When Fred found that he was in Dr. Dutton's house, and that Matthew had
disappeared and deserted him, he was at a loss to know what to say or
what move to make. His mind was far from clear, and his tongue so
unwieldy that he could hardly manage it.
He stood silent for a moment, evidently trying to collect his thoughts
and make out his situation; then, muttering some half intelligible
words, he made a start as if to leave the house.
The doctor, who answered the summons of the bell, was struck nearly dumb
by the sight that greeted his eyes. He closed the door, and, taking the
youth by the shoulder, supported his unsteady steps to the office.
The fumes of whisky readily indicated the cause of this unfortunate
occurrence, but the doctor was at a loss to know why Fred should be in
such a state. Was he not one of the most exemplary boys in town, and did
he not belong to the school, of which Dr. Dutton himself was
superintendent?
Surely something must be wrong, thought the doctor, and he began to
question the boy, who on going from the cool air to a warm room had
grown so suddenly sick that he looked as if he would faint.
The kind physician laid him gently on a lounge, and gave him such
professional treatment as the case demanded.
There is a vast difference between one who has become intoxicated by a
single glass and one who has been drinking for hours, and has thereby
paralyzed his nerves and deadened his brain. In the former case the
liquor can be thrown from the stomach, and the victim soon recovers the
powers of his mind; while in the other event it may take several days to
restore his customary vigor.
This sickness of Fred's was the very best thing that could have happened
to him, for he got rid of the vile poison before it had time to stupefy
him to any great extent. Nevertheless the dose was so strong and the
shock so great for his stomach that for a time he was extremely sick and
weak.
But after lying quietly on the lounge for an hour or so, he regained a
little strength.
The doctor ordered his carriage, helped Fred into it and took him home.
The latter was still so unnerved that he could hardly walk, but the cool
air benefited him so much that when he reached home he managed to get
into the house alone, and up to his room without disturbing his parents,
who had retired some time before.
The next morning he awoke with a severe headache, and seemed generally
out of tune.
The mere thought of what he had done--how he had disgraced himself by
going to a public bar, and there drinking to intoxication--caused him
the deepest sorrow and regret; but when he fully realized what a severe
wound his conduct would inflict upon his mother and father, and how they
would grieve over it--when he thought what the people of the town would
say, and remembered that he had actually called in this lamentable state
at Dr. Dutton's house--the place of all others he would have wished to
avoid--he became sick at heart as well as in body, and his tumultuous
feelings were only soothed by tears of honest repentance.
However, Fred hurriedly dressed himself, went to the store as usual, and
commenced his accustomed labors. He saw at once, by Mr. Rexford's
manner, that he did not know what had happened the previous night, and
this afforded him a slight temporary relief; still, he knew it was only
a question of time before his employer would learn the whole story.
When this took place, what would be the result? Would he lose his
situation? He knew that Mr. Rexford was a stern man, having little
charity for the faults of others. That his clerk should have been
intoxicated the previous night would undoubtedly irritate him greatly.
Fred imagined that every one whom he saw knew of what he had done, and
looked upon him with disgust. He felt tempted to leave the village, and
never be seen again where he had so disgraced himself. Could he only go
to some new place, among strangers, and commence life over again, he
might have a better chance to work his way upward; but here this shame
would always hang, like a dark cloud, above him.
On reflection, however, he saw that it would be both unmanly and
ungrateful to leave his parents.
No; he was the guilty party, and he must stay here, where the
unfortunate occurrence had taken place, and here try, by the strictest
discipline, and the most watchful care, to regain his former standing
among his friends.
As Fred thought over the occurrences of the past few weeks--of Matthew's
decided hostility, of his course at the party, and his sudden friendship
since that time--of his treachery and meanness the night before, in
getting him to call at Dr. Dutton's while intoxicated, and his deception
in so suddenly leaving him at the door--he saw clearly that he had been
made the victim of De Vere's mean and cruel malice.
Moreover, he did not believe that a single glass of beer would have
produced such an effect upon him, and so he strongly suspected the
truth--that he had been drugged.
