Luck and Pluck 22

Luck and Pluck 22

Mrs. Oakley meant him to remain with her brother; but he had already

seen enough of Mr. Huxter's petty tyranny and intemperate habits, to

decide that he could never be happy or ordinarily comfortable with

him. Of the two, Mrs. Oakley seemed preferable. Mrs. Huxter, to be

sure, seemed to be a good-hearted woman, but she was a victim of her

husband's tyranny, and her well-meant interference, without doing him

any good, would very likely bring her into trouble.

 

Finding his perplexity only increase, John adopted a sensible

resolution. He determined to lay the matter before some one who was

older and wiser than himself, and be guided by his advice. He decided

to write to Squire Selwyn, his father's lawyer and friend, who was

already well acquainted with all the circumstances of the case, and ask

his advice. If he should write at once, he calculated that an answer

might reach him by the fourth day, and until then he thought he could

endure Mr. Huxter's disagreeable manners. As to the will, he thought it

more than probable that it would never be found, or, if found, it would

never do him any good. If Mrs. Oakley would carry out his father's

plans, permit him to continue his studies and go through college, he

would then be able to make his own way, and would not trouble himself

about the property.

 

While engaged in these reflections he had been slowly walking up the

road towards the village. It was not much of a village, not more than

twenty houses in all, including a church, a school-house, the tavern,

and a store. Knowing something of the custom in country villages, John

rightly concluded that the post-office would be found in the store. He

entered therefore, and looked about him. It was a common country store,

with a stock of a very miscellaneous assortment of articles, from sugar

and dried apples to calico and tape. One corner was appropriated to the

use of the post-office. John walked up to the counter and asked:--

 

"Have you any writing paper and envelopes?"

 

"Yes," said the clerk, producing the articles.

 

John bought two sheets of paper and two envelopes, thinking he might

have occasion to write two letters, and then asked when the mail went

out.

 

"It has already gone."

 

"When will the next mail go?"

 

"To-morrow morning."

 

"Will you allow me the use of your ink to write a letter?"

 

"Certainly. Just step behind the counter."

 

John followed directions, and, sitting down at the desk, commenced

writing. He thought it better to write here than to do so at Mr.

Huxter's, knowing that the suspicions of the latter would be excited.

 

It is not necessary for me to transcribe John's letter. He contented

himself with stating plainly the situation in which he found himself,

and the manner in which he had already been treated by Mr. Huxter, and

wound up by asking Squire Selwyn's advice. Having concluded the letter,

he directed it neatly, and, prepaying the postage, handed it to the

clerk.

 

"All right," said the latter. "It'll go to-morrow morning."

 

When this matter was disposed of John felt more comfortable. He had

transferred the responsibility of deciding what he should do to another

in whom he had great confidence, and so felt a burden removed from his

own shoulders. He thought he could stand Mr. Huxter's harsh treatment

for a few days. Meanwhile, with the usual elasticity of youth, he began

to feel an interest in the new scenes by which he was surrounded.

He had never before been so far away from home, and though Jackson

was not a very attractive place, it was new, and so had a certain

charm for him. About half a mile distant he saw a hill, which, though

barren pasture land, would afford him a good view of the village. He

determined to climb it, and look about him.

 

We must now return to Mr. Huxter.

 

Half an hour or more after John left the house he began to feel

thirsty,--not that natural, healthful thirst to which we are all

subject, but the artificial, craving thirst of one who has accustomed

himself to the drinking of alcoholic mixtures. Thanks to the advanced

payment for John's board which he had received from his sister, he

was unusually well supplied with funds, and felt that he need work no

more than he chose. After splitting up a little wood, therefore, he

turned out of the yard, and walked towards the tavern. He went into the

bar-room, and received a cordial greeting from the landlord, of whom he

was a pretty steady customer.

 

"Good-morning, Huxter, where have you kept yourself for two or three

days? You haven't been round to see me."

 

"I've been making a visit to my sister," said Huxter.

