Luck and Pluck 19

Luck and Pluck 19

"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."

 

With some difficulty Mr. Huxter, who had now become quite drowsy,

was made to understand that he had reached home. With still greater

difficulty, he was assisted in safety to the ground, and the stage

drove on.

 

John now for the first time looked about him to see what sort of a

place he had reached. He distinguished a two-story house, old-fashioned

in appearance, standing a few rods back from the road. It was sadly in

need of a fresh coat of paint, as was also the fence which surrounded

it. A little distance from the house, at one side, was a small building

of one story, liberally supplied with windows, which John afterwards

learned to be a shoe-shop. It was Mr. Huxter's place of business,

when he saw fit to work, which was by no means regularly. An old

cart, a wood-pile, and some barrels littered up the front yard. A

field alongside was overgrown with weeds, and everything indicated

shiftlessness and neglect.

 

John had no difficulty in opening the front gate, for it hung upon one

hinge, and was never shut. He supported Mr. Huxter to the door and

knocked, for there was no bell. The summons was answered by a girl of

ten, in a dirty calico dress and dishevelled hair.

 

"Mother," she screamed, shrilly, as she saw who it was, "here's father

come home, and there's somebody with him!"

 

At this intimation, a woman came from a back room to the door. She

looked thin and careworn, as if the life which she led was not a very

happy one.

 

"Mrs. Huxter, I suppose?" asked John.

 

"Yes," said she.

 

"Your husband does not feel quite well," said John, expressing in as

delicate a manner as possible the fact that something was out of order

with Mr. Huxter.

 

"Who said I wasn't well?" exclaimed Mr. Huxter, in a rough voice.

"Never was better in my life. I say, Polly, can't you get us something

to eat? I'm most starved."

 

Mrs. Huxter looked inquiringly at John, whose presence with her husband

she did not understand.

 

"I believe I am to stop here for a day or two," said John, responding

to her look. "My name is John Oakley. I am the stepson of Mr. Huxter's

sister."

 

"Oh, yes, I know," said Mrs. Huxter. "I am afraid we can't accommodate

you very well, Mr. Oakley, but we'll do our best."

 

"What's good enough for us is good enough for him," said Mr. Huxter,

fiercely. "He's as poor as we are. Sister Jane's got all the money.

She's a deep one, is sister Jane."

 

"I hope you won't be offended at what he says, Mr. Oakley," said Mrs.

Huxter, in an apologetic tone. "He don't mean what he says."

 

"Shut up, Mrs. Huxter!" said her husband, who was disposed to be

quarrelsome. "Don't make a fool of yourself, but get supper as soon as

you can."

 

"We haven't got any meat in the house," said Mrs. Huxter, timidly. "You

know you only left me a little money."

 

"Here's some money," said Mr. Huxter, fumbling in his pocket, and

producing a five-dollar bill.

 

Mrs. Huxter took the bill, surprised at its large amount, for she

seldom got more than one dollar at a time. Forthwith the girl of ten

was sent for some steak at the butcher's, and in a reasonable time

supper was declared to be ready. Meanwhile Mr. Huxter had been to the

pump, and by the free use of cold water, applied externally, succeeded

in getting the better of his intoxication, and was prepared to do full

justice to the meal provided.

 

By the time supper was over, it was half-past eight. John felt fatigued

with his long journey, and asked permission to retire. He was shown to

an attic chamber, furnished only with a cot bed and a broken chair.

But, rude as were the accommodations, John slept soundly, little

dreaming the unwelcome news that awaited him on the morrow.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIV.

 

MR. HUXTER AT HOME.

 

 

When John awoke the next morning he found it difficult at first to

understand where he was; but recollection soon came to his aid, and he

remembered that he was Mr. Huxter's guest. He rose from the cot-bed,

and, going to the window, looked out. The prospect was not a very

pleasant one. Just across the street was a pasture, with here and there

a gnarled and stunted tree. The immediate neighborhood of Mr. Huxter's

house has already been described.

 

"I don't wonder they call it Hardscrabble," thought John. "I shouldn't

like to live here."

 

At this moment Mr. Huxter's head was thrust in through the open door.

 

"Come, Oakley," said he, "it's time to get up. We don't want any lazy

folks here."

 

"I was tired with my ride yesterday, and overslept myself," said John.

 

"Well, dress as quick as you can," said Mr. Huxter, turning to descend

the stairs.

 

"I don't see any washbowl," said John, hesitating.