Herbert Carter's Legacy; Or, the Inventor's Son

CHAPTER VII
A WELCOME DISCOVERY

Mr. Spencer entered the house so lately vacated by the old man who had occupied it for forty years.

“The trunk is in your uncle’s room,” said the lawyer, “or ought to be. I suppose it has not been moved.”

The two entered the chamber. It was a small, poorly furnished apartment, covered with a carpet which, cheap in the first place, was so worn with use that the bare floor showed in spots.

“Your uncle was not very luxurious in his taste,” said Mr. Spencer. “There are plenty of day laborers in town who have as good rooms as this.”

“I suppose he liked laying up money better than spending it,” said Herbert.

“You are right there. This must be the trunk.”

It was a small, black hair trunk, studded with brass nails. Mr. Spencer took a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked it. Lifting the cover he exposed to view a collection of woolen clothes-coats, vests, and pants.

“This is your legacy, Herbert,” said the lawyer. “I am afraid you won’t find it very valuable. What is this?”

He drew out, and held up to view, a blue cloak of ample proportions.

“Will you try it on?” he said, smiling.

Herbert threw it over his shoulders, and looked at himself in a small seven-by-nine looking-glass which was suspended over the washstand. It came down nearly to his feet.

“I should hardly dare to wear this without alteration,” he said; “but there is a good deal of good cloth in it. Mother can cut a coat and vest out of it for me.”

“Here is a blue coat with brass buttons. I remember your uncle used to wear it to church twenty years ago. Of late years he has not attended, and has had no occasion to wear it. Here is a pair of pantaloons; but they are pretty well worn.”

So they went through the list, finding little of value. The last article was a vest.

“It seems heavy,” said Herbert.

The lawyer took it from him and examined it.

“There seems to be an inside pocket,” he said. “There must be something in it.”

The pocket was confined by a button; Mr. Spencer thrust his fingers inside, and drew out something loosely enveloped in brown paper.

“What have we here?” he said, in a tone of curiosity.

The secret was speedily solved. When the paper was opened, it was found to contain five gold eagles, and two dollars in silver coins.

Herbert’s eyes glistened with delight as he viewed the treasure.

“Fifty-two dollars!” he exclaimed. “And it is mine.”

“Undoubtedly. The will expressly says you are to have the trunk, and all it contains.”

“I wonder whether Uncle Herbert remembered this money?”

“We can’t tell as to that, but it doesn’t affect your title to the money. I congratulate you, Herbert.”

“It will do us a great deal of good. Then there are the hundred dollars for mother. Why, we shall be rich.”

“Then you are content with your legacy?” asked Mr. Spencer.

“Oh, yes; it was more than I expected, or mother, either.”

“Yet it is but a mere drop of your uncle’s wealth,” said the lawyer, thoughtfully.

“That may be; but he needn’t have left us anything.”

“I see you look upon it in the best way. You are quite a model heir—very different from most of your relatives—Mrs. Pinkerton, for instance.”

“I supposed she expected more than I did.”

“She appeared to expect the bulk of the property. I am afraid her husband will have a hard time of it for a week to come,” said the lawyer, laughing. “He will have to bear the brunt of her disappointment. Well, there seems no more for us to do here. We have found out the value of your legacy, and may lock the trunk again. If you will lend a hand, we will take it across to my house, so that there may be no delay when the stage calls in the morning.”

“All right, sir.”

James Leech was looking out of the front window, awaiting the return of Mr. Spencer and Herbert with not a little curiosity. At length he spied them.

“Tom!” he exclaimed, “your father and that Carter boy are coming back.”

“Why do you call him that Carter boy? Why don’t you call him Herbert?”

“I am not on intimate terms with him,” said James.

“That is strange, as you both live in the same village.”

“You must remember that there is some difference in our social positions,” said James, haughtily.

“That is something I never think of,” said Tom, candidly. “I am a genuine republican.”

