TROUBLE PREPARING FOR ANDY.
When Lawyer Ross returned to his showy dwelling, he found Herbert
eagerly waiting to hear an account of his mission.
Herbert was firmly of the opinion that his father and himself were the
two most important persons in Hamilton, and he confidently anticipated
that Dr. Euclid would be overawed by his father’s visit, and meekly
accede to his demand. He thought, with a pleasant sense of triumph, how
it would be in his power to “crow over” the janitor, who had so
audaciously ventured to lay a finger upon his sacred person.
He looked up eagerly when his father entered the room.
“Well, father, did you see Dr. Euclid?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied the lawyer, in a tone by no means pleasant.
“Did he agree to discharge Andy Gordon?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Herbert looked perplexed.
“Did you ask him to?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“There are a good many things you don’t understand,” said his father,
giving a kick to the unoffending cat which lay on the rug before the
fire, and forcing the astonished animal to vacate her comfortable
quarters.
“I should think,” Herbert ventured to say, “that Dr. Euclid wouldn’t
dare to disobey you, as you are a trustee.”
“Dr. Euclid is an obstinate fool!” exploded the lawyer.
“It would serve him right if you kicked him out and appointed a new
principal,” insinuated Herbert.
Mr. Ross felt in the mood to do as his son advised, but he felt very
doubtful of his ability to accomplish the displacement of so popular and
highly esteemed a teacher. He was pretty sure that he could not talk
over the other trustees to agree to so decided a step, but he was
unwilling to confess it, even to his son. Therefore he spoke
diplomatically.
“I cannot tell what I may do,” he said. “It will depend upon
circumstances. All I can say is that Dr. Euclid will sooner or later be
sorry for upholding Andrew Gordon in his lawless acts.”
“Does he uphold him?”
“Yes. He says that Andrew was perfectly justified in what he did.”
“He ought to be ashamed of himself!” said Herbert, provoked.
“He says,” continued Mr. Ross, who took a perverse pleasure in
mortifying his son, as he had himself been mortified, “that Andrew is
your superior.”
“My superior!” exclaimed Herbert, more than ever exasperated. “That
young beggar my superior!”
“He says Andrew is a better scholar than you!”
“Then I don’t want to go to his confounded school any more. He doesn’t
seem to know how to treat a gentleman.”
“You needn’t go, Herbert, if you don’t care to,” said his father, more
mildly.
“May I leave the academy?” asked Herbert, eagerly.
“Yes. After the course which Dr. Euclid has seen fit to adopt, I shall
not force a son of mine to remain under his instruction. I told him so
this evening.”
“What did he say to that?” queried Herbert, who could not help thinking
that Dr. Euclid would be very sorry to lose a pupil of his social
importance.
“He didn’t say much,” said the lawyer, who was not disposed to repeat
what the doctor actually did say.
“Then,” said Herbert, “there is no use for me to study my Latin lesson
for to-morrow.”
“You may omit it this evening, but of course I cannot have you give up
study. I may obtain a private tutor for you, or send you to some school
out of town.”
The lawyer hoped that this step, though personally inconvenient, and
much more expensive, might injure Dr. Euclid by implying that one of the
trustees lacked confidence in him as a teacher.
Herbert left the room, well pleased on the whole with the upshot of the
affair.
Half an hour later an old man, Joshua Starr by name, was ushered into
the lawyer’s presence. He was a man bordering upon seventy, with pinched
and wizened features, which bore the stamp of meanness plainly stamped
upon them. By one method and another he had managed to scrape together a
considerable property, not wholly in a creditable manner.
He had cheated his own brother out of three thousand dollars, but in a
way that did not make him amenable to the law. He had lent money to his
neighbors on usurious terms, showing no mercy when they were unable to
make payment. Such was the man who came to the squire for help.
“Good-evening, Squire Ross!” he said. “I’ve come to you on a little
matter of business.”
“Well, Mr. Starr, state your case.”
“I’ve got a note agin’ a party in town, which I want you to collect.”
“Who is the party, Mr. Starr?”
“Waal, it’s the Widder Gordon.”
Squire Ross pricked up his ears.
“Go on,” he said, beginning to feel interested.
“You see, I’ve got a note agin’ her husband for a hundred dollars, with
interest.”
“But her husband is dead.”
“Jes’ so, jes’ so! But he borrowed the money when he was alive, in the
year 1862.”
“And now it is 1866.”
“Jes’ so! You see it isn’t outlawed. The note is good.”
“Show me the note.”
The lawyer took and scanned it carefully.
“It was to run for three months,” he said.
“Jes’ so!”
“Why didn’t you present it for payment?”
“I did,” said Starr. “But it wan’t convenient for him to pay it.”
“You don’t usually give so much time to your creditors, Mr. Starr,” said
the lawyer, keenly.
“I didn’t want to be hard on him,” whined Starr.
“There’s something under this,” the lawyer thought.
“Have you presented it for payment to the widow?” asked Ross.
“Yes; and what do you think? She says her husband paid it. It’s
ridikilus!”
“In that case you would have surrendered the note or given a receipt.”
“Jes’ so, jes’ so!” said Mr. Starr, eagerly. “You understand the case,
square. Let her show the receipt, as I’ve got the note.”
“How does she explain your having the note?”
“She says I had mislaid the note, and her husband agreed to take a
receipt instead.”
“But she don’t show the receipt.”
“No; that’s where I’ve got her,” chuckled the old man. “I say, square,
ain’t my claim good?”
“Certainly, if she can’t show any receipt from you.”
“Then you can collect it for me?”
“I can try; but I don’t suppose she has any property.”
“There’s her furnitoor,” suggested the old man.
“Well, you may leave the note, and I will see what I can do.
Good-night!”
“Good-night, square!”
When the lawyer was left alone, there was a look of malicious
satisfaction on his face.
“Now, Master Andrew Gordon,” he said to himself, “I think I can make you
rue the day when you assaulted my son. But for that, I wouldn’t have
meddled in this business, for Starr is an old rascal; but now it suits
me to do it. The Widow Gordon and her precious son shall hear from me
to-morrow!”