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Ben's Nugget: A Boy's Search For Fortune, a fiction by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 33. The Blow About To Fall |
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_ CHAPTER XXXIII. THE BLOW ABOUT TO FALL All this happened soon after Ben went away. His uncle did not write him of it, for he knew it would trouble the boy, and it could do no good. "No, wife," he said; "Ben will have a hard row of his own to hoe. He mustn't have any part nor lot in our troubles." "It's very hard, Job, at our time of life," said Mrs. Stanton, despondently. "So it is, wife, but it may turn out for the best, after all. I haven't given up hope that Mr. Richmond will pay the sum, so that I can take up the mortgage. I'm goin' to see him about it to-morrow." Uncle Job left his work the next day, and walked five miles to the store of the man who had brought this calamity upon him. "I've come to see you, Mr. Richmond," he said, wiping his forehead with his red cotton handkerchief, "about that money I've had to pay." "Oh yes," said Richmond, with his usual suavity. "I'm very sorry it happened so." "It seems to me you didn't treat me just right," said poor Job. "Such things will happen, you know, Mr. Stanton." "But you said it was only a matter of form signin' the note?" "Of course I so regarded it. I could have sworn I should be ready to pay when the note became due. You see, there was money owing to me that I couldn't collect." "Didn't you know that was likely to happen when you tempted me to indorse the note?" "It wasn't likely to happen, but it was possible. My plans miscarried, as any man's are liable to. If you were more used to business, Uncle Job, you'd see that I hadn't acted wrong in the matter." "I don't understand the ways of business men, but I know you've done me a grievous wrong, John Richmond," said Job Stanton, gravely. "I've come to ask if you can pay me back a part of that money." "Well, I can't do it this morning. I've got two payments to make. You don't look at it in the right light, Uncle Job." "I want my money," said the old man. "When can you give it to me?" "Since you push me so hard, I can only say I don't know," said Richmond, dropping his soft tones and looking angry. "Is that all the satisfaction you are goin' to give me? Don't you ever mean to pay me that money you've made me pay out on your account, mortgaging my house and risking my home?" "Of course I shall pay you some time, but I can't say exactly when," said the trader, brusquely. "Will you sign a note for the money at three months or six months, John Richmond?" "No, I won't. You'll have to wait, Uncle Job, till I get ready to pay you; that's all about it. I may be ready next week, or it may not be till next month. A business-man can't always foresee how he'll be situated at any definite time." With this poor consolation Job Stanton had to rest content. He looked around him and saw every evidence of prosperity. Several customers were in the store, and the two clerks seemed to have as much as they could do. He saw money paid over for purchases in considerable amounts, and he felt that a part of it might be spared as a partial payment to him; but it was of no avail, and he turned sadly away. The next week passed, and the next month passed, and Job Stanton waited vainly for a payment on account from John Richmond. He didn't like to judge the trader harshly, but it did seem as if he was quite indifferent in the matter. Another month passed, and Job made another visit to the store of his prosperous debtor. Richmond wasted few words on him. "Uncle Job," he said, "it's no use your coming over here. I'll send you the money when I can spare it." Finally, six months passed, the mortgage became due, and Job received a notice from Major Sturgis that he wanted his money. "If you can't raise it," said the major, "I am willing to cancel the note, give you two hundred and fifty dollars, and take a deed of the place." "That is only allowing seven hundred and fifty dollars for it," said poor Job. "It's all it is worth," said the rich man, coldly. "If you prefer to put it up at auction, I am willing, but you may in that case get less. I'll give you three days to decide." There was great sorrow in Job Stanton's house that evening. Six months before he had considered himself well-to-do. Now, at the age of sixty, poverty and destitution stared him in the face. _ |
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