THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN.
It seemed absolutely necessary for Carrots to talk at great length about
the farm, before he was willing to settle down to business as his
partner wished; and then the two made a hearty supper from a Bologna
sausage, some buns, and some seed-cakes, which the proprietor of the
house had purchased in order to prepare a "parting feast."
"Well, now, let's come down to the business that's got to be settled,
Carrots," Teddy said, gravely, as he took from his pocket a collection
of coins. "You want back the forty-three cents you paid inter the
concern, an' then, of course, what you made to-day all goes to yourself.
I don't have any interest in it."
"That ain't the right thing to do. I took in sixty-five cents, an' half
of it belongs to you."
"There's no need of dividin' it, 'cause I made fifty-two myself; so let
each feller keep his profits, an' it'll be fair. Now here's the rest of
your money," and Teddy pushed toward him a small pile of nickels and
pennies.
"I don't want to take it," Carrots objected, mournfully. "When I'm away
I'd rather think some of my money was here, an', p'rhaps, when I come
back on a vacation, I'll need a little. Then you can let me have it."
Teddy would have preferred to settle the business at once; but Carrots
appeared so anxious to have a pecuniary interest in the city, that he
said in conclusion:
"Well, we'll let it go your way, Carrots, an' when you come back I'll be
here, 'less somethin' happens to me."
Then the two talked further of the farm, and suddenly Carrots was
reminded of a very important piece of business.
"Well, I'll be jiggered! If I didn't forget all 'bout that lawyer! Now
it wouldn't do to slip up on him, would it?"
"Of course not."
"Why couldn't you go over every mornin' and fix the thing?"
"I can, Carrots, an' I will. It's no more'n right, 'cause you made the
debt on my account, an' I ought ter pay it. Say, I don't s'pose you'd
care if I should use your box while you're gone, would you? I've been
thinkin' perhaps by carryin' the outfit with me I might get a chance to
black boots when business was dull."
"Of course you can; but you must keep your eye peeled pretty slick,
'cause the fellers don't like to see a boy try to run both kinds of
work, an' they'll be apt to make a row."
"I'll risk that part of it. Now, is there anything else I can do for
you?"
"No; I b'lieve that's all. Of course you'll keep the house? Nobody
knows of it but Teenie, an' p'rhaps he won't tell."
"I must take the chances of that; but I reckon Skip Jellison's goin' to
make it mighty hot for me. I'll keep an eye out for him."
By this time the boys were sleepy; and until morning Carrots dreamed of
the ideal life which he was to lead in the country.
At an early hour next day they betook themselves to the basement
restaurant on Baxter Street, where Carrots, who fancied he would always
have plenty of money, now he had been engaged as a farmer, insisted on
paying the entire cost of both breakfasts; and then the two separated
with the promise of meeting at eleven o'clock at South Ferry.
During the forenoon Teddy was not interrupted in his labors, perhaps
because he did not go near the City Hall, and business was so
flourishing that he felt sorry when Carrots came to say it was time they
started for the market to meet the farmer.
The young gentleman who was about to take up his residence in the
country unslung his blacking-box from his shoulder as he said:
"I told that lawyer you'd be there after this, an' he said, 'All right.'
I don't s'pose he cares, so long's he gets his boots blacked, who does
it."
"I'll 'tend to him in great shape, so you needn't worry."
Then the two walked briskly along the water-front until they were at the
market, when Carrots pointed toward an old wagon drawn by two mules, as
he exclaimed: "That team b'longs out to the farm where I'm goin'. I tell
you, I'll have them mules lookin' better'n they do now, before next
week."
"Take care they don't kick you, Carrots; they're great on showin' their
heels," Teddy replied, warningly.
"I'd like to see the mule that could get away with me," Master Carrots
said contemptuously; and just then the farmer came out of a neighbouring
shop, looking around as if in search of some one or something.
"He's after you," Teddy said. "I reckon I'd better say good-by now.
You'll find me in the packin'-case, if you come after dark."
"It'll be a good while before you see me," Carrots replied, confidently,
as he shook his friend's hand warmly; and then the two parted.
During the three days following Carrots's departure, Teddy succeeded in
the work beyond his most sanguine expectations.
He had been careful to remain away from the places most frequented by
Skip Jellison, but was forced to change his business location several
times, owing to the trouble which he had with boys who, as Carrots had
predicted, were jealous because he both blacked boots and sold
newspapers.
Still, he had succeeded in saving two dollars and twenty-five cents, in
addition to which he had quite a store of provisions packed snugly away
in a box, and, as he said in a tone of satisfaction on this third night
after counting his funds and examining the contents of the larder, "had
been playin' in mighty big luck."
During all this time he had seen nothing of Teenie Massey, who, now that
Carrots was away, was the only boy he knew well.
Neither had he met any of the party whom he saw on his introduction to
the city, and it seemed as if they might not give him any further
trouble.
