PRESTON'S GOLD DOLLAR.
My eyes are so full of tears, as I think of dear little Rose that I am
going to talk now about something very different. I think I shall tell
you of one of Preston's mishaps.
I am afraid when you read it you will say to yourself, "Well, _he_
isn't much of a boy!" But please remember, he was hardly ten years old
when the affair happened; and boys are not as wise as Solomon until
they are _at least_ twelve or thirteen.
Preston was doing Aunt Jane's errands for her that week; he did them
one week and Bert the next.
"I wonder why Preston doesn't come," said Aunt Jane, stirring some
medicine with a spoon, and speaking to Grandpa Pressy, who had come
visiting again, and was sitting in the corner reading a newspaper.
Grandpa Pressy looked up with a pleasant smile, while the paper danced
as if it would fly out of his hands; for he had palsy.
"Hark, Jane, there's his whistle, and he isn't generally far behind it."
In another moment the door opened, and in walked Preston, a bright,
handsome boy, who did not look much like Flaxie, for he had dark eyes
and black hair.
"Why, Preston," said Aunt Jane, patting his small face, "you'll be late
to school. Here it is nine o'clock."
"Don't care if it's forty-nine. No school to-day."
"No school? O, it's Saturday; I forgot about that, and saved a turnover
for you to take to school."
"Well, I'd like it all the same," said Preston, looking laughingly
toward the cellar door. "Had breakfast a good while ago."
Aunt Jane smiled, which was a rare thing for her. She had been very sad
since Rose died.
"Very well, dear. Run to the store; and, when you come back, you shall
have the turnover and a piece of sage cheese with it. I don't know what
I should do without you, now Bertie's gone to New Jersey."
"A dear good boy he is," thought Aunt Jane, as the little fellow
disappeared with the gallon jug; and Grandpa Pressy, as if he had heard
her thought, answered,--
"Yes, Preston is a dear good boy, Jane. His mother worries for fear
he'll fall into bad company; but it's my opinion she is over-anxious.
Preston will come out all right."
"O, yes, we all think so," responded Aunt Jane. "And who ever heard of
such a child to do errands? He and Ninny are alike about that; they are
both a great deal better than Lucy. Really, I've a great mind to make
the boy a little present; now wouldn't you, grandpa? You know he does
all these things for nothing."
"O, you wait. I've got just what he'll like," said Grandpa Pressy,
putting his shaking hand into his pocket, and jerking out his leathern
wallet,--"just what he'll like, Jane."
After a long and trembling search, during which the pieces of paper
money rattled like dry leaves, out flew a little gold dollar, and
danced upon the floor.
"How that will please him!" said Aunt Jane. "I don't believe he ever
saw one."
"Yes, I think it will please him, my dear. He's uncommonly good to
his poor old grandpa; and I'm sure I don't grudge him a pretty little
keepsake like this."
So, when Preston returned with the molasses, and had eaten his turnover
and sage cheese, his eyes were feasted with a sight of the bit of gold.
"Why, grandpa, _all_ this for me?"
"Yes, my boy; and your mother'd better lay it away somewhere, and keep
it till you are older."
"Yes, I'll ask her to; for Flaxie or Phil will be sure to get hold of
it. But now I'm a-going to tie it up in the corner of my handkerchief,
and put it in my pocket."
"That's a good way," said Aunt Jane.
"Good-bye, auntie, good-bye, grandpa. When you want any more molasses
and things, I'm the boy to get 'em."
And off started Preston in gay spirits, sending a long, shrill whistle
before him, and running to catch up with it. His first thought was to
go home, and give the gold piece to his mother for safe keeping; but he
lived half a mile down town, and it did seem too bad to spare the time
from play.
"Hullo, Pres," called out a ringing voice, "what you smiling at down
there?"
Preston stopped whistling, and looked up to see where the voice came
from.
Tommy Winters was sitting on the bough of a horsechestnut-tree, eating
gingerbread. Now Tommy was a naughty, reckless fellow, and Preston had
been forbidden to play with him; but the sight of Tommy's face filled
him with a vague longing, not for gingerbread, but for mischief.
There really was a bad charm about Tommy--when he fixed his "glittering
eye" upon you, he made you think of all sorts of delightful things
you'd like to do, only they were apt to be naughty things. Did you ever
see a boy who had a bad charm?
"What you up to down there?" repeated Tommy, as Preston finished tying
up the gold piece, and put it in his pocket.
