Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's AmbitionAlger, Horatio, Jr.
History
Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Kidnapping -- Juvenile fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- History -- 19th century -- Juvenile fiction
“I want to speak to you a moment, Mr. Ford,” he said.
“Well, what is it?” asked Ford, uncomfortably.
“I am hard up.”
“So am I,” responded Willis Ford.
“But you owe me a matter of six hundred dollars.”
“I know it, but you said you wouldn't trouble me.”
“I didn't expect I should be obliged to,” said Morrison, smoothly.
“But 'Circumstances alter cases,' you know. I shall have to ask you
for it.”
“That's all the good it will do,” said Willis, irritably. “I haven't
a cent to my name.”
“When do you expect to have?”
“Heaven knows; I don't.”
Ford was about to leave his companion and walk away, but Morrison
had no intention of allowing the matter to end so. He laid his hand
on Ford's shoulder and said, firmly: “Mr. Ford, this won't do. Yours
is a debt of honor, and must be paid.”
“Will you be kind enough to let me know how it is to be paid?”
demanded Ford, with an ugly sneer.
“That is your business, not mine, Mr. Ford.”
“Then, if it is my business, I'll give you notice when I can pay
you. And now, good-afternoon.”
He made another attempt to walk away, but again there was a hand
placed upon his shoulder.
“Understand, Mr. Ford, that I am in earnest,” said Morrison. “I
can't undertake to tell you how you are to find the money, but it
must be found.”
“Suppose it isn't?” said Ford, with a look of defiance.
“Then I shall seek an interview with your respected employer, tell
him of the debt, and how it was incurred, and I think he would look
for another clerk.”
“You wouldn't do that!” said Ford, his face betraying consternation.
“I would, and I will, unless you pay what you owe me.”
“But, man, how am I to do it? You will drive me to desperation.”
“Take three days to think of it. If you can't raise it, I may
suggest a way.”
The two parted, and Willis Ford was left to many uncomfortable
reflections. He knew of no way to raise the money; yet, if he did
not do it, he was menaced with exposure and ruin. Would his
stepmother come to his assistance? He knew that Mrs. Estabrook had a
thousand dollars in government bonds. If he could only induce her to
give him the custody of them on any pretext, he could meet the
demand upon him, and he would never again incur a debt of honor. He
cursed his folly for ever yielding to the temptation. Once let him
get out of this scrape, and he would never get into another like it.
The next evening he made a call upon Mrs. Estabrook, and made
himself unusually agreeable. The cold-hearted woman, whose heart
warmed to him alone, smiled upon him with affection.
“I am glad to see you in such good spirits, Willis,” she said.
“If she only knew how I really felt,” thought her stepson. But it
was for his interest to wear a mask.
“The fact is, mother,” he said, “I feel very cheerful. I've made a
little turn in stocks, and realized three hundred dollars.”
“Have you, indeed, Willis? I congratulate you, my son. No doubt you
will find the money useful.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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