A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.
Twelve o'clock was the dinner hour at Mr. Huxter's. John and he met
once more, but the dispute between them was not renewed. John was
deliberating as to what course he should pursue. Mr. Huxter was
secretly exulting in having defeated John's attempt to communicate with
his friends, little suspecting that John knew all about it. So on the
whole he was pleasanter than usual, and allowed his young guest to eat
in peace. Mrs. Huxter was glad to notice this change in his conduct,
though she hardly dared to hope that it would continue.
"So you took a walk this morning, Oakley?" said Mr. Huxter.
"Yes, sir."
"Where did you go?"
"I went to the top of the hill behind the tavern."
"How do you like our village?"
"I can't tell yet. I haven't got sufficiently acquainted."
"You'll have chance enough before you get through," said Mr. Huxter,
significantly.
John understood this very well; but did not see fit to show that he did
so. He did not wish to provoke a quarrel.
"I am going to write to my sister this afternoon," said Mr. Huxter.
"Perhaps you'd like to send a message."
"Thank you," said John; "I don't think of any message just at present."
"You wouldn't like to send your love to Ben, would you?" asked Mr.
Huxter, jocosely.
"I don't think I should," said John, quietly.
"There isn't much love lost between you two, I reckon."
"We are not very good friends," said John, in the same quiet tone.
"I'm sure it's no wonder," said Mrs. Huxter; "Ben was always a
troublesome, headstrong boy."
"Let me tell you, Mrs. Huxter," said her husband, sharply, "it doesn't
look very well in you to run down your own relations."
Mrs. Huxter thought it prudent not to reply.
"Let me see," said Mr. Huxter, as they rose from the table, "it's
Friday,--too late in the week to begin anything. You shall have till
Monday morning to look about you, and then we'll see if we can't find
something for you to do."
Here was a disclosure for John. He had understood that he was to board
with Mr. Huxter. Now it appeared that the latter intended to set him to
work. Had he any authority for doing so, and what was John's duty under
the circumstances. He wished earnestly that he were able to consult
Squire Selwyn without delay, and this reminded him that his letter had
not yet gone. It would be useless to leave it again at the village
post-office. It must go from some other. John had all the afternoon
before him, and if the next town were not too far off, he determined to
walk over and post his letter there. Not wishing Mr. Huxter to have any
clue to his plans, he decided to obtain the necessary information, not
from Mrs. Huxter, though he did not doubt her willingness to give it,
but from some other person.
He went out into the road, and began to walk slowly in a direction
opposite to that which he had taken in the morning. It was the stage
road he knew, and was probably the most direct route to the next town.
Our hero had walked about three-quarters of a mile, when he heard a
loud clattering sound behind him. Turning around, he saw a farm-wagon,
driven by a boy of about his own age. It was but little past noon,
and the walk which might be a long one was sure to be a hot one. As
the boy-driver appeared to be alone, and there was plenty of room for
another, John hailed him.
"Hallo!" he called out. "Hold on a minute."
"Whoa!" shouted the boy, and brought his horse to a stop.
"Are you going to the next village?" inquired John.
"To Milbank, you mean?"
"Yes," said John, who was not quite sure whether he meant it or not,
but was willing to take the risk.
"Yes, I'm going there. Don't you want a ride?"
"That's just what I was going to ask. I'm willing to pay for it."
"I don't want any pay," said the boy; "I'd rather have company than go
alone."
"How far is Milbank?"
"It's a pretty good piece,--most five miles."
John was glad he had not attempted to walk.
"You don't live round here, do you?" asked John's new acquaintance.
"No."
"I thought I hadn't seen you. Whereabouts are you stayin'?"
[Illustration]
"At Mr. Huxter's."
"Is he a relation of yours?" asked the boy, looking at John with
interest.
"No, he isn't," said John, hastily, unwilling for a moment to have it
supposed that there was any such tie between him and his temporary host.
"Are you going to stay long?"
John was not surprised at these questions, for in the country, where
he had always lived, it was the rule to be inquisitive about other
people's affairs, and he felt that he ought to make some return for his
ride.
"I don't think I shall," he said.
He would like to have replied decidedly in the negative; but he felt
that he was by no means certain about the length of his stay.
"How do you like Huxter?" asked his new acquaintance, with rather a
comical look.
"I've seen men I liked better," said John, smiling.
"Shouldn't wonder," said the other. "He gets awful tight sometimes."
"It is a pity," said John, "for Mrs. Huxter seems to be a good sort of
a woman, and it must be hard on her."
"It would be hard for any woman to have such a husband. I don't know
Mrs. Huxter much, but I never heard anything against her. I've a great
mind to tell you," said the boy, looking at John to judge whether he
appeared as if he might be trusted with a secret, "a trick that one or
two of the fellows played on Mr. Huxter once when he was drunk. But
you'll be sure not to tell?"
John, whose curiosity was somewhat excited, gave the required promise.
