Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute. Alger Horatio Jr.

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СКАЧАТЬ I’d rather stay at home with you. Hector won’t be here to interfere with my using his horse and buggy.”

      “They are his no longer. I give them to you.”

      “Thank you, father,” said Guy, very much gratified.

      “But I would rather you would not use them till after Hector is gone. It might disturb him.”

      “That’s just why I want to do it.”

      “But it might make trouble. He might refuse to go to school.”

      “You’d make him go, wouldn’t you, father?”

      “Yes; but I wish to avoid forcible measures, if possible. Come, Guy, it’s only till Monday; then Hector will be out of the way, and you can do as you please without fear of interference.”

      “All right, father. I’ll postpone my fun till he is out of the way. You’ll go with him, won’t you?”

      “Yes, Guy.”

      “Just tell old Smith how to treat him. Tell him to show him no mercy, if he doesn’t behave himself.”

      “You seem to dislike Hector very much. You shouldn’t feel so. It isn’t Christian.”

      Guy looked at his father queerly out of the corner of his eye. He understood him better than Allan Roscoe supposed.

      “I hope you won’t insist on my loving him, father,” he said. “I leave that to you.”

      “I only wish you to avoid coming into collision with him. As for love, that is something not within our power.”

      “Will you be ready to go with me to boarding school on Monday morning, Hector?” asked Allan Roscoe, on Saturday afternoon.

      “Yes, sir.”

      Indeed, Hector felt that it would be a relief to get away from the house which he had been taught to look upon as his—first by right of inheritance, and later as actual owner. As long as he remained he was unpleasantly reminded of the great loss he had experienced. Again, his relations with Guy were unfriendly, and he knew that if they were permanently together it wouldn’t be long before there would be another collision. Though in such a case he was sure to come off victorious, he did not care to contend, especially as no advantage could come of it in the end.

      Of the boarding school kept by Mr. Socrates Smith he had never heard, but felt that he would, at any rate, prefer to find himself amid new scenes. If the school were a good one, he meant to derive benefit from it, for he was fond of books and study, and thought school duties no task.

      “I have carefully selected a school for you,” continued Allan Roscoe, “because I wish to follow out my poor brother’s wishes to the letter. A good education will fit you to maintain yourself, and attain a creditable station in life, which is very important, since you will have to carve your own future.”

      There was no objection to make to all this. Still, it did grate upon Hector’s feelings, to be so often reminded of his penniless position, when till recently he had regarded himself, and had been regarded by others, as a boy of large property.

      Smithville was accessible by railroad, being on the same line as the town of Plympton in which Roscoe Castle was situated. There was a train starting at seven o’clock, which reached Smithville at half-past, eight. This was felt to be the proper train to take, as it would enable Hector to reach school before the morning session began. Allan Roscoe, who was not an early riser, made an effort to rise in time, and succeeded. In truth, he was anxious to get Hector out of the house. It might be that the boy’s presence was a tacit reproach, it might be that he had contracted a dislike for him. At any rate, when Hector descended to the breakfast room, he found Mr. Roscoe already there.

      “You are in time, Hector,” said Mr. Roscoe. “I don’t know how early they will get up at school, but I hope it won’t be earlier than this.”

      “I have no objection to early rising,” said Hector.

      “I have,” said Allan Roscoe, gaping.

      “I am sorry to have inconvenienced you,” said Hector, politely. “I could have gone to school alone.”

      “No doubt; but I wished an interview with Mr. Socrates Smith myself. I look upon myself in the light of your guardian, though you are not my nephew, as was originally supposed.”

      “I’d give a good deal to know whether this is true,” thought Hector, fixing his eyes attentively upon his uncle’s face.

      I have written “uncle” inadvertently, that being the character in which Mr. Roscoe appeared to the world.

      “By the way, Hector,” said Allan Roscoe, “there is one matter which we have not yet settled.”

      “What is that, sir?”

      “About your name.”

      “My name is Hector Roscoe.”

      “I beg your pardon. Assuming by brother’s communication to be true, and I think you will not question his word, you have no claim to the name.”

      “To what name have I a claim, then?” asked Hector, pointedly.

      “To the name of your father—the last name, I mean. I have no objection to your retaining the name of Hector.”

      “What was the name of my father?” asked the boy.

      “Ahem! My brother did not mention that in his letter. Quite an omission, I must observe.”

      “Then it is clear that he meant to have me retain his own name,” said Hector, decisively.

      “That does not follow.”

      “As I know no other name to which I have a claim, I shall certainly keep the name of the kindest friend I ever had, whether he was my father or not,” said Hector, firmly.

      Allan Roscoe looked annoyed.

      “Really,” he said, “I think this ill-judged, very ill-judged. It will lead to misapprehension. It will deceive people into the belief that you are a real Roscoe.”

      “I don’t know but I am,” answered Hector, with a calm look of defiance, which aggravated Allan Roscoe.

      “Have I not told you you are not?” he said, frowning.

      “You have; but you have not proved it,” said Hector.

      “I am surprised that you should cling to a foolish delusion. You are only preparing trouble for yourself. If my word is not sufficient—”

      “You are an interested party. This story, if true, gives you my property.”

      “At any rate, you may take your father’s—I mean my brother’s—word for it.”

      “If he had told me so, I would believe it,” said Hector.

      “You have it in black and white, in the paper I showed you. What more do you want?”

      “I want to be sure that that document is genuine. However, I won’t argue the question now. I have only СКАЧАТЬ