Five Hundred Dollars; or, Jacob Marlowe's SecretAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
Five Hundred Dollars; or, Jacob Marlowe's Secret
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Actors and actresses -- Fiction; Conduct of life -- Fiction; Honesty -- Fiction; Uncles -- Fiction
"That's true. Well, I will pay you your price," said Mrs. Holbrook, who
received a good income from her boarders, and was willing to be liberal
to others. "How many have you got?"
"I think there are four quarts, but you can measure them."
There proved to be four quarts, and Bert was made happy by receiving
sixty cents in silver.
"It is almost as much as I made in the shop," he reflected complacently.
"And perhaps I can sell some more to-morrow."
Bert continued to pick berries, but the price fell rapidly until it
touched six cents, and it was not so easy to sell the berries at all,
for many others engaged in picking them, and the market was overstocked.
Bert occasionally fell in with Percy Marlowe, but the manufacturer's
son usually took very little notice of him. This did not trouble Bert,
however, who felt independent, and cared little for the opinion or
notice of his wealthy cousin.
In one respect, however, Percy resembled Bert. He was always short of
money. His father allowed him two dollars a week for spending money,
more than any other boy in Lakeville received, but Percy felt that it
was too little. He had formed an intimacy with Reginald Ward, a young
man from New York, who was boarding at the hotel, and with him he used
to play pool, which he found rather an expensive game; and still worse,
he played poker with him in his own room, locking the door carefully, as
this game was not looked upon with favor in Lakeville. The young man
from the city was much sharper than the country boy, and steadily won
his money till Percy found himself in debt to him in the sum of ten
dollars. For this Percy gave his note, but no one knew better than
Reginald Ward that it was not valid in law, and he resolved to secure
the money, if possible.
"Percy, you owe me ten dollars," he said one afternoon.
"I know it," admitted Percy, rather ruefully.
"When are you going to pay me?"
"I don't know," answered Percy.
"But that won't do, don't you know," returned Reginald frowning. "I may
go away next week, and I want my money."
"I would pay it to you if I had it," said Percy; "but you know I have
only my allowance of two dollars a week."
"Stuff and nonsense! Do you think you are going to put me off that way?"
demanded Reginald angrily. "I must have my money."
"Then I don't see how you're going to get it," said Percy doggedly. "I
can't pay what I haven't got."
"Go to your father and ask for it."
"As if he would give it to me! You don't know him."
"Doesn't he ever leave money lying round?" asked Reginald significantly.
"What do you mean?" asked Percy, reddening.
"I see you understand. I was only suggesting a way to get the money."
"I am not a thief."
"Who said you were? I see I shall have to take the matter into my own
hands."
"How? What do you mean?" asked Percy nervously.
"I will go to your father, show him this I O U of yours, and ask him
for the money."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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