“I am not,” said James. “I should like to live in England, where they have noblemen.”

“Not unless you could be a nobleman yourself, I suppose?”

“No; of course not.”

By this time Mr. Spencer and Herbert were bringing the trunk into the front entry.

“I shouldn’t think a professional gentleman like your father would like to be seen carrying a trunk across the street,” said James.

“Oh, he don’t care for that; nor should I,” said Tom.

Herbert entered the room.

“Well, Herbert, what luck?” asked Tom.

“Better than I expected,” said Herbert, gayly. “What do you say to that?” and he displayed the gold and silver.

“How much is it?” asked James, his vanity melting under the influence of curiosity.

“Fifty-two dollars.”

“Capital!” said Tom.

“It isn’t much,” said James, in a tone of depreciation.

“I’ll bet Herbert is richer than you, James,” said Tom, in a lively manner. “Can you show as much money as that?”

“I shall be a rich man some day,” said James, with an air of importance.

“Your father may fail.”

“The moon may be made of green cheese,” retorted James, loftily. “How about the clothes? Are you going to show them?”

“I think not,” said Herbert.

“A parcel of rags, I suppose,” said James, with a sneer.

“Not quite so bad as that,” responded Herbert, good-naturedly. “Still, I think I shall hardly venture to wear any of them without alteration.”

“I wouldn’t wear second-hand clothes,” remarked James Leech, in his usual amiable tone.

“Perhaps you would if you were poor,” said Herbert, quietly.

“But I am not poor.”

“Fortunately for you.”

“Then you won’t show the clothes? I suppose they look as if they were made in the year one.”

“For our forefather Adam?” suggested Tom, laughing. “I am inclined to think the old gentleman in question hadn’t clothes enough to fill a trunk as large as that.”

“Probably not,” said Herbert; “he had no uncle, you know, to leave any to him.”

“What are you going to do with your money, Carter?” asked James, whose curiosity got the better of his dignity occasionally.

“I haven’t made up my mind yet. I think I shall find plenty of uses for it.”

“What would you do with it if you had it, James?” asked Tom.

“I can have more if I want to. I have only to ask father.”

“Then you’re better off than I. Say, father, will you give me fifty-two dollars?”

“When you are twenty-one I may do it.”

“You see,” said Tom. “But you haven’t answered my question. What would you do with the money if you had it?”

“I think I would buy a new rowboat; there’s a pond near our house.”

“When you get it send for me, and I’ll help you row.”

“Very well,” said James; but he did not answer very positively. In fact, he was by no means sure that his father would comply with his request for money, although it suited him to make this representation to his companions.

Herbert retired early. It had been a fatiguing day for him, and it would be necessary to rise in good season the next day, as the coach left Randolph for Wrayburn at an early hour.

CHAPTER VIII
HERBERT’S RETURN

Mrs. Carter awaited Herbert’s return with interest. She felt lonely without him, for he had never before been away from home to stay overnight. But there was a feeling of anticipation besides. Her hopes of a legacy were not very strong, but of course there was a possibility of her uncle’s having remembered them in his will.

“Even if it is only five dollars, it will be welcome,” she thought. “Where people are so poor as we are, every little helps.”

She sat at her sewing when the stage stopped before the door.

“I’m glad he rode home,” thought the widow; “the walk both ways would have been too fatiguing.”

“But why does not Herbert come in at once?”

He had gone behind the coach, and the driver was helping him take down a trunk.

“Where did he get it?” thought his mother, in surprise.

“I guess you can get it into the house yourself,” she heard the driver say.

“Yes, I’ll manage it; you needn’t wait,” said Herbert.

The driver cracked his whip, and the lumbering old coach drove on.

“Oh, there you are, mother,” said Herbert, looking toward the house for the first time. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

And he began to draw the trunk in through the front gate.

“Where did you get that trunk, Herbert?” asked Mrs. Carter.

“Oh, it’s my legacy,” said Herbert, laughing. “Here it is,” and he lifted it up, and laid it down in the front entry.

