Herbert Carter's Legacy; Or, the Inventor's Son, Jr. Horatio Alger [uplifting novels .txt] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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So Squire Leech gave himself up to dreams of sudden wealth. He subscribed for two financial papers, and spent many hours in studying their columns. He was soon able to talk glibly of stocks and bonds, and the Wrayburn people thought he was on the high road to becoming a millionaire.
“Depend upon it, the squire's a long-headed man,” said old Tom Cooper, in the village tavern. “It wouldn't surprise me a mite if he died worth a million.”
CHAPTER XXXIV HERBERT'S LEGACY
The weeks slipped rapidly away. Herbert succeeded in maintaining himself at his new business, and never failed to have ready the four dollars which he had agreed to pay for board. It was lucky he did, for he soon found that there would be no chance of borrowing from his roommate. Cornelius was always hard up. As he only paid a dollar more board than Herbert, the latter wondered what he did with his twenty dollars a week. But the fact was, Mr. Dixon at present received but half that sum, though pride induced him to represent otherwise. And what, I ask, are ten dollars a week to a young man of fashionable tastes? No wonder he was always short of funds. How could it be otherwise?
Of course it was satisfactory to Herbert to feel that he was paying his way. But still he had a source of anxiety. He felt that he ought—indeed, it was absolutely necessary—to contribute to his mother's support. Moreover, the dreaded day on which the semi-annual interest came due was now close at hand. So far as he could judge, his mother would have nothing to meet it. It seemed inevitable that she should submit to the squire's demand, and sacrifice the house. It was a sad thing to think of, yet there was this consolation: the three or four hundred dollars cash which the squire would pay would tide over the next year or two, until Herbert was older and could earn more.
But, after all, was it certain that he would earn more? Could he sell more papers two years hence than now? That was hardly likely. If he wanted to advance his income, it must be in some other business. Yet, to a boy situated as he was, there was little chance of getting any employment that would make as good immediate returns as selling papers.
So, thinking over these things, our hero was much perplexed, and could see no way out of the difficulty. He had never read “David Copperfield,” and had not accustomed himself to expecting something to turn up. He was sensible enough, indeed, to know that it is idle to wait for such chances. Yet, when one does his duty faithfully, things will occasionally turn up, and this was precisely what happened to Herbert.
He was standing at his accustomed post one day, when a pleasant-looking gentleman of fifty, or perhaps a little more, accosted him, inquiring for a particular morning paper.
“I haven't got it, sir; but I will get you one,” said Herbert.
“Will you be long?”
“No, sir; I know where I can get one at once.”
“Very well, then, I will wait here till you return.”
Herbert was as good as his word. As the gentleman paid him, he asked, pleasantly: “How is business, my young friend?”
“Pretty good, sir.”
“Can you make money enough to support yourself?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I suppose you are contented?”
“I should be, sir, if I had only myself to look after.”
“You haven't a wife and family, I presume,” said the gentleman, smiling.
Herbert laughed.
“I hope not yet, sir,” he answered. “But I have a mother whom I ought to assist.”
“And you cannot?”
“I have not been able to yet. It takes all I can earn to pay my own expenses.”
“Does your mother live in the city?”
“No, sir; in the town of Wrayburn, fifty or sixty miles from here.”
“Wrayburn?” repeated the gentleman, in surprise.
“Yes, sir; it is a small village. I dare say you never heard of it.”
“But I have heard of it. My son passed a few weeks there during the last summer.”
It was Herbert's turn to be surprised. He examined the gentleman's face attentively, and it dawned upon him who he was.
“Are you Mr. Cameron?” he asked.
“How is it that you know me?” inquired the other.
“My name is Herbert Carter. I was employed to read to your son. Have you heard from him?”
“We are expecting a letter daily, but the distance is considerable, and we may have to wait for some time yet. So you are Herbert Carter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“My son was very much interested in you. He has spoken often of you.”
“He was very kind to me.”
“Your father was an inventor.”
“That was not his business, but he devoted his leisure to invention.”
“My son placed in my hands, for examination, a model of his, just before he went away.”
“Have you examined it? What do you think of it, sir?” asked Herbert, eagerly.
“I only recently returned from Europe, and have not thoroughly examined it. So far as I have done so, I am inclined to think favorably of it.”
Herbert's heart bounded with hope.
“Do you think we can get anything for it?” he asked.
“I think you can. Indeed, if further examination bears out my first favorable impressions, I will myself make you an offer for it.”
“I should be so glad, for mother's sake!” exclaimed Herbert.
“My young friend,” said Mr. Cameron, “I like your feeling toward your mother. I sincerely hope I may be able to make you a satisfactory offer. By the way, how are you situated? Can you leave the city this afternoon?”
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