CHAPTER XXXI.
ANDY IS ENGAGED
Jeremiah Brackett brightened up as his glance took in the strong, sturdy figure of our hero.
He stood very little chance of securing the services of a boy belonging to the village, for his penurious disposition was too well known; but here was a stranger, who knew nothing about him, and who was probably in search of employment.
“Is this Mr. Brackett?” asked Andy, politely.
“Yes; that’s my name.”
“I was told you wanted to hire a boy.”
“Who told you so?”
“A boy I met on the road.”
“Was his name Peter?”
“I believe he said so.”
“A lazy, shiftless boy!” said Brackett, warmly. “He had a good place here, and I looked after him as if he had been my own son; but he didn’t do his duty.”
“He didn’t say anything about that,” said Andy, gravely.
“No, I reckon not. Did he say anything about me?” asked Brackett.
“He said you and he couldn’t get along very well.”
“All his own fault,” returned the farmer, who wished to remove any prejudice which Peter’s story may have excited in the mind of Andy. “He had as nice a home as any boy would want, and easy work; but some boys are never satisfied. Was you looking for work?”
“I thought I might hire out for a while.”
“What do you call yourself?”
“Henry Miller.”
“Was you raised near here?”
“Not very.”
“Did you ever work on a farm?”
“I have worked a little in that way.”
“Can you milk?”
“Yes.”
“The next question is, how much did you calculate to get?” asked Brackett, cautiously.
“Peter told me how much you gave him,” said Andy.
Mr. Brackett was glad to hear this, as he knew that most boys expected larger wages. He was glad that Andy knew what his predecessor had received.
“Yes,” he said, with the air of a liberal man, “I gave Peter fifty cents a week, though he wasn’t really worth it. Fifty cents and board, and lodgings, and washing,” he added, by way of making the salary seem as munificent as possible.
“It doesn’t seem to me very high pay,” said Andy, who thought it politic to drive a bargain.
“Remember, you’re only a boy,” said Mr. Brackett, “and boys can’t do as much as men. Fifty cents is excellent pay for a boy of – how old be you?”
“Sixteen.”
“For a boy of sixteen. Of course, when you’re a man grown, you can get a good deal more. Why, I pay one man as much as a dollar and a quarter a day!”
“Would I have to work very hard?” asked Andy.
“Oh, no! Just enough for healthy exercise,” said Brackett, in a light, cheerful tone. “It does boys good to use their limbs. I was a dreadful hard worker when I was a boy.”
“You look as if you’d been tired ever since,” said Andy to himself, as he watched the lounging attitude of his future employer.
“You’ll have a nice, pleasant home,” continued Mr. Brackett – “plenty of life and fun. I’ve got four beautiful children, that’ll look upon you as a brother. Mrs. Brackett, who is a perfect lady, will take an interest in you and make you feel at home.”
Before Andy could reply, Mrs. Brackett made her appearance at the back door.
“Jeremiah!” she screamed. “I want some more wood – quick!”
“All right, Lucindy. Well, what do you say? Will you come?”
“I’ll try it a week,” said Andy.
“Then you can begin by sawing and splitting some wood. There’s the wood pile, and there’s the saw and ax. You’d better work up at a pretty good quantity.”
“Well, I’ve got rid of that job,” thought Brackett, with a sigh of relief. “He looks like a good, strong boy. I hope I’ll be able to keep him.”
CHAPTER XXXII.
TOMMY’S INNOCENT TRICK
It was not till supper-time that Andy was introduced to the members of Mr. Brackett’s family.
“I hope you’ll do better than the last boy,” said Mrs. Brackett.
“I hope so,” said Andy.
Here Mr. Dodge entered the room.
“Father, I’ve hired a new boy,” said Mr. Brackett.
“I see you have,” replied the old man, demurely, looking at Andy as if he had never seen him before. “What’s his name?”
“Henry Miller.”
“I am glad to see you, Henry,” said the old gentleman, with a smile.
“Thank you, sir!”
Just then Andy felt his next neighbor at the table, Tommy, trying to stick a pin into his leg. It was one of the engaging tricks of Mr. Brackett’s promising heir.
Now, Andy was not inclined to submit to anything of the kind, and he forcibly took the pin from the hands of the young mischief-maker.
