CHAPTER V.
A MESSENGER OF BAD TIDINGS

The next day was Friday – the last day of the school week. Andy went to school as usual, wondering how Herbert would treat him after their little difficulty of the day before; not that he cared particularly, but he felt some curiosity on the subject.

But Herbert was absent. We know that his father had agreed to take him away from school, but this was not suspected by Andy, nor, indeed, by Dr. Euclid, notwithstanding the threat of Mr. Ross.

The doctor could hardly believe the lawyer would be so foolish as to deprive his son of school privileges merely on account of a boyish difficulty with one of his fellow students.

Herbert was often absent for a single day. Sometimes he had a convenient headache in the morning, when he felt indisposed to go, and neither his father nor mother interfered with him on such occasions.

Mr. Ross left his son quite independent, as long as Herbert did not contravene his own plans, and Mrs. Ross was foolishly indulgent.

“I suppose Herbert is sulking at home,” thought Andy. “Well, he can do it, if he wants to. I shan’t allow him to interfere with my work, even if he is a rich man’s son and I am only a janitor.”

Andy felt gratified at Dr. Euclid’s evident approval of his conduct. The principal was strict, but just, and thus gained the respect of all his students.

There is nothing boys more strongly resent than injustice and undeserved reproof, and no teacher who expects to retain his influence will permit himself to indulge in either.

It is hardly necessary to say that Squire Ross had communicated to Herbert the business which Mr. Starr had intrusted to him, and that Herbert was very much pleased to hear it.

“That’s good!” he said, emphatically. “Won’t you let me go with you when you call on the Gordons?”

“No, Herbert. I can’t do that.”

“What harm will it do?” pleaded Herbert, disappointed.

“It wouldn’t look well, and the neighbors would be sure to criticise.”

“It won’t make any difference if they do. You are a rich man, and can laugh at them.”

“Still, I don’t want to become unpopular. I think of running for office by and by. I stand a good chance of being nominated for State senator next fall, and it won’t do to give people a chance to talk against me.”

“Why don’t you run for member of Congress, pa?”

“So I may, in good time. The State senatorship would be a good stepping-stone to it.”

“When are you going to call on Mrs. Gordon?”

“To-night, probably.”

“I hope Andrew will be at home. It will make him feel blue.”

Herbert carefully abstained from calling our hero Andy, as everyone else did. He was afraid this familiarity would be interpreted into an admission of his social equality, and this he was far from being willing to concede.

When Herbert stayed home from school on an ordinary week day, he found it rather hard to pass the time, having no companions to play with, and not being especially fond of reading.

It struck him that it might be a very good idea to be sauntering along the road between the academy and the Widow Gordon’s, and, intercepting Andy, give him a hint that something disagreeable awaited him.

He proceeded to carry this plan into effect, and so it happened that Andy encountered Herbert, as he supposed, by accident.

Now Andy was not a boy to bear malice, and he accordingly accosted Herbert in his usual pleasant tone.

“Why weren’t you at school to-day, Herbert?” he asked. “Were you sick?”

“No, I’m well enough,” answered the young aristocrat.

“Got up late, I suppose?” said Andy.

“No, I didn’t. I don’t think I shall go to the academy any more.”

“Why not?” inquired Andy, considerably surprised.

“Dr. Euclid’s an old fogy.”

“Dr. Euclid is an excellent teacher,” said Andy, warmly.

“He don’t know how to treat a gentleman,” said Herbert.

“How do you make that out?”

“I’ll tell you. He ought to have given you a thrashing for insulting me,” said Herbert, darting a look of anger and hostility at his schoolfellow.

“Oh, that’s what you mean!” said Andy, laughing. “I don’t think that would be treating a gentleman properly.”

“Do you mean yourself?” demanded Herbert.

“Of course.”

“Do you call yourself a gentleman?”

This was asked with such insulting emphasis that Andy, good-natured as he was, flushed with indignation.

Still he answered, calmly:

“I mean to behave like a gentleman, and, as long as I do that, I call myself one.”

Herbert laughed scornfully.

“Perhaps when you are living in the poorhouse you will call yourself a gentleman,” he said.

“What have I got to do with the poorhouse?” Andy asked, looking Herbert steadily in the eye.

“I refer you to my father,” said Herbert, mockingly.

“Explain yourself, or perhaps I may not treat you like a gentleman,” said Andy, in a tone which caused Herbert to draw back involuntarily.

“My father has gone to see your mother on business,” said Herbert. “If you care to know what sort of business, you had better go home and find out.”

Andy was taken by surprise. He could not conceive what business the lawyer could have with his mother, but he was oppressed by a presentiment of evil. He left Herbert and hurried home.

CHAPTER VI.
A LAWYER’S VISIT

Mrs. Gordon was sitting at her sewing machine when a knock was heard at her humble door.

She kept no servant, and, as usual, answered the knock in person.

“Mr. Ross!” she said, in surprise, as she recognized in her caller the wealthy village lawyer.

“Yes, Mrs. Gordon,” said Mr. Ross, blandly, for he had determined in this business to figure simply as the agent of another and carefully to conceal that he felt any personal interest in an affair which was likely to give the poor widow considerable trouble. “Yes, Mrs. Gordon. I call upon a little matter of business.”

“Won’t you come in?” said the widow, not forgetting her politeness in her surprise.

