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
“Look at that,” she exclaimed, holding out a scrap of paper to Joel
Barton.
“I don't see nothin' but a bit of paper,” said her husband.
“Don't be a fool! Read what it is.”
“Read it aloud. I ain't got my specks.”
“The boys have run away. Abner writ it. Listen to this.”
Rudely written on the paper, for Abner was by no means a skillful
penman, were these words:
“Bub and I have runned away. You needn't worry. I reckon we can get
along. We're going to make our fortunes. When we're rich, we'll come
back. ABNER.”
“What do you think of that, Joel Barton?” demanded his wife.
Joel shrugged his shoulders.
“I shan't worry much,” he said. “They'll be back by to-morrer,
likely.”
“Then you'll have to split some wood to-day, Joel. You can't expect
a delicate woman like me to do such rough work.”
“You're stronger'n I be, Mrs. B.”
“Perhaps you'll find I am if you don't go to work.”
“I'll do it this afternoon.”
“All right. Then we'll have dinner in the even-in'. No wood, no
dinner.”
“Seems to me you're rather hard on me, Mrs. B. I don't feel well.”
“Nor you won't till you give up drinkin'.”
Much against his will, Mr. Barton felt compelled by the stress of
circumstances to do the work expected of him. It made him feel angry
with Abner, whom he did not miss for any other reason.
“I'll break that boy's neck when he comes back,” he muttered. “It's
a shame to leave all this work for his poor, old dad.”
To-morrow came, but the boys did not. A week slipped away, and still
they were missing. Mrs. Barton was not an affectionate mother, but
it did seem lonesome without Abner. As for Herbert, she did not care
for his absence. If Willis Ford did not continue to pay his board,
she felt that she would rather have him away.
On the sixth day after the departure of the boys there came a
surprise for Mrs. Barton.
As she was at work in the kitchen, she heard a loud knock at the
door.
“Can it be Abner?” she thought. “He wouldn't knock.”
She went to the door, however, feeling rather curious as to who
could be her visitor, and on opening it started in surprise to see
Willis Ford.
“Mr. Ford!” she ejaculated.
“I thought I would make you a call,” answered Ford. “How's the boy
getting along?”
“If you mean the boy you left here,” she answered, composedly, “he's
run away, and took my boy with him.”
“Run away!” ejaculated Ford, in dismay.
“Yes; he made tracks about a week ago. He and my Abner have gone off
to make their fortunes.”
“Why didn't you take better care of him, woman?” exclaimed Ford,
angrily. “It's your fault, his running away!”
“Look here, Ford,” retorted Mrs. Barton; “don't you sass me, for I
won't stand it. Ef it hadn't been for you, Abner would be at home
now.”
“I didn't mean to offend you, my dear Mrs. Barton,” said Ford,
seeing that he had made a false step. “Tell me all you can, and I'll
see if I can't get the boys back.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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