Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute, Jr. Horatio Alger [best electronic book reader TXT] 📗

“Hector,” said Mr. Crabb, nervously, “I am going to leave the institute at the end of the week.”

“Have you secured another situation, Mr. Crabb?” asked Hector, hopefully.

“No,” answered the usher, shaking his head. “I have been discharged.”

“For what reason?”

“For interfering with Mr. Smith’s nephew when he was brutally abusing Wilkins.”

“Did Mr. Smith fully understand the circumstances?”

“Yes; but he stands by his nephew right or wrong. He blamed me for checking his nephew’s brutality.”

“This is shameful!” said Hector, warmly. “May I ask, Mr. Crabb, if you have formed any plans?”

“No, except to seek a new position!” answered Crabb. “I fear,” he added, despondently, “that it may be some time before I am so fortunate. Roscoe, I don’t know what to do when I leave the school. I shall barely have five dollars, and you know I have not only myself, but another to support.”

“Keep up your courage, Mr. Crabb! It is nearly time for me to hear from the friend in New York to whom I wrote is your behalf. If you can secure the position of his private tutor—”

“If I can, I will hail it as providential. It will relieve me at once from all anxiety.”

“I don’t think I shall long remain here myself, Mr. Crabb,” said Hector. “I came here with the full intention of making the most of the facilities the institute affords for education, but I find the principal incompetent, and disposed to connive at injustice and brutality. The only good I have got here has been derived from your instructions.”

“Thank you, Roscoe. Such a tribute is, indeed, welcome,” said the usher, warmly.

“It is quite sincere, Mr. Crabb, and I hope my good wishes may bring you the advantage which I have in view.”

“Thank you, Roscoe. I don’t blame you for being disgusted with the management of the school. You have yourself suffered injustice.”

“Yes; in writing home, and charging me with theft, before he had investigated the circumstances, Mr. Smith did me a great injustice. I doubt whether he has since written to correct the false charge, as I required him to do. If not, I shall owe it to myself to leave the school.”

“You will be justified in doing so.” The next day brought Hector two letters. One was from Allan Roscoe, and read as follows:

“HECTOR: I have received from your worthy teacher a letter which has filled me with grief and displeasure. I knew you had great faults, but I did not dream that you would stoop so low as to purloin money, as it seems you have done. Mr. Smith writes me that there is no room to doubt your guilt. He himself discovered in the pocket of your pantaloons a wallet containing a large sum of money, which he had missed only a short time before. He learned that you had entered his chamber, and taken the money, being tempted by your own dishonest and depraved heart.

“I cannot express the shame I feel at this revelation of baseness. I am truly glad that you are not connected with me by blood. Yet I cannot forget that my poor brother treated you as a son; and took pains to train you up in right ideas. It would give him deep pain could he know how the boy whom he so heaped with benefits has turned out! I may say that Guy is as much shocked as I am, but he, it seems, had a better knowledge of you than I; for he tells me he is not surprised to hear it. I confess I am, for I thought better of you.

“Under the circumstances I shall not feel justified in doing for you as much as I intended. I proposed to keep you at school for two years more, but I have now to announce that this is your last term, and I advise you to make the most of it. I will try, when the term closes, to find some situation for you, where your employer’s money will not pass through your hands. ALLAN ROSCOE.”

Hector read the letter with conflicting feelings, the most prominent being indignation and contempt for the man who so easily allowed himself to think evil of him.

The other letter he found more satisfactory.

It was from his young friend in New York, Walter Boss. As it is short, I subjoin it:

“DEAR HECTOR: I am ever so glad to hear from you, but I should like much better to see you. I read to papa what you said of Mr. Crabb, and he says it is very apropos, as he had made up his mind to get me a tutor. I am rather backward, you see, not having your taste for study, and papa thinks I need special attention. He says that your recommendation is sufficient, and he will engage Mr. Crabb without any further inquiry; and he says he can come at once. He will give him sixty dollars a month and board, and he will have considerable time for himself, if he wants to study law or any other profession. I don’t know but a cousin may join me in my studies, in which case he will pay a hundred dollars per month, if that will be sastisfactory.

“Why can’t you come and make me a visit? We’ll have jolly fun. Come and stay a month, old chap. There is no one I should like better. Your friend, WALTER Boss.”

Hector read this letter with genuine delight. It offered a way of escape, both for the unfortunate usher and himself. Nothing could be more “apropos” to quote Walter’s expression.

Our hero lost no time in seeking out Mr. Crabb.

“You seem in good spirits, Roscoe,” said the usher, his careworn face contrasting with the beaming countenance of his pupil.

“Yes, Mr. Crabb, I have reason to be, and so have you.”

“Have you heard from your friend?” asked the usher, hopefully.

“Yes, and it’s all right.”

Mr. Crabb looked ten years younger.

“Is it really true?” he asked.

“It is true that you are engaged as private tutor to my friend, Walter.