The Tin Box, and What it ContainedAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
The Tin Box, and What it Contained
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Diligence -- Juvenile fiction; Success -- Juvenile fiction; Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
The old man went up to his room and brought down ninety dollars’ worth
of government coupons, which, as gold was then ruling at a dollar and
twenty, would bring about a hundred and eight dollars in currency.
Mrs. Gilbert was much surprised when Harry told her that he intended to
go to New York the next day on business for Uncle Obed; but, of course,
had no idea that he had still more important business of his own.
CHAPTER XIX — SECOND VISIT TO THE WOOD
There was an early train from the neighboring village of Crampton to
New York. Harry got up early, and walked the first part of the way
through the fields to a point where the footpath struck the main road,
three-quarters of a mile from the village.
In this way it happened that he was not seen by any of his companions,
and his day’s expedition was kept a secret.
Just after breakfast James Congreve received a call at the hotel from
Philip.
“Our friend in the wood must be hungry by this time,” said James.
“Ho, ho!” laughed Philip, in evident enjoyment. “It’s a splendid joke.”
“I fancy he doesn’t think so,” said Congreve, shrugging his shoulders.
“Of course he doesn’t. He must have been fully scared, staying there
all night.”
“He doesn’t strike me as a boy who would easily be frightened,”
“At any rate, he must be hungry,” said Philip, in a tone of
satisfaction. “I guess he’ll find it doesn’t pay to insult me.”
“Well, he’s had enough of it; we’ll go and release him.”
“What for?”
“You don’t want him to stay there all day, do you?” demanded Congreve.
“It wouldn’t do him any harm,” muttered Philip.
“What a mean fellow you are, Philip! You ought to be satisfied with
keeping him there all night.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me names,” said Philip, pettishly.
“Don’t deserve them, then. Well, are you coming with me?’
“I don’t know; it’s a good ways,” said Philip, hesitating.
“Just as you like. I am going. I told the boy I would, and I mean to
keep my promise.”
And James Congreve stepped off the piazza and started.
“Oh, well, I’ll go, too. I want to see how he looks,” said Philip, and
began to laugh.
“Take care how you laugh at him there, Phil, or he may pitch into you.”
“You won’t let him, will you, James?” said Philip, apprehensively.
“I thought you were a match for him,” said Congreve, with an amused
smile.
“So I am, but he might take me unawares. He’ll be so mad, you know.”
“I’ll protect you,” said Congreve. “Come along.”
Both boys would have liked to learn whether Harry had been missed at
home, and what was thought of his disappearance; but there seemed to be
no one to ask, and, for obvious reasons, they did not care to show any
curiosity on the subject.
“I’d like to meet Mr. Wilkins,” said Philip. “He boards there, you
know, and he might say something about it.”
“Mr. Wilkins is your uncle, isn’t he?”
“He’s a distant relation of ma’s,” said Philip, reluctantly. “We don’t
know much about him.”
“I suppose he’s poor?” suggested Congreve, drily.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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