“What is inside?” asked his mother, with natural curiosity.

“It isn’t full of gold and silver, mother, so don’t raise your expectations too high. It contains some clothes of Uncle Herbert, out of which you can get some for me.”

“I am glad of that, for you need some new clothes. Well, we were not forgotten, after all.”

“You don’t seem disappointed, mother.”

“I might have wished for a little money besides, Herbert; but beggars cannot be choosers.”

“But sometimes they get what they wish for. Uncle Herbert left you a legacy of a hundred dollars.”

“A hundred dollars!” said Mrs. Carter, brightly. “Why, that will be quite a help for us. Was it left to me?”

“Yes, to you.”

“It was kind in your uncle. My legacy is more than yours, Herbert.”

“I don’t know about that, mother; look here!”

And Herbert displayed his gold and silver.

“Here are fifty-two dollars that I found in the pocket of a vest. It belongs to me, for the will says expressly that I am to have the trunk and all it contains.”

“I am really glad,” said his mother, joyfully. “We are more fortunate than I expected. Sit down and tell me all about it. Who got the bulk of the property?”

“None of the relations. It is bequeathed to the town of Randolph, to found a high school, to be called the Carter School.”

“Well, it will do good, at any rate. Didn’t the other relations receive legacies?”

“Small ones; but they didn’t seem very well satisfied. Do you know Mr. and Mrs. Josiah Pinkerton?”

“Slightly,” said Mrs. Carter, smiling. “Were they there?”

“She was, and he was in attendance upon her. She didn’t give him a chance to say much.”

“I have always heard she kept him in good subjection. How did they fare?”

“They and their two children received a hundred dollars apiece. She was mad and wanted to break the will. Then there was a Mr. Granger, a farmer, who got the same; and Cornelius Dixon, also.”

“I hope Aunt Nancy fared better. She is the best of them all.”

“She is allowed to occupy the house, rent free, and is to have an income of two hundred dollars a year as long as she lives.”

“I am really glad to hear it,” said Mrs. Carter, with emphasis. “She deserves all her good fortune. One of the best things her brother did in life was to allow her such an income as to keep her independent of public charity; I feared he would forget to provide for her.”

“She seems a good old lady. She asked me to invite you to call and see her.”

“I should like to do so, and if I ever have occasion to go to Randolph I will certainly do so.”

“Now, mother,” said Herbert, when he had answered his mother’s questions, “I want you to take this money, and use it as you need.”

“But, Herbert, it was left to you.”

“And if you use it I shall receive my share of it. By the way, your money will be sent you next week; so Mr. Spencer assured me.”

“Who is Mr. Spencer?”

“The lawyer who read the will. He was very kind to me. It was at his house I spent the night. I got acquainted with his son, Tom, a fine fellow. I met also James Leech, whom I cannot compliment so highly. He was visiting Tom.”

“I never thought him an agreeable boy.”

“Nor anyone else, I expect. He appears to think he can put on airs, and expects everybody to bow down to him because his father is a rich man.”

“I hope you didn’t quarrel with him,” said Mrs. Carter, apprehensively.

“Oh, no, he sneered at me, as usual, and drew a ridiculous picture of my appearance with my uncle’s clothes on.”

“Do you mind what he says?” asked his mother, anxiously.

“A little,” said Herbert, “but I can stand it if he doesn’t go too far.”

“He has an unhappy nature. I think his father must have been somewhat like him when he was young.”

“So do I. He feels just as important as James. I like to see him strut round, as if he owned the whole village.”

“He does own more of it than anyone else. Among the rest, he owns our house, in part.”

“You mean he has a mortgage on it, mother?”

“Yes.”

“Seven hundred and fifty dollars, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Herbert.”

“How much do you consider the whole worth?” asked our hero, thoughtfully.

“It cost your father fifteen hundred dollars. That is, the land—nearly an acre—cost three hundred dollars, and the house, to build, twelve hundred.”

