THE BEST BOOKS SERIES
ANDY GRANT'S PLUCK
By HORATIO ALGER, Jr.
AUTHOR OF BEN'S NUGGET, CHESTER RAND, CHARLIE CODMAN'S CRUISE, FIVE
HUNDRED DOLLARS, HELPING HIMSELF, THE STORE BOY, THE TIN BOX, ETC.
THE NEW WERNER COMPANY
BOOK MANUFACTURERS
AKRON OHIO
BIOGRAPHY AND BIBLIOGRAPHY
Horatio Alger, Jr., the author of about seventy books, was born January
13th, 1834, at Revere, Massachusetts, and died July 18th, 1899, at
Natick, Massachusetts.
He was the son of a clergyman; was graduated at Harvard College, now
Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1852, and from its
Divinity School in 1860, and was pastor of the Unitarian Church at
Brewster, Massachusetts, from 1862 to 1866.
He removed to New York City in 1866, where he wrote his first book for
boys, _Ragged Dick_, which had a wonderful sale. This was followed by
_Fame and Fortune_, and many others, of which the best-known titles are:
_Andy Grant's Pluck, Adrift in New York, Ben's Nugget, Charlie
Codman's Cruise, Chester Rand, Five Hundred Dollars, Grit,
Helping Himself, The Young Adventurer, The Young Explorer, The
Young Miner, The Young Musician, The Store Boy, The Tin Box,
Walter Sherwood's Probation, and Work and Win_.
Mr. Alger's stories are pure in tone, inspiring in influence, and are as
popular now as when they were first published, because they were written
about real boys who did honest things successfully. Millions of his
books have been sold since they were first published. _The World's Work_
of June, 1910, said they were then selling at the rate of over one
million copies a year. This estimate is low; it is a fact that they are
now selling at the rate of over two million copies a year.
ANDY GRANT'S PLUCK.
CHAPTER I.
THE TELEGRAM.
"A telegram for you, Andy!" said Arthur Bacon, as he entered the room of
Andy Grant in Penhurst Academy.
"A telegram!" repeated Andy, in vague alarm, for the word suggested
something urgent--probably bad news of some kind.
He tore open the envelope and read the few words of the message:
"Come home at once. Something has happened.
"MOTHER."
"What can it be?" thought Andy, perplexed. "At any rate, mother is well,
for she sent the telegram."
"What is it?" asked Arthur.
"I don't know. You can read the telegram for yourself."
"Must you go home?" asked Arthur, in a tone of regret.
"Yes. When is there a train?"
"At three this afternoon."
"I will take it. I must go and see Dr. Crabb."
"But won't you come back again?"
"I don't know. I am all in the dark. I think something must have
happened to my father."
Dr. Crabb was at his desk in his library--it was Saturday afternoon, and
school was not in session--when Andy knocked at the door.
"Come in!" said the doctor, in a deep voice.
Andy opened the door and entered. Dr. Crabb smiled, for Andy was his
favorite pupil.
"Come in, Grant!" he said. "What can I do for you?"
"Give me permission to go home. I have just had a telegram. I will show
it to you."
The doctor was a man of fifty-five, with a high forehead and an
intellectual face. He wore glasses, and had done so for ten years. They
gave him the appearance of a learned scholar, as he was.
"Dear me!" he said. "How unfortunate! Only two weeks to the end of the
term, and you are our _primus_!"
"I am very sorry, sir; but perhaps I may be able to come back."
"Do so, by all means, if you can. There is hardly a pupil I could not
better spare."
"Thank you, sir," said Andy gratefully. "There is a train at three
o'clock. I would like to take it."
"By all means. And let me hear from you, even if you can't come back."
"I will certainly write, doctor. Thank you for all your kindness."
Penhurst Academy was an endowed school. On account of the endowments,
the annual rate to boarding scholars was very reasonable--only three
hundred dollars, including everything.
The academy had a fine reputation, which it owed in large part to the
high character and gifts of Dr. Crabb, who had been the principal for
twenty-five years. He had connected himself with the school soon after
he left Dartmouth, and had been identified with it for the greater part
of his active life.
Andy had been a pupil for over two years, and was an excellent Latin and
Greek scholar. In a few months he would be ready for college.
Dr. Crabb was anxious to have him go to Dartmouth, his own _alma mater_,
being convinced that he would do him credit and make a brilliant record
for scholarship. Indeed, it was settled that he would go, his parents
being ready to be guided by the doctor's advice.
