Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 7
If Phil had been his friend, Grit would not have minded telling him; but
he had the pride of self-respect, and he objected to being patronized or
condescended to.
"I haven't counted up," he answered.
"I might have brought my own boat," said Phil, "but I like to encourage
you."
"Really, Phil, you are appearing in a new character," said Marion. "I
never should have taken you for a philanthropist before. I thought you
told your mother it would be too much bother to row over in your own
boat."
"That was one reason," said Phil, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Besides, I didn't want to interfere with Grit's business. He is poor,
and has to support his mother out of his earnings."
This was in bad taste, and Grit chafed against it.
"That is true," he said, "but I don't ask any sympathy. I am prosperous
enough."
"Oh, yes; you are doing well enough for one in your position, I don't
doubt. How much would you give, now, to have as much money as I carry
in this pocketbook?" asked Phil boastfully.
He had just passed his birthday, and had received a present of ten
dollars from his father, and five dollars each from his mother and an
aunt. He had spent a part of it for a hat and in other ways, but still
he had seventeen dollars left.
"Perhaps I have as much money," answered Grit quietly.
"Oho! That's a good joke," said Phil.
"No joke at all," said Grit. "I don't know how much money you have in
your pocketbook, but I presume I can show more."
Phil's face grew red with anger. He was one of those disagreeable boys
who are purse-proud, and he was provoked at hearing such a ridiculous
assertion from a poor boy who had to earn his own living.
Even Marion regarded Grit with some wonder, for she happened to know how
much money her cousin carried, and it seemed to her very improbable that
the young boatman should have as much in his possession.
"Don't make a fool of yourself, Grit!" said Phil sharply.
"Thank you; I don't propose to."
"But you are doing it."
"How?"
"Didn't you say you had more money than I?"
"I think I have."
"Hear him talk!" said Phil, with a glance of derision.
By this time the young boatman's grit was up, if I may use the
__EXPRESSION__, and he resolved to surprise and mortify his young adversary.
"If you are not afraid to test it," he said, "I will leave it to the
young lady to decide. Let her count the money in your pocketbook, and I
will then give her my wallet for the same purpose."
"Done!" said Phil promptly.
Marion, wondering a little at Grit's confidence, took her cousin's
pocketbook, and counted the contents.
"Well, Marion, how much is there?" said Phil exultingly.
"Seventeen dollars and thirty-seven cents," was the announcement of the
fair umpire.
Phil smiled triumphantly.
"You didn't think I had so much--eh, Grit?" he said.
"No, I didn't," Grit admitted.
"Now hand over your wallet."
"With pleasure, if Miss Marion will take the trouble," answered the
young boatman, with a polite bow.
When Marion opened the wallet, and saw the roll of bills, both she and
Phil looked astonished. She proceeded to count the bills, however, and
in a tone of serious surprise announced:
"I find sixty dollars here."
"That is right," said Grit quietly, as he received back his wallet, and
thrust it into his pocket.
Phil hardly knew whether he was more surprised or mortified at this
unexpected result. But a thought struck him.
"Whose money is that?" he demanded abruptly.
"It is mine."
"I don't believe it. You are carrying it over to some one in Chester."
"Perhaps I am; but, if so, that some one is my mother."
"You don't mean to say that you have sixty dollars of your own?"
"Yes, I do. You didn't think I had so much money--eh, Phil?" he
retorted, with a smile.
"I don't believe a word of it," returned Phil crossly. "It is ridiculous
that a boy like you should have so much money. It can't be yours."
"Do you doubt it, Miss Marion?" asked Grit, turning to the young lady.
"No; I believe that it is yours since you say so."
"Thank you."
"If it is yours, where did you get it?" asked Phil, whose curiosity
overcame his mortification sufficiently to induce him to ask the
question.
"I don't feel called upon to tell you," answered Grit.
"Then I can guess."
"Very well. If you guess right, I will admit it."
"You found it, and won't be long before finding the owner."
"You are wrong. The money is mine, and was paid me in the course of
business."
Phil did not know what to say, but Marion said pleasantly:
"Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Grit, on being so well off. You are
richer than either of your passengers. I never had sixty dollars of my
own in my life."
By this time they had reached the other side of the river, and the two
passengers disembarked.
"Well, Phil, you came off second best," said his cousin.
"I can't understand how the boy came into possession of such a sum of
money," said Phil, frowning.
"Nor I; but I am sure of one thing."
"What is that?"
"That he came by it honestly."
"Don't be too sure of that," said Phil, shaking his head.
"Phil, you are too bad," said Marion warmly. "You seem to have taken an
unaccountable prejudice against Grit. I am sure he seems to me a very
nice boy."
"You're welcome to the young boatman's society," said Phil, with a
sneer. "You seem to be fond of low company."
"If you call him low company, then perhaps I am. I never met Grit before
this morning, but he seems a very polite, spirited boy, and it is
certainly to his credit that he supports his mother."
"I can tell you something about him that may chill your ardor? His
father is in jail."
"I heard that it was his stepfather."
"Oh, well, it doesn't matter which."
"In one sense, no. The boy isn't to blame for it."
"No, but it shows of what stock he comes."
Meanwhile, Grit, having fastened his boat, made his way to the cottage
on the bluff. He wanted to tell his mother of his good fortune.
CHAPTER VIII.
GRIT PUTS HIS MONEY AWAY.
"You seem to be in good spirits, Grit," said his mother, as our hero
opened the outside door and entered the room where she sat sewing.
"Yes, mother, I have reason to be. Is--is Mr. Brandon home?"
"Yes; he is up-stairs lying down," answered Mrs. Brandon, with a sigh.
Grit rose and closed the door.
"I don't want him to hear what I'm going to tell you," he said. "Mother,
I have been very lucky to-day."
"I suppose Mr. Jackson was liberal."
댓글 없음:
댓글 쓰기