Fred was keenly affected by the spirit Nellie had shown concerning him.
That she had no faith in him, and cared nothing for his downfall, seemed
evident, while the thought that she had gone over to De Vere and joined
with him in his utterances galled our hero sorely.
Then, too, the fact that Matthew and Nellie had been so much together
during the last few weeks stirred Fred's jealousy and indignation, as
will be seen in the following letter, which he wrote and mailed that
evening:
MAPLETON, Nov. 26.
MISS NELLIE DUTTON:--I understand that there is a report
circulating in the school that I am guilty of dishonesty, and
that you seem quite ready to accept it. I am not surprised
that gossips should tell such a story, but I did not expect
you to be one of the first to put faith in it and condemn me.
You have known me intimately since we were little children,
and, I am sure, you have no true reason for believing this
wicked slander. Grace Bernard stood by me, I hear, while you
did not. I suppose you are no longer my friend, since you
find so much pleasure in the society of such a fellow as
Matthew De Vere, who is, as you know, my enemy. You probably
got your idea of my conduct from him, as I understand he was
very much elated over my misfortune. This matter will all be
shown up in time, and when it is I shall have the
satisfaction of seeing you regret your present intimacy with
one who has no honor. Perhaps you may then be sorry for the
treatment you are now showing me. Since that wretched night
when I was led to your house by a certain person you have
turned against me and avoided me. Had you not done so, I
could have explained to you in confidence what I have
preferred to keep secret. But since you judge me so hastily,
and seem so happy in the presence of De Vere, I will not
trouble you with my side of the story. FRED WORTHINGTON.
During the day Mr. Farrington gave a great deal of careful thought to
the mystery that now enveloped his young friend, and in the morning he
called upon Mr. Rexford, to see if he could learn anything that would be
to Fred's advantage. After chatting awhile with the merchant, he said,
as if he were entirely ignorant of what had taken place:
"Where is Fred?"
"He is not here."
"Out delivering goods?"
"No; he is through here. I discharged him."
"Discharged him!" returned Mr. Farrington, with seeming surprise.
"Yes; I don't want him any longer."
"I thought he was an excellent clerk."
"Yes, he was, in some respects; but I suspected him of dishonesty, and
so let him go."
In the conversation that followed, the trader confirmed the statements
of Fred in every particular. It was a good bit of tact on the part of
Mr. Farrington to draw Rexford out as he did, for not only did it prove
that Fred had told the truth, but the merchant's manner gave him some
ideas which he thought would prove valuable in solving the money
mystery.
When Fred called at the mill to see Mr. Farrington at the time
appointed, the latter greeted him cheerfully.
"Good morning, my boy; I see you are on time," looking at his handsome
gold watch.
"Yes, I believe so; I always try to keep my appointments."
"That is in your favor."
"Thank you, Mr. Farrington. I hope it is. But have you seen Mr.
Rexford?"
"Yes, I just came from there."
"Did you learn anything new?" asked Fred, with breathless interest.
"No; not exactly new."
"I suppose you went over the matter with Mr. Rexford?"
"Yes, he told the story practically as you gave it, but during our
conversation I gathered a few points that may be of service to us."
"What is your theory, Mr. Farrington?"
"As it is little more than a suspicion at best, I think it would be
wiser to keep it to myself at present."
"But if I knew it couldn't I help you?"
"No, I think not, and it might even make matters worse. The only way to
work up this affair is to do it quietly. If others find out what is
going on, perhaps we shall never be able to locate the money. Besides,
it wouldn't do for it to get out that I am working up your case."
"But I would say nothing about it," put in Fred, whose curiosity and
interest were both excited as he thought that perhaps Mr. Farrington had
the secret that would free him from suspicion and prove his honesty.
"I don't doubt that in the least; but for good reasons of my own I will
say nothing of my theory until I test it thoroughly, though it may take
a long time. If it should prove to be the true solution of the mystery,
I will then tell you all about it."
Fred colored a little at this, for he had grown somewhat sensitive now,
and said earnestly:
"I hope, Mr. Farrington, you too don't suspect me. It almost seems----"
"Oh, no, my boy," interrupted his good friend, "don't worry about that.
My suspicions run in a totally different direction."
"I am very glad to hear you say so, for I didn't know but Mr. Rexford
had convinced you that I took the bill."