Still, he decided to bear the blame himself, and not throw it upon
another, though there might be justice in such a course. He felt
confident that the truth would at some time come to light, if he said
nothing about it, whereas, should he bring forward his suspicion as an
excuse for getting tipsy, the charge would at once be denied, and then
he would be less liable to fix the guilt upon the young villain who had
made him the plaything of his ill will.
He knew, also, that he was to blame for having visited the iniquitous
den at all, and much more for allowing himself to be persuaded to
indulge even in what is popularly considered a harmless drink.
He was so absent minded during the day, and showed so clearly in his
face that something was troubling him, that keen eyed John Rexford
observed it, and wondered what had happened to check the flow of the
boy's spirits.
Rexford was a selfish man, and thought that possibly something
pertaining to the store had gone wrong. Such an idea was enough to
arouse his suspicion, for he was wholly wrapped up in his business. He
could not look beyond that, and had no feeling for others--only making
an occasional show of it for the sake of policy.
A man who lives in such a way is not half living. He is not broad,
intelligent, liberal, and sympathetic, but is narrowed down to a sordid,
grasping existence.
I often pity such men, for though they may have wealth in abundance,
they know not how to enjoy it. Neither do they possess the faculty of
deriving pleasure from kindness and generosity.
They can see no beauty in art or nature, and when they become unfit for
pursuing their vocation, they have nothing to look forward to. The life
beyond is something to which they have given little thought. They have
starved their nobler nature that is nourished on higher things, until it
is dwarfed and shriveled, and the baleful results of such an unnatural
mode of life are pictured in their countenances.
Fred's most trying ordeal during the day was that of going to Dr.
Dutton's house with goods; for if others did not know of what was on his
mind, surely the doctor's family did. He knew that he had forfeited the
good opinion they had had of him, and he wished to avoid meeting them.
To his surprise Mrs. Dutton greeted him pleasantly, and made no
reference whatever to the affair of the previous night. Her motherly
nature pitied him sincerely, for she saw plainly written in his face the
sorrow that he so keenly felt. Bless the dear soul for her kind,
sympathetic heart, and the cheerful, helpful look she gave the boy in
the hour of his trial!
This unexpected charity helped Fred not a little; but the conspicuous
absence of Miss Nellie, evidently due to a purpose of avoiding him, sent
a chill deep into his very heart, which was plainly reflected in his
face and exhibited in his demeanor. Fred's regard for her, I think we
may safely infer, was much stronger and of a finer type than the
ordinary preferences shown by boys of his age; therefore we can
understand why he was so deeply affected by her turning away from him as
if he were unfit to be her associate.
Matthew De Vere made the most of his opportunity. He felt that he was
being revenged now. He took great care to spread the report, and to
inform a certain one in particular of the facts concerning Fred. His
version of them was a highly colored one; but of course he made no
allusion to the adulteration of the liquor. He claimed that he induced
Fred to leave the bar room, and intimated that he must have drunk
several times before he saw him, "for," he said, "one glass of beer
could not have made him tipsy."
By afternoon, the report spread nearly through the town, for, as Milton
says:
Evil news rides post, while good news baits.
Dave Farrington and Tom Martin called to see Fred and talk the matter
over with him. The latter did not breathe his suspicions of the real
cause of the occurrence, but simply told the facts. The boys quickly
replied that they considered it a trick of De Vere's, and that this was
the mean way he had taken to carry out his threat of "getting the
advantage of him."
This conversation confirmed Fred's opinion, and though he felt ashamed
of himself, and was bound to suffer for his foolish act, while the
guilty party went free, yet he reflected:
"I would rather be in my place than in Matthew's, for I shall learn by
this experience not to be influenced by another to do anything without
first counting the cost, and seeing whether it is right and best. If it
is not, I won't do it for anybody's friendship. This will also teach me
to keep away from suspicious places, and to avoid the temptations and
corrupting influences of a bar room. De Vere's guilt will work more
injury to him, in the long run, than my damaged reputation will to me."
