INTRODUCTION

My Dear Boys and Girls:-

"A YOUNG INVENTOR'S PLUCK" relates the adventures of a wide-awake American lad of a mechanical turn of mind, who suddenly finds himself thrown upon his own resources and compelled to support not only himself, but likewise his sister.

Jack Willington's path is no easy one to tread. The bank in which the sister and brother have their little store of money deposited fails, and with this comes the shutting down of the tool works in which our hero is employed. To add to the lad's troubles, there is a large fire in the town and the youth is accused of incendiarism.

But Jack and his sister Deb are not without friends, and the fact that the boy is an inventor and has almost ready the model of a useful and valuable invention, aids him to secure his release, and then he goes forth to run down his enemies and to solve the mystery connected with a rich family legacy.

Generally speaking, life in a factory town is thought to be dull and monotonous, whereas the truth is, that it is usually full of interest and not devoid of excitement of a peculiar kind. In this tale I have tried to picture life in such a place truthfully, with all of its lights and its shadows, and I hope that my story will prove more or less instructive in consequence.

Affectionately your friend,

ARTHUR M. WINFIELD.

CHAPTER I
THE SHUT DOWN

"Oh Jack! how blue you look!"

"I feel blue, Deb," answered Jack Willington, as he entered the door of his modest home and gave his sister the brotherly kiss he knew she was expecting.

"Is there something the matter up at the tool works, Jack?"

"Yes, Deb. The works are going to shut down."

"To shut down?" repeated the girl, her eyes wide open in affright, for she knew only too well what such a calamity meant. "When will they close?"

"To-morrow. In fact we have quit on the regular work already."

"And how long will the shut-down last?"

"Nobody knows. I asked Mr. Johnson-he's the foreman, you know-and he said he thought a month or six weeks, but he wasn't sure."

"A month! Oh, Jack, it's an awfully long time!"

And Deb Willington's face grew very grave.

"I know it is-longer than I care to remain idle, even if I could afford to, which I can't. But that's not the worst of it."

"No?"

"No; they didn't pay us for the last two weeks' work."

"Why not?"

"Johnson said that they wanted to pay off every man in full, and that the figuring would take several days."

"And you won't get any money till then?"

"Not a cent. My private opinion is that the company is in some sort of a financial difficulty, and only want to gain time. Mont didn't have a word to say about it when I asked him, and, I imagine he knows a good deal about his uncle's affairs."

Deb cast down her eyes in a meditative way.

"To-morrow is rent day," she said, after a pause.

"I know it. I've been thinking of it all the way home. How much have we got toward paying the six dollars?"

"Three dollars and a half." And Deb brought forth the amount from her small purse.

"Humph! I don't see what's to be done," mused Jack, as he removed his hat and sat down. "Mr. Hammerby will have to wait for his money."

"Will he?"

"I don't see what else he can do. But, aside from that, three dollars and a half won't keep us a month. I'll have to look elsewhere for work."

Deborah and John Willington were orphans. Their father had died some ten years before. He had been a strong, industrious and ingenious machinist, of a quiet nature, and at his demise left his wife and two children with a small property, which, however, was subject to a mortgage of several hundred dollars.

His widow found it no easy matter to get along. Jack was but seven years of age and Deb five, and, of course, could do little or nothing, except occasionally to "help mamma."

Mrs. Willington in her reduced circumstances had taken in sewing, and also opened a school for little children, and by these means had earned a scanty living for her family.

But it was not long before the strain began to tell upon the brave woman. She was naturally delicate, and grew weaker slowly but surely, until, eight years later, she quietly let slip the garment she was making, folded her hands, and peacefully went to join her husband in the Great Beyond.

Deb and Jack were terribly startled when the sad event occurred. They were utterly alone in the world. It was true that there were distant relatives upon their mother's side, but they had always been too proud to notice the Willington family, and now made no attempt to help the orphans.

Shortly after the mother's funeral, the mortgage on the homestead fell due, and as it could not be met, the place went under the auctioneer's hammer.

Realty in Corney, as the factory town was called, was not booming at the time, and, as a consequence, when all the costs were paid, only one hundred dollars and the furniture remained as a start in life for the two children.

They had no home, no place to go. What was to be done?

A kind neighbor spoke of adopting Deb, and another obtained for Jack a job in the Tool Company's works.

But the two would not separate. When Jack mentioned it, Deb sobbed and clung to him, until he declared that she should remain with him no matter what happened.

At this time Jack earned eight dollars a week, and had the prospect of a raise. With this amount they rented three rooms for six dollars a month, and Deb, young as she was, took upon herself the important duties of housekeeping.

Things moved crudely at first, but it was so nice to be together, to work for one another, that, excepting for their recent bereavement, which still hung as a heavy cloud over their lives, they lived as happily as "two bugs in a rug."