"No, indeed; I believe you are innocent, and I shall do all I can to aid
you."
"You are very kind to me, and I thank you sincerely."
"I am glad to help you, Fred. It is my duty to do all the good I can."
"And you are always helping some one," replied Fred gratefully. "Now
that I can do nothing to clear up this mystery, I would like to get to
work. Can you give me anything to do?" he continued.
"Yes; I have arranged a place for you temporarily down stairs on the
'flockers.' You said yesterday that you would like factory work better
than nothing. This is about the meanest job in the whole mill, but it is
the only thing that I can possibly give you."
"All right; I guess I can stand it for a while," returned Fred.
"Then you may try it and see how you get along. I will advance you as
soon as there is a vacancy--if I find that you deserve it," he added,
with a significant smile.
"Very well, sir; I shall try to satisfy you. When shall I commence?"
"You may come in tomorrow morning at the regular hour--six o'clock. I
will discharge Tim Short tonight."
"Oh, you are not going to send him away simply to give me a place, are
you?" inquired Fred, with evident regret.
"No; I should never discharge one for such a cause, even if I wanted the
place for my own brother. I have been looking around for several days,
trying to find a boy, as I had made up my mind to get rid of Tim, who
isn't faithful in his work."
"I am sorry to have him discharged; I would rather go without work
myself than to feel I have his place. His parents will be obliged to
support him, and they are very poor."
"I like to hear you talk that way, for it shows that you have a kind
heart. I, too, am sorry for them, but it will not do to let sympathy
interfere with the proper management of business. Such a course would
not be just to my employers, for I am convinced that Tim causes more
mischief than a little, every day."
"Then if you are bound to discharge him any way, there would be nothing
wrong in my taking the place, would there?"
"Certainly not. Some one else will have it if you don't."
Mr. Farrington's assurance that there would be nothing dishonorable in
the proposed course seemed to satisfy Fred's compunctions to some
extent; still, as he entered the mill the next morning at the call of
the shrill whistle, long before daylight, he could not help feeling a
little guilty. He also felt that he was entering upon a new career, and
one that seemed anything but pleasing. An utter change had taken place
in his life. He was now only a common factory hand, and was about to
begin work as such.
The "flockers" were located under the stairs, down in the basement of
the mill, in a dark and dingy corner. When Fred arrived there, he saw
standing beside one of the machines a medium sized man with small gray
eyes, that were shaded with immense bushy brows nearly an inch in
length. His features were dull and expressionless, and over the lower
portion of his wrinkled face a scraggy, mud colored beard seemed
struggling for existence. His clothing appeared to indicate a penurious,
grasping nature.
A single look at this uncouth specimen was sufficient to make our young
friend shudder at the thought of being under his control; however, he
walked straight up to him, and said:
"Is this Mr. Hanks?"
"That's my name--Christopher Hanks. Be you the new boy?"
"Yes, sir."
"What's yer name?"
"My name is Fred Worthington."
"Fred Worthington, d'ye say?"
"Yes, sir."
"I s'pose yer father's the cobbler?"
"He has a shoe shop, sir."
"Be you the chap I heerd them men speakin' of as stole some money?" said
Hanks, with a fiendish grin, which revealed two upper front teeth that
seemed long because they alone guarded that portion of his mouth. They
had been in use so many years, or had been so poorly treated, that they
were loose, and rattled together.
"Perhaps they referred to me, sir," retorted Fred with dignity, "but
they had no right to accuse me of stealing."
"Yis, yis; that's how such allers talks. But I guess thar ain't nothin'
here fer yer to git yer hands on to, 'ceptin' work--I'll see't yer ain't
sufferin' fer that."
"Very well, sir; I came here to work."
"I s'pose ye're perty strong, ain't yer?"
"I'm strong enough for a boy."
"Glad yer are, fer yer can do the liftin' work an' help Carl there. He
ain't good for much, any way. Tim Short used ter shirk on him 'ceptin'
when I knowed it, an'---- Hey! here she goes!" (as the machinery
suddenly started). "Set this 'ere flocker again, Carl, and then show
this feller how to run t'other. I'll start up the grinder, an' go up to
the drier."
Accordingly Christopher Hanks departed, while Fred put on a gingham
frock which his mother had made him as a working blouse, and, at the
hands of Carl, received his first lesson.