From Penhurst to Arden, where Andy's parents lived, was fifty miles.
Starting at three o'clock, the train reached Arden station at five.
As Andy stepped on the platform he saw Roland Hunter, the son of a
neighbor.
"How are you, Andy?" said Roland, with a cheerful greeting. "How do you
happen to be coming home? Is it vacation?"
"No; I was summoned home by a telegram. Is--are they all well at home?"
"Yes, so far as I know."
Andy breathed a sigh of relief.
"I am glad of that," he said. "I was afraid some one in the family might
be sick."
"I don't think so. I would have heard, living so near."
"Father is well, then?"
"Come to think of it, I heard he had a bad headache."
"At any rate, it isn't anything serious. Are you going home? If you are,
I'll walk along with you."
"We can do better than that; I've got uncle's buggy on the other side of
the depot. I'll take you, bag and baggage."
"Thank you, Roland. My bag is rather heavy, and as it is a mile to the
house, I shall be glad to accept your offer."
"Bundle in, then," said Roland, merrily. "I don't know but I ought to
charge you a quarter. That's the regular fare by stage."
"All right! charge it if you like," rejoined Andy, smiling. "Are your
folks all well?"
"Oh, yes, especially Lily. You and she are great friends, I believe."
"Oh, yes," answered Andy, with a smile.
"She thinks a good deal more of you than she does of me."
"Girls don't generally appreciate their brothers, I believe. If I had a
sister, I presume she would like you better than me."
Roland dropped Andy at his father's gate.
It may be said here that Mr. Grant owned a farm of fifty acres, that
yielded him a comfortable living when supplemented by the interest on
three thousand dollars invested in government bonds. On the farm was a
house of moderate size which had always been a pleasant home to Andy and
his little brother Robert, generally called Robbie.
Andy opened the gate and walked up to the front door, valise in hand.
The house and everything about it seemed just as it did when he left at
the beginning of the school term. But Andy looked at them with different
eyes.
Then he had been in good spirits, eager to return to his school work.
Now something had happened, he did not yet know what.
Mrs. Grant was in the back part of the house, and Andy was in the
sitting room before she was fully aware of his presence. Then she came
in from the kitchen, where she was preparing supper.
Her face seemed careworn, but there was a smile upon it as she greeted
her son.
"Then you got my telegram?" she said. "I didn't think you would be here
so soon."
"I started at once, mother, for I felt anxious. What has happened? Are
you all well?"
"Yes, thank God, we are in fair health, but we have met with
misfortune."
"What is it?"
"Nathan Lawrence, cashier of the bank in Benton, has disappeared with
twenty thousand dollars of the bank's money."
"What has that to do with father? He hasn't much money in that bank."
"Your father is on Mr. Lawrence's bond to the amount of six thousand
dollars."
"I see," answered Andy, gravely, "How much will he lose?"
"The whole of it."
This, then, was what had happened. To a man in moderate circumstances,
it must needs be a heavy blow.
"I suppose it will make a great difference?" said Andy, inquiringly.
"You can judge. Your father's property consists of this farm and three
thousand dollars in government bonds. It will be necessary to sacrifice
the bonds and place a mortgage of three thousand dollars on the farm."
"How much is the farm worth?"
"Not over six thousand dollars."
"Then father's property is nearly all swept away."
"Yes," said his mother, sadly. "Hereafter he will receive no help from
outside interest, and will, besides, have to pay interest on a mortgage
of three thousand dollars, at six per cent."
"One hundred and eighty dollars."
"Yes."
"Altogether, then, it will diminish our income by rather more than three
hundred dollars."
"Yes, Andy."
"That is about what my education has been costing father," said Andy, in
a low voice.
He began to see how this misfortune was going to affect him.
"I am afraid," faltered Mrs. Grant, "that you will have to leave
school."
"Of course I must," said Andy, speaking with a cheerfulness which he did
not feel. "And in place of going to college I must see how I can help
father bear this burden."
"It will be very hard upon you, Andy," said his mother, in a tone of
sympathy.
"I shall be sorry, of course, mother; but there are plenty of boys who
don't go to college. I shall be no worse off than they."
"I am glad you bear the disappointment so well, Andy. It is of you your
father and I have thought chiefly since the blow fell upon us."
"Who will advance father the money on mortgage, mother?"
"Squire Carter has expressed a willingness to do so. He will be here
this evening to talk it over."
"I am sorry for that, mother. He is a hard man. If there is a chance to
take advantage of father, he won't hesitate to do it."