Herbert Carter's Legacy; Or, the Inventor's Son, Jr. Horatio Alger [uplifting novels .txt] 📗

“I am glad to see you, Herbert,” said the young man, smiling as he extended his hand. He was secretly pleased with Herbert's open and manly face. “Did the landlord say why I might need your assistance?”

“He said your eyes were affected.”

“Yes, they broke down a month since. I am a student of Yale College, in the junior class. I suppose I tasked my eyes too severely. At any rate, they gave out, and I am forbidden to use them at all.”

“That must be a great loss to you,” said Herbert, with sympathy.

“It is. I am very fond of reading and study, and the time passes very heavily in the absence of my usual employment.”

“I don't know what I should do if I could not use my eyes.”

“You would find it a great hardship. Now I must tell you why I came here. The doctor told me I should be better off in the country than in the city. He said that the sight of the green grass would be good for me, and the fresh air, in improving my general health, would help my eyes also. I hadn't much choice as to a place, but some one mentioned Wrayburn, and so I came here. But I soon found that, unless I got some pleasant company and some one who could read to me, I should die of weariness. That brings me to my object in asking you to call upon me. How is your time occupied?”

“I have taken an acre of land to cultivate on shares,” answered Herbert. “It was because I could find nothing else to do, and must do something.”

“Does that keep you pretty busy?”

“It is planting time now, but I could get along with working there half a day.”

“And could you place yourself at my disposal the other half?”

“I should be glad to do it,” answered Herbert.

“Suppose, then, that you work in the field in the forenoon, and give me every afternoon.”

“All right,” said Herbert, promptly.

“Now comes another question. What pay would you expect for giving me so much of your time?”

“I shouldn't know what to charge, Mr. Cameron. I leave that matter entirely with you.”

“Would you be satisfied with five dollars a week?”

Five dollars a week! Herbert could hardly believe his ears. Why, he would have been well paid if this had been given him for the whole of his time, but for half it seemed munificent.

“I am afraid I can't earn that much,” he answered. “I would be willing to take less.”

“You don't know how hard I shall make you work,” said the young man, smiling. “I insist upon paying you five dollars a week.”

“I don't seriously object,” said Herbert, smiling; “but if you think, after the first week, that it is too much, you can pay me less.”

“I see that we are not likely to quarrel on the subject of salary then. When can you begin?”

“This afternoon, if you wish.”

“I do wish it, otherwise the afternoon would pass very slowly to me.”

“Then, I will be here at one o'clock.”

“Half past one will do.”

“I will be on hand. Till then I will bid you good morning, as I shall be wanted at home.”

“Very well, Herbert.”

Herbert left the room and hurried home, for it was nearly twelve. On the way he stopped at the post office, and found a letter addressed to his mother. He did not recognize the handwriting, nor, such was his hurry, did he notice where it was postmarked. He had no watch, but thought it must be close upon twelve o'clock. So he thrust the letter into his pocket, and continued his way homeward on a half run. He was in time, for, just as he reached the front gate from one direction, the squire reached it from the other.

“Good morning,” said the squire, a little stiffly. “Is your mother at home?”

“I presume she is. Won't you come in?”

“I wonder if they've got the money ready,” thought the squire, as he followed Herbert into the modest sitting room.