“Gimme my pin!” screamed Tommy.
For answer, Andy stuck it into his coat lapel on the opposite side.
“Have you got Tommy’s pin?” asked Mrs. Brackett, angrily.
“Yes, ma’am,” answered Andy.
“Give it right back to him!”
“So I will, after supper; but I object to his using my leg for a pincushion,” answered our hero, coolly.
Mrs. Brackett’s temper was not of the best.
“Do you hear that, Mr. Brackett?” she snapped.
“Hear what, Lucinda?”
“Hear that boy defy me to my face?”
“I guess you’d better give Tommy his pin,” said Mr. Brackett, who stood in awe of his wife.
“You must excuse me, sir, unless you give him a different place at the table,” said Andy, firmly, but with perfect politeness.
“Come here and sit by your mother, my angel!” said Mrs. Brackett.
As Tommy rose to obey, Andy, with a smile, restored to him his pin.
I am sorry to relate the sequel. Tommy, emboldened by his success, seized an opportunity playfully to prick his mother, and found that he had made a decided blunder. The lady instantly seized the young culprit by the collar and dragged him from the room, shaking him vigorously.
“I’ll learn you to play tricks on your ma!” she exclaimed, angrily. “Not another mouthful shall you have to eat to-night, you saucy little imp! But what can be expected when your father upholds you in your bad actions?”
“Really, Lucindy,” exclaimed Mr. Brackett, justly astonished, “I don’t understand you!”
Mrs. Brackett volunteered no explanation, but flounced back to her seat, and the remainder of the meal was passed in solemn and dreary silence.
Andy was very much amused at the sudden change in Mrs. Brackett’s sentiments toward her angel boy, but of course said nothing.
Later in the evening he got a chance to speak a few words, unobserved, with the old gentleman.
“You did right, Henry,” said Mr. Dodge – (It was decided from motives of prudence that he had better call our hero by this name) – “in showing that young torment that he couldn’t play tricks on you. He is about the worst behaved boy I know.”
“Does he ever trouble you, sir?”
“ ‘No; not much. His parents think it would not be politic to let him.”
“Mrs. Brackett seems a very agreeable woman,” said Andy, laughing.
“She’s a good deal worse than her husband. She is very bad-tempered, mean and disagreeable. She isn’t lazy, like her husband, but he is better natured than she. How do you think you shall like staying here?”
“I wouldn’t stay a day longer if it were not for you, sir.”
“Thank you, Henry! You are a good boy. I shan’t stay long myself, but there are some things I must attend to before I can go away.”
Here Brackett came in sight, and the two separated, not wishing to excite his suspicions.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
MR. DODGE’S MYSTERIOUS JOURNEY
Andy soon found that his position was by no means an easy one. Though Mr. Brackett was a lazy man himself, he had no notion of allowing his hired boy to imitate his example. Even if he had been inclined to be indulgent, Mrs. Brackett would have taken care that Andy had enough to do. She had taken a dislike to our hero, dating from the first supper when Andy firmly resisted little Tommy’s attempt to use him as a cushion.
“I don’t know what you think, Mr. Brackett,” said his wife, one day, about a week after Andy’s term of service began, “but I consider that new boy of yours an impudent, good-for-nothing upstart!”
“He is a good worker, Lucindy,” said Mr. Brackett. “He does more work than any boy I ever had.”
“Maybe he does and maybe he doesn’t, but that ain’t the point.”
“It is the point with me, my dear. Between ourselves, we get him very cheap. I don’t believe I could get another boy that would do so much work for fifty cents a week.”
“Fifty cents a week seems to me very good wages,” answered Mrs. Brackett, whose ideas of compensation were not very liberal.
“I think it’s enough myself for an ordinary boy; but Henry is uncommonly smart.”
“He feels uncommonly smart, I can tell you that,” retorted the lady. “Why, Brackett, he seems to consider himself of as much importance as you or I.”
This was quite true. Andy had gauged Mr. and Mrs. Brackett pretty accurately, and felt a decided contempt for them both. Both were mean, one lazy and the other ill-tempered, while neither was up to the average in refinement or education. So he was disposed to rate himself considerably higher than either; and who of my young readers will deny that he has a right to do so?
