GRIT'S MISFORTUNE.
The next morning Grit came down to breakfast nearly an hour later than
usual. It might have been because he was unusually fatigued, or it may
have been on account of his slumbers having been interrupted. When he
came down-stairs, he looked at the clock, and realized that he had
overslept himself.
"I am nearly an hour late, mother," he said. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I thought you were tired, Grit, and needed sleep."
"Where is Mr. Brandon? I suppose he has not got up!"
"Yes, he has had his breakfast and gone out."
"He is in a great hurry to spend my ten cents," said Grit, laughing.
"What do you mean, Grit?"
"I had a visit from him last night," Grit explained. "He rummaged my
pockets, and was successful in finding a dime."
"Is it possible?"
"Why should you be surprised, mother? I was not."
"Did he say anything to you?"
"Yes; he has found out somehow about the sixty dollars, and he asked me
to give it to him."
"Oh, Grit, I am afraid there will be trouble," said Mrs. Brandon
anxiously. "He won't rest till he gets the money."
"Then he won't rest at all," said Grit firmly.
"I am afraid you will have to give it to him, Grit."
"Not if I know what I am about. No, mother, the money is safe, where he
won't find it. I won't tell you, for he might annoy you till you told
him."
"No, Grit; don't tell me. I would rather not know. How happy we were
before he came, and how rich we should feel if this money had come to
you before Mr. Brandon came home!"
"That is true, mother. It's a shame that he should come home to give us
so much trouble."
"I can't see how it's all going to end," murmured Mrs. Brandon sadly.
"Nor I; but I mean to resist Mr. Brandon till he finds it's of no use
trying to appropriate my money. When he finds he can't get anything out
of us except a bare living, he may become disgusted and leave us."
"He won't do it while he has any hope left. What do you think he has
been trying to persuade me to do, Grit?"
"I don't know."
"He wants me to mortgage this cottage, and give him the money."
"Just like him, mother. I hope you were firm?"
"Yes, Grit. I told him I would not consent. It is all we have. I cannot
part with our home and the roof that shelters us."
"Of course not, mother. You would be very foolish if you did. Did he
mention any one that wanted to buy it?"
"Yes, he said that Mr. Green would be willing to advance money upon it."
"Mr. Green--the landlord of the hotel? I don't doubt it. He knows that
Brandon would pay back the whole for drink in a short time."
"I am afraid that would be the case."
"Mother," said Grit, with energy, "promise me that you will never
consent to this wicked plan."
"No, Grit, I won't. I consider that the house is as much yours as mine,
and I am not willing to leave you without a home."
"I don't so much mind that, for I could shift for myself somehow, but I
want you to keep it in your own hands, and I am not willing that Mr.
Brandon should sacrifice it for drink."
"I agree with you, Grit. Whatever it may cost me, I won't consent."
"The sooner he becomes convinced that he has nothing to hope from either
of us, the sooner he will leave us," said Grit. "If I thought he would
go away and never come back, I would be willing to let him have the
sixty dollars, but it would only make him stay, in the hope of getting
more."
By this time Grit had finished his breakfast.
"I must get to work, mother," he said. "I'll be home to dinner at the
usual time, if I can."
"If not, I will save something for you, Grit."
The young boatman made his way to the river. Here an unpleasant surprise
awaited him. His boat was not where he had left it. He looked in all
directions, but it had disappeared.
"What can have become of it?" thought Grit, in perplexity.