"I reckon I can pick up what money I need to start the stand, by keepin'
on the same way I've begun," he said to himself. "It may be business is
better 'round City Hall; but it doesn't stand to reason I could earn so
very much more up there than I'm doin' now, an' shiftin' about so often
I'll have a better chance for findin' out where a stand ought ter be
put."
It can thus be seen that Master Thurston was on very good terms with
himself, and feeling perfectly satisfied with his attempt to earn a
livelihood in the metropolis. As Carrots had dreamed of the farm, so
Teddy had often pictured to himself how he would live and conduct his
business when once the stand was an assured fact; and while in the midst
of these pleasing anticipations he was startled, almost frightened, by a
sound as of some person making his way across the litter with which the
yard was strewn.
His first act was to extinguish the candle, lest the rays of light
should betray his whereabouts, for he had no doubt that the intruder was
Skip Jellison, with, probably, a number of followers.
With such thoughts in his mind it cannot be wondered at that he was
startled beyond the power of speech when he heard the familiar voice of
Carrots in a cautious tone:
"It's only me! Don't get flustered!" and an instant later the would-be
farmer was once more inside the packing-case dwelling.
"Good gracious! Where'd you come from?" Teddy cried, after standing like
a statue for several seconds.
"From the farm; that's where I come from!" Carrots replied, in an angry
tone.
"Got through so soon as this, have you?"
"You can jest bet your sweet life I have! Why, I wouldn't stay out there
a month if they'd give me the whole place, an' all the animals there was
on it! That man was a reg'lar old--old--he's an old skee-sicks, that's
what he is!"
"Sit down, so's to tell me all 'bout it;" and Teddy relighted the candle
in order to have a good look at the amateur farmer.
Carrots was disconsolate and discouraged, and the dust on his boots told
of a long walk over country roads.
"Got anything to eat?" he asked; and even his voice sounded hungry.
Teddy opened the cigar-box refrigerator, revealing to view a plentiful
supply of provisions.
The newcomer did not need an invitation to begin the meal.
He attacked the food as if he had had nothing to eat since leaving the
city, and Teddy refrained from asking any questions until his hunger
should be appeased.
"Well," Carrots said, after an enormous meal, "what do you think of me
now?"
"I'd say you was hungry, an' I guess that comes pretty nigh bein' the
truth."
"That's a fact; an' I shouldn't be lyin' so very bad if I told you I
hadn't had anything to eat since I left. Talk 'bout good livin' in the
country! Why, a feller'd starve to death there in a week! I never saw
sich a place! 'Bout the time you go to sleep they call you to get up;
an' I do b'lieve yesterday it wasn't more'n late in the evenin' when
that farmer yelled for me to turn out an' feed the stock. Feed the
stock! Well, now, I'll tell you what--I wanted to feed myself, but
didn't get the chance!"
"So you found out that livin' on a farm wasn't so pleasant as you
thought?" Teddy said, laughingly; for he had a very good idea of what
Carrots's experiences might have been.
"It's a reg'lar swindle an' humbug; that's what it is. An' if all
farmers are like that old feller I went out with, I don't see how they
keep anybody with 'em."
"S'posin' you begin at the start, an' tell me all 'bout it?"
"Well, I will." And, arming himself with a few slices of Bologna in case
his appetite should get the best of him, Carrots began the story. "That
man was sweeter than pie all the time I was ridin' home with him, an'
you'd thought he loved me 'most to death till we got to the farm. Then
I helped unharness them plaguy old mules, an' one of 'em fetched me a
kick with his heels that left a black-an'-blue spot on my leg bigger'n
the whole front of the City Hall. I up with a club, an' was goin' to
knock the life out er him; but the farmer caught me by the collar, an'
shook me till I thought my head would fly off."
"He wanted to sort of introduce you to the place, I s'pose."
"Well, I reckon he did it pretty well. My heels knocked together like a
pair of clappers, an' it seemed to me I could hear my head crack, the
same way a whip does when you snap it. Well, after the old feller got
through paralyzin' me, an' I was kind er steady on my feet once more, he
told me to go to work an' clean out the stable. Why, Teddy, the job he
set me at would have taken three men a month; an' he 'lowed I was to
have it all done before night! You see, I didn't have any dinner, an'
had heard so much 'bout how they lived in the country that I thought I'd
kind er like to sample the cookin'. So I asked him if he didn't think it
would be best to have some grub before I tackled sich a job as that. I
don't know what he thought 'bout it, cause he didn't say a word; jest
walked right away an' left me. Jiminy crickets! How I did sweat! But I
thought to myself, I'll do my level best so he'll know he's got a mighty
good man. An' I'll be blamed if when that old duffer came out he didn't
act as if he thought I must have been loafin'!"
"How long did he leave you workin?"
