It was very seldom that Mrs. Ross condescended to visit her poorer
neighbors, and it was, therefore, not without considerable surprise
that Mrs. Gilbert called to the door about eleven o’clock, just as she
had put on the potatoes to boil for dinner—recognized in the visitor on
the doorstep Mrs. Colonel Ross.
“Pray come in, Mrs. Ross. I am glad to see you,” said the widow.
“I will come in for five minutes,” said Mrs. Ross, carefully gathering
up her skirts, lest they should be soiled as she entered the humble
cottage. She need not have been alarmed, for there was not a cleaner
house in the village.
Mrs. Gilbert brought forward the most comfortable chair in her little
sitting-room, and the visitor seated herself.
“I am come on an unpleasant errand, Mrs. Gilbert,” she commenced,
frigidly.
“Unpleasant!” repeated the widow, with quick apprehension. “Has
anything happened to my boy—to Harry?”
Improbable as it seemed that in such an event Mrs. Ross should be the
messenger of ill tidings, it occurred to Mrs. Gilbert that she had come
to inform her of an accident to Harry.
The visitor’s lips curled. What did it matter, she thought, whether
anything happened to him or not?
“Something has happened to my boy!” she said, with emphasis.
“I am very sorry,” said the widow, with quick sympathy. “I hope he is
not hurt.”
“He might have had his neck broken,” said Mrs. Ross; “and by your son,”
she added, spitefully.
“They haven’t been fighting, have they?” asked Mrs. Gilbert, nervously.
“No; but your son deliberately and maliciously, while driving Mr.
Mead’s store wagon, drove into my son’s light buggy, damaged it
seriously, and my poor Philip was thrown out. Your son drove off,
leaving him insensible by the roadside.”
It will be perceived that Mrs. Ross had somewhat embellished the story,
with the intention of producing a greater effect.
“Was Philip much hurt?” asked the widow, anxiously.
“He providentially escaped any serious injury, so far as we know. He
may have suffered some internal injuries.”
“I am sorry to hear that there has been any difficulty,” said the
widow, regaining her composure when she learned that neither of the two
boys were hurt; “but I cannot accept your account. Harry is quite
incapable of deliberately and maliciously running into Philip.”
“I regret that you uphold your son in his wickedness,” said Mrs. Ross,
coldly; “but I am not surprised. I told my husband before I set out
that you would probably do so.”
“Mrs. Ross,” said the widow, in a dignified tone, “I have known my boy
for fifteen years, and watched him carefully, and I tell you positively
that he wouldn’t do what you have charged upon him.”
“Do you question my statement?” demanded Mrs. Ross, haughtily.
“Did you witness the encounter?”
“No; but my son, who is the soul of truth, told me all the
circumstances.”
“Your son was probably angry with Harry, and could not be depended upon
to give an impartial statement.”
“Slander him as much as you please,” said the visitor, angrily. “I have
acquainted you with your son’s outrageous conduct, and this is all I
proposed. Of course we shall expect you or your son to pay for the
damage done to the buggy, and he will be fortunate if we do not have
him arrested for assault and battery.”
Mrs. Gilbert did not look as much terrified as Mrs. Ross expected.
“I am very poor, as you know,” she replied; “but if Harry is really to
blame for what has happened, I will do all that I can to repair the
injury.”
“I am glad to see that you are talking more sensibly.”
“Don’t misunderstand me,” said the widow. “I have not heard Harry’s
statement yet. From what I know of him, I presume that Philip was more
in fault than he. Of course, in that case, I shall not feel called upon
to pay anything.”
“Of course!” sneered Mrs. Ross; “your son will throw all the blame on
my poor boy. Fortunately, we have laws; and it will be the law that
must decide this matter. It isn’t for you to decide whether you will
pay or not.”
This was meant as a threat, but Mrs. Gilbert answered, calmly:
“You won’t need to invoke the law, if you have a just claim.”
