WALTER GOES OUT OF BUSINESS
By the time Walter received his prize of eight hundred dollars he had
saved enough out of his wages to make nearly a thousand. He reflected
with pride that this money had not been left him, but was the fruit of
his own exertions. He resolved to say nothing in his letters home of his
good fortune, but wait till he returned, when he would have the pleasure
of taking his guardian by surprise.
A day later he received a letter from Doctor Mack, which had been
forwarded from one place to another, and was now nearly three weeks old.
It ran thus:
DEAR WALTER: You give but scanty intelligence of your progress and
success, or want of it. I respect you for your determination to support
yourself, but I don't want you to carry your independence too far. As
you have never fitted yourself for any kind of business, I presume
your earnings are small. I should not be surprised to hear that you
are straitened for money. If you are, don't let your pride prevent your
informing me. I can easily send you fifty dollars, for your property was
not all lost, and it is not fitting that you should deprive yourself of
the comforts of life when there is no occasion for it.
“Nancy often speaks of you, and, indeed, I may say that we both miss you
very much, and wish the year were up, so that you might return to us. I
have hopes of righting your property, so that you may go back to Euclid
College at the beginning of the fall session. I am glad to learn by your
last letter that your health is excellent. Once more, don't hesitate to
write to me for money if you need a remittance.
“Your affectionate guardian,
“EZEKIEL MACK.”
Walter smiled as he finished reading the letter.
“I wonder what my good guardian would say,” he soliloquized, “if he knew
that I had nearly a thousand dollars saved up? He would open his eyes, I
fancy.”
He sat down at once and made a reply, in the course of which he said:
“Don't trouble yourself to send me money. I can get along with the wages
I receive. When I left home I made up my mind not to call upon you for
help, and I am glad to say there is no occasion to do so as yet. I think
my year's absence from college will do me good. I am ashamed when I
consider how poorly I appreciated the advantages of study, and how
foolishly I spent my time and money. If I ever go back to college I
shall turn over a new leaf. I have seen something of the world and
gained some experience of life, and feel about half a dozen years older
than when I left college.”
When Doctor Mack, a week later, read these lines he smiled contentedly.
“My experiment is working well,” he said. “It is making a man of Walter.
He has been a drone, hitherto. Now he has become a worker, and, though
I may not like him better, for he was always near to my heart, I respect
him more.”
A week later Walter, on returning from a walk, found a middle-aged
stranger in conversation with Professor Robinson.
The professor seemed a little embarrassed when Walter entered.
“I have some news for you, Walter,” he said. “I am afraid it will not be
welcome to you.”
“Please let me hear it, professor,” said Walter.
“This gentleman is Nahum Snodgrass, of Chicago, who has been for some
years a traveler for a large wholesale-drug-house.”
“I am glad to meet you, Mr. Snodgrass,” said Walter, politely.
Snodgrass, who was a thin, dry-looking man, nodded briefly.
“I have just sold out my business to him,” went on Professor Robinson,
“and henceforth shall aim to live more easily and enjoy the presence of
my family.”
“I congratulate you, professor,” said Walter. “I think you deserve a
life of leisure.”
“Mr. Snodgrass is willing to take you into his employ, but he does not
think he can afford to pay you as much as I did.”
“No,” said Snodgrass, clearing his throat, “I find that Professor
Robinson has been foolishly liberal. The ten per cent. commission which
he has paid you is simply--stu--pendous!”
Walter smiled.
“I have not been in the habit of taking that view of it,” he said.
“Perhaps not, but I do,” said Snodgrass, firmly. “You are a very young
man, and ought not to expect much pay. I will give you two dollars a
week and pay your traveling expenses.”
“I beg to decline your offer, Mr. Snodgrass,” said Walter, politely. “I
have thought of changing my business before, but was unwilling to leave
the professor. As we are strangers, I need have no further hesitation.”
“Young man,” said Snodgrass, “I think you are making a mistake. It will
not be so easy getting another place as you suppose.”
“Perhaps not, but I can afford to live a few weeks without work.”
“Your savings will soon go”--Snodgrass knew nothing of Walter's prize
money--“and then what will you do?”
“Trust to luck,” answered Walter, lightly.
Nahum Snodgrass shook his head gloomily. He thought Walter a very
foolish young man.
Had Walter lost his position two months earlier it would have been a
serious matter to him, but now, with a capital of nearly a thousand
dollars, he could afford to be independent. As he expressed it, he
could afford to be idle for a few weeks. Still, he didn't wish to remain
unemployed for a long time. He felt happier when at work, but wished to
secure some employment that would be congenial.
“Mr. Snodgrass,” said the professor, “I think you are making a mistake
in not employing Walter Sherwood.”
Nahum Snodgrass shrugged his shoulders.
“I don't mean to pay away all my profits to an assistant,” he said.
“But you can't get along alone very well.”
“I will try, unless I can find some one that will take what I am willing
to pay.”
He finally succeeded in doing this. A young man of eighteen, employed in
a drug-store in town, who was on the point of being discharged, agreed
to take the position, and stepped into Walter's place. To anticipate a
little, he disappeared two weeks later, carrying with him fifty dollars
belonging to his employer.
Walter stayed two days longer at the hotel, and then, sending his valise
ahead to Burnton, twenty miles farther on, started to walk the
distance. He was in a mountainous country, and the scenery was wild and
attractive, so that he felt that this arrangement would prove agreeable
to him. He provided himself with a stout staff and started at good
speed. He had accomplished about eight miles, when he was overtaken by
a shabbily dressed traveler riding on the back of a fine horse. The
horseman slackened his pace when he reached Walter.
“Good morning, stranger!” he said.
“Good morning!” responded Walter, turning his head.
“I am glad to have company. It's a lonesome stretch of road here.”
“Yes,” answered Walter, carelessly. “But there isn't any danger, is
there?”
“Well, there might be. A friend of mine was stabbed and robbed here
three months since.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes; and though I haven't much money with me, I shouldn't like to be
robbed of what I have.”
“It would be inconvenient.”
“Do you carry much money with you?” asked the other, in a careless tone.
Walter was not disposed to take a stranger into his confidence.
“Not much!” he responded.
“You are prudent. Are you armed?”
Walter drew out Dick Ranney's revolver, which he still carried. The
stranger eyed him respectfully.
“That's a mighty handsome weapon,” he said. “Just let me look at it.”
Walter began to think he had fallen in with a highwayman again.