John Rexford cared very little for the interests of others. His humanity
was dwarfed and his regard for Fred's feelings or reputation amounted to
nothing. In fact, he cherished malice against the boy for getting the
better of him in the matter of his dealings with his customers.
That our young friend should have found out so much about his business
methods, and should dare to hold the threat of exposure over his head,
rankled in the breast of J. Rexford, Esq. With something of a spirit of
revenge he took good care to let his suspicions become generally known
regarding his former clerk, knowing, as he must, that the injury to him
would be almost irreparable.
In consequence of the merchant's free expression of opinion, by noon
nearly all of the villagers knew of Fred's discharge and his
dishonesty--or rather what they supposed and were willing to accept as
his dishonesty.
They further coupled this episode with the bar room occurrence, and at
once decided that Worthington was a dissipated young scamp, and
whatever good opinions they might have held of him before were
straightway forgotten.
Thus was Fred rated by the people of Mapleton, many of whom he met on
coming from the mill. As he passed up the street towards his home some
of them spoke to him in a strained, unnatural manner, others looked at
him in a knowing way, and a few small boys crowded about him, as though
he was on exhibition.
Here and there, also, curious feminine heads appeared at the windows,
and though Fred walked with his eyes apparently fixed upon the ground,
they were turned upward sufficiently to catch glimpses of certain well
known forms, and he believed himself the subject of their thoughts and
conversation.
Once he raised his head as if by an irresistible impulse, for he was
then passing the residence of Dr. Dutton. Why he did so he could not
satisfy himself, for he half expected to see Miss Nellie at the window,
and he dreaded meeting her eyes; yet there was a strange fascination
about the house, and with this sense of dread, strong as it was, he was
conscious of a much stronger desire to look on her sweet face, hoping
that her eyes might show at least a kindly feeling towards him, if
nothing more. But instead of Nellie he saw her mother, who seemed
looking directly at him.
"She must have heard everything from the new clerk," thought Fred, and
he fancied that in his single hasty glance he saw a look of mingled
sympathy and sorrow.
He knew her for a noble, tender hearted woman, one who had shown him
many a kindness, and who possessed such delicacy of feeling that she had
never referred in his presence to that wretched night when he called
there in a state of intoxication.
When our young friend reached home, he was despondent, as you may
imagine. He threw himself upon the lounge, and thought over the
occurrences of the morning--of his unsuccessful attempt to get work, and
of the general attitude of the people--and it seemed to his young and
sensitive mind that he could not bear their unjust suspicions.
Then he remembered the kindness of Mr. Farrington, who had promised to
assist him in trying to clear his reputation, and expressed a desire to
aid him in other ways. The thought made him sincerely thankful that he
had been one of Mr. Farrington's scholars in Sunday school, and had
thereby gained the friendship of such a man. To have a friend like him
at this time was worth everything, for Mr. Farrington was a prominent
man and had great influence throughout the village.
Our young friend remained at home the rest of the day. In the evening
his friend Dave called.
"Tell me how it all happened, Fred," said he, taking him by the hand
with a friendly grasp.
"I suppose you have heard the whole story long before this."
"Yes, but I want to hear your side, and then I shall know the truth."
"Thank you, Dave, for your confidence in me. I only wish others had half
as much. Yes, I am through at the old store that I thought so much of."
"But is it possible you were discharged, as I heard at school?"
"Yes, I was discharged," replied Fred sorrowfully. "I tell you, Dave,"
he continued, "it is pretty hard to be discharged on an unjust
suspicion, and to be looked upon in the village as I am tonight."
"It's too bad! I'm sorry for you, Fred, and I think De Vere is the cause
of the whole trouble."
"I don't see how he could have been at the bottom of what came up
yesterday between Mr. Rexford and me."
"Well, I believe, from what he said, that he was the means of your first
trouble, and I can't see why you won't charge him with it, and not let
every one think he is so nice and that you are guilty."
"What has he said?" asked Fred eagerly, thinking perhaps Matthew had
exultingly told the boys his trick.
"He told Tom Martin that he was glad you showed up as you did, for it
gave the people a chance to see what kind of a fellow you were."
"Was that all he said?"
"No; Tom said to him that he supposed he and you were great friends, as
he had seen you together so much. De Vere replied that he knew what he
was about, and had gained his point. That's all I heard. Isn't that
enough?"
"Oh, that doesn't count for anything!" replied Fred, turning the matter
off. "But tell me," he continued, "what was said at school about me. You
said you heard the report there."
"Do you really want me to tell you?"
"Yes; I am not expecting anything complimentary, and may as well know
the worst."
Dave Farrington hesitated a moment, unwilling to repeat the unkind words
of Fred's former schoolmates.
"The worst came from De Vere," he said at length.
Fred's face colored.
"I expected this," he replied; "but what did he say?"
"When I got to the school house for the afternoon session, De Vere was
there, and knowing that I always stood up for you, he cried out in a
sneering way:
"'Well, Farrington, what have you to say for your friend Worthington
now? I suppose, of course, you know what he has done, and that John
Rexford discharged him last night?'
"I said, 'Yes, I know about his discharge, but I don't know that he has
done anything to deserve it.'
"'He stole some money from the drawer,' he returned.
"'How do you know that?' I asked.
"'Why, everybody says so! I always said that you would get enough of
him,' he replied.
"'That is no proof, and, besides, I want you to know I haven't enough of
him yet,' said I. 'I have not been friends with him for the same reason
that you were, nor do I propose to leave him under such circumstances.'
I guess that must have hit him pretty hard, for he colored up as red as
could be and acted mad."
Fred found it difficult to restrain his anger as he saw the bitter
enmity of De Vere, and realized his gratification over his own
misfortune--a misfortune of which Matthew was the cause. But he finally
asked what the other scholars had to say about him.
"Well, they all talked about the matter, and most of them seemed to
think that you were guilty, though Grace Bernard said she heard her
father say that there might have been some mistake about the bill, and
that she didn't believe you stole it, for you were always one of the
best boys in school."
"That's better than I expected," replied Fred, with a brighter look.
"But is that all?" he asked, with some anxiety.
Dave noticed this, and suspecting his meaning, hesitated. "I guess it is
about all," he answered.
Fred seemed disappointed at not getting the answer he sought. Seeing he
was not likely to get at what interested him most--Miss Nellie's
opinion--he asked openly if she were not there, and what she said.
"I don't remember exactly what she said," replied Dave, "but she seemed
to side with Matthew. You know they are pretty intimate now; he seems to
have better success there than when you went to school. I tell you what
it is, Fred, if you hadn't got tipsy, he wouldn't have had much show,
but that's what killed you. The girls all said more about that than they
did about this."
Fred had his answer now, and it was anything but welcome intelligence to
him. There is no denying that he cared more for Nellie's good opinion
than for what all the rest of the school thought of him.
"She has condemned me at once," he said to himself bitterly, "while
Grace Bernard has proved my friend; and she has not only condemned me
without reason, but has taken up with my enemy--with that scoundrel De
Vere, who has been the cause of all my trouble."