Robert Coverdale's Struggle: or, on the Wave of Success. Horatio Alger Jr.

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      "Let me look at it."

      She took the bundle, opened it and ran her eye rapidly over it.

      "It'll do," she said. "Might have been better done, but it'll answer."

      She was about to close the door, as if her business with Robert was at an end, but this did not suit our hero.

      "It will be twenty-five cents," he said in a business-like tone.

      "Were you afraid I would forget to pay you?" asked Mrs. Jones rather sourly.

      "No, ma'am, but I supposed you would like to know how much it would be."

      "Very well; now I know."

      If Robert had been easily abashed he would have dropped the matter there and suffered her to take her time about paying, but he knew that his aunt's intended purchasing must be made with ready money and he persisted.

      "I would like the money now," he said, "for I am going to the store to buy something."

      "It seems to me you are in a great hurry," said Mrs. Jones unpleasantly.

      "So would you be, Mrs. Jones," said Robert bluntly, "if you were as poor as my aunt."

      "Folks needn't be poor if they are smart," said the landlord's wife.

      "I suppose you know where my uncle's money goes?" said Robert pointedly.

      Mrs. Jones did know, and, though she had not much of a conscience, she felt the thrust and it made her uncomfortable and therefore angry. But it also gave her an idea.

      "Wait a minute," she said and left Robert standing in the doorway.

      When she returned, which was in a short time, her thin lips were wreathed with satisfaction.

      "You can tell your aunt there won't be any money coming to her," she said.

      "Why not?" demanded Robert in great surprise.

      "Mr. Jones tells me that your uncle is indebted to him, and he will credit him with twenty-five cents on account."

      "What does my uncle owe him for?" demanded the boy with flashing eyes.

      "For drink, I suppose," said Mrs. Jones rather reluctantly.

      "For drink!" repeated our hero. "Are you not satisfied with taking all my uncle's earnings, but you must get my aunt to work her fingers to the bone and then keep back her money in payment for your rum?"

      "Upon my word, Robert Coverdale," said Mrs. Jones sharply, "you are very impudent! How dare you speak to me in that way?"

      "How dare you treat my aunt so meanly?" retorted Robert with righteous indignation.

      "I won't stand your impudence – so there! Your aunt needn't expect any more sewing to do," said the angry landlady.

      "She wouldn't take any more of your work if that is the way you mean to pay her."

      "I won't stand here talking with you. I'll get Mr. Jones to give you a horsewhipping – see if I don't!"

      "He'd better not try it," said Robert with flashing eyes.

      The door was slammed in his face, and, angry and disappointed, he walked slowly out of the tavern yard.

      CHAPTER III

      THE WIND BROUGHT GOOD LUCK

      John Trafton was sitting out on the porch of the tavern when his nephew came out of the side gate.

      "There's your nephew, Trafton," said old Ben Brandon, who, like John Trafton, frequented the barroom too much for his good. "Hasn't come here for his dram, has he?" added the old man, chuckling.

      John Trafton's curiosity was excited, for he had no idea of any errand that could bring Robert to the tavern. A suspicion crossed his mind, the very thought of which kindled his indignation. His wife might have sent to request Mr. Jones not to sell him any more liquor. He did not think she would dare to do it, but she might. At any rate he determined to find out.

      He hastily left the porch and followed Robert. Presently the boy heard his uncle call him and he turned round.

      "What's wanted, uncle?" he inquired.

      "Where have you been, Robert?"

      "I called to see Mrs. Jones."

      "What did you want of Mrs. Jones?"

      "It was an errand for Aunt Jane."

      "Will you answer my question?" said Trafton angrily. "What business has your aunt got with Mrs. Jones?"

      He still thought that his wife had sent a message to Mr. Jones through the wife of the latter.

      "She had been doing a little sewing for Mrs. Jones and asked me to carry the work back."

      "Oh, that's it, is it?" said John Trafton, relieved. "And how much did the work come to?"

      "Twenty-five cents."

      "You may give me the money, Robert," said the fisherman. "You might lose it, you know."

      Could Robert be blamed for regarding his uncle with contempt? His intention evidently was to appropriate his wife's scanty earnings to his own use, spending them, of course, for drink. Certainly a man must be debased who will stoop to anything so mean, and Robert felt deeply ashamed of the man he was forced to call uncle.

      "I can't give you the money, uncle," said Robert coldly.

      "Can't, hey? What do you mean by that, I want to know?" demanded the fisherman suspiciously.

      "My aunt wanted me to buy a little tea and a loaf of bread with the money."

      "What if she did? Can't I buy them just as well as you? Hand over that money, Robert Coverdale, or it will be the worse for you."

      "I have no money to hand you."

      "Why haven't you? You haven't had a chance to spend it yet. You needn't lie about it or I will give you a flogging!"

      "I never lie," said Robert proudly. "I told you I haven't got the money and I haven't."

      "Then what have you done with it – lost it, eh?"

      "I have done nothing with it. Mrs. Jones wouldn't pay me."

      "And why wouldn't she pay you?"

      "Because she said that you were owing her husband money for drink and she would credit it on your account."

      As Robert said this he looked his uncle full in the eye and his uncle flushed a little with transient shame.

      "So aunt must go without her tea and bread," continued Robert.

      John Trafton had the grace to be ashamed and said:

      "I'll fix this with Jones. You can go to the store and get the tea and tell Sands to charge it to me."

      "He won't do it," СКАЧАТЬ