Alger Horatio Jr.
Herbert Carter's Legacy; Or, the Inventor's Son
CHAPTER XIX
HERBERT BECOMES A PROFESSOR
When Herbert reached the hotel he went up at once to Mr. Cameron’s room.
“I believe I am a little late,” he said, apologetically; “but I was detained at home by a matter of business.”
“You are young to have your time occupied by matters of business,” said the young man, smiling.
“Yes, if my father were alive it would not devolve upon me, but my mother generally consults with me.”
“I hope your business was arranged satisfactorily.”
“Yes, but it came near turning out otherwise. I would like to tell you about it.”
“Do so,” said Mr. Cameron, kindly. “I shall be interested in whatever affects you.”
Herbert gave an account of Squire Leech’s attempts to get possession of their cottage.
“But for that letter of Aunt Nancy’s,” he concluded, “we should have been obliged to part with our house.”
“For the paltry sum of twenty-two dollars and a half?”
“It wasn’t paltry to us.”
“No, to be sure. Why didn’t you tell me this morning? I would have lent you the money.”
“You would?” exclaimed Herbert.
“With pleasure.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cameron,” said our hero; “but I shouldn’t have dared to ask such a favor of a stranger.”
“I must tell you that this Squire Leech has probably taken advantage of your ignorance of business. I don’t know exactly how the law is in this State, but I presume that, so far from the squire being authorized to take immediate possession of your place, he would be obliged to give legal notice of sale, on foreclosure of mortgage, by advertisement in some weekly paper. This would allow of sale at auction to the highest bidder.”
“I didn’t know that; I supposed the squire could order us out immediately and take possession.”
“Squire Leech certainly knew better than that, but he evidently wanted to frighten your mother into selling to him at a sacrifice.”
“That was mean,” said Herbert, indignantly, “and he a rich man, too.”
“I quite agree with you,” said Mr. Cameron. “If you have any further difficulty with this grasping capitalist, come to me and I will give you the best advice I can.”
“I will, Mr. Cameron, and thank you for your advice. You have relieved my mind. I will tell mother what you say. What would you like to have me read first?”
“We will put off the reading for a short time. I want to ask you a few more questions about yourself, not out of curiosity, but because I may, if I understand your circumstances, some time have it in my power to serve you.”
“Thank you, sir. I shall be very glad to tell you anything. I was afraid you would not feel interested.”
“You are my private secretary now and that insures my interest. How long since did your father die?”
“A little over a year.”
“What was his business?”
“When he was a young man he was employed in a manufactory near Providence, but the confinement injured his health and he learned the carpenter’s trade.”
“I shouldn’t think there would be much for a carpenter to do in a small village like this.”
“My father managed to make a comfortable living but that was all. At the time he died, he considered that our house was mortgaged for only half its value, but Squire Leech thinks otherwise.”
“Squire Leech wants to get possession of your place. So that was all your father was able to leave you?”
“No, not quite all; there was something else which father seemed to think was worth something, but I am afraid it will never do us any good.”
“What is that?” asked Mr. Cameron.
“He was at work in his leisure for the last two years of his life on an invention.”
“An invention! Of what nature?”
“You know I told you he was employed in a cotton manufactory when a young man. This made him familiar with spinning and weaving. He thought he could make an improvement in some of the machinery used and he worked out his idea in a wooden model.”
“Have you the model?” asked Cameron, with interest.
“Yes, sir, and also a written paper describing the invention. A few days before he died father called me to his bedside and told me that he wanted me some day to show his invention to a manufacturer and get his opinion of it. He said that he hoped some time it would be a source of profit to mother and myself.”
“Have you ever done as he advised?” asked Cameron.
“I have never had opportunity. There is no manufacturing town near here and I cannot afford to travel.”
“I am myself the son of a cotton manufacturer,” said Cameron, “and, though I have never been employed in the business, I have from my boyhood been accustomed to visit my father’s factory. My opinion may be worth something, therefore. If you are willing to show me your father’s model—”
“I shall be very much obliged to you if you will look at it,” said Herbert. “I have been afraid that father exaggerated its value and that it might have defects which would prevent its being adopted anywhere.”
“I will give you my opinion when I have seen it. And now suppose we set to work. Here is a treatise on logic. You may begin and read it very slowly, pausing at the end of every paragraph till I tell you to go on.”
Herbert began to read as he had been requested. For the first two or three times he took very little interest in his subject and thought it very dry. In fact, it was not all he began to re-read the earlier portions that he could comprehend much of it.
“Now,” said Cameron, after he had read half an hour, “I have something else for you to do. You are not only my reader, but I must make you my teacher, too.”