“I believe I will trespass on your hospitality for a brief space,” said the lawyer. “Are you quite well?”

“Thank you, sir – quite so.” And she led the way into the little sitting-room. “Take the rocking-chair, Mr. Ross,” said the widow, pointing to the best chair which the plainly furnished apartment contained.

“You are very kind,” said the lawyer, seating himself gingerly in the chair referred to.

“Your son is at school, I suppose?” continued the lawyer.

“Yes, sir. It is nearly time for Andy to be home.” And the mother’s voice showed something of the pride she felt in her boy. “I believe your son is in his class, Mr. Ross.”

“Yes, very likely,” responded the lawyer, indifferently.

“You said you came on business?” inquired the widow.

“Yes, Mrs. Gordon. I fear the business may prove unpleasant for you, but you will remember that I am only an agent in the matter.”

“Unpleasant!” repeated Mrs. Gordon, apprehensively.

“Yes. Mr. Joshua Starr has placed in my hands, for collection, a note for one hundred dollars, executed by your late husband. With arrears of interest, it will amount to one hundred and thirty dollars, or thereabouts. I suppose you know something about it.”

“Yes, Mr. Ross, I do know something about it. The note was paid by my husband during his life – in fact, just before he set out for the war – and Mr. Starr knows it perfectly well.”

“You surprise me, Mrs. Gordon,” said the lawyer, raising his eyebrows.

In fact, he was not at all surprised, knowing that Starr was an unprincipled man and not too honest to take advantage of any loss or omission on the part of his debtor.

“Didn’t Mr. Starr say that we disputed his claim?” asked the widow.

“The fact is, Mrs. Gordon, I had very little conversation with Mr. Starr on the subject. He called at my house last evening and put the note into my hand for collection. I believe he said you had refused to pay it, or something of the kind.”

“I refused to pay what had been paid already,” said Mrs. Gordon, indignantly. “I regard Mr. Starr as a swindler.”

“Softly, Mrs. Gordon! You must be cautious how you speak of an old and respected citizen.”

“He may be old,” admitted the widow; “but I deny that he is respected.”

“Well, that is a matter of opinion,” said the lawyer, diplomatically. “Meanwhile, he has the law on his side.”

“How do you make that out, sir?”

“I have in my hands the note signed by your husband. If he paid it, why was it not given up?”

“I will tell you, sir. My husband was not a suspicious man, and he had confidence in others, crediting them with as much honesty as he himself possessed. When the note came due, he paid it; but Mr. Starr pretended that he had mislaid the note and couldn’t lay hands on it. He told my husband he would give him a receipt for the money, and that would be all the same. He was laying a trap for him all the time.”

“I don’t see that. The proposal was perfectly regular.”

“He thought, in case my husband lost the receipt, he would have the note and could demand payment over again. Oh, it was a rascally plot!”

“But,” said the lawyer, “I suppose you have the receipt, and, in that case, you have only to show it.”

“I am sorry to say that I have not been able to find it anywhere. I have hunted high and low, and I am afraid my poor husband must have carried it away in his wallet when he went South with his regiment. The note was paid only the day before he left, out of the bounty money he received from the State.”

“That would certainly be unfortunate,” said Lawyer Ross, veiling the satisfaction he felt, “for you will, in that case, have to pay the money over again.”

“Can the law be so unjust?” asked Mrs. Gordon, in dismay.

“You cannot call it unjust. As you cannot prove the payment of the money, you will have to bear the consequences.”

“But I have no money. I cannot pay!”

“You have your pension,” said the lawyer. “You can pay out of that. My client may be willing to accept quarterly installments.”

“I need all I have for the support of Andy and myself.”

“Then I am afraid – I am really afraid – my client will levy upon your furniture.”

“Oh, heavens!” exclaimed the poor woman, in agitation. “Can such things be allowed in a civilized country?”

“I don’t think you look upon the affair in the right light, Mrs. Gordon,” said Lawyer Ross, rising from the rocking-chair in which he had been seated. “It is a common thing, and quite regular, I can assure you. I will venture to give you a week to find the receipt, though not authorized by my client to do so. Good-afternoon!”

As he was going out he met, on the threshold, Andy, excited and out of breath.

The boy just caught a glimpse of his mother in tears, through the open door of the sitting room, and said to Mr. Ross, whom he judged to be responsible for his mother’s grief:

“What have you been saying to my mother, to make her cry?”

“Stand aside, boy! It’s none of your business,” said the lawyer, who lost all his blandness when he saw the boy who had assaulted his son.

“My mother’s business is mine,” said Andy, firmly.

“You will have enough to do to attend to your own affairs,” said the lawyer, with a sneer. “You made a great mistake when you made a brutal assault upon my son.”

“And you have come to revenge yourself upon my mother?” demanded Andy, in a tone indicating so much scorn that the lawyer, case-hardened as he was, couldn’t help winding.

“You are mistaken,” he said, remembering his determination to appear only as agent. “I came on business of my client, Mr. Starr. I shall take a future opportunity to settle with you.”

He walked away, and Andy entered the cottage to learn from his mother what had passed between her and the lawyer.

This was soon communicated, and gave our hero considerable anxiety, for he felt that Mr. Starr, though his claim was a dishonest one, might nevertheless be able to enforce it.

“How did Mr. Ross treat you, mother?” he asked, fearing that the lawyer might have made his errand unnecessarily unpleasant.