Now or Never; Or, The Adventures of Bobby Bright: A Story for Young Folks, Optic [best classic books of all time txt] 📗

put his chair back against the wall. "The squire is fit to be a king; and though I believe in the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, I wouldn't mind seeing a crown upon his head."

"He will receive his crown in due time," replied Mrs. Bright, piously.

"The squire?"

"The crown of rejoicing, I mean."

"Just so; the squire is a nice man; and I know another just like him."

"Who!"

"Mr. Bayard; they are as near alike as two peas."

"I am dying to know about your journey."

"Wait a minute, mother, till we clear away the supper things;" and Bobby took hold, as he had been accustomed, to help remove and wash the dishes.

"You needn't help now, Bobby."

"Yes, I will, mother."

Some how our hero's visit to the city did not seem to produce the usual effect upon him; for a great many boys, after they had been abroad, would have scorned to wash dishes and wipe them. A week in town has made many a boy so smart that you couldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. It starches them up so stiff that sometimes they don't know their own mothers, and deem it a piece of condescension to speak a word to the patriarch in a blue frock who had the honor of supporting them in childhood.

Bobby was none of this sort. We lament that he had a habit of talking big—that is, of talking about business affairs in a style a little beyond his years. But he was modest to a fault, paradoxical as it may seem. He was always blushing when any body spoke a pretty thing about him. Probably the circumstances of his position elevated him above the sphere of the mere boy; he had spent but little time in play, and his attention had been directed at all times to the wants of his mother. He had thought a great deal about business, especially since the visit of the boy who sold books to the little black house.

Some boys are born merchants, and from their earliest youth have a genius for trade. They think of little else. They "play shop" before they wear jackets, and drive a barter trade in jackknives, whistles, tops, and fishing lines long before they get into their teens. They are shrewd even then, and obtain a taste for commerce before they are old enough to know the meaning of the word.

We saw a boy in school, not long since, give the value of eighteen cents for a little stunted quince—boys have a taste for raw quinces, strange as it may seem. Undoubtedly he had no talent for trade, and would make a very indifferent tin pedler. Our hero was shrewd. He always got the best end of the bargain; though, I am happy to say, his integrity was too unyielding to let him cheat his fellows.

We have made this digression so that my young readers may know why Bobby was so much given to big talk. The desire to do something worthy of a good son turned his attention to matters above his sphere; and thinking of great things, he had come to talk great things. It was not a bad fault, after all. Boys need not necessarily be frivolous. Play is a good thing, an excellent thing, in its place, and is as much a part of the boy's education as his grammar and arithmetic. It not only develops his muscles, but enlarges his mental capacity; it not only fills with excitement the idle hours of the long day, but it sharpens the judgment, and helps to fit the boy for the active duties of life.

It need not be supposed, because Bobby had to turn his attention to serious things, that he was not fond of fun; that he could not or did not play. At a game of round ball, he was a lucky fellow who secured him upon his side; for the same energy which made him a useful son rendered him a desirable hand in a difficult game.

When the supper things were all removed, the dishes washed and put away, Bobby drew out his pocket memorandum book. It was a beautiful article, and Mrs. Bright was duly astonished at its gilded leaves and the elegant workmanship. Very likely her first impulse was to reprove her son for such a piece of reckless extravagance; but this matter was set right by Bobby's informing her how it came into his possession.

"Here is my ledger, mother," he said, handing her the book.

Mrs. Bright put on her spectacles, and after bestowing a careful scrutiny upon the memorandum book, turned to the accounts.

"Fifty books!" she exclaimed, as she read the first entry.

"Yes, mother; and I sold them all."

"Fifty dollars!"

"But I had to pay for the books out of that."

"To be sure you had; but I suppose you made as much as ten cents a piece on them, and that would be—let me see; ten times fifty—"

"But I made more than that, I hope."

"How much?"

The proud young merchant referred her to the profit and loss account, which exhibited a balance of fifteen dollars.

"Gracious! Three dollars a day!"

"Just so, mother. Now I will pay you the dollar I borrowed of you when
I went away."

"You didn't borrow it of me."

"But I shall pay it."

Mrs. Bright was astonished at this unexpected and gratifying result. If she had discovered a gold mine in the cellar of the little black house, it could not have afforded her so much satisfaction; for this money was the reward of her son's talent and energy. Her own earnings scarcely ever amounted to more than three or four dollars a week, and Bobby, a boy of thirteen, had come home with fifteen for five days' work. She could scarcely believe the evidence other own senses, and she ceased to wonder that he talked big.

It was nearly ten o'clock when the widow and her son went to bed, so deeply were they interested in discussing our hero's affairs. He had intended to call upon Squire Lee that night, but the time passed away so rapidly that he was obliged to defer it till the next day.