Herbert laughed, saying: “I think you’ll have to get somebody that knows more than I, then; I wouldn’t venture to teach a college student.”
“I mean that you shall hear my lessons. I want you to imagine yourself a college professor and ask me questions on what you have just read.”
“Do you think I can?”
“You may bungle a little at first, but you’ll improve. If you do well, when I get through with you I will try to get you a professor’s chair at some college.”
“I should like that, if professors get well paid.”
“They generally get more than five dollars a week; but that is all that I can afford to pay at present.”
“I’m only an apprentice,” said Herbert smiling, “and am quite satisfied.”
Herbert began to question Cameron on what he had been reading. He did not find it altogether easy, partly from want of practice, partly because the subject was one he knew nothing about. But whenever blunders were made Cameron laughed good-naturedly and the young professor joined in the merriment.
“We’ll take political economy next,” said the student. “You won’t find that so dry as logic.”
Though political economy is generally studied in the junior or senior year at college, its principles, if familiarly illustrated, are not beyond the comprehension of a boy of fifteen. He found himself reading with interest, and when he came to act the role of professor he acquitted himself more creditably than with logic.
“I think,” said Cameron, “I shall recommend you for the chair of political economy.”
“I like it much better,” said Herbert.
“So do I. Still, logic is important in its way. Tomorrow I must try you on Latin.”
“I am afraid it won’t be much use,” said our hero. “I have studied it a little two winters when we had a college student keeping our winter school.”
“If you know as much as that you will answer my purpose better than I anticipated. Now we’ll take a walk. You shall show me the houses of Wrayburn.”
“The houses of Wrayburn are four in number,” said Herbert; “the two churches, the town hall, and Squire Leech’s house.”
“There’s another walk which I prefer; I mean to Prospect Pond. Suppose we walk over to it.”
“I shall be glad to,” said Herbert.
“You are a very accommodating professor. You let me off from study when I feel lazy.”
CHAPTER XX
PROSPECT POND
It was a beautiful afternoon and Herbert was satisfied to lay books aside and walk over to Prospect Pond.
This pond was about a mile from the village and probably about a mile and a half in circuit. At the farther end was a small hill crowned with forest trees.
“That would be a fine situation for a house.”
“Yes,” said Herbert, “but it would be hard to get at.”
“Oh, of course a road would have to be built connecting with the highway. Perhaps you will build a house there when you are a rich man.”
“Then I shall have to wait a few years,” said Herbert.
“You wouldn’t be the first poor boy that has grown rich. My own father is rich now, but when he was of your age he was only a poor ‘bobbin boy’ working at scanty pay in the factory of which he is now owner.”
“I should like to be rich for my mother’s sake,” said Herbert.
“With money one can do a great deal of good, though not all rich men choose to apply their riches worthily. How smooth the water is to-day! Isn’t there a boat somewhere that we can use?”
“There’s one a few rods from here, but it belongs to James Leech.”
“Would it do to take it, do you think?”
“It might do for you but not for me.”
“Why not for you?”
“James and I are not very good friends.”
“Why not?”
“He looks down upon me because I am poor.”
“So he is inclined to put on airs on account of his father’s money?”
“I should say he is.”
“Let us go and see the boat at any rate.”
Herbert led the way through a meadow to a clump of trees, where a small rowboat floated upon the water.
“Does Leech often go out in it?”
“Two or three times a week.”
“It is just about large enough for two, though it would easily accommodate one more.”
“Yes.”
“If I thought your friend would not be round I should be tempted to try it for half an hour.”
“I think you might venture.”
“Jump in, then, and we’ll push out.”
Herbert shook his head.
“If the boat belonged to anyone but James Leech I would go; but I don’t like him well enough to take any liberty with anything of his.”
“Perhaps you are right. Would you mind sitting down and waiting for me twenty minutes or half an hour?”
“Oh, no; it will be pleasant.”
“Then here goes.”
Cameron jumped into the boat, pushed off and began to row in a style that showed he was accustomed to the exercise. The pond was so small that it was not easy for him to get out of sight.
Herbert sat down, not without a secret longing to be in the boat also; but he did not care to place himself under any obligations to James.
Suddenly he heard a hasty step behind him. Looking up, he saw the owner of the boat close at hand.
James Leech looked for his boat and saw that it was gone. Then his gaze fell upon our hero.
“What have you done with my boat, Carter?” he demanded, peremptorily.
“What makes you ask such a question, Leech?” answered Herbert.
“Why do you call me Leech?” said James, angrily.
“For the same reason you call me Carter, I suppose.”
