Saturday night came, and with it the end of Herbert's engagement in the
post office.
He pocketed the three dollars which his employer grudgingly gave him,
and set out on his way home.
“Wait a minute, Herbert,” said Eben. “I'll walk with you.”
Herbert didn't care much for Eben's company but he was too polite to say
so. He waited therefore, till Eben appeared with hat and cane.
“I'm sorry to cut you out of your place, Herbert,” said the young man.
“Thank you,” answered Herbert.
“It isn't my fault, for I don't want to go into the store,” proceeded
Eben. “A fellow that's stood behind the counter in a city store is fit
for something better, but it's the old man's fault.”
Herbert made no comment, and Eben proceeded:
“Yes,” said he, “it's the old man's fault. He's awfully stingy, you know
that yourself.”
Herbert did know it, but thought it would not be in good taste to say
so.
“I suppose Wayneboro is rather dull for you after living in the city,”
he remarked.
“I should say so. This village is a dull hole, and yet father expects
me to stay here cooped up in a little country store. I won't stay here
long, you may be sure of that.”
“Where will you go?”
“I don't know yet. I want to go to California, but I can't unless the
old man comes down with the requisite amount of tin. You'll soon have
your situation back again. I won't stand in your way.”
“I'm not very particular about going back,” said Herbert, “but I must
find something to do.”
“Just so!” said Eben. “The place will do well enough for a boy like you,
but I am a young man, and entitled to look higher. By the way, I've got
something in view that may bring me in five thousand dollars within a
month.”
Herbert stared at his companion in surprise, not knowing any short cut
to wealth.
“Do you mean it?” he asked, incredulously.
“Yes,” said Eben.
“I suppose you don't care to tell what it is?”
“Oh, I don't mind--it's a lottery.”
“Oh!” said Herbert, in a tone of disappointment.
“Yes,” answered Eben. “You may think lotteries are a fraud and all
that, but I know a man in Boston who drew last month a prize of fifteen
thousand dollars. The ticket only cost him a dollar. What do you say to
that?”
“Such cases can't be very common,” said Herbert, who had a good share of
common sense.
“Not so uncommon as you think,” returned Eben, nodding. “I don't mean to
say that many draw prizes as large as that, but there are other prizes
of five thousand dollars, and one thousand, and so on. It would be very
comfortable to draw a prize of even five hundred, wouldn't it now?”
Herbert admitted that it would.
“I'd send for a ticket by Monday morning's mail,” continued Eben, “if
I wasn't so hard up. The old man's mad because I ran into debt, and he
won't give me a cent. Will you do me a favor?”
“What is it?” asked Herbert, cautiously.
“Lend me two dollars. You've got it, I know, because you were paid off
to-night. I would send for two tickets, and agree to give you quarter of
what I draw. Isn't that fair?”
“It may be,” said Herbert, “but I haven't any money to lend.”
“You have three dollars in your pocket at this moment.”
“Yes, but it isn't mine. I must hand it to mother.”
“And give up the chance of winning a prize. I'll promise to give you
half of whatever I draw, besides paying back the money.”
“Thank you, but I can't spare the money.”
“You are getting as miserly as the old man,” said Eben, with a forced
laugh.
“Eben,” said Herbert, seriously, “you don't seem to understand our
position. Mother has lost the post office, and has but eight dollars a
month income. I've earned three dollars this week, but next week I
may earn nothing. You see, I can't afford to spend money for lottery
tickets.”
“Suppose by your caution you lose five hundred dollars. Nothing risk,
nothing gain!”
“I have no money to risk,” said Herbert, firmly.
“Oh, well, do as you please!” said Eben, evidently disappointed. “I
thought I'd make you the offer, because I should like to see you win a
big prize.”
“Thank you for your friendly intention,” said Herbert, “but I am afraid
there are a good many more blanks than prizes. If there were not, it
wouldn't pay the lottery men to carry on the business.”
This was common sense, and I cannot forbear at this point to press it
upon the attention of my young reader. Of all schemes of gaining wealth,
about the most foolish is spending money for lottery tickets. It
has been estimated by a sagacious writer that there is about as much
likelihood of drawing a large prize in a lottery as of being struck by
lightning and that, let us hope, is very small.
“I guess I won't go any farther,” said Eben, abruptly, having become
convinced that Herbert could not be prevailed upon to lend him money.
“Good-night, then,” said Herbert “Good-night.”
“Well, mother, I'm out of work,” said Herbert, as he entered the little
sitting room, and threw down his week's wages. Our young hero was of a
cheerful temperament but he looked and felt sober when he said this.
“But for the Grahams we should have a comfortable living,” the boy
proceeded. “First, the father took away the post office from you, and
now the son has robbed me of my place.”
“Don't be discouraged, Herbert,” said his mother. “God will find us a
way out of our troubles.”
Herbert had been trained to have a reverence for religion, and had faith
in the providential care of his heavenly Father, and his mother's words
recalled his cheerfulness.
“You are right, mother,” he said, more hopefully. “I was feeling
low-spirited to-night, but I won't feel so any more. I don't see how we
are to live, but I won't let it trouble me tonight.”
“Let us do our part, and leave the rest to God,” said Mrs. Carr. “He
won't support us in idleness, but I am sure that in some way relief will
come if we are ready to help ourselves.”
“God helps them that help themselves,” repeated Herbert.
“Exactly so. To-morrow is Sunday, and we won't let any worldly anxieties
spoil that day for us. When Monday comes, we will think over what is
best to be done.”
The next day Herbert and his mother attended church in neat apparel, and
those who saw their cheerful faces were not likely to guess the serious
condition of their affairs. They were not in debt, to be sure, but,
unless employment came soon, they were likely to be ere long, for they
had barely enough money ahead to last them two weeks.
Monday morning came, and brought its burden of care.
“I wish there was a factory in Wayneboro,” said Herbert. “I am told that
boys of my age sometimes earn six or seven dollars a week.”
“I have heard so. Here there seems nothing, except working on a farm.”
“And the farmers expect boys to take their pay principally in board.”
“That is a consideration, but, if possible, I hope we shall not be
separated at meals.”
“I will try other things first,” said Herbert. “How would you like some
fish for dinner, mother? My time isn't of any particular value, and I
might as well go fishing.”
“Do so, Herbert. It will save our buying meat, which, indeed, we can
hardly afford to do.”
Herbert felt that anything was better than idleness, so he took his
pole from the shed, and, after digging a supply of bait, set out for the
banks of the river half a mile away.
Through a grassy lane leading from the main street, he walked down to
the river with the pole on his shoulder.
He was not destined to solitude, for under a tree whose branches hung
over the river sat a young man, perhaps twenty-five years of age, with a
book in his hand.