Dave Porter at Oak Hall. Stratemeyer Edward

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СКАЧАТЬ up" in one or two studies, and as soon as he felt strong enough to do so, Caspar Potts gave him daily instruction. He had always been a good pupil and his progress was, therefore, rapid.

      When Dave left the farm he was given a comfortable room on the second story of the Wadsworth mansion. It was prettily furnished, and Jessie made for him a table scarf which he admired greatly. He was also given some clothing and other necessities by Mr. Wadsworth, and when dressed up made as neat and handsome an appearance as any lad in Crumville.

      ​"Now, you are going to be a regular member of the family," said Jessie, as she gave him a warm smile.

      "I'm afraid yet that it is all a dream," said Dave, with a little laugh. "I can't really make myself believe that it's all true."

      "You'll know it's true when you get to grinding away at your books."

      "Oh, that won't bother me," answered Dave, with a smile.

      One day when Dave was on an errand to the post office he met Nat Poole, the lordly son of the man who had held the mortgage on the farm. The young fellow was loudly dressed, and was smoking a cigarette.

      "Say, you're Dave Porter, ain't you?" questioned Nat Poole, as he strode up to Dave.

      "I am, and I believe you are Nat Poole," was the quiet answer.

      "You've struck it rich since you moved to Wadsworth's place," sneered Nat Poole.

      "I have struck it rich, for which I am thankful."

      "Wadsworth must be a softy to take you in."

      "I'd like to know what business it is of yours," retorted Dave.

      "Humph! Can't I say what I think?"

      "You say too much."

      "What do you mean by that?"

      "You came over to the farm on an errand for ​your father and you insulted Mr. Potts—said he was a lunatic and all that. I don't like that sort of talk."

      "I only told the truth."

      "Mr. Potts is no more crazy than you are."

      "We have a difference of opinion on that point."

      "It was a mean thing to do, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself for doing it," went on Dave.

      "Look here! I won't have you talking to me in this fashion!" roared Nat. "I'm a gentleman, I am, and I want you to know it!"

      "No gentleman would treat an old man like that."

      Dave had scarcely spoken when Nat Poole stepped forward and caught him by the coat collar.

      "You take care!" he blustered.

      "Let go of me, Nat Poole," was the quiet but firm answer. "Let go, do you hear?"

      "I'll let go when I choose."

      "If you don't let go I'll knock you down."

      Dave's eyes were blazing, and his lips were pressed tightly together. He doubled up his right fist, and Nat Poole released his hold without delay.

      "I won't fight with such a low fellow as you," muttered the rich youth.

      "I am not as low a fellow as you are. I know how to behave myself."

      ​"Humph! You're nothing but a poorhouse boy."

      At these words Dave's face reddened. Only once, years before, had he been insulted like this, but he had never forgotten it. It had made him run away, wild with a grief and a rage that he could not master.

      "You—you——" he began, but did not finish. He might have hit the rich boy, but Nat Poole retreated quickly.

      "Don't you dare to talk to me like that again!" Dave went on, hotly. "Don't you dare! If you do, you'll be sorry as long as you live!" He came after Nat again, but the other youth retreated still further.

      "Guess you don't like the truth," muttered the rich boy, and then left the post office and disappeared.

      One man had heard the quarrel, the postmaster's assistant. He gazed at Dave admiringly.

      "You served him properly," said he. "He ought to have been knocked down."

      "I suppose because he is rich he thinks he can say anything," returned Dave, rather bitterly.

      "Oh, you mustn't mind such cads, Dave. I understand Nat is worrying his old man a good deal. He's wanting spending money all the time, and he blows it in on cigarettes, pool playing, and theaters."

      ​"It's a wonder his father will allow it."

      "Somebody told me he was going to send Nat to a boarding school—some strict place where he would have to toe the chalk mark. It's what that high-flyer needs."

      "Perhaps; but if he gets into a wild set, it may make him wilder than ever."

      "That is true."

      "I am going to a boarding school soon," continued Dave. "It's a fine institution in Massachusetts called Oak Hall."

      "You're in luck. I suppose Mr. Wadsworth is sending you."

      "Yes."

      "He's the most public-spirited man in Crumville. He pays fine wages, and all his employees think the world of him. He has furnished them with a free reading room, and a gymnasium, and lots of other things. I wish we had more men like him," added the postmaster's assistant.

      "Where is Mr. Poole going to send Nat?"

      "I don't know. They had several places in mind, I believe."

      After that the days flew by swiftly. Dave applied himself to his studies, and a week before the time came to depart for Oak Hall, Caspar Potts announced to Mr. Wadsworth that the youth was fully competent to enter the next to the highest class at the academy.

      ​At last came the day when Dave was to leave. His trunk had been packed and sent off the day before, and he had his railroad ticket and ten dollars tucked away in his pocket. Mrs. Wadsworth had presented him with a neat silver watch, and Jessie had added a chain and locket, the latter with his monogram engraved upon it. He wished he had her picture in the locket, but he did not have the courage to ask for it.

      Mr. Wadsworth took him to the depot, accompanied by Caspar Potts, and at the station they fell in with Ben Basswood.

      "I thought I'd come to bid you good-bye," said Ben. "I can tell you, I wish I was going too."

      "You must get to Oak Hall somehow, Ben," returned Dave.

      Now that he was really starting out it must be confessed that Dave felt just a bit queer. Since coming to Crumville he had never been many miles from home, nor among those who were utter strangers to him.

      "I hope you don't get homesick, Dave," СКАЧАТЬ