Little Carl was fairly prostrated by the shock received from Hanks'
abusive treatment.
Mr. Farrington, noticing this, very kindly sent for his carriage, and
had him taken to his uncle's house. After learning from Fred something
of the boy's circumstances, and more fully of Hanks' cruelty to him, he
dispatched a messenger to Dr. Dutton, requesting him to call and examine
Carl, and administer such treatment as the case required.
The doctor found him very nervous, and so weak that he seemed almost
exhausted. His aunt explained that he had been growing weaker for some
time past, and that his extra exertion the previous night in going to
Fred's house and studying was too much for him. The physician gave him a
mild sedative to quiet his nerves, and then left him for the night.
The next day he called again, and found the boy feverish and complaining
that his back was sensitive and painful.
"I am afraid he will have a fever," said Dr. Dutton to Mr. Farrington,
when he called later in the day to learn of the boy's condition.
"I hope not, doctor," returned the latter; "but give him your best
treatment. I have a great deal of sympathy for him now I know the sad
story of his life."
"I shall certainly give him careful attention," answered the doctor,
"but he has little strength to build on. Has his work been hard?"
"Not since Fred Worthington has been in the mill with him. Fred, I am
informed, did much of the boy's work to help him along."
"I have heard a good deal of praise bestowed upon Fred for defending the
little fellow from abuse," remarked the doctor.
"And it is justly due him, too. He is a brave and manly fellow--is
Fred."
"I am glad to hear you speak well of him; but I thought he was a ruined
boy, and guilty of several damaging charges."
"They are all groundless, I believe," replied Mr. Farrington earnestly;
"and I am surprised to find that you fall in with the general opinion
without inquiring as to his guilt or innocence."
"There isn't a chance for much doubt about that drunken affair, as he
came to my house thoroughly intoxicated, and I took care of him for a
time and then carried him home. Did you know of that?"
"Yes; I knew of it some time ago; but do you know how he came to go to
your house? That's the point to get at!"
"No, I do not. It has been a mystery to me ever since, but I never felt
like asking him about it."
"You would, perhaps, be surprised to know who was the means of getting
him drunk, and that the same fellow led him in that state to your door,
purposely to disgrace him."
"You astonish me, Mr. Farrington. But tell me about it; perhaps I have
judged the boy hastily. Who was the culprit?"
"I will tell you, with the understanding that you shall not repeat it,
for it's Fred's wish that it shall not become known until the young
scoundrel shows his own guilt by telling it."
"I promise to say nothing to any one."
"The culprit was Matthew De Vere."
"Who? Matthew De Vere! Impossible!"
"No, not impossible at all. Indeed, I haven't the slightest doubt of it.
I have the story straight, and know from Dave all the circumstances that
led to the result."
It is not strange that the doctor was surprised and annoyed at this
unexpected revelation, and it had more than ordinary significance to
him, also, for this reason: he was fully aware of Matthew's decided
preference for the society of his daughter Nellie. Of course, it was
but a boyish fancy at most; but what might not grow out of it? Did he
not, in fact, during his own school-days, form an attachment for one who
afterwards became his wife?
In view of this, was it not rather a source of secret satisfaction to
look ahead to the possibility of his daughter's future? Matthew's father
was the most wealthy man in town, and president of the bank in which the
doctor held a large amount of stock. Matthew would probably succeed his
father in a few years, and would not only be very rich, but would be
connected with a very desirable business--that of banking.
Dr. Dutton, like almost every other man, would have been proud to have
his daughter become the wife of a wealthy and promising young man, and,
so far as he knew, Matthew bade fair to become such. To be sure, people
said he was a little wild, but that would wear away.
"He, of course, like many other boys, had to sow a few wild oats," said
the doctor to himself, when he had been thinking of the subject, "but he
will come out all right."
Herein the doctor erred in his judgment, for the sowing of "wild oats,"
so called, is never safe; and it has been the dangerous license granted
to thousands and thousands of boys which has caused their ruin.
Whatever a boy practises becomes after a time a habit; and the rooting
up of such a habit is a matter that requires no little attention and
force of will. The average person finds himself unable to grapple
successfully with what has at last become a second nature, thus proving
beyond peradventure that it is never safe to tamper with anything that
is evil.
I would not wish to give the impression that Dr. Dutton knew how corrupt
Matthew was. He simply overlooked the boy's evil tendency; but when he
came to listen to Mr. Farrington's story, which went into the details
and related in full all that occurred in the barroom, and then described
the contemptibly mean trick of enticing Fred to his house with the
promise of entering with him, it put quite another face on the matter.
Moreover, it raised Fred to a height in the doctor's estimation which
contrasted strongly with the depth to which Matthew sank.