what studies do you pursue, Mr. Oakley?"

"I am studying Latin, Greek, and mathematics," answered John.

"I want to know! Why, you are quite a scholar! Are you going to college?" asked Mr. Huxter.

"That was what my father intended," said John.

"Mr. Oakley's death has interrupted all our plans," said Mrs. Oakley, coldly, "and we have not had time to form new ones."

"What are your plans for Benjamin?" asked his uncle. "Do you understand Latin and Greek, too, Ben?"

"No; and I don't want to," said Ben. "It's all nonsense, and won't do any good."

"Well, I can't say as I care much about either myself," said Mr. Huxter; "only it is fashionable to study them."

"I don't care whether it is fashionable or not," said Ben; "I shan't waste my time over them."

"Will you have some more toast, Ephraim?" asked Mrs. Oakley, heartily tired of the conversation.

"Thank you, I believe I will."

John mentally decided that Mr. Huxter was a singular man, but did not dream that he was likely to have considerable to do with him, and that ere long.

CHAPTER X.

HOW THE MATTER WAS SETTLED

After supper Mrs. Oakley and her brother were left together. Ben had no particular fancy for the society of his uncle, and John had no desire to intrude upon Mrs. Oakley.

"Well, Ephraim," said Mrs. Oakley, plunging into business at once, "I have been considering what I could do for you."

"I knew you had a good heart, sister Jane," said Mr. Huxter, who was disposed to be very complimentary to his sister, now that his interest lay in flattering her. Mrs. Oakley well remembered the time when he treated her in quite a different manner; but though she saw through his change of manner, and thoroughly understood what prompted it, she was well pleased to have it so. It made her feel the power which her wealth had brought her; and there was no woman who enjoyed that better than Mrs. Oakley.

"You mustn't expect too much," she continued. "You must remember that there are others who have claims upon me."

"But your means are large," said Mr. Huxter, who was resolved to extort as much as possible.

"No doubt you think so; but I am the best judge of what I can afford," said Mrs. Oakley.

"If I were rich I wouldn't see you and Ben suffer," said Mr. Huxter.

"As to that, your health is good, and your family ought not to suffer if I gave you no assistance at all. I don't think much of a man who can't support his family."

"I've been a very unlucky man," said Mr. Huxter. "I'd ought to be independent now, but something or nuther was always happening. There was my best cow, that I could have got fifty dollars for easy, up and died one night."

"How long ago was that?"

"Three years," said Mr. Huxter, rather reluctantly.

"It seems to me you've had time to get over that loss," said his sister, not betraying much sympathy in her tone.

"It wouldn't be much to you, I know; but to a poor man like me it was a great loss," said Mr. Huxter.

"Well, we won't say anything about that. I told you that I would help you, and I will. You observed John Oakley at the table?"

"Yes; he looks like a smart fellow."

"He's no smarter than Ben that I know of," said Mrs. Oakley, jealously.

"Of course not; I didn't suppose he was," said Mr. Huxter, seeing that he had got on the wrong tack. "Ben is a boy that you may be proud of, sister Jane. He is very genteel in his manners."

"I mean to bring him up as a gentleman," said Mrs. Oakley. "I think I shall make a lawyer of him."

"I hope you will. There's never been a lawyer in our family. I should be proud to speak of my nephew, Benjamin Brayton, Esq., the famous lawyer."

"I hope that time will come, brother Ephraim. But I was going to speak of John Oakley. Ben and he don't agree very well."

"Don't they?" asked Mr. Huxter, not so much surprised as he might have been if he had not made Ben's acquaintance. "I suppose it is John's fault."

"Of course it is. He doesn't treat Ben or myself with proper respect, and of course Ben resents it."

"Of course."

"He doesn't seem to realize that Ben is older than himself, and therefore entitled to more privileges. He went so far one day as to strike Ben with a whip."

"What did Ben do?" asked Mr. Huxter, curiously.

"Oh, of course he struck John," said Mrs. Oakley, not thinking it necessary to mention that Ben's blow came first.

"Well," said Mr. Huxter, "it seems natural for boys to quarrel."

"I shan't allow my son to be struck by John Oakley," said Mrs. Oakley, quickly.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"That is what I am coming to. I think of sending John away somewhere, so that we may live in peace and quiet, and not be disturbed by his quarrelsome disposition."

"Where do you think of sending him?"

"To your house."

"To my house?" exclaimed Mr. Huxter, in surprise, for he had not foreseen what was coming.

"Yes."

"I don't know as he would like the way we live," said Mr. Huxter, thinking of the "picked-up" dinners to which he was accustomed. "He's a rich man's son, and has been used to good living."