"O, I'm up to lots o' things," replied Preston, gaily. "Don't you wish
you knew what I've got in my handkerchief?"
Tommy didn't know of course; but he instantly _guessed_ there was money
in the handkerchief: he could see the hard knot, and he could see the
smile on Preston's face; and Tommy was not a fool by any means.
"If that's money, I guess I can coax it out of him some way or other.
Anyhow, I mean to get it, by hook or by crook," thought the bad boy.
But he pretended he didn't care two straws what was in the
handkerchief. "Come," said he, "put your old rags in your pocket, and
let's go swimming."
Now Preston had always longed to swim, chiefly, I suppose, because he
didn't know how. It was a remarkably warm day in October; but the water
was very cold: it was not proper for anybody to go into it; and both
the boys knew this.
Preston looked up at Tommy; and that bad charm began to work. He saw a
picture in his mind's eye of--
"A quiet nook in the running brook,
Where the school-boys went to swim."
So, instead of running away, as he ought to have done, he kept staring
up in the tree at Tommy, and said,--
"I can't go swimming; mother won't let me. But I should think you might
come down here and give us a piece of your gingerbread."
Tommy dropped nimbly from the tree, and alighted on his head.
"What's that you say about your mother!"
"She won't let me go swimming."
"Won't let you?--of course not. Never heard of a woman that would.
Women are always scared of the water."
"Father won't let me either."
"You don't say so. Here, take a bite of gingerbread."
Preston took a bite; but he saw Tommy was in earnest about swimming,
and he caught himself by the left ear, as if that would keep him from
going with him: yet, somehow, he felt as if he _should_ go, in spite of
his fears.
"Look here, Tommy."
"Well, I'm looking."
"Now, Tommy Winters."
"Yes, that's my name."
"You know that brook--"
"Yes, guess so. Prime place down there under the willer-tree."
"But, Tommy, that was where my sister Flaxie got 'most drowned."
"'Twas high water then; it's low water now. 'Twouldn't drown a
grass'per."
"But, Tommy,--"
"Well, Pres, what you 'fraid of?"
"Ain't afraid of any thing; but my mother says--"
"O, 'fraid o' your ma'am!"
"And my father says--"
"O, 'fraid o' your pa!"
"Well, they both say--"
"O, 'fraid o' both of 'em!"
"No; but you see, Tommy, they think--"
"I know what they think; they think you're a good-for-nothing
girl-baby;" and Tommy made up such a face that Preston couldn't help
laughing. It didn't hurt his feelings to have _Tommy_ call him names;
for he did it in the funniest, pleasantest way. O, Tommy _was_ a very
fascinating boy!
"Come along, you little tip-end of a top-o-my-thumb."
"Tell you _no_, Tommy."
Preston was pretty firm now.
"Give you Turkish bath, all for nothing, Pres."
"But I told you, Tommy--"
"No, you didn't; you haven't told me a thing. You stutter so I can't
understand a word."
At the idea of his stuttering, Preston laughed outright; and, during
that moment of weakness, was picked up and set astride Tommy's
shoulders.
"You set me down," cried Preston, struggling manfully, yet a little
glad, perhaps, to think he couldn't possibly help himself.
"Ride away, ride away, _Preston_ shall ride!" sang Tommy, the large,
strong fellow, bouncing his burden up and down.
Preston felt like a dry leaf in a whirlpool. You know how it swings
round and round; and, every time it swings, it gets nearer and nearer
that hungry hole in the middle, where there is no getting out again.
"I can't help it, I _can't_ help it," thought little Preston, as big
Tommy jolted him up and down like a bag of meal on horseback.
Well, it is good fun for little boys to go in swimming, I do
suppose,--if their parents are willing, if they have somebody to hold
them up, and if the water isn't too cold.
At first, Preston almost thought he was having good fun; but very soon
it was any thing but that;--why, it was just frightful! for Tommy had
actually gone off and left him, and snapped his fingers in his face.
Preston couldn't swim any more than a fish-hook. What would become of
him? Where _was_ Tommy?
Tommy was on the bank, pretending to skip stones; but that was not what
he had gone there for, I assure you. He had gone to look in Preston's
pocket, and see what was tied up in the corner of his handkerchief.
"Why don't you come, Tommy? Tom-_mee_! I'm drow--drow--drowning!"
"O, you hush up! I'll come in a minute."
"Come now--ow--ow! Flaxie got drow--ow--owned!"
Tommy came when he got ready. And, as he swam back to Preston, there
was something under his tongue, which was a very sweet morsel to him,
and about the size of a gold dollar.
