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
“Ef you want to ride, I'll give you a lift for a few miles.”
“Thank you,” said Abner, prompt to accept the offer. “I'll help you
in, bub.”
The two boys took their seats beside the driver, Herbert being in
the middle. The little boy was really tired, and he found it very
pleasant to ride, instead of walking. He had walked seven miles
already, and that was more than he had ever before walked at one
time.
They rode about three miles, when the driver pulled up in front of a
comfortable-looking house.
“This is where I stop,” he said. “My aunt lives here, and my sister
has been paying her a visit. I've come to take her home.”
The front door was opened, and his aunt and sister came out.
“You're just in time for breakfast, John,” said his aunt. “Come in
and sit down to the table. Bring in the boys, too.”
“Come in, boys,” said the young man. “I guess you can eat something,
can't you?”
“We've had---” Herbert began, but Abner checked him.
“Come along, bub,” he said. “What's a bit of bread? I ain't half
full.”
CHAPTER XXIV -- MRS. BARTON'S SURPRISE
A hearty breakfast, consisting of beefsteak, potatoes, corn bread,
fresh butter and apple sauce, made Abner's eyes glisten, for he had
never in his remembrance sat down at home to a meal equally
attractive. He wielded his knife and fork with an activity and
energy which indicated thorough enjoyment. Even Herbert, though in
the city his appetite had been delicate, and he had already eaten
part of a loaf of bread, did excellent justice to the good things
set before him. He was himself surprised at his extraordinary
appetite, forgetting the stimulating effect of a seven-mile walk.
After breakfast they set out again on their tramp. At sunset, having
rested several hours in the middle of the day, they had accomplished
twenty miles. Abner could have gone further, but Herbert was well
tired out. They obtained permission from a friendly farmer to spend
the night in his barn, and retired at half-past seven. Mr. Reynolds
would have been shocked had he known that his little son was
compelled to sleep on a pile of hay, but it may truthfully be said
that Herbert had seldom slept as soundly or felt more refreshed.
“How did you sleep, Abner?” he asked.
“Like a top. How was it with you, bub?”
“I didn't wake up all night,” answered the little boy.
“I wonder what dad and marm thought when they found us gone?” said
Abner, with a grin.
“Won't they feel bad?”
“Not much,” said Abner. “They ain't that kind. I reckon it won't
spoil their appetite.”
When they descended from the haymow, the farmer was milking his
cows.
“Well, youngsters,” he said, “so you're up and dressed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And ready for breakfast, I'll be bound.”
“I reckon I should feel better for eatin',” said Abner, promptly.
“Jest you wait till I get through milkin', and we'll see what Mrs.
Wiggins has got for us.”
Abner heard these words with joy, for he was always possessed of a
good appetite.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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