“Would it sell for that?”

“Not if a sale were forced; but, if anybody wanted it, fifteen hundred dollars would not be too much to pay.”

“I wish the mortgage were paid.”

“So do I, my son; but we are not very likely to be able to pay it.”

“How fine it would have been if Uncle Herbert had left us, say eight hundred dollars, so that we might have paid it up, and still have had a little left for immediate use!”

“Yes, Herbert, it would have made us feel quite independent, but it isn’t best speculating on what might have been. It is better to do the best we can with what we really have.”

“I suppose you are right, mother; but it is pleasant to dream of good fortune, even if we know it is out of reach.”

“The trouble is, our dreaming often interferes with our working.”

“It shan’t interfere with mine. I’ve got something to work for.”

“Do you refer to anything in particular, Herbert?”

“Yes. I want to pay off this mortgage,” answered Herbert, manfully.

“Some day, when you are a man, you may be able; but the time is too far off to spend much time upon it at present.”

Herbert had moved to the window as the conversation went on. Suddenly he called to his mother: “Look, mother, there is Squire Leech riding up. He is pointing out our house to the man that is riding with him. Do you know who it is?”

“Yes, it is Mr. Banks, his new superintendent. He has just come into the village.”

“I wonder why he pointed at our house?”

“Probably he was telling him that he had a mortgage on it.”

“When does the interest come due on the mortgage?”

“Next week. I had only five dollars laid by to meet it, but, thanks to my legacy, I shall have no trouble in the matter.”

“If you couldn’t pay the interest, could the squire foreclose?”

“Yes, that’s the law, I believe.”

“And he would take advantage of it. But he never shall, if I can prevent it.”

CHAPTER IX
A BUSINESS CONFIDENCE

Squire Leech lived in a large, square, white house, situated on an eminence some way back from the street. It had bay windows on either side of the front door, a gravel walk, bordered with flowers, leading to the gate, a small summerhouse on the lawn, and altogether was much the handsomest residence in the village. Three years before, the house, or, at all events, the principal rooms, had been newly furnished from the city. No wonder the squire and all the family held up their heads, and regarded themselves as belonging to the aristocracy.

In a back room, used partly as a sitting room, partly as an office, the great man and his new superintendent, Amos Banks, were sitting, the evening previous to Herbert’s return home. It may be asked why Squire Leech needed a superintendent. To this I answer that his property, beside the home farm, included two outlying farms, which he preferred to carry on himself rather than let to tenants. Besides, he had stocks and bonds, to which he himself attended. But the farms required more attention than he individually was willing to bestow. Accordingly he employed a competent man, who had the general supervision of them. His former superintendent having emigrated to the West, he had engaged Mr. Banks, who had been recommended to him for the charge. Banks came from a town thirty miles distant, and had never lived in Wrayburn before. He had just entered upon his duties, and was talking over business matters with the squire.

“You will occupy the house on the Ross farm,” said Squire Leech. “I think you will find it comfortable. I have always reserved it for my superintendent.”

“There is a house on the other farm, I suppose,” said Banks.

“Yes; but that is occupied by a family already. I don’t rent the farm, that is, except about half an acre of land for a kitchen garden. That I have prepared to cultivate myself.”

“Precisely,” said the superintendent. “I will tell you why I inquired. You tell me there will be need of another permanent farm workman. Now I know an excellent man—in fact, he is a cousin of my own—who would be glad to accept the place.”

“Very well. I have no objection to your engaging him, since you vouch for him.”

“Oh, yes; he is a faithful and industrious man, and he will be willing to do work for moderate wages. Indeed, he cares more for a permanent place than high pay. Where he is now, he is liable to be idle for some months in the year.”

“Is he a family man?”

“Yes; he has two young children.”

“Of course he will move to Wrayburn.”

“Yes; if he can get a suitable house. In fact, that was what I was coming at. I thought of your other house, but you say that is already occupied.”

