Luck and Pluck

"How long since was it made?"

"Only three months before he died."

"I suppose that it disposed of the property differently?"

"It disposed of it as the law would have done if no will had been made. Your stepmother was to have her thirds; the rest of the property would have gone to you. The matter might have been left to the law but for the existence of the former will, which was in Mrs. Oakley's charge, and which she said that she had mislaid."

"Who would have been my guardian under the last will, Squire Selwyn?"

"Your father asked me to assume that office, and I consented cheerfully, not only from my friendship for him, but because I have a very good opinion of you," said Squire Selwyn.

"Thank you, sir," said John, earnestly.

"Let me add, my young friend," said the lawyer, kindly, "that I hope you will come to me as freely for advice as if I really filled this office."

"I will, sir," said John. "I am so situated that I need a friend to advise me who is older and wiser than myself."

"Apply to me freely at all times," said the lawyer, pleased with John's modest demeanor.

"There is one thing I want to tell you," said John; "I think my father's last will is still in existence."

"What grounds have you for such a belief?" asked Squire Selwyn, regarding him closely.

"I will tell you, sir," said John.

He then related the particulars of his last interview with his father, and the great effort which the sick man made to communicate something to him.

Squire Selwyn listened attentively.

"Will you repeat the words which you could distinguish?" he said.

"I distinctly heard father say, 'my will,' and I thought I heard him say also 'drawer.'"

"I am glad you told me this," said the lawyer, thoughtfully. "Did he attempt to say more?"

"There was no chance. Mrs. Oakley entered the chamber, and ordered me out. She said I was disturbing father."

"Do you think she heard the words which your father uttered?"

"I know she could not, for it was only by placing my ear close to his mouth that I could distinguish the little I did."

"How did your father seem affected by the interruption?"

"He seemed disappointed."

"Didn't you have any further chance to speak with your father?"

"No; Mrs. Oakley would never admit me again."

The lawyer sat for a moment plunged in thought. At length he said:—

"Have you ever chanced, since your father's death, to see your stepmother searching the papers he left behind?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me when."

John related the circumstances.

"Did she give any explanation?"

"She said she was looking for a receipt."

"Didn't she seem disturbed at your seeing her thus engaged?"

"She seemed angry, and accused me of prying into her actions."

"What opinion did you form of her object at that time?" asked the lawyer.

"I thought she was looking for the will," said John, frankly.

"Are your relations with your stepmother pleasant?" asked Squire Selwyn.

"I am sorry to say they are not," said John. "If they had been, I would not have troubled myself about the will. But I can see that Mrs. Oakley is determined to persecute me, and make my life unhappy, and that she is determined not to carry out any of my father's plans about my education. She has already taken away my horse, and sold it. She intended to give it to Ben, but he had an unlucky adventure with it one afternoon."

"I heard of that," said the lawyer, smiling. "He got thrown, didn't he?"

"Yes, sir. That cured him of wanting to ride, and so the horse was sold."

"It was a present to you from your father, was it not?"

"Yes, sir. Ben received at the same time a gold watch, which he still has."

"That seems hardly fair. One question more: Have you any knowledge of any secret drawer in your father's desk, or in any article which he used to own?"

"No, sir."

"I suppose not. If there had been one, he would hardly have disclosed its whereabouts to a boy. Well, my young friend," said the lawyer, rising, as if to terminate the interview, "I am glad to have received this call from you. I regard your information as important. It strengthens the conviction which I before entertained, that your father's last will is in existence somewhere. Out of regard to your interests, as well as to carry out his last wishes, I sincerely hope that it may be found. But I need not tell you that in the present position of affairs the greatest caution is absolutely necessary. I am not prepared to advise you at present, but shall take your case under my most serious consideration."

John took his cap and books, and Squire Selwyn accompanied him to the door of the office. As they stood on the threshold, an open wagon drove by. Both looked up simultaneously, and an expression of vexation swept over the lawyer's face as he recognized Mrs. Oakley and her brother. Mrs. Oakley's eye lighted up as it rested upon John.

"He is getting dangerous," she thought. "It is well I am going to be rid of him."

CHAPTER XII.

AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY

John could not help wondering what inference Mrs. Oakley would draw from seeing him in consultation with the lawyer. He anticipated that it would arouse her suspicions, and lead to his being treated with greater coldness and harshness than ever. It was with considerable surprise, therefore, that on presenting himself at the supper-table he received a very pleasant greeting from his stepmother. She made no allusion to having met him, but, in her conversation with her brother, asked two or three questions of John, in an easy way, as if the relations between them were perfectly cordial. Ben glanced at his mother once or twice in surprise, for she had not seen fit to take him into her confidence, and he did not understand what this sudden cordiality meant. John, who had usually been excluded from any share in the conversation, was not only surprised, but pleased, and hoped that the change would be permanent. His resentment was not lasting, and he was prepared to respond to his stepmother's advances. Mr. Huxter's conduct puzzled him a little. That gentleman seemed disposed to be quite affable and social.

"I hope, Mr. Oakley, you and Benjamin will some time favor me with a visit at my humble home. I cannot promise you as good accommodations as you have at home, but I shall be very glad to see you—very."

"Thank you, sir," said John.

Ben, who was not remarkable for politeness, did not deign a word in reply to his uncle's invitation.

In spite of Mr. Huxter's not very prepossessing exterior John began to think him quite a pleasant man, and felt obliged to him for his invitation, though he felt no particular desire to accept it.

After supper was over, Mr. Huxter turned to John:—

"I am going out on the door-step to smoke my pipe. I suppose you don't smoke?"

"No, sir," said John.

"I was going to ask you to join me; but of course you don't smoke. It isn't good for boys. Do you smoke, Ben?"

"I don't smoke a pipe," said Ben, glancing with some disgust at the clay pipe, the bowl of which his uncle was filling.

"I suppose you, being a young gentleman, smoke cigars. They are more aristocratic. But I'm a poor man, and I can't afford them. Well, if you'll get your cigar, we'll have a social smoke together."

"I've got an engagement," said Ben, not very graciously, and, putting on his hat, he stalked off.

"He's an impudent puppy," said Mr. Huxter to himself. "I wish I had the training of him for a little while. But I must put up with his insults, or lose all hope of help from my sister."

"Come home early, Benjamin," said his mother.

"Oh, you needn't sit up for me. You go to bed so precious early it doesn't give me any evening at all."

Mrs. Oakley followed him with her eyes a little uneasily. While Mr. Oakley was alive Ben kept pretty straight, for he stood somewhat in awe of his stepfather; but since his death he had shown a disposition to have his own way, and his mother's wishes weighed very little with him. She could not help feeling that the boy in whom her dearest hopes centred, and for whom she was willing even to wrong another, manifested very little gratitude for her devotion to him. John, whom she charged with lack of respect, treated her at all times much more respectfully than her own son. But Mrs. Oakley was prejudiced, and would not see this. She shut her eyes alike to John's merits and Ben's faults, and the latter took his own way, spending the evening in the bar-room and billiard saloon, and learning much that he ought not to have learned.

About half-past nine in the evening, when John was studying his lesson in "Xenophon's Anabasis," he heard a low knock at the door. Supposing it to be one of the servants, he said, carelessly, "Come in!"

Looking up, as the door opened, he was not a little surprised at the entrance of his stepmother. With the instincts of a young gentleman, he rose hastily, and, drawing a chair, said:—

"Won't you sit down, Mrs. Oakley?"

"Thank you, John," said his stepmother; "I will sit down a moment. You are studying, I suppose."

"Yes, I was preparing my Greek lesson for to-morrow."

John tried not to look surprised, but he wondered very much what should have led to a call from Mrs. Oakley, especially at so late an hour.

"You are getting on well in your studies, I have no doubt."

"Thank you. So my teacher says."

"I am glad to hear it. I am afraid it will be an interruption for you to be absent from school a few days."

"Yes, it would be an interruption; but if you wish it, I could try to make it up afterwards."

"I came to ask a favor of that kind."

"Does she want me to work on the farm?" thought John, puzzled.

But he was not long kept in doubt.

