A TROUBLESOME BOARDER.
TOM RE-ENTERED his new boarding-place as the clock struck eight. Mr. and
Mrs. Middleton were discussing him, but stopped short as he came in.
They foresaw that he would be troublesome, but there is great power in
money, and they had just a thousand reasons for keeping on good terms
with him.
“Have you been taking a walk, Mr. Temple?” said Nathan blandly.
“Yes, sir.”
“I hope you like our village,” chimed in the lady.
“I don’t know,” said Tom. “I don’t like the people much.”
“Indeed! May I ask why?”
“They stared as me as if they had never seen a gentleman before, and one
old woman stopped and wanted to know all about me.”
“It must have been Prudence Peabody,” said Mr. Middleton. “How did she
look?”
“She was born at a time when it wasn’t fashionable to be good-looking,”
answered Tom. “She is short, wrinkled, and walks a little lame.”
“That’s she.”
“I told her I was the grandson of General Washington’s first cousin,”
said Tom, “and the old fright believed it.”
“I fear, my young friend, that you are not sufficiently regardful of the
truth,” expostulated Mr. Middleton, with mild censure.
“Oh, I was only chaffing. If she believes it, it won’t do her any harm.”
“I had a fight besides,” continued Tom.
“A fight! Not with Miss Peabody?” asked Mrs. Middleton, horror-stricken.
“Not much. I don’t fight with women,” said Tom. “It was with two boys.
One said his father was a lawyer.”
“It must be James Davenport,” said Nathan, disturbed. “How came you to
fight with him?”
“He and another fellow were pitching ball, and wouldn’t let me into the
game, so I grabbed the ball, and they went for me.”
“Were you much hurt?”
“I wasn’t the one that was hurt,” said Tom significantly. “I laid them
both flat and threw the ball into a corn-field.”
“Really,” said Mrs. Middleton, who stood in considerable awe of the
lawyer’s family, “that was very unprincipled.”
“I regret exceedingly, my young friend,” said Nathan gravely, “that you
should have committed an unprovoked assault upon the son and nephew of
one of our first citizens.”
“It was their fault,” said Tom coolly. “Why were they so boorish as to
decline playing with me?”
“They didn’t know you.”
“They know me now,” said Tom significantly.
“Was the ball lost?” asked Mr. Middleton, disturbed.
“Very likely. It wouldn’t be easy to find it in a corn-field.”
“Then you are responsible for the loss.”
“Oh, I am willing to pay for it. I told them so. If the old man——”
“The old man!”
“Yes, the lawyer—if he sends you a note about it, just pay it to him and
charge to me.”
“How can I be sure that I shall be repaid?” inquired Nathan cautiously.
“Oh, I’ll see you paid. I’ve got twenty-five dollars in my pocket-book.”
Nathan was relieved. He had no fancy for running any pecuniary risk.
“Still,” he said, “I regret this occurrence.”
“You must be very quarrelsome,” said Mrs. Middleton, who didn’t like
Tom, and would have showed it much more plainly if he had been a poor
boy.
“I suppose I am,” said Tom frankly. “They used to call me the bully of
the village, but I never tyrannized over weak boys. It’s only the
upstarts and pretenders that I interfere with. Those boys I saw to-night
need a few lessons in good manners.”
“My young friend, I fear you quite mistake their character. They stand
high socially—_very_ high—indeed I may say they belong to one of the
first families, if not our very first. I had hoped you would find them
congenial companions.”
“I am afraid you’ll be disappointed,” said Tom. “They seem to me like
snobs.”
Mr. and Mrs. Middleton exchanged looks of discomposure. They feared that
Tom would get them on bad terms with the lawyer’s family, whom, like
true sycophants, they were disposed to fawn upon.
“We will talk of this another time,” said Nathan. “Whenever you are
tired you are at liberty to retire. Is there anything you would like
first?”
“Yes,” said Tom unexpectedly. “I should like something to eat.”
“We have had supper,” said Mrs. Middleton, in a pointed manner.
