A Debt of Honor. Horatio Alger Jr.

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      “Look here, Gerald,” he said, moderating his tone and moving further away, as if all thoughts of violence had left him, “I will have a few plain words with you. If you have any paper compromising me in any way, I will make it worth your while to give it to me. I remember that I was in a little trouble, and being young made a mountain out of a molehill. Still I don’t care to have it come out now, when I am a man of repute, that I ever sowed wild oats like most young men. I will make you the same offer that I did your father. Give me the paper and I will give you a thousand dollars to start you in life. Think what such a sum will be to a boy like you.”

      “I don’t think I care much for money, Mr. Wentworth,” responded Gerald. “But my father left me this claim upon you as a sacred trust. I feel that I owe it to his memory to collect it to the uttermost farthing.”

      Bradley Wentworth shrugged his shoulders.

      “You are about the most foolish boy I ever met,” he said. “You are almost a pauper, yet you refuse a thousand dollars.”

      “I shall never be a pauper while I have my health and strength, Mr. Wentworth.”

      “You must think me a fool to surrender so large a sum as twenty thousand dollars on the demand of a half-grown boy like yourself!”

      “No, Mr. Wentworth. I was only trying to find out whether you were a man of integrity!”

      “Do you dare to impugn my integrity?” demanded the manufacturer angrily.

      “A man of integrity keeps his engagements,” said Gerald briefly.

      Bradley Wentworth regarded Gerald with a fixed and thoughtful glance. He had expected to twine the boy round his finger, but found that he was more resolute than he expected. He exhibited a force of character which his father had never possessed.

      Wentworth was not a patient man, and the boy’s perverseness, as he called it, provoked him, and brought out his sterner and more disagreeable qualities.

      “Boy,” he said harshly, “I have a piece of advice to give you.”

      “What is it, sir?”

      “Don’t make me your enemy! I came here intending to be your friend, and you decline my advances.”

      “No, sir,” answered Gerald firmly. “I don’t consider that you act a friendly part when you decline to carry out a solemn compact made with my father.”

      “It is a delusion of his and yours,” returned Wentworth, “I can only look upon your attitude as that of a blackmailer.”

      “No one has more contempt for a blackmailer than I,” said Gerald. “I am old enough to understand the meaning of the term. If a man owed you money, and you presented your claim, would you consider it blackmail?”

      “Certainly not.”

      “Then I need not defend myself from your charge.”

      “You and I take different views on this question, but it is of some importance to you not to offend me.”

      “Why?” asked Gerald, looking straight into the eyes of his companion.

      “Because I am rich and powerful.”

      “And I am weak and poor?”

      “Precisely.”

      “What use do you propose to make of your power, Mr. Wentworth?”

      “To crush you!” hissed the manufacturer.

      “Listen, boy, I am capable of being a good friend – ”

      “As you were to my father,” suggested Gerald significantly.

      “As I was to your father, only he did not appreciate it.”

      “I don’t care to have such a friend.”

      “But I have something to add. I can be a bitter enemy when I am badly treated.”

      “I suppose that is meant as a threat, Mr. Wentworth,” said Gerald calmly.

      “You can take it so.”

      “Then I have my answer ready. I care neither for your friendship nor your enmity. I shall do what I consider right, and if my own conscience approves I shall seek no other approval.”

      “You are very independent for a young boy, especially one in your circumstances,” sneered Wentworth.

      “You may be right. I am independent, and I intend to remain so.”