"My brother, who is now stopping here, leaves for home to-morrow morning," proceeded Mrs. Oakley. "There's a little business I want attended to, which makes it desirable that some one should go back with him. I might send Ben, but I don't think he would answer the purpose. So I have thought of you."

"Does Mr. Huxter go to-morrow morning?" asked John.

"He has just decided to do so. That, I am aware, gives you but short notice," said Mrs. Oakley.

"Shall I need to be away long?"

"A few days at least. Have you a carpet-bag?"

"A small one."

"That will answer. You can put in a couple of shirts, some collars, stockings, and handkerchiefs."

"How shall I know what to do?"

"My brother will give you all the needful information. And now, good-night. We shall breakfast at six, in order to be in time for the stage."

"Very well, I will be ready."

Mrs. Oakley left the room, and went downstairs, leaving John considerably puzzled by what had happened. He was sorry to be kept from school for a few days even, for he was at the head of his class both in Greek and Latin, and would lose his standing temporarily at least. But it was characteristic of him to be obliging, even at the cost of some self-sacrifice, and therefore he had made no opposition to the wishes of his stepmother, though it did occur to him that, as Ben neither attended school nor did anything else except amuse himself, he might have executed his mother's commission. However, John knew enough of Ben's disobliging disposition to suspect that he had been applied to and refused, especially as he could see that he had no great affection for his uncle. Of course he could have no suspicion of the trap which Mrs. Oakley had artfully laid for him, and that the few days' absence were intended by her to extend to months and possibly years.

"If I am going early to-morrow morning," thought John, "I may as well stop studying and pack my carpet-bag. I wish I had asked Mrs. Oakley where her brother lives."

John closed his "Anabasis," and found his carpet-bag. Into it he put whatever he thought would be needed in a week's absence. He did not suppose he should be away longer than that.

"If it were not so late," he thought, "I would run over and tell Sam that I am to be away for a few days. He will be surprised when he don't see me at school."

But it was too late, for the village clock just then struck ten, and as he must be up early, John felt that the best thing he could do was to go to bed and get a good night's sleep, to prepare him for the fatigues of the succeeding day.

After a sound and refreshing night's sleep, John went downstairs the next morning, with his carpet-bag in his hand. The table was spread for breakfast, and Mr. Huxter and Mrs. Oakley had already taken their seats.

"Good-morning, John," said Mrs. Oakley; "you are just in time. Are you all ready to go?"

"Yes," said John.

"Then sit down to breakfast, for the stage will be here very soon."

"So I am to have the pleasure of your company, Mr. Oakley?" said Mr. Huxter. "I did not anticipate that I should so soon receive a visit from you when I invited you yesterday to my humble home."

"In what town do you live, Mr. Huxter?" asked John.

"Well, folks call it Hardscrabble," said Mr. Huxter, with a laugh.

"Is it far away?"

"We'll get there to-night if nothing happens," said Mr. Huxter.

John did not know whether to conclude that Hardscrabble was, or was not, the real name of the town, but did not like to press the inquiry. He never remembered to have heard of a town bearing that name. However, he would know by evening at any rate. He could not help feeling some curiosity as to Mr. Huxter's home; but neither that gentleman's appearance nor description of it led him to form a very high idea of its sumptuousness.

The breakfast was a substantial one, and Mr. Huxter did justice to it. Indeed, he was seldom wanting in a good appetite, especially when the repast was an inviting one.

"I suppose I shan't see Ben before I go?" said he, leaning back in his chair, and picking his teeth with a fork.

"I am afraid not," said Mrs. Oakley. "Ben got home rather late last night, and I suppose the poor boy is tired this morning. I think I had better not disturb him."

"Don't disturb him on my account," said his uncle, who did not seem much disappointed by Ben's absence. "He'd better have his sleep out. But, sister Jane, if I were you I wouldn't let him stay out so late in the evening."

"You must remember, Ephraim, he's a young gentleman now. It won't do to keep him in leading-strings, just as if he were a boy."

"I'd keep him in check if he were my boy," thought Mr. Huxter; but he saw that it would not be best to say so.

"Well, Jane, of course you know best," he said. "When are you coming to make us a visit?"

"Not very soon, I am afraid. I can't leave the farm very well. There are too many things which need attending to."