"Don't trouble yourself about that," said Mrs. Oakley; "if he has always lived well, he can stand a little poor living now, by way of variety. It is his own fault that I send him away from home."

Mr. Huxter hardly knew what to think of this arrangement. He had hoped that his sister would settle an annual sum upon him, without any equivalent, or would give him, say a thousand dollars outright. Now she only proposed that he should take a boarder.

"I don't know what my wife will say," he remarked. "It will increase her work."

"Not much. There will only be one extra seat at the table."

"But we shall have to put ourselves out a little for him."

"I don't want you to put yourself out at all," said Mrs. Oakley, emphatically.

"He's a rich man's son."

"But he'll be a poor man himself. He will have to earn his living by hard work."

"I don't see how that can be. Didn't his father leave plenty of money?"

"No," said Mrs. Oakley, determined not to be entrapped into any such acknowledgment; "and if he had, John is no better off for it. You seem to forget that all the money is left to me."

"That's a fact," said Mr. Huxter. "I didn't think of that. Shan't you leave any of it to John?"

"That depends upon his behavior," said Mrs. Oakley. "I make no promises. The property is all mine, and I shall leave it to no one who treats me with disrespect. You see, therefore, that you need feel on no ceremony with him."

Mr. Huxter did see it. He was a selfish man, who had a great respect for the possessors of wealth merely on the score of their wealth, and he began to look upon John Oakley with quite different eyes now that he had been informed of his true position.

"You're carrying things with rather a high hand, Jane," he said.

"I mean to be treated with respect."

"So John is saucy, is he?"

"He is proud-spirited, and thinks himself justified in looking down upon me, because I was once his father's house-keeper," said Mrs. Oakley, in a tone of bitterness; "but I have vowed to subdue his proud spirit, and you will see that I shall do it."

"I have no doubt you will, Jane. But there is one thing you haven't mentioned."

"What is that?"

"How much am I to receive for John Oakley's board?"

"I will give you six dollars a week, and you know that this is considerably more than any other boarder would pay you."

"Six dollars a week!" said Mr. Huxter, slowly. "Yes, I suppose that would pay for what he would eat and drink, but I expected you would do something more for me than just to find me a boarder."

"You will make a pretty good profit out of that, Ephraim."

"You might do a little more than that for me, Jane."

"I will tell you what I will do. Besides paying you regularly for his board, I will allow you his labor, and that will be worth considerable."

"What can he do?"

"He can do what other boys do. You can take him into your shop, and set him to pegging shoes. It won't hurt him a bit, though it may trouble his pride a little."

"But will he be willing to go into the shop? He was expecting to go to college."

"I don't think much of you if you can't compel him to do it."

Mr. Huxter reflected a moment. John's work would be worth at least five dollars a week, and this, added to the six he would receive from his sister, would certainly pay munificently for John's board.

"Well, that is a consideration. We'll call it a bargain," he admitted.

"Very well; I think you'll find your account in it," said Mrs. Oakley, in a tone of satisfaction.

"Couldn't you pay me a quarter's board in advance?"

To this Mrs. Oakley assented with some hesitation.

After matters had thus been satisfactorily arranged, Mr. Huxter said:—

"I think, Jane, I will just take a little walk outside, and smoke a pipe. I always do after supper. By the way, when would you like to have young Oakley go?"

"To-morrow."

"To-morrow!" repeated Mr. Huxter, in some disappointment, for he had confidently hoped to avail himself of his sister's hospitality for a week at least. "Seems to me, Jane, you're in something of a hurry."

"I am. There is a good reason for it, which I am not at liberty to mention," said Mrs. Oakley.

"Not even to me?"

"Not even to you."

"Well, I dare say it is all right, but I am tired after my journey, and it don't give me much time to rest," said Mr. Huxter, with disappointment.

"Let it be day after to-morrow, then. I don't want to be inhospitable," said Mrs. Oakley.

Mr. Huxter thought this concession better than nothing, and, going out on the door-step, smoked his pipe in rather a cheerful frame of mind.

"It'll be a pretty good speculation," he reflected; "but I mistrust I'll have some trouble with young Oakley. But I guess I can manage him. He'll find me pretty ugly if he goes to oppose me."

Mr. Huxter was partly right. He was capable of being "pretty ugly" when he thought it safe to be so,—that is, to those who were weaker than himself, and in his power. He fawned upon those who had money or power, and was in the habit of tyrannizing over those who had neither. On the whole, I hardly think John is to be congratulated upon his prospects.

CHAPTER XI.

