THE LITTLE PLOT AGAINST ROBERT.
Robert resumed his place in the home circle. Between him and his
step-father there was no cordiality, but formal politeness, though
at times Mrs. Talbot tried to cultivate more friendly relations. He
was somewhat ashamed of the cowardice he displayed during their walk
through the village. It was partly because Robert had been a witness of
his humiliation that he grew to dislike him the more and determined,
when occasion offered, to get even with the boy. He was somewhat afraid
of the spirited boy, but gradually plucked up courage for an encounter.
When Robert came home from school three days later, he found his
step-father in the hall, standing on a chair, engaged in taking down
the portrait of Mr. Frost.
"What are you doing, Mr. Talbot," he demanded indignantly.
Talbot turned his head, and answered curtly, "I apprehend that is my
business."
"Are you going to take down my father's portrait?"
"That's exactly what I am going to do."
"Why?" asked Robert sternly.
"It is not fitting, now that your mother is my wife, that the picture
of her first husband should hang here."
"Are you going to put yours in its place?"
"As soon as I have one painted."
Robert paused for a moment. After all, why should he interfere? His
mother had transferred her love and allegiance to another husband, and
his father's face would be a silent reproach to her.
"Did my mother authorize this removal?" he asked.
"Certainly."
"Then I have only one request to make, that the portrait be hung up in
my chamber. I still revere the memory of my father."
"I have no objections. You can take it up to your room when you please."
The portrait was taken down, and Robert received it. He at once carried
it upstairs. His heart swelled within him, and a look of bitterness
came over his young face.
"I can't stand it long," he said to himself. "The sight of that man
fills me with indignation and disgust. I would as soon see a serpent."
As yet, however, there had been no open outbreak, but it was to come
very soon.
"May I ask a favor of you, James?" said his wife at the breakfast table.
"What is it, my dear?"
"I find that our woodpile needs replenishing. Will you stop at Mr.
Webber's on your way to the post-office and ask him to call? I want to
speak to him about sawing and splitting a new supply."
"My dear," said her husband, "let me make a suggestion. Why employ Mr.
Webber when you have a strong, able-bodied boy in the house?"
"Do you mean Robert?"
"There is no other boy in the house, I take it."
"But," expostulated Mrs. Talbot, "there is no occasion to put Robert at
such work. I am quite able to employ and pay Mr. Webber."
"And bring up the boy in idleness. That's a very bad plan. He will be
getting lazy."
"He has his studies to attend to."
"He needs physical exercise."
"He plays ball and foot-ball."
"His time is thrown away. He could get quite as healthful exercise in
sawing and splitting wood, and it would save money."
Mrs. Talbot was of a gentle, yielding temper, but she was not disposed
to adopt her husband's views. She still ventured to expostulate.
"Robert is not lazy, James," she said. "If I were poor and there were
any need of it, he would willingly saw and split the wood."
"Perhaps he would and perhaps he wouldn't. From what I have seen of
him, I am decidedly of the opinion that he has been pampered and
spoiled. He has a very bad temper----"
"Oh, James!"
"It is true, but it is partly because of his bringing-up. He needs to
have his will broken. He has always had his own way, and it is quite
time that he learned who is master here."
"You are very hard and cruel, James," said his wife, the tears filling
her eyes.
"You think so, but I am only seeking the boy's good. I am quite decided
on this point. We will drop the discussion."
"Oh, what will happen?" thought the poor mother. "Robert will never
submit, and there will be serious trouble."
The next morning was Saturday, and Robert had a holiday from school.
He was out in the yard, after breakfast, and was about to leave the
premises, when his step-father appeared in the doorway.
"Stop a minute," he called out in a tone of command.
Robert looked back in surprise.
"What is wanted?" he asked.
"Where are you going?"
"Out fishing with Harry Baker."
"I think you had better postpone it."
"Why?" demanded Robert in surprise.
"Come out in the back-yard and I will tell you."
Very much surprised, Robert followed his step-father out into the
back-yard.
"What does all this mean?" he thought.
"I want you to spend the forenoon in sawing and splitting wood. Your
mother tells me there is need of a fresh supply."
"I don't understand you, sir," said Robert coldly. "Mr. Webber always
saws and splits wood for us."
"He always has hitherto, but this arrangement is to be changed."
Robert's eyes flashed. He was beginning to understand now.
"Why? Is my mother unable to pay him?"
"That is not the point. You are strong and well able to do the work.
There is no need of going to unnecessary expense."
Robert's lip curled.
"You really expect me to work at the woodpile?" he said.
"I do. What is more, I command you to go to work at once."
Robert looked his step-father firmly in the face.
"You command me to go to work?" he repeated slowly.
"Yes, I do," blustered Mr. Talbot, thinking by his loud voice to
intimidate the boy.
But he didn't understand the boy with whom he had to deal. Robert eyed
his step-father contemptuously. James Talbot, though perhaps an inch
taller, was less heavily built, and looked thin and puny beside the
sturdy boy whom he was trying to coerce. He felt the contempt which
Robert's face so plainly expressed, and it enraged him, for he was a
man of violent temper.
"I think, Mr. Talbot," said Robert, after a pause, "that you will have
hard work in getting your orders obeyed."
If James Talbot had not been beside himself with rage, he would not
have dared to act as he did. He seized a stout stick lying on the
ground and sprang towards his disobedient step-son.
Robert instantly seized the ax, which was conveniently near, and
brandished it in a threatening manner.
"Don't you dare to touch me!" he exclaimed in excitement.
James Talbot turned pale.
"Are you insane?" he demanded, drawing back in affright.
"No, but I don't propose to be bulldozed. Just lay down that stick, if
you please."
Mechanically Talbot dropped it.
"You have a terrible temper!" he exclaimed.
"I hope not, but I am quite prepared to defend myself, Mr. Talbot."
"How old are you, sir?"
"Sixteen."
"Then you are under authority. You are bound to obey me."
"Am I? I don't recognize you as having any authority over me."
"Evidently you have a good deal to learn. Once more, will you obey me?"
"Once more, I won't," returned Robert firmly.
"You will be sorry for your disobedience. You haven't seen the end of
this."
He turned and walked back to the house, feeling with mortification that
he had been worsted in this first encounter with his step-son.
"I'd like to flog that boy within an inch of his life," he muttered
spitefully. "I--I wish I dared to grapple with him."
Robert and his step-father didn't meet at dinner or supper, as the
latter had to go away on business.
"Mother," said Robert, "do you wish me to take Mr. Webber's place at
the woodpile?"
"No, Robert. It was Mr. Talbot's idea. He thought it would be healthful
exercise for you."
"Why not for him?"
"I will try to get him off the idea."
"It makes no difference. He can't make me do it, though he threatened
me with a stick this morning."
"Surely he did not strike you?" said his mother nervously.
"No, I guess not. He did not dare to."
It so happened that James Talbot did not reach home till a late hour in
the evening, when Robert was already in bed. He went upstairs softly,
ascertained from Robert's regular breathing that he was sound asleep,
then taking the key from the lock inside, locked the door from the
outside, and went downstairs with a smile.
"When the boy wakes up, he will find himself a prisoner," he said. "I
shall get even with him, after all."