"There's the stage," said John, suddenly.

The rumbling of the wheels was faintly heard up the road. All rose from the table, and prepared to go. Mrs. Oakley brought out a covered basket and handed it to her brother.

"I've put some sandwiches in this basket," she said. "You'll be hungry by and by, and it will save you the expense of stopping at a hotel for dinner."

"Very good!" said Mr. Huxter, with satisfaction. "That's what I meant to speak about, but I forgot it. I begrudge paying for dinner at a tavern. They always charge you about double what it's worth. Come, Mr. Oakley, are you ready?"

"All ready, sir."

The rumbling of the stage was now distinctly heard. They opened the front door, and made signals for it to stop. The lumbering vehicle was brought to in front of the gate, and the driver jumped from his elevated perch, and opened the door for the passengers to enter.

"I think I'll take a seat outside, if it makes no difference to you, Mr. Huxter," said John.

"Just as you like," was the reply.

So, while Mr. Huxter got inside, John took a seat beside the driver.

"Where are you going, John?" asked the driver, who knew everybody in the village, and was on intimate terms with all.

"I'm going away with the gentleman who has just got inside," said John.

"Where does he live?"

"I don't know the name of the place," said our hero, suspecting that Hardscrabble was only a local appellation.

"Be gone long?"

"Not more than a week."

Meanwhile, Mrs. Oakley watched the receding stage with satisfaction. When it was out of sight, she entered the house.

"Now," said she, "I'll look for the will without John Oakley to spy upon me."

CHAPTER XIII.

JOHN OAKLEY'S NEW HOME

Although John would prefer to have remained at home, in order that his studies might be uninterrupted, he nevertheless could not help deriving enjoyment from the ride on the stage-coach. It was a beautiful morning. The sun was gilding with its beams the fields and brooks, and a beautiful breeze rustled in and out among the leaves of the trees that for some distance lined the road. John, from his elevated perch, had an excellent view of the scenes through which they passed. As they rode by the house of Squire Selwyn, lie hoped to catch sight of his friend Sam; but Sam was nowhere to be seen.

"Sam is lazy this morning," thought John, disappointed.

But there he did Sam injustice. He had risen early, and with hook and line had gone to the pond to fish. From a distance he caught a glimpse of the stage rumbling along the village street, but it was too far off for him to distinguish the outside passengers. He would have been surprised had he known that among them was his friend John.

Ere long they were beyond the limits of the township. Occasionally the stage stopped to take in a fresh passenger, or to discharge a portion of its living freight. At intervals of a few miles they came to some village tavern, with a broad swinging sign, where the driver would pause to water his horses, or, at longer intervals, to exchange them for a fresh supply. Once or twice John descended to stretch his legs, stiff with long sitting. More than once he observed Mr. Huxter enter the tavern, and come out with his nose a little redder than usual.

"I went in to get a glass of bitters," he explained to John, whom he encountered at the door on one of these occasions. "I'll get you some if you want it."

"Thank you," said John. "I don't care for any."

"Well, you're young and strong, and don't need them. When you get to my age, you'll need a little something to stimulate you."

John, who rightly conjectured that the glass of "bitters" was only another name for New England rum, could not help thinking that Mr. Huxter would have been quite as well off without it; but this thought he of course kept to himself.

"The old gentleman is rather fond of 'wetting his whistle,' isn't he?" said the driver, familiarly.

"So it seems," said John, briefly.

He did not care to discuss the conduct of his stepmother's brother with any one, and therefore confined himself to this remark. At twelve o'clock they had travelled forty miles.

"The stage will stop half an hour for dinner," said the driver, as he drew up in front of an old-fashioned country tavern.

"This is as far as I go," said the driver to John. "Do you stop here?"

"No, we go further on."

"I suppose you'll be comin' back this way in a few days?"

"I expect so. By the way, if you see Sam Selwyn to-night, just tell him that I was one of your passengers this morning."

"All right."

"John Oakley!" said Mr. Huxter, from below.

"Here, sir," said John.

"Just get down, and bring that basket with you. We'll go under the trees and have a bite."

John followed directions, and the two sat down together, with the basket between them.