JOHN CONSULTS A LAWYER

Mrs. Oakley felt very well pleased with the arrangement she had made about John. Her brother lived nearly one hundred miles distant. She would have liked John even further off; but this would remove him from the ability to interfere with her plans. She felt, too, that she would be more comfortable with him out of the house. Until the will was found and destroyed she would not feel safe, and she did not venture to search thoroughly till John was out of the way.

But there was one important question: Would John consent to go? On this point Mrs. Oakley felt doubtful. She knew that it would be a grievous disappointment to him to leave his class at the academy, and all his young friends in the village, not to speak of his natural regret at leaving the house where he had been born, and which had always been his home. Under the circumstances, therefore, she felt that it would be best to use a little stratagem.

Meanwhile John had been thinking earnestly of his position and his duty. He felt that he needed advice, and he determined to call upon Squire Selwyn, who, as I have already said, was his father's legal adviser and intimate friend. His son Sam, also, was John's best friend, and thus the families had a double bond of union.

The day succeeding Mr. Huxter's arrival was Wednesday. On that day the afternoon session at the academy was over an hour earlier than usual, the only exercise being declamation, or, on alternate weeks, the reading of compositions. John thought this would be the most favorable opportunity he would have for consulting Mr. Selwyn.

Squire Selwyn's office was a small, neat one-story building situated on the main street, not far from the academy building. It was painted white, with green blinds, and had been built expressly for a law office.

Sam and John walked home from school together as usual. When they came to the office John said:—

"I'm going in to see your father, Sam; so I'll bid you good-afternoon."

"Got some law business for the governor?"

"Maybe."

"Then you better consult me," said Sam. "I swept out the office for a week once when the office-boy was off on vacation, and you can't think what a lot of law I picked up in that time."

"I dare say," said John, smiling. "I don't doubt your qualifications, but I think I'll consult your father this time."

"All right," said Sam, more seriously. "I'm glad you're going to. The fact is, Mrs. Oakley is doing her best to circumvent you, and you must do your best, or she'll succeed."

"I'm afraid she will at any rate," said John.

"I wish you could find that will."

"So do I."

"Do you believe in dreams, John?" asked Sam, lowering his voice.

"What makes you ask that?"

"Because I dreamed last night that I found the will. It seemed to me that it was very dark, and I came upon Mrs. Oakley and Ben, each with a lantern in their hand, searching about on the ground for it. I followed them softly, and all at once spied a white paper. Mrs. Oakley saw it at the same time, and reached out for it, but I was too quick, and carried it off in triumph."

"Is that all?"

"Not quite. When she and Ben saw that I had got it they dropped their lanterns and ran after me, or rather Ben threw his at my head. It was an awful whack. Just then I woke up, and found that I had struck my head against the bedpost."

"Well," said John, laughing, "how do you interpret that dream?"

"In this way. I think that the will is going to be found some day, and that I shall be the one to find it."

"I certainly hope you will. It would make a great change in my circumstances."

"What'll you give me if I find it, John?"

"A gold watch," said John.

"Well, that's worth working for."

"You seem to be in earnest about it."

"There's many a true word spoken in jest. The time may come when I shall remind you of your promise."

"I hope it will. You will find that I keep my promises."

"All right. Well, there's the squire looking out the window, so I'll leave you. Good luck!"

John entered the office.

"Good-afternoon, John," said Squire Selwyn. "How are things going on at home?"

"We are all well," said John.

"I'm glad to hear it. Won't you sit down?"

The lawyer was a man of middle height. He had a pleasant face and manner, but his eye was keen and penetrating, and seemed to be reading the person upon whom it rested. He was deservedly popular, for it was always his endeavor to conciliate rather than to foment quarrels, and he more than once succeeded in dissuading a client from a lawsuit which would have put a considerable sum of money into his own pocket. He was a safe legal adviser, and an honest lawyer. He was glad to see John, for he had always been attracted towards him, not only because of his friendship for the father, but because of John's truthfulness and straightforwardness.

Seeing that John hesitated, he said, by way of encouragement:—

"If there is anything I can do for you, don't hesitate to ask it. Your father was my friend, and I hope to be regarded by his son in the same light."

"It is because of that that I have called upon you, Squire Selwyn," said John. "You know, of course," he added, after a little hesitation, "how my father left his property?"

"I know how he appears to have left it," said the lawyer, significantly.

"I would like to ask you a question, Squire Selwyn," said John; "but of course you will not answer it unless you think proper."

"Very properly put. Ask your question, and I will decide as to its fitness."

"It is this: Do you know whether my father made any later will than the one which was found?"

"I have no hesitation in answering your question. He did."