 

"Oh, that's it. I began to think you had taken the temperance pledge,

and given up your old friends."

 

"I haven't come to that yet," said Mr. Huxter, in a tone which

indicated that he considered taking the pledge a very discreditable

proceeding.

 

"No; I thought you'd have too much sense for that. What'll you have

this morning?"

 

"Give me a glass of something stiff. Let it be extra good, for I'm

going to pay up the old score."

 

No doubt it was extra good, for Mr. Huxter drank it with evident

enjoyment, and immediately ordered another glass. This, too, was drank,

and after a little desultory conversation Mr. Huxter left the tavern.

 

It occurred to him that his stock of tobacco was out, and he went into

the store hard by to lay in a fresh supply. While he was paying for it

the clerk said:--

 

"You brought a boy home with you, Mr. Huxter, didn't you?"

 

"Yes. How'd you know?"

 

"I saw him on the stage, and somebody said he got off at your house.

Going to stay with you?"

 

"Yes, I've taken charge of him."

 

"He seems a good sort of boy."

 

"When did you see him?" asked Mr. Huxter.

 

"This morning. He only went out from here a few minutes ago."

 

"Humph!" said Mr. Huxter. "Did he buy anything?"

 

"Only two sheets of paper and two envelopes."

 

A light began to dawn upon Mr. Huxter. John wanted to make trouble by

writing home.

 

"Look here," said he; "if the boy brings in a letter you needn't send

it. Keep it, and hand it to me."

 

The clerk looked surprised. Mr. Huxter, finding some explanation

necessary, continued:--

 

"He's a very troublesome boy. He's almost broken his poor mother's

heart,--she's my sister,--and I've agreed to take charge of him for

a time. It takes a man to manage him. But it won't do for him to be

writing home and making a fuss. You understand?"

 

"I shouldn't have thought him so troublesome. He looks very quiet."

 

"You can't judge from appearances," said Mr. Huxter, shaking his head.

"He don't show out before folks. So, if any letters are put in directed

to Hampton, just keep them, and I'll look them over. If they're proper

to send, I will let them go."

 

"He wrote a letter here this morning."

 

"Did he?" asked Mr. Huxter, his eyes sparkling. "The young rascal's

prompt. It's lucky I came in. He was cunning enough to write here, that

I might not know anything about it. Let me see the letter."

 

The clerk, not doubting Mr. Huxter's authority, handed him the letter.

 

He broke it open hastily, and read it. It is needless to say that

John's description of himself, though moderately expressed, was far

from complimentary, and Mr. Huxter's heart was stirred with indignation.

 

"The young rascal shall pay for this," he thought.

 

"This letter is not fit to send," he said, aloud. "It would only make

trouble. I will take charge of it. The boy needn't know but it is gone.

You may take any letter he brings; but mind you don't send it till I

have seen it."

 

"Very well," said the clerk; but he could not help pitying John, if

he was to be under Mr. Huxter's guardianship. In a small village like

Jackson every man's failings were a matter of general knowledge, and

the estimation in which Mr. Huxter was held was not very high.

 

"Well, I've defeated the young rascal," thought Mr. Huxter,

triumphantly, as he left the store. "He'll find it isn't so easy to

outwit me. If Jane can't manage him I can, and I intend to. I reckon

it'll be some time he'll have to wait for an answer to that letter."

 

This thought amused Mr. Huxter, so that he partly forgot his vexation

at the unflattering description of himself which the letter contained.

Having no further business to attend to, he went up the road towards

home. The letter he put in one of the side-pockets of the loose coat

which he wore. But there was a large hole in his pocket, and without

Mr. Huxter's knowledge the letter slipped through. He kept on his way,

not suspecting his loss.

 

The letter remained unnoticed in the grass by the side of the road,

having been wafted there by the wind, until John, on his way home an

hour and a half later, happened to catch sight of it. He went to pick

it up, not suspecting what it was, and was immeasurably surprised when

he found it to be the same letter he had put into the post-office two

hours before. How came it there?