Grit. Alger Horatio Jr.

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      "If you remain in the neighborhood, I shall hope to see your little boy again, and yourself, also."

      "I will come," said Willie promptly.

      "He answers for himself," said his father, smiling, "and he will keep his promise. Now, Grit," he said, turning to the young boatman, "I will ask you to accompany me to the hotel."

      "Certainly, sir."

      When they had passed from the cottage, Mr. Jackson turned to the boy and grasped his hand.

      "I have not yet expressed to you my obligations," he said, with emotion, "for the great service you have done me—the greatest in the power of any man, or boy."

      "Don't speak of it, sir," said Grit modestly.

      "But I must. You have saved the life of my darling boy."

      "I don't know, sir."

      "But I do. I cannot swim a stroke, and but for your prompt bravery, he would have drowned before my eyes."

      Grit could not well contradict this statement, for it was incontestably true.

      "It was lucky I could swim," he answered.

      "Yes, it was. It seems providential that I should have had with me so brave a boy, when Willie's life was in peril. It will be something that you will remember with satisfaction to the end of your own life."

      "Yes, sir, there is no doubt of that," answered Grit sincerely.

      "I shudder to think what a sad blank my own life would have been if I had lost my dear boy. He is my only child, and for this reason I should have missed him the more. Your brave act is one that I cannot fitly reward–"

      "I don't need any reward, Mr. Jackson," said Grit hastily.

      "I am sure you do not. You do not look like a mercenary boy. But, for all that, I owe it to myself to see that so great a favor does not go unacknowledged. My brave boy, accept this wallet and what it contains, not as the payment of a debt, but as the first in the series of my acknowledgments to you."

      As he spoke, he put into the hand of the young boatman a wallet.

      "I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Jackson," said Grit, "but I am not sure that I ought to take this."

      "Then let me decide for you," said the broker, smiling. "I am older, and may be presumed to have more judgment."

      "It will seem as if I took pay for saving Willie from drowning."

      "If you did, it would be perfectly proper. But you forget that I have had the use of your boat and your own services for the greater part of the afternoon."

      "I presume you have paid me more than I ask for such services."

      "Very likely," answered Mr. Jackson. "In fact, outside of my obligations to you, I have formed a good opinion of a boy who works hard and faithfully to support his mother. I was a poor boy once, and I have not forgotten how to sympathize with those who are beginning the conflict with narrow means. Mind, Grit, I don't condole with you. You have good health and strong hands, and in our favored country there is no reason why, when you reach my age, you may not be equally well off."

      "I wish I might—for mother's sake," said Grit, his face lighting up with hope.

      "I shall see more of you while I am here, but I may as well say now that I mean to bear you in mind, and wish you to come to me, either here or in the city, when you stand in need of advice or assistance."

      Grit expressed his gratitude. Mr. Jackson selected a room at the hotel, and promised to take up his quarters there the next day. Then Grit once more took up his oars and ferried Willie and his father across the river.

      It was not for some time, therefore, that he had a chance to examine the wallet which had been given him.

      CHAPTER VII.

      GRIT ASTONISHES PHIL

      Grit was not wholly without curiosity, and, as was natural, he speculated as to the amount which the wallet contained. When Mr. Jackson and Willie had left him, he took it out of his pocket and opened it.

      He extracted a roll of bills and counted them over. There were ten five-dollar bills, and ten dollars in notes of a smaller denomination.

      "Sixty dollars!" ejaculated Grit, with a thrill of pleasure. "I never was so rich in all my life."

      He felt that the sum was too large for him to accept, and he was half tempted to run after Mr. Jackson and say so. But quick reflection satisfied him that the generous New Yorker wished him to retain it, and, modest though he was, he was conscious that in saving the little boy's life he had placed his passenger under an obligation which a much larger sum would not have overpaid. Besides, he saw two new passengers walking toward his boat, who doubtless wished to be ferried across the river. They were Phil Courtney and Marion Clarke.

      "We are just in time, Mr. Grit," said the young lady, smiling.

      "Yes, my good fellow," said Phil condescendingly, "we will employ you again."

      "You are very kind," answered Grit, with a smile of amusement.

      "I like to encourage you," continued Phil, who was not very quick to interpret the looks of others.

      Grit looked at Marion, and noticed that she, too, looked amused.

      "Have you had any passengers since we came over?" asked Phil, in a patronizing tone.

      He was quite ready to employ his old schoolmate, provided he would show proper gratitude, and be suitably impressed by his condescension.

      "I have been across several times," answered Grit briefly.

      "And how much have you made now?" asked Phil, with what he intended to pass for benevolent interest.

      If Phil had been his friend, Grit would not have minded telling him; but he had the pride of self-respect, and he objected to being patronized or condescended to.

      "I haven't counted up," he answered.

      "I might have brought my own boat," said Phil, "but I like to encourage you."

      "Really, Phil, you are appearing in a new character," said Marion. "I never should have taken you for a philanthropist before. I thought you told your mother it would be too much bother to row over in your own boat."

      "That was one reason," said Phil, looking slightly embarrassed. "Besides, I didn't want to interfere with Grit's business. He is poor, and has to support his mother out of his earnings."

      This was in bad taste, and Grit chafed against it.

      "That is true," he said, "but I don't ask any sympathy. I am prosperous enough."

      "Oh, yes; you are doing well enough for one in your position, I don't doubt. How much would you give, now, to have as much money as I carry in this pocketbook?" asked Phil boastfully.

      He had just passed his birthday, and had received a present of ten dollars from his father, and five dollars each from his mother and an aunt. He had spent a part of it for a hat and in other ways, but still he had seventeen dollars left.

      "Perhaps СКАЧАТЬ