“I know it, but I have been walking, and am hungry.”
“It is very injurious to the health to eat just before going to sleep,”
said Nathan, reinforcing his wife.
“I’ll take the risk,” said Tom coolly. “If I get sick no one will suffer
but myself.”
“Corinthia, is there anything in the pantry?” asked Nathan
deprecatingly, for he saw a frown on the face of his spouse.
“I suppose so,” said Mrs. Middleton shortly. “Perhaps _you_ are hungry,
too,” she added sarcastically.
“Oh, dear, no!” said Nathan hastily, “not after our hearty supper.”
“Does he call the supper hearty?” thought Tom. “I’ll bet the old woman
won’t let him have what he wants to eat.”
Here Tom was mistaken, for Mr. and Mrs. Middleton were quite agreed in
their notions of economy.
Very much against her will Mrs. Middleton produced some bread and
butter, and on Tom’s specially calling for it, some meat. Her thin lips
were compressed with displeasure, and she very evidently thought our
hero a glutton. If she expected her displeasure would produce the least
effect on Tom, she was mistaken. He ate heartily—in fact, he ate all
that was set before him.
“Have you had enough?” asked Mrs. Middleton sharply.
“It will do,” said Tom coolly.
“I am glad of it,” she retorted.
“Pleasant female that!” thought Tom. “She isn’t used to me yet. She’ll
find it harder to starve me than she thinks.”
“Now, I think I’ll go to bed,” said Tom. “Oh, there’s one thing I forgot
to mention; I noticed there was a straw-bed in my room.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Middleton. “Doesn’t it suit you?”
“No, I am used to a mattress.”
“Mr. Middleton and I sleep on a straw-bed.”
“It’s all right if you like it, but I don’t like it.”
“Really,” said Mrs. Middleton, who could not control herself at the
bidding of policy as well as her husband, “if you are an inmate of our
family, I think you will have to conform to our regulations.”
“Then,” said Tom, “I think I had better not trouble you any longer. I
can easily find another boarding-place.”
But this did not suit Mr. Middleton. He could not bear the idea of
giving up twenty dollars a week, and although it would cost money to buy
a mattress, according to Tom’s unreasonable desire, and make more
liberal arrangements for the table, all that could be done, and still a
considerable margin be left for profit.
“My young friend,” he said, “Mrs. Middleton and I will talk over the
matter and see what we can do. Of course our first desire is to make you
as comfortable as possible.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said Tom, with the air of one who heard
something unexpected.
“I hope you will have no cause to doubt it,” Nathan continued.
“Good-night, and pleasant dreams.”
“Good-night,” said Tom. “Please thump on my door in the morning, when
breakfast is ready.”
“He’s a perfect pig,” exclaimed Mrs. Middleton, when our hero had left
the room. “I never in all my born days saw a boy eat so much.”
“He certainly has a good appetite,” said Nathan.
“He’ll eat us out of house and home,” said the lady indignantly.
“But you must remember, my dear, how well we are paid. You get six
dollars a week clear profit, while out of my fourteen I have to pay the
large expense of his board.”
“True,” said Mrs. Middleton, more calmly, “viewed in that light, it is
well to keep him. But I ask you, Mr. Middleton, is it well to yield to
all his unreasonable demands?”
“Why, my dear, we must try to keep him contented or he will go away.”
“I hate him!” exclaimed Mrs. Middleton, with energy.
“I can’t say I like him,” said Nathan, “but I like the money I am to
receive from him.”
The two talked together for an hour, Tom being the staple of their
conversation. They were about to retire for the night, when a series of
noises of a startling character resounded through the house, evidently
proceeding from Tom’s chamber.
“Goodness gracious!” exclaimed Mrs. Middleton. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s that boy,” gasped Nathan.
“Go up and see what is the matter, Mr. Middleton.”
“Come with me, Corinthia,” said Nathan, in tremulous accents. “He may be
crazy.”
In a state of nervous apprehension the two made their way to the door of
Tom’s room.
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