“There’s a great difference between us,” said James.
“That’s true,” assented Herbert.
“And you ought to treat me with proper respect.”
“I treat you with all the respect you deserve.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” said James.
“What question?”
“Where is my boat?”
“Out on the pond. Look and you will see it.”
James looked where Herbert pointed.
“Who is that in that boat?” he demanded, angrily.
“Mr. Cameron.”
“Who’s he?”
“A boarder at the hotel.”
“Is it the young man from Yale College? My father was speaking of him this morning,” said James, moderating his tone very considerably.
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t mind. My father says he is very rich. I suppose I shall be introduced to him soon,” said James, complacently.
“If you will wait a few minutes till he comes ashore I will introduce you,” said Herbert.
“You! What do you know of him?” sneered James.
“I passed the afternoon with him,” said Herbert.
“He must be hard up for company,” said James.
“Look here, James Leech,” said Herbert his eyes flashing; “I’ve had enough of that kind of talk. I don’t intend to submit to your impudence. When you speak to me keep a civil tongue in your head.”
“I never heard such impudence. What do you mean by addressing me in that style?”
“What do I mean? I mean to warn you to be civil.”
“Look here, Carter! I’ll tell my father and he’ll turn you out of house and home,” exclaimed James, furiously.
“He hasn’t the power, fortunately.”
“Hasn’t he got a mortgage on your place?”
“Yes; but the interest was paid to-day and no more will be due for six months.”
“Where did you get the money to pay the interest?”
“That is no business of yours. It is enough for you to know that it is paid and that your father has no more control over us than we have over him.”
James was disappointed. He had expected that the interest would not be paid and that Mrs. Carter and Herbert would be at his father’s mercy. It was certainly surprising that they had raised the money.
“Are you waiting here for Mr. Cameron?” asked James.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think you need to.”
“As you don’t even know him, I don’t think your opinions as to his wishes of much importance.”
“I wouldn’t thrust myself on him, if I were you.”
“Thank you, I don’t intend to.”
“I suppose you fell in with him by accident. He probably don’t know who you are.”
“Oh, yes, he does. He knows all about me. I am going to spend to-morrow afternoon with him also,” said Herbert, delighting to mystify his companion.
“He won’t care to have you call much longer. My aunt has written to my father about him and he will invite Mr. Cameron to call.”
“I have no objection but I don’t think it will make any difference as I am Mr. Cameron’s private secretary.”
“Private secretary! What do you do?”
“I read to him, as his eyes are poor, and I suppose I shall write for him when he needs it.”
“What does he pay you?”
“I don’t know as that concerns you particularly. Still, I don’t mind telling you. He pays me five dollars a week.”
“That’s a good deal more than you’re worth.”
“I think so myself, especially as I only spend the afternoon with him.”
James was quite annoyed to find that the boy he disliked was prospering so well. He was about to make another unpleasant remark when Herbert suddenly exclaimed:
“He’s turned the boat. Doesn’t he row beautifully?”
The same thought sprang up in the minds of both boys: “I wish I could row like that.”
CHAPTER XXI
ROWING
The little boat touched its moorings.
“Mr. Cameron,” said Herbert, “allow me to introduce to you the owner of the boat, Mr. James Leech.”
“Mr. Leech,” said Cameron, “I have to apologize for taking your boat without leave. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for it.”
If the young collegian had not been the son of a wealthy man, whose social position was higher than his own, James would not so readily have accepted the apology. As it was, he said, graciously: “Oh it’s no matter. I’m glad you took the boat. How beautifully you row!”
“Thank you for the compliment. Last year I belonged to the Sophomore crew at Yale.”
“I wish I could row as well as you.”
“It is a matter of practice. If I can give you any hints I shall be glad to do so.”
“Thank you,” said James, eagerly. “Would you have time this afternoon?”
“Yes, I have an hour to spare. If you and my friend Herbert will get into the boat and row out a little way, I shall get an idea of your style of rowing.”
“I would rather row out alone,” said James, haughtily, with a disparaging look at Herbert.
“Unfortunately that won’t do as well. You must learn to row with one oar first.”
“Then suppose you get into the boat with me.”
“That won’t do as well. I am much heavier than you. Now you and Herbert are about the same weight.”
“Very well, then,” said James, and turning to Herbert, he said, ungraciously: “Will you row with me?”
“If you desire it,” said Herbert.
“Get in, then.”
When they returned Cameron made some criticisms Upon their rowing. They started out again but Herbert profited better by the instructions he had received and the young collegian said so when they returned.