"You _said_ 'twouldn't drown a grasshopper; but 'twould drown a
man--with his hat on," gurgled little Preston, indignantly.
Tommy tickled him under the arms, but didn't seem to feel much like
talking.
"There," said he, when they had come out of the water, "now I'm going
to dress you and send you home to your mother."
"Dress _me_? Poh, guess I can dress myself!"
"Well, you better hurry then," said Tommy. "What makes you so slow?
Your mother'll go into spasms."
"My mother? Why, she don't know I've been swimming!"
"O, I forgot; well, run home!"
"Don't want to," said Preston, squeezing his hair; "want to play ball.
Come on!"
"Can't," said Tom; "have to get some coal."
"Do they make you work Saturdays?"
"Yes, all day, like a dog," muttered Tom, taking to his heels.
Everybody knew that Tom never worked, so this was absurd. Preston ran
after him, and caught him by the sleeve.
"Come, let's play ball!"
Tom shook him off as if he had been a cobweb.
"Can't play to-day. Got an awful sore throat, and earache and
toothache."
And away he ran. Preston was left staring after him, and wondering why
he hadn't spoken of his sufferings before.
"He's queer, Tommy is. Don't see what he wanted to go swimming for if
he's sick. Thought I should 'a' froze!"
A guilty feeling was upon Preston, which made him shiver more than the
cold.
"Wish my hair wasn't so thick. Can't go home till it dries."
He played about with some boys for an hour or two, then went home. The
family were all seated at dinner, and Flaxie would not eat till he came.
"I've got something you'll want to see, Flaxie. Come out here and show
yourself, sir." This to his handkerchief, which he whipped out of his
pocket.
"What is it? I don't see any thing," said Flaxie.
"Why, where in the world? Why, what's this?" cried Preston, in dismay.
There was nothing in the end of the handkerchief, and the knot was
untied.
"I tied it up in three knots, I know I did; and now where is it?"
"Where is what?" asked his mother.
"Why, my little gold dollar. Grandpa gave it to me this morning. You
never _saw_ any thing so cunning!"
"Are you sure you tied it hard?"
"Why, yes, indeed! I tied it so hard I had to hop up and down to get my
breath! Three knots too!"
Dr. Gray looked up, and asked,--
"You haven't been with any bad boys, my son?"
Preston had forgotten the swimming, for the moment, and said,--
"O, no, sir; Eddie Potter and Jack Snow and those."
"They say Tommy Winters will steal; but of course you haven't been near
_him_?"
Preston dropped his knife and fork suddenly, and blushed. His mother
saw it; but his father did not, for he was hurrying out of the house to
visit a patient.
All that afternoon poor Preston was in trouble. He told the boys about
it, but nobody could help him; and, as for Tommy Winters, he was
nowhere to be seen.
Finally, after tea, he stole up to his best friend, his mother, and
exclaimed, shaking his fist,--
"Tommy Winters has got my gold dollar, mamma. Tell you what, he stole
it out of my pocket when I was swimming."
"Swimming, Preston?"
"Yes'm: you see he made me go."
"_Made_ you, my son?"
Preston hung his head.
"Well, he marched me down to the brook, he did."
"He didn't throw you in?"
"Not ed-zackly."
"Then you went in yourself?"
"Yes, mamma; but, O, I won't do so again."
Mrs. Gray looked very sober. She was not thinking of the gold dollar,
but of her son's disobedience.
"I'm sure he stole it, mamma; and now he has run off, and nobody can
find him."
"Very likely," said Mrs. Gray.
"O mamma, won't you make him give back my gold dollar?"
"Do you deserve it, my son?"
"Well, but grandpa gave it to me."
"I'll talk with your father about it."
"O, don't talk with father: he'll think just what _you_ think," cried
Preston, in alarm.
His mother did not answer; and he ran out to the stable, threw himself
into a bed of hay, and tried his best to hate her.
"She'll tell him I disobeyed, and he'll say, 'Good enough for him,
then!'"
Dr. Gray did say exactly these words; still, he tried to make Tommy
confess and give up the stolen gold. Do you suppose Tommy confessed?
O, no: he looked the doctor right in the eye, and said,--
"What _is_ a gold dollar? I never heard of such a thing in my life!"
Preston never set eyes on his treasure again; but I suppose it has
done him more good, after all, than a hundred gold dollars at compound
interest for a hundred years.
You know why. It made him remember to keep out of bad company.