“Well, Lucindy,” continued Brackett, in a pacific tone, “it doesn’t make any difference to us what the boy thinks of himself. If he chooses to make himself ridiculous by his airs, why let him, for all I care.”
“But there’s something more, Mr. Brackett,” said his wife.
“What more?”
“The way he treats Tommy. You haven’t forgotten how he treated him at supper the very first night?”
“Tommy was trying to prick him with a pin. You couldn’t expect him to stand that?”
“He could have mentioned it to you or me, then. Instead of that, what does he do? Why, he seizes the poor child’s hand and pulls the pin away from him. You ought to have flogged him for it.”
“You didn’t seem to like it yourself when Tommy attacked you with a pin,” said Mr. Brackett, laughing. “You didn’t stand on any ceremony, but hauled the boy out of the room,” and Mr. Brackett unguardedly laughed at the recollection.
His wife reddened and inquired, sharply:
“So you choose to compare me to your hired boy, do you, Mr. Brackett?”
“Not that I know of, Lucindy.”
“You seem to think it makes no difference whether Tommy pricks him or me – his ma and your wife,” said Mrs. Brackett, severely.
“Really, Lucindy, you twist my words so I don’t know hardly what I do mean.”
“I want you to stand by your own flesh and blood, Mr. Brackett. I don’t want you to allow them to be imposed on and ill-treated by a young tramp whom you have hired to do chores.”
“I don’t mean to. What do you expect me to do, anyway?”
“I expect you to teach that boy his place.”
“If I don’t treat him well he won’t stay. He’ll leave me all of a sudden, as Peter did.”
“Then you can get another boy.”
“That isn’t so easily done as you may suppose. I can’t get any of the boys round here to work for me – I’m sure I don’t know why – and new ones don’t come along every day. I don’t fancy being left without one to do the chores myself.”
“If you did them all, you wouldn’t work as hard as I do,” said his wife, contemptuously, and not altogether without a basis of truth.
“You can’t expect a woman to know anything about a man’s work,” said Mr. Brackett, in a complacent tone of superiority.
“I know I could do all your work, and get done in half the day,” said his wife.
Mr. Brackett shrugged his shoulders, and was about to saunter off, when his father-in-law made his appearance.
“Mr. Brackett,” said he, “if you can spare Henry and your horse and team, I would like to have him drive me over to Jefferson this afternoon.”
“Really, father,” said Brackett, who did not like the proposal, for it would throw upon his shoulders some of Andy’s work, “I’d like to oblige you, but it would be very inconvenient. You see, Henry’s got his work to do, and – ”
“I didn’t ask it as a favor,” said Mr. Dodge. “I mean to pay you for the boy’s services, and also for the horse and team.”
Now, money was the god of both Mr. and Mrs. Brackett, and this put quite a different face on the matter.
“Let father have the boy and team,” said Mrs. Brackett. “You can spare them.”
“It would be worth as much as two dollars,” said Brackett.
“I will pay you two dollars,” said Simon Dodge promptly.
Here a new and brilliant idea struck Mr. Brackett, and he said, briskly:
“I’ll tell you what, father; I’ll drive you over myself, instead of Henry, and I won’t charge you a cent more, even if my time is more valuable than his.”
He reflected that it would be easier driving round the country than staying at home and doing the boy’s work.
“Thank you for your kind offer,” said the old man, quietly, “but I can’t accept it.”
“You mean you’d rather have the boy drive you?” asked Mr. Brackett, in amazement.
“I would,” answered his father-in-law, candidly.
“Really that doesn’t seem friendly,” said Mr. Brackett.
“I generally like to have my own way, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, quietly. “I don’t mind allowing you two dollars and a half, which is more than I should need to pay at the stable. Is it yes or no?”
“Oh, of course, I agree,” said Brackett, rather disappointed. “Do you want to go now?”
“Yes.”
“What in the world is he going to do?” thought Mr. and Mrs. Brackett; for this was a request out of the ordinary course. “It must be something he doesn’t want us to know.”
Doubtful as to how much information they could extract from Andy, a sharp plan suggested itself to Mrs. Brackett.
