“ ‘Ramsay, I believe I am dying. Will you do me a favor?’
“ ‘You have only to ask,’ I said, saddened by the thought that my friend was about to leave me.
“ ‘You’ll find a wallet in my pocket. Its contents are important to my family. Will you take it and send it to my wife?’
“Of course I agreed to do it, and your husband, I have reason to know, died with a burden lifted from his mind in that conviction. But before the action was over I, too, was stricken by one of the enemy’s bullets. My wound was not a dangerous one, but it rendered me incapable of thought or action. I was sent to the hospital, and my personal effects were forwarded to my family.
“Well, in course of time I recovered, and, remembering your husband’s commission, I searched for the wallet – but searched in vain. I feared it had been taken by some dishonest person. The war closed and I returned home. I ought to have written to you about the matter, but I feared to excite vain regrets. Perhaps I decided wrongly, but I resolved to say nothing about the wallet, since it seemed to be irretrievably lost.
“Yesterday, however, in examining an old trunk, I, to my great joy, discovered the long-missing wallet. I have taken the liberty to look into it, but cannot judge whether the contents, apart from the money, are of importance. My duty, however, is plain – to forward you the article at once. I do so, therefore, and beg you to relieve my anxiety by apprising me as soon as you receive it.
“Once more let me express my regret that there has been so great a delay, and permit me to subscribe myself your husband’s friend,
It is needless to say that both Andy and his mother were deeply interested in a letter which threw light upon the closing scene in the life of one so dear to them.
“Andy,” said his mother, “open the wallet. I cannot.”
The sight of it naturally aroused painful recollections in the heart of the bereaved wife. Andy was not slow in obeying his mother’s directions.
The first, and most prominent in the list of contents, was a roll of greenbacks. The bills were of various denominations, and they aggregated the sum of forty-five dollars.
“Money saved by your poor father from his salary,” said Mrs. Gordon.
“He will be glad that it has come into our hands, mother.”
“Yes; he was always thinking of those he left behind.”
“Here are some papers, too, mother,” said Andy. “They seem to be receipted bills.”
“I wish,” sighed the widow, “that the receipt from Mr. Starr might be found among them.”
One by one Andy opened the papers, hoping, but not much expecting, that the missing receipt might be found.
“Here it is, mother!” he exclaimed at last, triumphantly, flourishing a slip of paper.
“Let me see it, Andy,” said his mother, hurriedly.
“Don’t you see, mother? Here is his signature – Joshua Starr. I wonder what the old rascal will say to that?”
“The Lord has listened to my prayer, Andy. He has brought us out of our trouble.”
“Don’t say anything about it, mother,” said Andy. “I want to see how far the old swindler will go. I wonder what he will say when we show him the receipt?”
CHAPTER X.
THE FATE OF A BULLY
The next day, Herbert Ross reappeared at school. As we know, it had been his intention not to go back unless Dr. Euclid would dismiss Andy from the post of janitor.
Now, however, he and his father saw a way of getting even with our hero, by the help of Mr. Starr, and the note which he had placed in the lawyer’s hands for collection.
The prospect of distressing the family of his poor schoolmate was exceedingly pleasant to Herbert, who from time to time cast glances of triumph at Andy, which the latter well understood. But, with the means at hand to foil his ungenerous foe, Andy, too, could afford to be in good spirits, and his face showed that he was so.
This puzzled Herbert not a little. He had expected that Andy would be cast down, and was annoyed because he seemed so far from despondent.
“Of course they can’t pay the note,” thought Herbert, with momentary apprehension. “But of course they can’t! I don’t suppose they have got ten dollars in the house. I mean to go round when the sheriff seizes the furniture. Andy won’t look quite so happy then, I am thinking!”
Herbert recited his Latin lesson as poorly as usual – perhaps even more so, for his mind had been occupied with other things – and Dr. Euclid, who never flattered or condoned the shortcomings of a pupil on account of his social position, sharply reprimanded him.
“Herbert Ross,” he said, “how do you expect to get into college if you recite so disgracefully?”
“The lesson was hard,” said Herbert, coolly, shrugging his shoulders.
“Hard, was it?” retorted the doctor. “There are some of your classmates who succeeded in learning it. Andrew Gordon, did you find the lesson very hard?”
“No, sir,” answered Andy, promptly.
Herbert looked at his successful classmate with a sneer.
“I can’t expect to compete with a janitor!” he said, slowly.
“Then,” said the doctor, provoked, “the sooner you obtain the position of a janitor the better, if that is going to improve the character of your recitations!”
“I wouldn’t accept such a position!” said Herbert, coloring with anger.
“You are not likely to have one offered you,” said the doctor. “A boy who neglects his lessons is not likely to discharge well the duties of any position.”
Herbert bit his lips in annoyance, but he did not dare to say anything more, for he saw, by the ominous flashing of Dr. Euclid’s eyes, that he was in no mood to suffer impertinence.
He began to regret that he had been induced to return to school. He felt that it was very reprehensible in Dr. Euclid to treat the son of his most important patron with so little deference, or, indeed, respect.
“But never mind!” thought Herbert. “I will soon have my revenge. Father has given Mrs. Gordon a week’s grace, and then she will have to pay the note or lose her furniture.”
Two days later an incident occurred which incensed Herbert still more against Andy, and, as usual, the fault was Herbert’s.
The young aristocrat was a natural bully. Like most bullies he was deficient in courage, and preferred to cope with a boy smaller than himself. For this reason he was both hated and feared by the young boys of the village, as he seldom lost an opportunity to annoy and tease them.
On Saturday there was no session of the Hamilton Academy. Teacher and scholars enjoyed a season of rest which was welcome to both.
After getting through a late breakfast, Herbert Ross took his hat, and sauntered through the village in search of something to amuse him or while away his time. Though he was glad to stay at home from school, he found Saturday rather a dull day.
There was a young clerk with whom he used sometimes to play billiards in the evening, but during the day it was difficult to find anyone who was not employed.
“I wish father would move to New York or Philadelphia,” thought Herbert, yawning. “Hamilton is a dull hole, and there’s absolutely nothing to do. If we lived in a city, there wouldn’t be any difficulty in finding company and enjoying myself.”
There was a vacant field, unfenced, near the engine house, which was used as a sort