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Risen from the Ranks: Harry Walton's Success, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 18. Aunt And Nephew |
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_ CHAPTER XVIII. AUNT AND NEPHEW "I don't think I can come here till to-morrow, Aunt Deborah," said Ferdinand, a little later. "I'll stay at the hotel to-night, and come round with my baggage in the morning." "Very well, nephew, but now you're here, you must stay to tea." "Thank you, aunt, I will." "I little thought this mornin', I should have Henry's son to tea," said Aunt Deborah, half to herself. "You don't look any like him, Ferdinand." "No, I don't think I do." "It's curis too, for you was his very picter when you was a boy." "I've changed a good deal since then, Aunt Deborah," said her nephew, a little uneasily. "So you have, to be sure. Now there's your hair used to be almost black, now it's brown. Really I can't account for it," and Aunt Deborah surveyed the young man over her spectacles. "You've got a good memory, aunt," said Ferdinand with a forced laugh. "Now ef your hair had grown darker, I shouldn't have wondered," pursued Aunt Deborah; "but it aint often black turns to brown." "That's so, aunt, but I can explain it," said Ferdinand, after a slight pause. "How was it?" "You know the French barbers can change your hair to any shade you want." "Can they?" "Yes, to be sure. Now--don't laugh at me, aunt--a young lady I used to like didn't fancy dark hair, so I went to a French barber, and he changed the color for me in three months." "You don't say!" "Fact, aunt; but he made me pay him well too." "How much did you give him?" "Fifty dollars, aunt." "That's what I call wasteful," said Aunt Deborah, disapprovingly. "Couldn't you be satisfied with the nat'ral color of your hair? To my mind black's handsomer than brown." "You're right, aunt. I wouldn't have done it if it hadn't been for Miss Percival." "Are you engaged to her?" "No, Aunt Deborah. The fact was, I found she wasn't domestic, and didn't know anything about keeping house, but only cared for dress, so I drew off, and she's married to somebody else now." "I'm glad to hear it," said Deborah, emphatically. "The jade! She wouldn't have been a proper wife for you. You want some good girl that's willin' to go into the kitchen, and look after things, and not carry all she's worth on her back." "I agree with you, aunt," said Ferdinand, who thought it politic, in view of the request he meant to make by and by, to agree with hie aunt in her views of what a wife should be. Aunt Deborah began to regard her nephew as quite a sensible young man, and to look upon him with complacency. "I wish, Ferdinand," she said, "you liked farmin'." "Why, aunt?" "You could stay here, and manage my farm for me." "Heaven forbid!" thought the young man with a shudder. "I should be bored to death. Does the old lady think I would put on a frock and overalls, and go out and plough, or hoe potatoes?" "It's a good, healthy business," pursued Aunt Deborah, unconscious of the thoughts which were passing through her nephew's mind, "and you wouldn't have to spend much for dress. Then I'm gittin' old, and though I don't want to make no promises, I'd very likely will it to you, ef I was satisfied with the way you managed." "You're very kind, aunt," said Ferdinand, "but I'm afraid I wasn't cut out for farming. You know I never lived in the country." "Why, yes, you did," said the old lady. "You was born in the country, and lived there till you was ten years old." "To be sure," said Ferdinand, hastily, "but I was too young then to take notice of farming. What does a boy of ten know of such things?" "To be sure. You're right there." "The fact is, Aunt Deborah, some men are born to be farmers, and some are born to be traders. Now, I've got a talent for trading. That's the reason I've got such a good offer from San Francisco." "How did you get it? Did you know the man?" "He used to be in business in New York. He was the first man I worked for, and he knew what I was. San Francisco is full of money, and traders make more than they do here. That's the reason he can afford to offer me so large a salary." "When did he send for you?" "I got the letter last week." "Have you got it with you?" "No, aunt; I may have it at the hotel," said the young man, hesitating, "but I am not certain." "Well, it's a good offer. There isn't nobody in Centreville gets so large a salary." "No, I suppose not. They don't need it, as it is cheap living here." "I hope when you get out there, Ferdinand, you'll save up money. You'd ought to save two-thirds of your pay." "I will try to, aunt." "You'll be wantin' to get married bimeby, and then it'll be convenient to have some money to begin with." "To be sure, aunt. I see you know how to manage." "I was always considered a good manager," said Deborah, complacently. "Ef your poor father had had _my_ faculty, he wouldn't have died as poor as he did, I can tell you." "What a conceited old woman she is, with her faculty!" thought Ferdinand, but what he said was quite different. "I wish he had had, aunt. It would have been better for me." "Well, you ought to get along, with your prospects." "Little the old woman knows what my real prospects are!" thought the young man. "Of course I ought," he said. "Excuse me a few minutes, nephew," said Aunt Deborah, gathering up her knitting and rising from her chair. "I must go out and see about tea. Maybe you'd like to read that nice book you brought." "No, I thank you, aunt. I think I'll take a little walk round your place, if you'll allow me." "Sartin, Ferdinand. Only come back in half an hour; tea'll be ready then." "Yea, aunt, I'll remember." So while Deborah was in the kitchen, Ferdinand took a walk in the fields, laughing to himself from time to time, as if something amused him. He returned in due time, and sat down to supper Aunt Deborah had provided her best, and, though the dishes were plain, they were quite palatable. When supper was over, the young man said,-- "Now, aunt, I think I will be getting back to the hotel." "You'll come over in the morning, Ferdinand, and fetch your trunk?" "Yes, aunt. Good-night." "Good-night." "Well," thought the young man, as he tramped back to the hotel. "I've opened the campaign, and made, I believe, a favorable impression. But what a pack of lies I have had to tell, to be sure! The old lady came near catching me once or twice, particularly about the color of my hair. It was a lucky thought, that about the French barber. It deceived the poor old soul. I don't think she could ever have been very handsome. If she was she must have changed fearfully." In the evening, John Clapp and Luke Harrison came round to the hotel to see him. "Have you been to see your aunt?" asked Clapp. "Yes, I took tea there." "Have a good time?" "Oh, I played the dutiful nephew to perfection. The old lady thinks a sight of me." "How did you do it?" "I agreed with all she said, told her how young she looked, and humbugged her generally." Clapp laughed. "The best part of the joke is--will you promise to keep dark?" "Of course." "Don't breathe it to a living soul, you two fellows. _She isn't my aunt of all_!" "Isn't your aunt?" "No, her true nephew is in New York--I know him.--but I know enough of family matters to gull the old lady, and, I hope, raise a few hundred dollars out of her." This was a joke which Luke and Clapp could appreciate, and they laughed heartily at the deception which was being practised on simple Aunt Deborah, particularly when Ferdinand explained how he got over the difficulty of having different colored hair from the real owner of the name he assumed. "We must have a drink on that," said Luke. "Walk up, gentlemen." "I'm agreeable," said Ferdinand. "And I," said Clapp. "Never refuse a good offer, say I." Poor Aunt Deborah! She little dreamed that she was the dupe of a designing adventurer who bore no relationship to her. _ |
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