“Father,” said she, “have you any objection to taking Tommy along with you? The dear boy loves to be with his grandpa, and he can sit between you and Henry. He doesn’t take up much room.”
“I won’t take him this afternoon, Lucinda,” said Mr. Dodge, mildly.
“The poor child would enjoy it so much to ride with his grandpa,” pleaded Mrs. Brackett.
“Tommy must wait till another time,” said “grandpa,” firmly.
Mrs. Brackett was displeased, and, though she did not venture to say anything more, she showed by her manner that she considered her poor boy was slighted.
The team was soon ready, and the old man rode off with our hero.
Mr. and Mrs. Brackett looked after them, with a look of baffled curiosity.
“What does this mean, Jeremiah?” asked his wife, at last.
“That’s more than I can tell, Lucindy,” returned her husband.
“Seems mighty mysterious to me.”
“So it does.”
“If he’d only have taken Tommy, the dear child would have told us just where he went and what he did.”
“So he would. Maybe that was what he was afraid of.”
“I’ve been thinkin’ – ”
“Well, what have you been thinkin’, Jeremiah?” asked his wife, impatient at her husband’s pause.
“I’ve been thinkin’ that perhaps father is going to make his will this afternoon.”
“Why shouldn’t he let us know?”
“Oh, perhaps he wants to surprise us.”
“Jeremiah, do you think there is any fear of his leaving his property to them relations of his in the East?”
“I can’t say, but I guess not. He never hears from them. Like as not, he doesn’t know where they live.”
“We must find out, some way, whether he makes a will, and what’s in it,” said Mrs. Brackett, nodding vigorously. “When they get home, try to get it out of the boy what the old man did, and where he went.”
“I will, Lucindy.”
CHAPTER XXXIV.
WHAT MR. DODGE DID IN JEFFERSON
Andy had no previous intimation that he would be called upon to drive Mr. Dodge over to Jefferson, but he was very glad to do so.
When they were fairly started, Mr. Dodge said:
“Henry, probably Mr. and Mrs. Brackett will cross-examine you on our return, to learn where I went and what I did. They are very curious on that subject – so much so that Mr. Brackett offered to drive me over himself.”
“I won’t tell them,” said Andy, very promptly.
“You might find it a little awkward to refuse,” said the old man, “and for this reason I will not tell you precisely.”
“That will be the best way,” answered Andy, who was not troubled by idle curiosity.
“I will only say that the business I have to do will help prepare the way for our departure.”
“I am glad of that, sir, for I don’t much enjoy being in Mr. Brackett’s employment.”
“It will soon be over, Henry, and I will take care that you lose nothing by what you are doing in my behalf.”
“I don’t want to be paid for that, Uncle Simon.”
“Have you heard from your mother since you came here?”
“No, sir; I have not dared to write, for fear the letter might be seen by Mr. Brackett or his wife.”
“You shall have an opportunity of writing from Jefferson. We will drive directly to the hotel and put up our team. You can write your letter in the hotel while I am out attending to my business.”
Andy was very glad of this permission, for he knew that his mother would feel anxious till she had heard of his safe arrival.
When the team was disposed of, Andy entered the hotel office.
Jefferson was the shire town of the county, and was therefore at times the resort of a considerable number of visitors. For this reason it required and possessed a very commodious hotel.
At the desk Andy saw a pleasant-looking boy of about his own age, whose name, as he afterward learned, was George Tierney. The boy looked social and friendly, and he addressed him.
“Can you let me have a sheet of paper and an envelope?” he asked.
“Certainly,” said George, briskly. “Do you want to write a letter?”
“Yes, I should like to do so.”
“You will find a table and ink in there,” said George, pointing to a small room leading from the office. “Of course you will want a postage stamp.”
“Yes, I would like one.”
George produced one, and Andy paid for it. Then our hero, who had thought of a plan for carrying on a correspondence with his mother, asked:
“Would you be willing to do me a favor?”
“Of course I would,” said George, pleasantly – “that is, unless you want to borrow a thousand dollars,” he added, with a laugh. “I could not oblige you there.”
“It isn’t anything of that kind. I want to know if I may have a letter directed to me in your care?”
“Of course; but why don’t you have it sent to where you live?”
