Andy Gordon. Horatio Alger Jr.

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