"Travelling is hungry work," said Mr. Huxter. "Let's see what my sister has put up for us."

The basket, being uncovered, proved to be full of sandwiches, with a few doughnuts on top. They were all excellent of their kind; for Mrs. Oakley, whatever might be said of her in other respects, was a good house-keeper, and took care that whatever food was prepared in the house should be good.

"Now, Oakley," said Mr. Huxter, "we needn't have any ceremony here. Just make yourself at home and pitch in."

It may be observed that Mr. Huxter was gradually beginning to treat John with greater familiarity. When first introduced, he had addressed him as "Mr. Oakley." Next it was "John Oakley." Now it was "Oakley," without any prefix. John, who had no inordinate sense of his own dignity, was not much disturbed by this, but continued to treat Mr. Huxter with the same outward respect as at first.

Mr. Huxter followed his own recommendations strictly. He did "pitch in," and with such vigor that he consumed two-thirds of the contents of the basket, while John, whose appetite had also been stimulated by the long ride, was eating the remaining third.

"Well, there aint much left, that's a fact," he said, surveying the empty basket. "The ride's given you a pretty good appetite, Oakley."

"Pretty good," said John, smiling at the unexpected inference drawn from the empty basket.

"That's lucky, for we shan't get anything more till we get home," said Mr. Huxter.

"When will that be?" inquired John.

"Somewhere about seven. It's a long pull; but I guess we can stand it," said Mr. Huxter.

"I think I can," said John.

"The old lady won't be expecting us," said Mr. Huxter. "I told her I might, maybe, be gone a fortnight."

"She'll be glad to see you so soon," said John, who did not think of anything else to say.

"Umph!" said Mr. Huxter, in a tone which might be interpreted as conveying a little doubt on this point. "I feel a little dry," he said, rising and stretching himself. "I think I'll go into the house, and see if I can find a little water."

When Mr. Huxter reappeared, John inferred from his appearance that, if he had been drinking water, it had been largely mingled with a different beverage. He satisfied his own thirst at the pump, where he drank a deep and refreshing draught of clear cold water, purer and better than any liquid which the art of man has devised.

So the afternoon passed. Twice more Mr. Huxter got out of the stage, and entered a wayside tavern, on the same mysterious errand. Each time he reappeared with his nose redder, and his eyes more inflamed. The liquor which he had drunk made him quarrelsome, and so disagreeable to his fellow-passengers. Finally one of them called to the driver in an authoritative voice to stop, and insisted that Mr. Huxter should travel outside for the remainder of the way. With some difficulty he was induced to make the change, and from that time John had the pleasure of his society.

"Who are you?" asked Mr. Huxter, fixing his eyes upon John with a vacant stare.

"I am John Oakley," said our hero.

"Oh, yes, I know. You're the son of old Oakley that my sister Jane married."

It was painful to John to hear his father spoken of as old Oakley, but he understood Mr. Huxter's situation, and felt that it would be idle to resent anything said under such circumstances.

"Old Oakley left all his property to Jane," continued Mr. Huxter, with a drunken laugh. "Oh, she's a deep one, is Jane! She knows how her bread is buttered."

John turned away in disgust, and tried not to heed what was said.

"But she's hard on her poor brother," whined Mr. Huxter. "She ought to have come down with something handsome."

His mutterings became incoherent, and John ceased to notice them. At length, about seven o'clock, the stage drove into a small village, of not particularly attractive appearance.

"Well," said the driver, turning to John, "you're most home."

"Am I?" asked John.

"Of course you are. Aint you travelling with him?" indicating Mr. Huxter by a gesture.

"Yes; I've come with him on a little business."

"Then you're not going to stay?"

"Oh, no!"

"Lucky for you!"

John didn't inquire why the driver thought it lucky for him. He thought he understood without any explanation.

"Do you go any further?" he asked of the driver.

"To the next town."

"What is the name of this place?"

"Some folks call it Hardscrabble; but the real name is Jackson."

"Where does Mr. Huxter live?"

"Up the road apiece. I go right by the gate. I'll stop and leave you there."

A little less than a mile further the driver reined up his horses.

"Here you are," he said. "Now look sharp, for I'm behind time."