“How much have you lost by your son, Mr. Graham?” asked George Melville.
“Nearly two hundred and fifty dollars,” groaned Ebenezer, “counting what
I paid in the city to his creditors, it is terrible, terrible!” and he
wrung his hands in his bitterness of spirit.
“I am sorry for you,” said Melville, “and still more for him.”
“Why should you be sorry for him?” demanded Ebenezer, sharply. “He
hasn't lost anything.”
“Is it nothing to lose his consciousness of integrity, to leave his home
knowing that he is a thief?”
“Little he'll care for that!” said Mr. Graham, shrugging his shoulders.
“He's laughing in his sleeve, most likely, at the way he has duped and
cheated me, his father.”
“How old is Eben, Mr. Graham?”
“He will be twenty in November,” answered Ebenezer, apparently puzzled
by the question.
“Then, as he is so young, let us hope that he may see the error of his
ways, and repent.”
“That won't bring me back my money,” objected Ebenezer, querulously.
It was clear that he thought more of the money he had lost than of his
son's lack of principle.
“No, it will not give you back your money, but it may give you back a
son purified and prepared to take an honorable position in society.”
“No, no; he's bad, bad!” said the stricken father. “What did he care for
the labor and toil it took to save up that money?”
“I hope the loss of the money will not distress you, Mr. Graham.”
“Well, no, not exactly,” said Ebenezer, hesitating. “I shall have to
take some money from the savings bank to make up what that graceless boy
has stolen.”
It was clear that Ebenezer Graham would not have to go to the poorhouse
in consequence of his losses.
“I can hardly offer you consolation,” said George Melville, “but I
suspect that you will not be called upon to pay any more money for your
son.”
“I don't mean to!” said Ebenezer, grimly.
“Going away as he has done, he will find it necessary to support
himself, and will hardly have courage to send to you for assistance.”
“Let him try it!” said Ebenezer, his eyes snapping.
“He may, therefore, being thrown upon his own resources, be compelled to
work hard, and that will probably be the best thing that can happen to
him.”
“I hope he will! I hope he will!” said the storekeeper. “He may find out
after a while that he had an easy time at home, and was better paid
than he will be among strangers. I won't pay any more of his debts. I'll
publish a notice saying that I have given him his time, and won't pay
any more debts of his contracting. He might run into debt enough to ruin
me, between now and the time he becomes of age.”
George Melville considered that the storekeeper was justified in taking
this step, and said so.
While they were on the train, Ebenezer got measurably reconciled to his
loss, and his busy brain began to calculate how much money he would
save by ceasing to be responsible for Eben's expenses of living and
prospective debts. Without this drawback, he knew he would grow richer
every year. He knew also that notwithstanding the sum it had just cost
him, he would be better off at the end of the year than the beginning,
and to a man of his character this was perhaps the best form of
consolation that he could have.
Suddenly it occurred to Mr. Graham that he should need a clerk in place
of his son.
“Now that Eben has gone, Herbert,” he said, “I am ready to take you
back.”
This was a surprise, for Herbert had not thought of the effect upon his
own business prospects.
“I have got a place, thank you, Mr. Graham,” he said.
“You don't call trampin' round huntin' and fishin' work, do you?” said
Ebenezer.
“It is very agreeable work, sir.”
“But it stands to reason that you can't earn much that way. I wouldn't
give you twenty-five cents a week for such doings.”
“Are you willing to pay me more than Mr. Melville does?” asked Herbert,
demurely, smiling to himself.
“How much does he pay you now?” asked Ebenezer, cautiously.
“Six dollars a week.”
“Six dollars a week!” repeated the storekeeper, in incredulous
amazement. “Sho! you're joking!”
“You can ask Mr. Melville, sir.”
Ebenezer regarded George Melville with an inquiring look.
“Yes, I pay Herbert six dollars a week,” said he, smiling.
“Well, I never!” ejaculated Ebenezer. “That's the strangest thing I
ever heard. How in the name of conscience can a boy earn so much money
trampin' round?”
“Perhaps it would not be worth as much to anyone else,” said Melville,
“but Herbert suits me, and I need cheerful company.”
“You ain't goin' to keep him long at that figger, be you, Mr. Melville?”
asked Mr. Graham, bluntly.
“I think we shall be together a considerable time, Mr. Graham. If,
however, you should be willing to pay Herbert a larger salary, I might
feel it only just to release him from his engagement to me.”
“Me pay more'n six dollars a week!” gasped Ebenezer. “I ain't quite
crazy. Why, it would take about all I get from the post office.”
“You wouldn't expect me to take less than I can earn elsewhere, Mr.
Graham,” said Herbert.
“No-o!” answered the storekeeper, slowly. He was evidently nonplused by
the absolute necessity of getting another clerk, and his inability to
think of a suitable person.
“If Tom Tripp was with me, I might work him into the business,” said
Ebenezer, thoughtfully, “but he's bound out to a farmer.”
An inspiration came to Herbert. He knew that his mother would be glad to
earn something, and there was little else to do in Wayneboro.
“I think,” he said, “you might make an arrangement with my mother, to
make up and sort the mail, for a time, at least.”
“Why, so I could; I didn't think of that,” answered Ebenezer, relieved.
“Do you think she'd come over to-morrow mornin'?”
“If she can't, I will,” said Herbert. “I don't meet Mr. Melville till
nine o'clock.”
“So do! I'll expect you. I guess I'll come over and see your mother this
evenin', and see if I can't come to some arrangement with her.”
It may be added that Mr. Graham did as proposed, and Mrs. Carr agreed
to render him the assistance he needed for three dollars a week. It
required only her mornings, and a couple of hours at the close of the
afternoon, and she was very glad to convert so much time into money.
“It makes me feel more independent,” she said. “I don't want to
feel that you do all the work, Herbert, and maintain the family
single-handed.”
The same evening Herbert broached the plan of traveling with Mr.
Melville. As might have been expected, his mother was at first startled,
and disposed to object, but Herbert set before her the advantages, both
to himself and the family, and touched upon the young man's need of a
companion so skillfully and eloquently that she was at last brought to
regard the proposal favorably. She felt that George Melville was one to
whom she could safely trust her only boy. Moreover, her own time would
be partly occupied, owing to the arrangement she had just made to assist
in the post office, so that Herbert carried his point.
The tenth of October arrived, the date which George Melville had fixed
upon for his departure. Mrs. Carr had put Herbert's wardrobe in order,
and he had bought himself a capacious carpetbag and an umbrella, and
looked forward with eagerness to the day on which their journey was to
commence. He had long thought and dreamed of the West, its plains and
cities, but had never supposed that it would be his privilege to make
acquaintance with them, at any rate, until he should have become twice
his present age. But the unexpected had happened, and on Monday he and
George Melville were to start for Chicago.