SQUIRE TURNER.
Before doing anything else, Harry determined to consult some one about
the land warrant. It might be worth nothing, or very little; but in their
present circumstances they could not afford to give up even a little.
As he had suggested in his conversation with his mother, he decided
to call on Squire Turner and ask his advice. He did not particularly
like the squire, who was not popular in the neighborhood; but still he
had the reputation of being well acquainted with matters of business,
and, though not a regular lawyer, was accustomed to draw up deeds, and
conveyances, and wills, and, in fact, supplied the place of a lawyer so
far as his neighbors were concerned. There was no one in the village so
likely as the squire to advise him correctly about the land warrant. So
Harry put on his cap the next morning, and, with the document in his
breast-pocket, set out on his way to Squire Turner’s residence.
It was a large, square dwelling-house, setting back some distance from
the road. There were two gates, at the right and left hand, and a
semicircular driveway, extending from one to the other, passed the front
door.
It was half-past eight o’clock, and James Turner was standing on the
front steps with his books under his arm. He had just come out, and was
about to start for school. James surveyed Harry’s approach with some
curiosity.
“Halloo!” said he; “what do you want?”
This was not a very civil or cordial greeting, and Harry did not feel
compelled to satisfy his curiosity.
“My business is not with you,” he said; “it is with your father.”
“I suppose you’ve come for a job,” said James, coarsely. “I suppose
you’ll be awful poor.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Harry, coolly. “I guess I shall be able
to make a living.”
“Maybe my father’ll hire you to saw wood.”
“Thank you; but that isn’t the business I am thinking of following.”
“Perhaps you are going to be a merchant,” sneered James.
“Very likely I may be some time.”
Harry was not much troubled by the rudeness of James; for he cared
nothing for him or his good opinion. James was a little nettled to find
that his taunts rebounded so harmlessly, and this led him to one parting
shot.
Harry had ascended the front steps, and was about to ring the bell, when
James said, “You needn’t ring. You can go round to the back door.”
“Is that where you go in?” asked Harry.
“No.”
“Then, if you use the front door, I shall,” and Harry rang a peal a
little louder than he would have otherwise done.
James muttered something about his not knowing his place; but before the
door was opened marched off for school.
The door was speedily opened by a servant.
“Is Squire Turner in?” asked Harry.
“Yes, he is. Won’t you come in?”
Harry entered, and passed into a room on the right, which the squire
generally used as a sitting room. It was provided with a desk, studded
with pigeon-holes, most of which were filled with papers. Here it was
that the amateur lawyer received business calls, and transacted such
business as came to his hands.
He looked round as Harry entered.
Squire Turner, whom I may as well describe here, was a tall man, with
iron-gray hair, and a slight stoop in the shoulders. His face, which was
rather harsh, began to show wrinkles. It was not, on the whole, a very
pleasing or encouraging aspect; but Harry Raymond, who was used to the
squire’s looks, did not waste much thought upon this. It was his nature
to go directly to the point.
“Did you want to see me?” asked the squire, adjusting his spectacles, and
looking at our hero.
“Yes, sir,” said Harry.
“I’m rather busy now. Be as quick as you can.”
“My father’s death,” said Harry, his lip quivering a little as he said
it, “makes it necessary for me to form some plans about getting along. I
was reckoning up yesterday how much we had to start with, when my mother
showed me a paper which may be worth something. Probably you will know.
So I have brought it along to show you.”
“Where is it?” asked Squire Turner.
Harry drew it out from his pocket, and handed it to the squire.
“I see it’s a land warrant in favor of your grandfather,” he said, after
a little examination.
“Yes, sir.”
“Given in return for his services in the war of 1812.”
“Yes, sir. Is it worth anything?”
“Didn’t he ever take up the land?”
“No, sir.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, sir; except that Wisconsin was a good ways off, and I
believe he had some property at that time, so that he did not need it.
Mother says he was offered twenty-five dollars by an agent, but wouldn’t
accept it. After that, he appears to have put it away in his drawer, and
forgotten it.”
“Humph!” said the squire, reflectively, running his eyes over the
document.
“Do you think I can get anything for it?” asked Harry.
“I am not prepared to say, positively,” said the squire, slowly. “My
impression is, that, after this length of time, it would be impossible to
get anything for it.”
“I was afraid that might be the case,” said Harry. “Is there any way of
finding out about it?”
“If you’ll leave it with me, I will take steps to ascertain,” said Squire
Turner.
“Thank you, sir. If we get anything for it, we shall, of course, be
willing to pay you for your trouble.”
Most men would at once have assured Harry that no payment would be
necessary; but Squire Turner was never known to refuse a fee,—he was
too fond of money for that,—nor was it his intention to do so now. He
accordingly answered, “Well, I will see about it. It may take some time.”
“There was something else I wished to speak to you about,” said Harry.
“Proceed.”
“You hold a mortgage upon our place.”
“Well?”
“It is now reduced to four hundred dollars by payments made by my father.”
“Do you wish to pay the remainder?”
“No, sir; I am not able to. What I want is, to get another hundred
dollars from you on the same security, making it five hundred dollars
instead of four.”
“What do you want with the money?”
“I have been thinking that I might get a stock of goods in the city, and
go about selling them. I have got to do something, and I think I might
make money that way.”
“I couldn’t let you have the money,” said the squire.
“No, sir, I suppose not. But mother is willing, as she will tell you
herself.”
“I don’t know but I can do it,” said the squire, after a little pause.
“Mind, I don’t give any advice as to the plan you have in view. You
may make it pay, and you may not. Perhaps it would be better to get
something to do about here.”
“There isn’t much chance in Vernon,” answered Harry; “and there are
plenty to do what little work there is.”
“Well, that’s your affair. About the money, I will consider the matter,
and if you will come round to-morrow, I will let you know what I have
decided.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And about the land warrant, I will write out to a lawyer I know in
Milwaukie, and ask his opinion. When his answer comes, I will let you
know.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Harry; and, his business being at an end, he took
his cap, and with a bow left the room.
On the whole, he was better pleased with the result of the interview than
he anticipated. Squire Turner had not been very cordial or sympathetic,
it is true, but he seemed disposed to grant the request which he had
made; and, though Harry did not like him, he had a very good opinion of
his business abilities.
“If we can only get a hundred dollars or so for the land warrant,” he
said to himself, “it will be a great help.”