Paul Prescott's Charge, Jr. Horatio Alger [popular romance novels TXT] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Paul Prescott's Charge, Jr. Horatio Alger [popular romance novels TXT] 📗». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
“When you call me by my right name,” said Paul, quietly, “I will answer, and not before.”
“You're mighty independent,” sneered Dawkins. “I don't know but I may have to teach you manners.”
“You had better wait till you are qualified,” said Paul, coolly.
Dawkins approached our hero menacingly, but Paul did not look in the least alarmed, and he concluded to attack him with words only.
“I understand you have set yourself up as my rival!” he said, mockingly.
“Not just yet,” said Paul, “but in time I expect to be.”
“So you expect my place,” said Dawkins, glancing about him.
“We'll talk about that three months hence,” said Paul.
“Don't hurt yourself studying,” sneered Dawkins, scornfully.
To this Paul did not deign a reply, but the same day he rose one in his class.
Our hero had a large stock of energy and determination. When he had once set his mind upon a thing, he kept steadily at work till he accomplished it. This is the great secret of success. It sometimes happens that a man who has done nothing will at once accomplish a brilliant success by one spasmodic effort, but such cases are extremely rare.
“Slow and sure wins the race,” is an old proverb that has a great deal of truth in it.
Paul worked industriously.
The kind sexton and his wife, who noticed his assiduity, strove to dissuade him from working so steadily.
“You are working too hard, Paul,” they said.
“Do I look pale?” asked Paul, pointing with a smile to his red cheeks.
“No, but you will before long.”
“When I am, I will study less. But you know, Uncle Hugh,” so the sexton instructed him to call him, “I want to make the most of my present advantages. Besides, there's a particular boy who thinks I am stupid. I want to convince him that he is mistaken.”
“You are a little ambitious, then, Paul?”
“Yes, but it isn't that alone. I know the value of knowledge, and I want to secure as much as I can.”
“That is an excellent motive, Paul.”
“Then you won't make me study less?”
“Not unless I see you are getting sick.”
Paul took good care of this. He knew how to play as well as to study, and his laugh on the playground was as merry as any. His cheerful, obliging disposition made him a favorite with his companions. Only George Dawkins held out; he had, for some reason, imbibed a dislike for Paul.
Paul's industry was not without effect. He gradually gained position in his class.
“Take care, Dawkins,” said one of his companions—the same one who had before spoken to Paul—“Paul Prescott will be disputing your place with you. He has come up seventeen places in a month.”
“Much good it'll do him,” said Dawkins, contemptuously.
“For all that, you will have to be careful; I can tell you that.”
“I'm not in the least afraid. I'm a little too firm in my position to be ousted by Young Stupid.”
“Just wait and see.”
Dawkins really entertained no apprehension. He had unbounded confidence in himself, and felt a sense of power in the rapidity with which he could master a lesson. He therefore did not study much, and though he could not but see that Paul was rapidly advancing, he rejected with scorn the idea that Young Stupid could displace him.
This, however, was the object at which Paul was aiming. He had not forgotten the nickname which Dawkins had given him, and this was the revenge which he sought,—a strictly honorable one.
At length the day of his triumph came. At the end of the month the master read off the class-list, and, much to his disgust, George Dawkins found himself playing second fiddle to Young Stupid.
XVII. BEN'S PRACTICAL JOKE.
Mrs. Mudge was in the back room, bending over a tub. It was washing-day, and she was particularly busy. She was a driving, bustling woman, and, whatever might be her faults of temper, she was at least industrious and energetic. Had Mr. Mudge been equally so, they would have been better off in a worldly point of view. But her husband was constitutionally lazy, and was never disposed to do more than was needful.
Mrs. Mudge was in a bad humor that morning. One of the cows had got into the garden through a gap in the fence, and made sad havoc among the cabbages. Now if Mrs. Mudge had a weakness, it was for cabbages. She was excessively fond of them, and had persuaded her husband to set out a large number of plants from which she expected a large crop. They were planted in one corner of the garden, adjoining a piece of land, which, since mowing, had been used for pasturing the cows. There was a weak place in the fence separating the two inclosures, and this Mrs. Mudge had requested her husband to attend to. He readily promised this, and Mrs. Mudge supposed it done, until that same morning, her sharp eyes had detected old Brindle munching the treasured cabbages with a provoking air of enjoyment. The angry lady seized a broom, and repaired quickly to the scene of devastation. Brindle scented the danger from afar, and beat a disorderly retreat, trampling down the cabbages which she had hitherto spared. Leaping over the broken fence, she had just cleared the gap as the broom-handle, missing her, came forcibly down upon the rail, and was snapped in sunder by the blow.
Here was a new vexation. Brindle had not only escaped scot-free, but the broom, a new one, bought only the week before, was broken.
“It's a plaguy shame,” said Mrs. Mudge, angrily. “There's my best broom broken; cost forty-two cents only last week.”
She turned and contemplated the scene of devastation. This yielded her little consolation.
“At least thirty cabbages destroyed by that scamp of a cow,” she exclaimed in a tone bordering on despair. “I wish I'd a hit her. If I'd broken my broom over her back I wouldn't a cared so much. And it's all Mudge's fault. He's the most shiftless man I ever see. I'll give him a dressing down, see if I don't.”
Mrs. Mudge's eyes snapped viciously, and she clutched the relics of the broom with a degree of energy which rendered it uncertain what sort of a dressing down she intended for her husband.
Ten minutes after she had re-entered the kitchen, the luckless man made
Comments (0)