“There is an objection which I can’t mention just now.”
“Where do you live?”
“Over at Cato. I am working for Mr. Brackett, a farmer.”
George whistled.
“I thought so when I saw you with Mr. Dodge,” he said. “I worked there once myself.”
“You did? How long did you stay?” inquired Andy, with interest.
“I stood it a week,” laughed George, “and then left. I came here, where I have an excellent place. Mr. Jones, the landlord, treats me tiptop.”
“I should think you’d like it a good deal better.”
“Can’t you get a better place?” asked George, in a tone of sympathy.
“I am willing to stay for the present,” said Andy. “Mr. Dodge is kind to me.”
“Yes, he is a kind man. If Brackett had been as good, I would have stayed longer, though I only got fifty cents a week. Did you ever hear of such mean pay?”
“That’s what I get myself,” answered Andy.
“You won’t get rich on it very soon.”
“No, I don’t expect to.”
Andy went into the adjoining room and wrote his letter. He had finished it, and given it to George Tierney to mail, when Mr. Dodge returned.
Though the old gentleman did not mention the nature of the business in which he had been engaged, we may state that he had been to the office of the lawyer with whom he had for years been on friendly and confidential terms, and there executed a will, which gave his entire property, invested in stocks and bonds, to his niece, Mrs. Gordon, in trust for Andy, to become the property of our hero when he should have attained his majority. He named the lawyer as his executor.
“There,” he said, when the document was duly signed and attested, “that takes a burden from my mind.”
“What would the Bracketts say if they knew what you have done this day?” said the lawyer, smiling; for between him and his client there were no secrets.
“They have no right to feel disappointed,” said the old man, “for I have acted very generously by them. I gave them half of all I had, and I didn’t wait till my death to do it.”
“You have dealt a good deal more generously by them than I would have done,” said the lawyer, emphatically.
“If it were to do over again, I would act differently; but what is done can’t be undone. Perhaps it is all for the best.”
On the way home Mr. Dodge seemed to be in unusually good spirits. As he had said to the lawyer, he felt that a burden had been lifted from his mind. He had made his will and provided that his property should go where he wished it to go, and felt no further anxiety on that point.
But if he felt no anxiety, Mr. and Mrs. Brackett did.
They felt that something was in the wind. Mr. Dodge must have some object in going to Jefferson and refusing the company of his son-in-law, and even of dear Tommy.
They waited impatiently for the return of the team, and were on the alert when it drove into the yard.
“Did you have a pleasant ride, father?” asked Brackett.
“Yes, Jeremiah, thank you.”
“Did you attend to all your business, or will you want the horse another day?”
“I didn’t say I went on business,” said the old man, shrewdly. “I may want the horse another day. Here is your money, Jeremiah.”
Mr. Brackett extended his hand with alacrity, and took the proffered two dollars and a half, which he put in his pocket.
“You can have it any time, father,” he said. “I’m always ready to oblige you.”
Mr. Dodge went into the house, leaving Andy in the hands of his son-in-law.
“Did father call round much over in Jefferson, Henry?” asked Mr. Brackett, with an assumption of careless indifference.
“No, sir,” answered Andy, demurely.
“Where did he go?” pursued Brackett, in the same tone, but with an expression of restrained eagerness.
“He drove right to the hotel,” answered Andy.
“Yes, but after that?”
“He put up the horse there, and left me there.”
“He did!” ejaculated Brackett, disappointed.
“Yes.”
“Did he leave the hotel?”
“Yes, but he didn’t tell me where he went.”
Brackett looked hard at Andy, to see if he were keeping anything back, but our hero’s manner was perfectly honest and sincere, and he was forced to conclude that the boy knew nothing more than himself of Mr. Dodge’s errand.
“I didn’t think father was so sharp,” said Brackett to his wife. “He wouldn’t let the boy know where he went.”
But Mr. Brackett had his curiosity satisfied, after all. One of his neighbors had been over to Jefferson the same afternoon, and reported to the farmer that he had seen Mr. Dodge coming out of the office of Mr. Brief, the lawyer.
“What was he doing there?” thought Brackett, perplexed. “Did he make a will? That’s what I would like to know.”
But that was a question more easily asked than answered.