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Five Hundred Dollars; or, Jacob Marlowe's Secret, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 10. Stolen Money |
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_ CHAPTER X. STOLEN MONEY Saturday afternoon arrived, and with it came Bert's discharge from the shoe shop. He put the four dollars in his pocket, and with a sober face went home. "There are my week's wages, mother," he said. "I don't know when I shall have any more money to hand you." "We won't borrow trouble to-night, Bert," responded Mrs. Barton, concealing her solicitude under a cheerful exterior. "To-morrow is Sunday, and we will defer all worldly anxieties till it is over." "You are right, mother," said Bert, readily chiming in with her cheerful humor. "I am young and strong, and there is plenty of work to be done in the world." "Keep up your courage, Bert, and you will be more likely to win success." When Sunday was over, however, Bert felt that he must begin to look about him. But the more he looked the more downhearted he became. He went to the village store, having heard that the boy employed there was about to leave. After buying a pound of sugar for his mother, he ventured to say, "Mr. Jones, don't you want to hire a boy?" "Why should I want to hire a boy?" asked the store-keeper, in a tone of surprise. "I thought that Herman was going to leave you." "So he was, but he has changed his mind." "Oh!" ejaculated Bert, disappointed. "Are you asking for yourself?" inquired the merchant. "Yes, sir." "I thought you were at work in the shoe shop." "So I was, but I have lost my place." "Ha!" exclaimed the store-keeper suspiciously. "If Squire Marlowe has discharged you, I don't want to hire you." "You are mistaken, Mr. Jones, about the cause of my discharge. He had no fault to find with me." "So _you_ say," returned Jones, in evident skepticism. "Boys don't get discharged for nothing." Bert felt inclined to be angry, but he controlled his temper. "I am a pegger, and the squire has introduced a pegging machine, so he has discharged all the peggers." "Oh, that's different. Well, I'm sorry for you, but I have no vacancy." "If Herman should change his mind again, will you think of me?" "Yes, I will. I think you are a good boy, and you look strong for your size." Bert felt a little encouraged by this promise, though it was very doubtful if it would ever amount to anything. Day after day passed, and no employment offered. But one morning a bright idea came to Bert. Blueberries were just coming into the market, and he knew of a large pasture a little over a mile away. "Mother," he said, "if you'll give me a large tin pail, I'll go after some berries. I may be able to sell them at the hotel." "If you can't, we can use them ourselves," rejoined Mrs. Barton. "It will be better to sell them, for I hear they are bringing fifteen cents a quart. They won't stay long at that figure, so we will put off having them ourselves till they are cheaper." It was with a light heart that Bert set out for the berry pasture. He had become tired of having nothing to do. Any sort of employment seemed desirable. Besides, they were very much in want of money, and here seemed a chance of earning some. Bert spent five hours in the pasture. Berries were high, because they were scarce, and it took fully twice as long to gather a quart as it would two weeks later. But he kept steadily at his task, and at length the pail--which held four quarts--was full. He was tired enough and his back ached, but still he felt happy as he left the field and trudged toward the Lake House, which was the name of the village hotel. There were a few summer boarders there from New York and Philadelphia, who were glad to exchange the brick walls and crowded city streets for the verdure and pure breezes of the country. Fortunately Bert found the landlord on the piazza, and to him he preferred his request. "Would you like to buy some blueberries?" "Go round to the side door, Bert," said Mr. Holbrook, the good-natured landlord. "I leave all such matters to Mrs. Holbrook." "Blueberries?" exclaimed the landlady. "Why, it's just what I wanted. Mrs. Casewell, from Philadelphia, has been teasing me for some blueberry pudding. What do you ask?" "Fifteen cents a quart," answered Bert. "You know they have just come into the market." "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." "You wouldn't do that, Reginald? He would be awful mad with me, and you wouldn't get your money, either." "I must do something. I can't afford to lose the money." "Just wait a day or two. I'll see what I can do." "Mind you do something, then." Percy regretted that he had ever made the acquaintance of Reginald Ward, or consented to play poker with him, but the regret came too late. The mischief was done, and he saw from Ward's determined look that he must do something. He was just in that frame of mind when temptations have the most power. In the evening he went to the village store to purchase a fishing-line, for he had made an arrangement to go out fishing with Reginald Ward the next day. He made the purchase, and was about to go when his eye caught sight of a twenty-dollar bill lying on the desk. Mr. Jones had gone to the other end of the store, and no one was looking. On the impulse of the moment he seized the bill, and with his heart beating quickly, he left the store. As he passed through the door Bert Barton entered with a kerosene can in his hand, and walked up to the counter, taking his stand near the desk. _ |
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