Towards the close of the day Mr. Rexford heard of the previous night's
occurrence. He immediately called Fred into the counting room, and
sternly, and in an excited manner, questioned him as to the truth of the
report.
The latter acknowledged its correctness, and told his story, stating
that he drank but one glass of beer, and that that was his first, and
would also be his last.
The suspicious merchant was very angry, and disposed to doubt the boy's
statement. He said that it was a mystery to him where Fred got the money
to spend for such a purpose--intimating that perhaps it came from his
own cash drawer. Then, after giving him a sharp lecture, he hinted at
discharge, saying that he would have no drinking persons about him.
John Rexford well knew the value of such a boy as Fred, and had no real
intention of sending him adrift. But he wished to make the most of his
opportunity, and to impress the boy, and the public if possible, with
the idea that in keeping him he was doing a very magnanimous act.
So he said that he would overlook this fault, though a grave one, and
retain Fred for the present on probation; but he warned the boy that he
must keep a sharp lookout, as the first misdeed, or suspicious act on
his part, would result in immediate discharge.
The turn of affairs was anything but pleasant to Fred, though better
than he had expected. And it was far more satisfactory to him than the
previous suspense, when he had not known what his employer would decide
to do.
When the day's work was over, Fred went directly home, where he found
his father and mother seated before the open fire.
The latter was somewhat worried about her son, for he looked pale and
worn, and had eaten hardly anything since the night before; still she
knew nothing of the cause of this. His father had received some
intimation of what had happened, but had decided to say nothing to his
wife about it for the present.
Fred had no intention, however, of keeping his parents in ignorance of
his adventure; but taking his seat by the side of his mother, and where
he could look both parents in the face, he told them the whole story,
going minutely into all of the details.
He also told them of the conversation which had occurred between himself
and Rexford.
Both parents listened intently to this statement. The mother at first
sobbed bitterly, on hearing from the lips of her own child--on whom her
hopes and pride were centered--that he had been in such company and in
such a condition.
The father doubtless felt the disgrace quite as keenly, for he was a
sensitive, intelligent man and naturally feared that this was but the
beginning of a dissipated life. Still, he could hardly look for that
from a boy whom he had tried so hard to instruct in what is manly and
right, and who had always seemed to profit by his teaching.
But as Fred progressed in his narration, and showed how the lamentable
result had been brought about, and that he had been made a victim of De
Vere's revenge in consequence of the latter's jealousy, both parents
looked upon the whole matter in a very different light. Mr. Worthington
was extremely indignant, and expressed his determination to see De
Vere's father and demand redress for the despicable course Matthew had
taken. He also vowed that he would wage war against that bartender, and
drive him out of town.
Fred, however, urged his father not to do either, since he believed it
would only make a bad matter worse; adding that he had decided that it
would be better for him to say and do nothing about the affair, further
than to mention that Matthew was with him. He requested his father to
adopt the same course. Mrs. Worthington, too, thought this the better
plan, so after some persuasion her husband agreed to accept the
situation and wait for time to bring the truth to light.
The wisdom of such a course must be apparent to my readers when they
stop to think upon the matter, as did Fred. For, had he charged De Vere
with being the cause of his misfortune, and alleged that the bartender
had drugged him, both villains would instantly have denied it, and
would, doubtless, have thrown the lie upon young Worthington, thus
making him appear more at disadvantage than before. Besides, the
villagers would be disposed to believe them, as it is well known that
every one guilty of a misdemeanor is sure to give some excuse for his
action, though excuses usually have but little weight.
On the other hand, a secret becomes burdensome to one after a time. If
it is of a trivial nature, and the author finds he is not suspected, he
will finally tell it as a joke, contrasting his cunning with the
stupidity of his victim; while if it be of a graver sort, it will
finally be disclosed, if for no other reason than to unburden the mind.
While both of Fred's parents regretted most deeply what had happened,
they felt proud to think that he had told the whole truth, without even
waiting to be questioned upon the subject.
If all boys would follow Fred's example in this respect whenever they
get into any trouble, they would not only retain the confidence of their
parents, but would receive the rewards of a clear conscience and an
unburdened heart.