"From the time we got there till pretty nigh night. Then he said I was
to go down to the pasture an' bring up the cows. Well, now, I'm a dandy
to bring up cows! Never saw one before. I wasn't goin' to let on that I
didn't know the whole thing, so I walked down big as life. He told me
where the pasture was, an' I cleaned her right out. Took every blamed
thing in there an' drove 'em up. Well, you jest bet he was mad! He
wanted to know why I didn't leave the oxen behind, an' what I was doin'
with the sheep, an' how I ever expected to catch them two colts ag'in? I
asked him to tell me how I was goin' to sort 'em out when they was
runnin' all 'round. Said I was hungry, an' didn't have time for sich
jobs. Why, Teddy, there was one of them sheep what had horns on; I
couldn't have got rid of it if I'd stayed there a month. Knocked me down
twice before I could even get the bars fixed. He acted like the goats
you see up in Shantytown, an' looked a good deal like Skip Jellison in
the face. I didn't figger on sheep bein' ugly. I wasn't so awful scared
at first, for I 'lowed he was playin', an' got up soon's I could. The
next thing I was down ag'in like one of them babies at a fair what you
throw balls at."
"It was an old ram, I s'pose. I should have thought you'd looked out for
him."
"You jest bet I did after that; but I hadn't time then, you see. Why, he
was all over that pasture quicker'n you could wink. After a while I got
'round by the other side of the fence, let down the bars, an' then
sneaked up through the bushes till I got the whole lot of 'em inter
line. Then I kept clubs flyin' so they jest had to scoot, an'
afterward--an' afterward, Teddy, what do you s'pose?"
"Why, how do I know?"
[Illustration: "WHY, HE WAS ALL OVER THAT PASTURE QUICKER'N YOU COULD
WINK!"]
"That old skinflint said I hadn't any business runnin' cows jest before
they was milked! I s'pose he thought I ought to stood there and let that
ram have fun with me. Well, it took him an' me pretty nigh an hour to
get 'em untangled, an' then he told me to drive 'em back to the pasture.
I told him I'd go home before I'd trust myself in the lane alone with
that black-faced sheep of his ag'in. Then he said I couldn't have any
supper, so I started down once more, picked up plenty of rocks, an'
after a while got 'em in. Then I came back to the house hungrier'n a
bear. He had the nerve, after all that, to tell me he was a man of his
word, an' so long as he'd promised I shouldn't have any supper, he'd
stick to it. I didn't get any, either! Why, I could have eaten a brick
that night, if there'd been butter on it."
"Didn't you have a thing to eat?"
"Not so much as a bite. I didn't want to come back an' say I got tired
in less'n a day, so thought I'd make the best of it, an' p'rhaps in the
mornin' things would be better."
"Of course then you got your breakfast."
"Oh, yes; then I got my breakfast! Want to know what I had? Well, if
Mose Pearson flashed up sich grub, an' asked me to pay five cents for
it, I'd tell him to go off somewhere an' lose hisself. There was three
slices of some kind er bread all full of hard lumps. It tasted bad when
you got one of 'em in your mouth. I thought they was plums first, an'
took four of 'em. You ought ter seen me when I found out my mistake!
Then there was some fried pork,--an' jiminy crickets! wasn't it salt?"
"Was that all they had?"
"There was a big dish of somethin' I called puddin'. I reckon it was
made of apples smashed up, an' I guess there was _some_ molasses in it,
only I couldn't taste any. I spread a little on the bread, an' had to
eat it, of course. Then I put some on the pork, an' got sick. I was
through breakfast, an' all hands went outdoors. Why, look here, Teddy;
it wasn't daylight, an' I'd been up as much as three-quarters of an
hour! The farmer asked me if I could feed the calf. I told him if the
calf didn't get any more to eat than I had since I'd been there, I could
feed him an' not half try. That made him kind er mad; but he didn't say
much, an' showed me how to go to work. If I had to feed that calf for a
week, I wouldn't have more'n one hand left, an' not the whole of that."
"I know what it is," Teddy said, sympathetically. "Well, what else did
you do?"
"Little of 'most everything, till it seemed as if my legs an' arms would
drop off. Got somethin' to eat at dinner, though, an' that helped along;
but when I turned in last night--say, Teddy, I allers wanted to know
what a bed was like; but when you tell 'bout gettin' comfort out er a
blanket stretched over a lot of ropes, why, I ain't in it at all! When I
went up-stairs last night it seemed as if I was goin' all to pieces, an'
I thought of you jest as snug in here as a bug, takin' your comfort
countin' the money; an' I says to myself, 'The farm's no place for me,
if my name is Carrots,' so I'll take a sneak'. I got out of the window
after the folks was asleep, an' I've walked ever since."
"How far was it?"
"A man said it was sixteen miles; but if it wasn't fifty, my name's
Dennis! Now I'm here, an' I'm goin' to stay. Say, ain't it time to go to
bed?"
"I reckon it is for you, Carrots; so turn in, an' I'll keep awake a
little longer. See you in the mornin', old man."
"So long," Carrots replied, sleepily; and almost before the words had
been uttered his eyes were closed in slumber.