Luck and Pluck 26
"I don't count much on that," said John, smiling in return.
"I'm glad you've overreached the old fellow," said David.
"He thinks he's overreached me."
"I know it. That makes it all the better."
John reached his temporary home about four o'clock. Mr. Huxter was
not at home when he arrived, and remained ignorant of the important
interview which had taken place between John and Squire Selwyn.
CHAPTER XIX.
ON THE TRACK.
When the stage which conveyed John and Mr. Huxter was fairly out of
sight Mrs. Oakley entered the house with a great feeling of relief.
She realized for the first time how she had been constrained by the
presence of her stepson. Though he had always been respectful, there
was an unuttered reproach in his frank, fearless glance, which made
her uncomfortable. It was the tribute which a mean and wicked nature
pays to one of greater nobility, though Mrs. Oakley did not acknowledge
that. She only felt glad that John was out of the way.
She had been so fearful that something might happen to prevent the
success of her plan, that she had been careful not to make Ben
acquainted with it. She was apprehensive that Ben would, in his
exultation, lead John to suspect what was going on, and so cause him
to refuse going. Now that he was fairly off she would tell her son the
good news.
Ben came down to breakfast late. He generally had his way now, and was
seldom present at the regular breakfast hour. It was different when
Squire Oakley was alive; but then many other things were different also.
"Benjamin is delicate," she said, one morning in presence of the
servant. "He needs more sleep than the rest of us."
"Maybe it's smoking cigars makes him delicate," suggested the servant,
who did not particularly admire Ben, or care to join his mother in
making allowances for him.
Her mistress silenced her with some asperity; but nevertheless took an
opportunity to speak to Ben on the subject. But that young gentleman
only laughed at her remonstrances.
"It does me good, mother," he said. "I always feel better after smoking
a good cigar."
"It seems to me you are growing pale," said Mrs. Oakley, whose heart
was full of tenderness where Ben was concerned.
"That's all nonsense," said Ben. "I'm not as red as a beet, and I don't
want to be. But as to being pale, I'm healthy enough. Don't worry
yourself."
With this Mrs. Oakley had to be contented, for Ben, though a coward
with his equals, had sense enough to take advantage of his mother's
weak partiality, and take his own way.
When Ben came down to breakfast on the morning of his uncle's
departure, he said in an indifferent tone:--
"Has that man gone?"
"Do you refer to your uncle, Benjamin?" asked Mrs. Oakley, not
altogether pleased to hear Mr. Huxter spoken of in that style, though
she felt no very warm attachment for him herself.
"I mean Mr. Huxter," said Ben, carelessly, breaking an egg as he spoke.
"He is your uncle."
"I don't mean to call him so. I'm ashamed of the relationship."
"He is my brother."
"That's your misfortune," said Ben. "All I know is, that I hope he
won't darken our doors again."
"What have you against him?"
"He's a coarse, low man. He isn't a gentleman. You're a rich woman now,
mother. You'd better cut his acquaintance. He won't do us any credit.
You haven't invited him to come again, I hope."
"I don't think he will come again very soon."
"He'd better not. How can you expect people to forget that you were
the late Mr. Oakley's house-keeper if you show them such a man as that
as your brother?"
This argument had weight with Mrs. Oakley. She wanted to be looked
upon as a lady, and she acknowledged to herself that Mr. Huxter's
relationship would be no credit to her. He was coarse and low, as Ben
said,--not because he was poor. Wealth would have made no difference in
him, except that it might have enabled him to dress better. It would
not have diminished the redness of his nose, for instance, or refined
his manners. Mrs. Oakley, however, made no comment on what Ben had
said, but remarked:--
"At any rate, Ben, your uncle has done us a good turn."
"What is that, mother?" asked Ben.
"John has gone with him."
"Gone home with him?"
"Yes."
"How long is he going to stay?"
"For good."
"How's that? I don't understand."
"John was in the way here. You and he could not agree,--not that I
blame you for that,--and I did not like him. Therefore I made an
arrangement with my brother to have John board with him. I don't
suppose you'll miss him much."
"It'll be a lucky miss," said Ben, emphatically. "But John's rather
stubborn. How did you get him to go?"
"He doesn't know he is to stay. I told him I wanted him to go back with
your uncle, in order to attend to a little business for me. When he
gets there he'll find out what it is."
"Won't he rave, though?" exclaimed Ben, laughing heartily. "He'll find
it a healthy old boarding-house."
"I wish you wouldn't use such language, Ben," said his mother. "It is
my great ambition to see you act and talk like a gentleman."
"So I do, mother. That's just the way they talk."
Mrs. Oakley looked rather incredulous.
"I say, mother, is Uncle Huxter going to prepare John for college?"
Mrs. Oakley laughed--heartily for her.
"Your uncle's shoe-shop will be the only college John will enter," she
said.
"Do you mean that he is to peg shoes?"
"Yes."
"His pride will have a pretty hard fall."
"I mean that it shall," said Mrs. Oakley, compressing her thin lips.
"Well, I don't envy John. Every dog has his day, and he has had his.
It's our turn now. Another cup of coffee, and not so weak as the last."
"I don't think such strong coffee is good for you, Benjamin."
"Oh bother, don't be a granny," said Ben, rudely. "Anybody'd think I
was a baby."
This was the way in which Ben addressed his mother, who deserved his
gratitude at least, for she was to him a devoted and self-sacrificing
mother, however faulty might be her conduct towards John.
At length Ben's late breakfast was over, and he left the house to
resort to his accustomed haunt,--the hotel bar-room and billiard saloon.
"I wish Ben cared more about study, and was more ambitious," thought
Mrs. Oakley, with a half sigh. "If I could only make him feel as I do!"
It would have been fortunate for Ben if he had inherited his mother's
energy and ambition. The ambition was not a noble one; but at least it
would have kept him from low haunts and bad associates, which were all
he cared about at present. Though all his mother's worldly plans should
succeed, this was the point in which they were likely to fail. Mrs.
Oakley's punishment would come in all probability through the son for
whom she was willing to sacrifice justice and duty.
When Ben had left the house, Mrs. Oakley began to concentrate her
thoughts upon that which had first led her to determine upon John's
banishment. This was the hidden will. She could not feel assured of
her position until that was found. Until now she had not felt at
full liberty to search. She had feared that John might come upon
her unexpectedly, and divine her object. Now there was no fear of
interruption. She could ransack the house from top to bottom, and no
one would understand the motive of her search. She had not communicated
her intention to Ben. She trusted in his discretion too little to
confide to him any secret of importance, for she was a shrewd and
prudent woman.
On this particular morning she had a feeling that she had never had
before. There was a confidence that she had never before experienced
that success awaited her.
"I must and will find it," she thought. "This is not a large house.
Then there are some parts of it that need not be searched. Mr.
Oakley would never have hidden his will in the servants' rooms, nor
in the kitchen. Everywhere else I will search. Let me go to work
systematically and thoroughly. This time it shall not be my fault if it escapes me."
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