FRED'S LETTER
So abrupt was their companion's departure, that Sandow and Buttons
gazed after him in amazement.
"Wonder what's buzzing in his head, that he wants us to remember
to-night?" exclaimed the Second Former, as, having seen Fred enter the
house, they resumed their way.
"Don't know, I'm sure."
"Somehow, he doesn't seem like the same chap."
"He isn't," asserted Sandow. "His father's trouble is worrying both his
mother and him. Then Mr. Markham has gone away."
"Skipped out?"
"No, indeed! I suppose he's looking for work. But I was going to say,
Fred takes the trouble hard--he's too sensitive."
"And Bart'll tease the life out of him."
"It's up to us to see he doesn't."
"How? If Bart hears of it, he'll be worse than ever."
"I know that. It's ticklish business, but I think we can work it."
"How?" repeated Buttons impatiently.
"Through the girls. I don't know one who doesn't like Cotton-Top----"
"Except Mary and Alice Montgomery," interrupted Fred's chum.
"You're wrong there, Buttons. I'm pretty sure they both like him.
Anyhow, the others all do--and you know how a girl can twist a fellow
round. Well, my idea is to have Sallie, Grace and Dorothy talk with the
others and get them to put it to their brothers and friends not to twit
Fred about his father."
"They'd never agree," declared Buttons. "Too many of the boys are
jealous of Cotton-Top, to be friends with him."
"But, I didn't say anything about being friends," rejoined the leader
of the Firsts. "I just said we could get them to agree, not to taunt
Fred about his father--they can keep on hating him or disliking him, as
much as they please. If the girls go about it right, I believe they can
put it through."
"Maybe you're right. Anyway, it's worth trying. I'll put it up to
Grace. But why not have Margie?"
"Because, she would queer the whole scheme. We've got to work this
thing carefully. The good of the school, or some dodge like that. Make
'em think it will hurt Fred's football playing for instance--when he's
needed to trim the Landon Seconds. Everybody knows how Margie feels
toward Cotton-Top, so if she tried to talk that way, the others might
suspect her motives."
"Guess you're right. Anyhow, I'll tell Grace."
"Good. I'll see Sallie and Dorothy. We must get them started to-morrow."
As they concluded this agreement, the loyal friends of the fair-haired
boy reached their homes--which were side by side--and, after repeating
their promise to help their friend, entered their respective houses.
In the meantime, the object of their solicitude was talking with his
mother.
His return had surprised the good woman, who, knowing the distance
Margie lived from the village centre, had not expected Fred for at
least half an hour.
"What brings you back so soon?" she asked, immediately suspecting
trouble and anxiously scrutinizing the boy, to see if he were injured.
"The girls decided to spend the night with Grace."
"I'm so glad you weren't obliged to take that long walk back alone. I
entirely forgot, until you were gone, that this was hazing night--or I
should have asked Sandow and Buttons to go out with you and Margie."
From the expression on the face and the look in the eyes of the mother
he loved so dearly, Fred realized that she would add to her already
heavy burden, worry over him, every time he escorted Margie to her home.
"Now, Momsy, you must quit worrying about me _right now_," he said,
affectionately putting his arm around her waist. "I'm old enough and
big enough and strong enough to take care of myself. You know, I like
Marg, and I like to walk home with her. But if you are going to be
nervous every time I do, I'll have to stop going with her--and I don't
want to."
"But I can't help being anxious about you, Fred. With your father away,
you are all I have. If anything should happen to you, I think it would
drive me crazy."
Never before had the boy realized the depth of the love his mother bore
him, and at its revelation he was sorely perplexed. Well he knew that
his rival would never cease his attempts to waylay him. Of the outcome,
should Bart make the trial alone, he had no misgivings, but he knew
the bully's nature too well, to think he would essay the deed single
handed. And in the light of his mother's remark, about the effect any
injury to him would have upon her, he was sorely perplexed.
"Oh, Momsy, you don't mean that," he exclaimed. "Any boy is liable to
get hurt. _Please_ say you don't mean it--and promise me not to worry."
"I'll try not to," agreed the lad's mother, evading an answer to his
first entreaty, and adding, hastily, "now, run to bed. I've locked up
the house, so everything is all right."
Glad of the opportunity to be alone, Fred kissed his mother and went to
his room.
Upon his return, he had intended to tell her of the incidents of his
walk, but her words had made him understand the recital would only add
to her worry, and he had refrained. But alone in his room, his mind
reverted to the discovery of Mr. Montgomery and his brother-in-law,
searching the ground by the bank.
"I wish I knew what it was they were hunting for," he muttered to
himself. "It must have been either valuable or important for them to
want to find it to-night, instead of waiting till to-morrow, when they
could search by daylight."
Then his chum's repetition of what his father had said, in regard to
Mr. Montgomery's going into the bank after hours, recurred to him, and
with it an idea so startling that he sat up in bed.
"If he and Charlie Gibbs go to the bank now, why couldn't they have
done so after father failed? They may be the ones who took father's
money on that bogus check!"
Amazing as this thought was, in the light of the evening's discovery it
seemed plausible. But the boy was too shrewd not to know that, in order
to obtain credence for such an accusation against the only millionaire
within a radius of fifty miles of Baxter, it would be necessary for him
to present overwhelming proof; and he dropped off to sleep, vowing to
obtain the evidence.
With the arrival of the mail the next morning, Fred received a letter
from his father.
As he recognized the handwriting, he uttered an exclamation of delight,
but his pleasure quickly disappeared as he perused the contents.
"Your father isn't hurt or ill?" queried Mrs. Markham, in alarm, as she
noted the change of expression on her son's face.
"No; he's well."
"Then, what is it? Let me have the letter."
"I'll read it to you," Fred compromised, for there was a part he did
not wish her to see, and he realized that by reading it aloud, he could
skip that portion.
"My dear son," he began, "you are now old enough to understand
something of the world, and to take part in life's struggles, though,
I had not thought to force you so to do. Since my failure, however,
money has been very scarce with us. I came to Manchester to get a
position." Then followed the part Fred did not desire his mother to
see. He deftly turned the page, continuing: "You must try to win the
Scholarship in Science. That would bring you $200, which would help
your mother.
"I want you to write to me once a week. Let me know exactly how your
mother is and any rumors you may hear about Charlie Gibbs. You will
doubtless hear many unkind things about me, but you will know _they
are false_, and circulated by my enemies.
"And now, my dear son, good-by. Be considerate of your mother, help
her and cheer her all you can--and never forget you are a Markham.
"Your loving father,
"BENJAMIN MARKHAM."
"P. S.--Tell your mother I will write to her to-morrow, when I expect
to have some good news."
As the boy finished, he quickly folded the letter, replaced it in the
envelope, put it in his pocket and picked up his school books, fearing
lest his mother should ask to see it. But so absorbed was she in her
thoughts, that never did such a request occur to her, until Fred was on
his way to school.
"My, that was a close shave," he said to himself, as, out of sight
of his home, he re-read the part he had omitted: "I went to see a
celebrated lawyer, Mr. Samuel Bronson, whom I wished to have represent
me in the matter of the forged deed and check. When he found I had no
money to pay him a large fee, however, he refused to take the case. I
am sorry, because his reputation and ability would have great weight.
"Before his refusal, he told me he had a son entering your Form in
Baxter. Do not let the father's action prejudice you against the son.
Remember, he is a stranger in Baxter, and treat him courteously."
"And to think I did what I did for a chap whose father won't help mine,
for lack of money," snorted Fred, as he tore the letter to shreds in
his anger.