“Yes; and the family has occupied it for several years. I should not like to dislodge them.”

“Do you know any other small house my cousin could rent?”

Squire Leech reflected.

“The fact is,” he said, after a pause, “there has not been much building going on in Wrayburn for several years, and it is hard to find a vacant house.”

“I am sorry for that. I am afraid it may interfere with Brown’s coming.”

“There is one house, I think, that would just suit your cousin,” said Squire Leech, slowly.

“Where is it?”

“It is now occupied by the widow Carter and her son.”

“Is she going to move?”

“She wouldn’t like to.”

“Then how will that help us? Who owns the house?”

“She does; that is, nominally. I hold a mortgage on the place for seven hundred and fifty dollars, which is more than half the market value.”

“Then it may eventually fall into your hands?”

“Very probably. Between ourselves, I think it probable that she will fail to be ready with the semi-annual interest, which comes due next week. She is quite poor—has nothing but this property—and has to sew for a living, or braid straw, neither of which pays well.”

“Suppose she is not ready with the interest, do you propose to foreclose?”

“I think I shall. I will allow her three or four hundred dollars for her share of the property, and that will be the best thing she can do, in my opinion.”

Whether or not it would be the best thing for Mrs. Carter, it certainly wouldn’t be a bad speculation for the squire, since the place, as already stated, was worth fully fifteen hundred dollars. How a rich man can deliberately plot to defraud a poor woman of a portion of her small property, you and I, my young reader, may find it hard to understand. Unfortunately there are too many cases in real life where just such things happen, so that there really seems to be a good deal of truth in the old adage that prosperity hardens the heart.

If Mr. Banks had been a just or kind-hearted man, he would not have encouraged his employer in the plan he had just broached; but he was selfish, and thought he saw in it an easy solution of the difficulty which he had met with in securing a house for his cousin. He did not know Mrs. Carter, and felt no particular interest in the question what was to become of her if she was ejected from her house. No doubt she would find a home somewhere. At any rate, it was not his business.

“It seems to me that will be an excellent plan,” he said, with satisfaction. “How soon can we find out about it?”

“Next week—Tuesday. It is then that the interest comes due.”

“Suppose she is ready to pay the interest, what then?”

“Then I will make her an offer for the place, and represent to her that it will be the better plan for her to part with it, and so escape the payment of interest. She has to pay forty-five dollars a year, and that is a great drain upon one who earns no more than she does.”

“I think you said she had a son; does he earn anything? Or perhaps he isn’t old enough.”

“Yes, he is thirteen or fourteen; still, there isn’t much in a small village like this for a boy to do. He is attending school, I believe.”

“Then, in one way or another, you think there is a good chance of our obtaining the house,” said the superintendent, with satisfaction.

“Yes, I think so.”

“How would it do to go around and speak to the widow about it beforehand? I could then write to Brown.”

“As to that, she may be very particular to retain the house, and even if she is not provided with the money, succeed in borrowing enough. Now, my idea is to say nothing about it till Tuesday. She may depend upon my waiting a few days. That I shall not do. If the money is not forthcoming I will foreclose at once, without giving her time to arrange for the money.”

The superintendent nodded.

“A very shrewd plan, Squire Leech,” he said. “By the way, where is the house situated?”

“Only a furlong up the road. It is on the opposite side of the way.”

“I think I remember it. There is some land connected with it, isn’t there?”

“Nearly an acre. The house is small, but neat. In fact, for a small place, I consider it quite desirable. Tomorrow we will ride by it, and you can take more particular notice.”

They did ride by, as we know, and Squire Leech pointed it out to his superintendent. Herbert noticed this, but he did not know that the two men had formed a scheme for turning his mother and himself out of their comfortable home, and defrauding his mother of a considerable portion of the small property which his father had left. Had he known this, it would have filled him with indignation, and he would have felt that even property is no absolute safeguard against the selfish schemes of the mercenary and the rapacious.