ANDY’S RESOLVE.
“Poor uncle Simon!” said Mrs. Gordon, after the letter had been read.
“He seems to be in a difficult position.”
“Why doesn’t he send that man Brackett packing?” asked Andy,
indignantly. “He can’t have much spirit.”
“You forget, Andy, how old he is. An old man is not so well able to
contend for his rights as a man of middle age. Besides, it appears that
his son-in-law has possession of the farm.”
“It is a shame!”
“So it is; but that cannot be recalled. The rest of the property ought
to be saved from Mr. Brackett.”
“That’s easy enough. He needn’t give it to him.”
“But uncle Simon may be persecuted into doing what he does not wish to
do.”
“Mother,” said Andy, with a sudden thought, “who will get the property
if Mr. Dodge dies without a will?”
“I suppose it would go to his relations.”
“What other relations has he besides you?”
“I don’t think he has any others,” answered Mrs. Gordon.
“Then it may come to us.”
“We have more right to it than Mr. Brackett,” said his mother.
“Then,” said Andy, after a short pause, “there must be a struggle
between me and Brackett.”
“You wouldn’t fight with a full-grown man, Andy?” asked his mother, in
alarm.
“Oh, no!” answered Andy, smiling. “I don’t think it will come to that.
But I must go out to your uncle’s help. Between us both, we will see if
we can’t circumvent that grasping old Brackett and his wife and
children.”
“I don’t see what a boy like you can do, Andy.”
“At any rate, I can try, mother. This money will pay my expenses out to
Cato. When I get there I can form my plans.”
“I don’t see how I can spare you, Andy.”
“Remember, mother, I am going in your behalf. Uncle Simon’s money, which
may amount to ten thousand dollars, may otherwise be taken from us.”
“If you can induce Uncle Simon to come here and end his days with us, I
will try to make him comfortable.”
“A good idea, mother. I’ll see if I can’t bring him.”
“When do you want to start, Andy?”
“Not till after our good friend Joshua Starr has come for his money. I
want to be here then, just to see how disappointed and mortified he will
look when he sees the receipt with his signature attached.”
On Tuesday afternoon, Joshua Starr called at the office of Brandon Ross,
the lawyer.
“To-day’s the day when we are to call on the Widder Gordon for my money,
lawyer, isn’t it?” he said.
“Yes, Mr. Starr. Do you propose to come with me?”
“Yes.”
“It isn’t necessary.”
“You see, Squire, I thought I could take a look at the furniture,”
suggested old Joshua, “and decide what I’ll take. It ain’t likely that
the widder’ll have the money to pay the note--at least, not all of it,
and I’ll have to take it out in what she’s got.”
“You are a hard man, Mr. Starr. I shouldn’t like to be owing you money
which I couldn’t pay.”
“You’re jokin’, squire. There ain’t anything wrong in my wantin’ my
money, is there?”
“No; still you’re a rich man, and Mrs. Gordon is a poor woman.”
“That ain’t neither here nor there,” said Joshua Starr, evidently
annoyed. “My money’s my own, I take it, and I’m entitled to it. If Mr.
Gordon borrowed money, it stands to reason that his widder ought to pay
it,” he concluded, triumphantly.
“I can’t gainsay you, Mr. Starr. You must act your will. I am only your
agent, you know.”
“Jes’ so! jes’ so!” said the old man, considerably relieved, for he
feared that the lawyer was going to act against him.
But he did not know that Brandon Ross derived positive pleasure from the
thought of the distress and trouble he was about to bring on the boy who
had--as he construed it--insulted and injured his own spoiled son.
The crafty lawyer, however, did not mean to let either his client or his
intended victim know how willingly he engaged in the affair.