After breakfast the following morning, he hastened to pay the intended visit. There was a tumult of strange emotions in his bosom as he knocked at the squire's door. He was proud of the success he had achieved, and even then his cheek burned under the anticipated commendations which his generous friend would bestow upon him. Besides, Annie would be glad to see him, for she had expressed such a desire when they parted on the Monday preceding. I don't think that Bobby cherished any silly ideas, but the sympathy of the little maiden fell not coldly or unwelcomely upon his warm heart. In coming from the house he had placed his copy of "The Wayfarer" under his arm, for Annie was fond of reading; and on the way over, he had pictured to himself the pleasure she would derive from reading his book.

Of course he received a warm welcome from the squire and his daughter. Each of them had bestowed more than a thought upon the little wanderer as he went from house to house, and more than once they had conversed together about him.

"Well, Bobby, how is trade in the book line?" asked the squire, after the young pilgrim had been cordially greeted.

"Pretty fair," replied Bobby, with as much indifference as he could command, though it was hard even to seem indifferent then and there.

"Where have you been travelling?"

"In B——."

"Fine place. Books sell well there?"

"Very well; in fact, I sold out all my stock by noon yesterday."

"How many books did you carry?"

"Fifty."

"You did well."

"I should think you did!" added Annie, with an enthusiasm which quite upset all Bobby's assumed indifference. "Fifty books!"

"Yes, Miss Annie; and I have brought you a copy of the book I have been selling; I thought you would like to read it. It is a splendid work, and will be the book of the season."

"I shall be delighted to read it," replied Annie, taking the proffered volume. "It looks real good," she continued, as she turned over the leaves.

"It is first rate; I have read it through."

"It was very kind of you to think of me when you have so much business on your mind," added she, with a roguish smile.

"I shall never have so much business on my mind that I cannot think of my friends," replied Bobby, so gallantly and so smartly that it astonished himself.

"I was just thinking what I should read next; I am so glad you have come."

"Never mind her, Bobby; all she wanted was the book," interposed Squire
Lee, laughing.

"Now, pa!"

"Then I shall bring her one very often."

"You are too bad, pa," said Annie, who, like most young ladies just entering their teens, resented any imputation upon the immaculateness of human love, or human friendship.

"I have got a little money for you, Squire Lee," continued Bobby, thinking it time the subject was changed.

He took out his gilded memorandum book, whose elegant appearance rather startled the squire, and from its "treasury department" extracted the little roll of bills, representing an aggregate of ten dollars which he had carefully reserved for his creditor.

"Never mind that, Bobby," replied the squire. "You will want all your capital to do business with."

"I must pay my debts before I think of any thing else."

"A very good plan, Bobby, but this is an exception to the general rule."

"No, sir, I think not. If you please, I insist upon paying you tea dollars on my note."

"O, well, if you insist, I suppose I can't help myself."

"I would rather pay it, I shall feel so much better."

"You want to indorse it on the note, I suppose."

That was just what Bobby wanted. Indorsed on the note was the idea, and our hero had often passed that expression through his mind. There was something gratifying in the act to a man of business integrity like himself; it was discharging a sacred obligation,—he had already come to deem it a sacred duty to pay one's debts,—and as the squire wrote the indorsement across the back of the note, he felt more like a hero than ever before.

"'Pay as you go' is an excellent idea; John Randolph called it the philosopher's stone," added Squire Lee, as he returned the note to his pocket book.

"That is what I mean to do just as soon as I can."

"You will do, Bobby."

The young merchant spent nearly the whole forenoon at the squire's, and declined an invitation to dinner only on the plea that his mother would wait for him.

CHAPTER XIII. IN WHICH BOBBY DECLINES A COPARTNERSHIP AND VISITS B—— AGAIN.

After dinner Bobby performed his Saturday afternoon chores as usual. He split wood enough to last for a week, so that his mother might not miss him too much, and then, feeling a desire to visit his favorite resorts in the vicinity, he concluded to go a fishing. The day was favorable, the sky being overcast and the wind very light. After digging a little box of worms in the garden back of the house, he shouldered his fish pole; and certainly no one would have suspected that he was a distinguished travelling merchant. He was fond of fishing, and it is a remarkable coincidence that Daniel Webster, and many other famous men, have manifested a decided passion for this exciting sport. No doubt a fondness for angling is a peculiarity of genius; and if being an expert fisherman makes a great man, then our hero was a great man.

He had scarcely seated himself on his favorite rock, and dropped his line into the water, before he saw Tom Spicer approaching the spot. The bully had never been a welcome companion. There was no sympathy between them. They could never agree, for their views, opinions, and tastes were always conflicting.

Bobby had not seen Tom since he left him to crawl out of the ditch on the preceding week, and he had good reason to believe that he should not