"You see," continued his informant, "I was walking along with George
Sprague one afternoon, when we came across old Huxter lying side of the
road as drunk as he could be. George is rather a wild boy, and always
up to some mischief or other. That afternoon he happened to have a
little red paint, which he had got at the painter's shop for his father
to use. As soon as we saw old Huxter snoring away, George winked to me,
and said, 'Huxter's nose is red, but I've a great mind to make it a
little redder. I should like to see how the old fellow will look.' With
that he took out his brush, and touched Huxter's nose with it lightly,
making it as red as a brick. I was afraid he would wake up and chase
us, for he's pretty violent when he's drunk; but he was too far gone,
and never stirred. George took the paint home, and then we came out to
see if Huxter had gone home. We found he had, and we afterwards heard
how the trick came out."
[Illustration]
"When he got home and went into the kitchen, Mrs. Huxter screamed as
soon as she saw him.
"'What's the matter with you?' he growled.
"'O Mr. Huxter!' she said, clasping her hands, 'I knew that drinking
would be the ruin of you.'
"'Then you're a fool,' he said. 'Drinking a little now and then don't
do me any harm; but you're a woman, and have no more sense than a
kitten.'
"'You don't believe me, look at your nose,' said his wife.
"'What's the matter with my nose?' asked old Huxter, a little surprised.
"'Look at it, and you won't be surprised at my words.'
"With that Huxter did look, and when he saw his nose glaring red, he
was pretty well frightened, I can tell you. He had no more suspicion
than his wife that any one had been playing a trick upon him, and he
was afraid that his nose would always be so. He got frightened and went
to bed, and then asked his wife to go for the doctor."
"Did the doctor tell him how it was?"
"No; he thought it would do him no harm to be frightened a little; so
he lectured him about his habits, but told him that he thought he could
cure him this time by using a warm lotion. It was nothing but warm
water, with something put in to stain the water and make him think it
was something else; but Huxter did not know that, and was very grateful
to the doctor for relieving him.
"The fright had such an effect upon him that he didn't drink anything
for a whole week. Then he began again, and got bolder by degrees, till
now he's as bad as ever."
"How did you find out how the doctor treated the case?"
"Because George Sprague is the doctor's son. The doctor told all about
it at home as a good joke. George heard it all, but never breathed a
word to his father about his being the one that painted Huxter's nose.
The doctor didn't say anything to George, but he looked at him rather
queerly, as if he had some suspicion. It was a good joke,--wasn't it?"
"It would have turned out pretty well if it had stopped Mr. Huxter's
drinking."
"Nothing will do that. He's a pretty hard case But you mustn't say a
word about what I've been telling you. It would get George and me into
trouble."
"No, I won't say anything about it."
"Where do you live?"
"In Hampton."
"Whereabouts is that? Is it far from here?"
"About eighty miles, I should think. It lies to the north."
"Is it a pleasant place?"
"I think so; but then I was born there, you know, and perhaps that is
the reason I think so."
"Well, I was born in Jackson, but I don't think much of it. I guess
we'll move away next spring. Father talks of selling his farm. What is
your name?"
"My name is John Oakley."
"And mine is David Wallace."
The boys now felt thoroughly acquainted, and chatted together on a
variety of subjects, such as interest boys. While they were in the
midst of their conversation, they came to a grist-mill.
"I must stop here about ten minutes, to leave my grain," said David.
"The village is a mile further on. If you'll wait I'll carry you there
afterwards."
"I don't want you to go just on my account," said John.
"I am going there any way," said David. "There are better stores at
Milbank than at home, and mother asked me to buy her two or three
things. So you can come as well as not, and ride back too, if you don't
want to stay long."
"Thank you, David," said John. "I shall be glad to accept your offer.
It's rather hot walking, and I shan't want to stop but a few minutes.
Shall you go anywhere near the post-office?"
"Close by."
"I'll just run in there a minute."
"Have you got anything else to do?"
"No."
"You didn't set out to walk just to go to the Milbank post-office, did
you?" asked David, in some surprise.
"I had a letter to mail."
"Couldn't you mail it at our post-office?"
"Yes, I could; but it wouldn't go."
"Why not?"
"I've a great mind to tell you. You told me one secret, and I'll tell
you another, but on the same condition,--you won't tell anybody?"
"I wish I may have my head chopped off if I do," said David, earnestly.
John felt sure that he could trust his new acquaintance, though they
had so recently been brought to the knowledge of each other, and he
wanted somebody to confide in. So he gave David Wallace a general idea
of his story, not mentioning, however, the will, as he could see no
advantage in so doing.
"So Huxter thinks you don't know anything of his having stopped your
letter?"
"I am sure he does not."
"It's a good joke on him. He will never think of your coming so far to
mail a letter."
Part of this conversation took place after they had left the mill, and
were driving towards Milbank. They were soon in the village. It was a
much larger and pleasanter place than Jackson, and much more important
also, being the county seat, and therefore having a court-house and a
jail. John looked around him with interest, and did not dream how lucky
he was in taking this journey on this particular afternoon.