James was far from liking this and when Cameron asked him if he would try another row he answered: “No, I am tired of it.”
“If you get tired so soon, I am afraid you will have to strengthen your arms by gymnastic exercises.”
“Oh, I am not tired. I don’t feel like rowing.”
“Then suppose we walk back to the village. Does your way lie with ours?”
“Nearly all the way,” said James.
He enjoyed the idea of walking with the collegian, but it was rather a drawback that Herbert was to share that pleasure with him. Still he could not very well suggest that Herbert should leave them.
“Have you seen my father’s house?” asked James.
“Perhaps, without knowing whose it was.”
“You couldn’t help knowing it. It is the best in the village,” said James, pompously.
Cameron looked at him curiously.
“If he comes to Yale,” he thought, “and puts on these airs, he’ll be taken down without ceremony.”
“Oh, indeed!” he said aloud, dryly.
“Are you going to stay here long?” asked James.
“I can’t say how long. I am here for my health.”
“You must come and see us. My father will be very glad to see you. My aunt has written us about you.”
“Indeed! May I ask your aunt’s name?”
“Her name is Davenport—Mrs. John Davenport. She lives in New Haven.”
“Oh, yes, I have met her.”
Cameron smiled to himself. The lady referred to was not unlike her brother and nephew, being pompous and presuming—one, indeed, whom he secretly disliked.
“She wants me to prepare for Yale,” said James.
“Of course we Yale men are biased, but we think no student can do better than to come to Yale.”
“My father wants me to be a professional man—a lawyer.”
“A good profession. Do you think you should like it?”
“Yes,” said James, complacently. “It’s a very genteel profession. Besides, most of our public men are lawyers. I might stand a chance to get into public life.”
“Should you like it?”
“Yes, I should like to be a member of Congress. My father has a good deal of influence and I am his only son, so I should have a very good chance; don’t you think so?”
“It would seem so,” said Cameron, with a quiet smile. “I think you had better come to Yale. You would be improved in many ways.”
He referred to the possibility of James having some of the self-conceit taken out of him; but then the squire’s son interpreted the remark as a compliment. “Have you ever thought of going to college, Herbert?” asked Cameron, turning to our hero.
“I always thought I should like to go,” answered Herbert, “but I never thought there was any chance of it.”
James laughed scornfully.
“No, I should think not,” he said.
“Why?” asked Cameron, meaning to draw him out.
“He’s too poor,” said James.
“You, I suppose, have no trouble in that way?”
“My father is the richest man in Wrayburn.”
“That is lucky for you,” said the collegian.
“I shouldn’t like to be as poor as Carter.”
“It isn’t pleasant or convenient to be poor,” said Herbert, quietly. “I don’t mean always to be poor.”
“You probably will be,” said James. “Poor boys don’t always stay poor.”
“There isn’t much chance for you to rise.”
“I don’t know why,” said Herbert.
“Then it seems, Herbert,” said Cameron, smiling, “there is not much chance of my welcoming you at Yale.”
“I wish there was.”
“So you will have to be content with serving as my professor here.”
James did not understand this allusion, but privately wondered how Cameron could talk so intimately with a boy in Herbert’s low social position.
“I turn off here,” he said. “That is our house.”
“Is it?” said Cameron, indifferently.
“Your friend seems to have a very vain idea of his high position,” said Cameron, when James was out of hearing.
“And a very low idea of mine,” added Herbert.
“Does that disturb you?”
“A little. He carries it so far as to be annoying.”
“Circumstances may change with you both.”
“I hope they may with me,” said Herbert. “I don’t want James to come down in the world, but I hope to rise.”
The next day Cameron was honored by a special call from Squire Leech, who left an invitation for the young collegian to take tea with him the following afternoon. This invitation Cameron accepted.
CHAPTER XXII
ANDREW TEMPLE
About half-past four o’clock one afternoon a tall, dark-complexioned man, wearing a white hat, inscribed his name in the register of the Wrayburn hotel.
“Can you tell here Mr. Leech lives?” he inquired of the landlord.
“He lives about a quarter of a mile from here. I can send some one with you to show you the house.”
Just then Herbert came downstairs from Mr. Cameron.
“Herbert,” said the landlord, “here is a gentleman wants to go to Squire Leech’s. Would you mind showing him the way?”
“I will do so with pleasure,” said our hero, politely. “Are you ready to go now, sir?”
“Yes,” said the stranger. “Landlord, please assign me a room and have my bag carried up.”
“All right, sir.”
“Now, my lad, I am ready. It isn’t far, is it?”
“About five minutes’ walk—that is all, sir.”