Jack thought the world of his sister Deb. He was a rather silent fellow, with a practical turn of mind, not given overmuch to fun making, and his sister's bright and cheerful way was just what was needed to lift his mind out of the drudge-rut into which it was wont to run.

He spent all his evenings in her company, either at home or, when the weather was fine, in strolling around Corney, or in attendance upon some entertainment that did not cost much money, and which gave Deb keen enjoyment. Sometimes, when he got the chance, he would do odd jobs at his bench on the sly, and then, with the extra money thus earned, would surprise Deb by buying her something which he knew she desired, but which their regular means would not afford.

Jack was now earning twelve dollars a week and they lived much more comfortably than before. During the past three years they had saved quite a neat sum, but a month of severe illness for Deb had now reduced them to their original capital of one hundred dollars, which was deposited in the Mechanics' Savings Bank of Corney-a sum that both had decided should not be touched unless it became absolutely necessary.

Young as he was, Jack understood the machinist's trade thoroughly. He took a lively interest in his work, and the doing of jobs on his own account had led him to erect a small workbench at home.

Here he often experimented upon various improvements in machinery, hoping at some time to invent that which might bring him in a substantial return.

One of his models-a planing machine attachment-was nearly completed, and this had been considerably praised by Mr. Benton, a shrewd speculator in inventions of various kinds.

"I'm afraid we'll have to draw part of that hundred dollars from the bank," observed Jack as the two were eating the neat supper Deb had prepared. "I hate to do it, but I don't see any way out of it."

"It does seem a shame, after we've kept it so long," returned his sister. "But do as you think best. Only, Jack, dear, please don't worry. It will all come out right in the end."

Her brother had laid down his knife and fork and was resting his chin on his hand in deep meditation.

"You're right, Deb," he exclaimed starting up, "and I ought to be thankful for what we have got, especially for having such a good little sister to ease things up."

"Say, Jack," suddenly began Deb, struck with an idea, "you are so handy with the tools, why don't you open a little shop of your own? Wouldn't it pay?"

Jack's face brightened more than it had for many a day.

"I'm glad you said that," he replied. "I've often thought of it. But I hated to give up a certainty like my wages for-"

"Yes, but now-" began Deb.

"One misfortune gives me a chance to tempt another." He gave a sorry little laugh. "Is that what you mean?"

"You'll get along-never fear."

"There ought to be a chance, true enough. I could sharpen tools, repair lawn mowers and bicycles, and mend all sorts of things. There is no such shop in Corney as yet, and it ought to pay."

"How much would it cost to start?" asked Deb, with great interest.

"I think fifty or sixty dollars would put me into shape to do small work. I have most of the tools, and would only need a lathe and one or two other things-that I could get second-hand."

"I'll tell you what to do then," was Deb's conclusion; "to-morrow morning, go down to the bank and draw out seventy-five dollars. Then we'll pay the rent, and you can take the rest and try your luck."

"Yes, but-"

"No buts, Jack; I'm willing to put up with whatever comes-bad luck as well as good. I'm sure you'll succeed."

"If your good wishes count for anything, I certainly shall," exclaimed Jack, earnestly. "I think I can rent a shop for ten dollars a month, or, maybe, if I pay a little more, I can get one with living rooms attached, which would be cheaper than hiring two places."

"And nicer, too," returned Deb; "you wouldn't have to go so far for dinner, and I could attend to customers while you were away."

The pair talked in this strain for over an hour. His sister's sanguine way of looking at the matter made the young machinist feel as if perhaps the shut-down was not such a bad thing, after all, and might prove the turning point to something better than they had ever before known.

The next morning, for the first time in several years, Jack had breakfast late. It was soon over, and then he put on his good clothes and started for the bank.

The streets were thronged with idle men. The Corney Tool Company employed nearly a thousand persons-in fact, it was by far the principal factory in the place-and to have all these employes thrown out of work was a calamity discussed by everyone.

The Mechanics' Savings Bank had been organized by Mr. Felix Gray, the owner of the tool works, who presided over both places. He was a man of fifty, with an unusually sharp and irritable disposition.

As Jack approached the bank he noticed a large crowd collected in and around the building.

"I suppose, as they can't get their pay, they want to withdraw some of their savings," was his thought as he drew nearer.

An instant later a queer cry came from the interior of the bank, and it was quickly taken up by those outside.

"What is it?" asked the young machinist, of a bystander.

"They've suspended payment," was the short reply.

"What!" gasped Jack, in horror. "You don't mean it?"

But at the same time the crowd cried out loudly, in angry tones:

"The bank's burst! She's gone up for good! No money for the poor man! We can all starve!"