Mrs. Ross rose, for there seemed no more to say. She was considerably
disappointed with the result of her mission. She supposed, as a matter
of course, that the widow would defend her son; but she had not
supposed that she would receive so calmly her threats of having
recourse to the law.
Indeed, she had expected that the widow would beg and plead for mercy,
and appear panic-stricken. As it was, she felt that she was retiring
from the contest decidedly worsted. She would not leave without one
parting shot.
“I regret, Mrs. Gilbert,” she said, seriously, “that you defend your
son in this high-handed outrage. I had thought better of you. I knew
you were poor, and I sympathized with you. Now I feel obliged to say
that you will only have yourself to blame for the steps I am about to
take.”
The widow bowed, but did not gratify Mrs. Ross by inquiring what those
steps were.
It was very provoking, certainly.
“I shall call on Mr. Mead, and insist on his discharging your son.”
Knowing what a serious blow this would be, Mrs. Gilbert did look
troubled for a moment, and her visitor sailed away, with a slight
feeling of satisfaction, in the direction of the grocery store.
Meanwhile Harry, on his return to the store, had reported the accident,
and submitted to a close cross-examination on the part of the
storekeeper.
“Do you think I am to blame, Mr. Mead?” asked Harry.
“No; I don’t see how you could do otherwise than you did. Young Ross is
a disagreeable young puppy; but his family trades with me, and I don’t
like to offend them. Still, I shall not blame you.”
It will be seen that Mr. Mead was a just man, though a politic one.
“Thank you, sir,” said Harry, relieved.
“I am sorry this has occurred.”
“So am I, sir; but if I hadn’t done as I did I should have been there
now, for Philip was determined not to budge.”
“Well, we must smooth it over as well as we can. I presume that I shall
have a call from Colonel Ross or his wife. I hope it will be the
colonel, for he won’t be so unreasonable as his lady.”
It so happened that the first person whom Mrs. Ross saw when she
entered the grocery store was Harry.
Her eyes flashed with resentment as they fell upon the persecutor of
her poor boy, but she would not waste any words upon him.
“Where is Mr. Mead?” she asked.
“I will call him, madam,” answered Harry, politely.
Mr. Mead came forward, and Mrs. Ross rehearsed her story, in terms
which the reader can imagine for himself.
“I think you misapprehend the matter, Mrs. Ross,” said the storekeeper,
politely. “Your son maintained his position in the middle of the road
and required Harry to do all the turning out. Of course you are aware
that the law will not sustain any one in this.”
“Who told you that my son did not turn out?” asked Mrs. Ross, hastily.
“Harry himself.”
“And do you credit his story?” demanded Mrs. Ross, with a sneer.
“I have always found him to be a boy of truth.”
“I believe he has wilfully deceived you. I believe he ran into my boy
with the intention of injuring him,” said Mrs. Ross, violently.
Harry was about to speak up, when a young man who was standing by saved
him the trouble.
“I was there, Mr. Mead, and heard the whole,” he said, “though neither
of the boys saw me. I was in the piece to the left, behind the hedge.
Phil Ross wouldn’t turn out a mite, and Harry had to do as he did. When
Phil was thrown out Harry got down from his team and went to see if he
was hurt.”
Mrs. Ross listened, pale with anger.
“I don’t believe a word of it!” she said angrily. “That man is in a
conspiracy with the Gilbert boy against my poor darling. I demand that
you discharge Harry Gilbert from your employment!”
“I am sorry to disoblige you, Mrs. Ross, but it would be unjust,” said
Mr. Mead.
“Then we shall buy our groceries elsewhere!” said Mrs. Ross, spitefully
tossing her head.
“I shall be sorry to lose your custom, but I see no good reason for
discharging Harry.”
Angrily Mrs. Ross left the store, a second time mortified at her want
of success.
“I am sorry, Mr. Mead, that you are likely to lose trade on my
account,” said Harry, with sincere regret.
Mr. Mead smiled.
“If Mrs. Ross leaves me she will have to go five miles for her
groceries,” he said quietly. “We shall have them back again before
long.”