“I never was in Wrayburn—much going on here?”
“Not much, sir. It is a quiet town.”
“Mr. Leech—Squire Leech, I think you call him—was an old schoolmate of mine. We went to the Brandon Academy together. I suppose he is rich, eh?”
“He is the richest man in Wrayburn.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said the other, in a tone of satisfaction. “What do you think he is worth?”
“Some say a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Very good!” commented Andrew Temple, for this was his name in the hotel register—“for the country, I mean. In the city that wouldn’t make a rich man.”
“Wouldn’t it?” asked Herbert, who had supposed a man worth a hundred thousand dollars rich anywhere.
“No, to be sure not. It costs a great deal more to live. Why, I myself am worth something like that; but in New York nobody regards me as rich.”
“I should feel rich with ten thousand,” said Herbert.
“That would about pay my expenses for a year.”
“Squire Leech doesn’t spend anywhere near that. I don’t believe it costs him two thousand dollars a year.”
“Very likely. There’s a great deal of difference between the country and the city.”
“Is it easy to make money in the city?” asked Herbert.
“Yes, if a man is sharp and has some money to start with. Do you think of going there?”
“I am afraid it would be of no use. I have no money to start with, and I am afraid I am not smart.”
“Wait and I may give you a lift. Here’s my card.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Herbert, as he read: “Andrew Temple, No.—Nassau Street, Room 12.”
“That’s my office; I speculate in stocks.”
“Is that a good business?”
“Capital, if you know the ropes. If you ever come to the city, call at my office.”
“Thank you, sir. Here is Squire Leech’s house.”
“I am much obliged to you. Allow me to compensate you for your trouble”; and Mr. Temple thrust his thumb and forefinger into his vest pocket.
“Oh, no, sir, I don’t want pay,” said Herbert, hurriedly.
Mr. Temple had made the offer as a matter of form and was relieved to find it declined. He said “good-night” graciously and advanced to the front door.
“Is Squire Leech at home?” he inquired of the servant.
“Yes, sir; I believe so. Won’t you walk in?”
“Thank you. Please hand your master that card.”
Squire Leech did not recall Mr. Temple’s name, and greeted him distantly. Not so Mr. Temple. He rose, and shook the squire’s passive hand energetically.
“Why, Leech, it seems like old times seeing you again.”
“You have the advantage of me,” said the squire.
“You don’t mean to say you’ve forgotten Temple—Andrew Temple? Why, we were at the Brandon Academy together.”
“I suppose I ought to remember you.”
“To be sure you ought. We were very good friends in the old days.”
One reason of the squire’s distant manner was that Mr. Temple, though a rich man according to his own account, had a somewhat seedy look. The squire was afraid he intended to ask for help on the score of old friendship. It was with a hesitating voice, therefore, that he asked:
“How has the world treated you?”
“I am not rich, to be sure. Probably I am not worth more than a hundred thousand dollars, at the outside; but before five years roll over my head, I see my way clear to half a million.”
Squire Leech’s manner changed instantaneously.
“I am glad to see you,” he said, cordially. “How long have you been in town?”
“Only just arrived. I inquired my way here as soon as I heard that you were living here.”
“Are you at the hotel?”
“Yes. I left my luggage there.”
“You must come and stop with me. We will talk over old times.”
“Thank you; it would be much pleasanter for me, of course. In fact, I came to Wrayburn on account of your being here. I happened to be in the neighborhood, and I said ‘I must see Leech at any rate.’ So here I am. Fortune has smiled on you, I hope?”
“Yes,” said the squire, “I am comfortable.”
“The boy that guided me here said that you were the richest man in Wrayburn.”
“I believe I am,” said the squire, complacently. “I am worth somewhere about the same as you.”
“That’s fair; it is more for you than for me. It costs me ten thousand dollars a year to live in the city.”
“Does it?” inquired Leech.
“I’ve sometimes thought of going to the country, where my expenses would be much less; but, after all, you can make much more money in the city.”
“You think there are opportunities of making money rapidly there?” asked his companion.
“No doubt of it.”
“I should like to talk with you on that subject after supper. Now, I will go and tell Mrs. Leech you are here. We will send for your carpetbag after supper.”
Squire Leech was a covetous man. He had a passion for money-making and he had availed himself of all the opportunities which the country afforded. He had about as much property as his friend. He began to think he had been plodding along in a very slow, unsatisfactory manner. He would make careful inquiries and perhaps Temple would put him in the way of doubling his money. Upon the whole, therefore, he was very glad to see Mr. Temple, and introduced him to his wife and son as an old schoolmate with whom he had once been very intimate.
