Alger Horatio Jr.
Mark Manning's Mission
CHAPTER XXXV.
NOTICE TO QUIT
There are some men who enjoy the prospect of dealing a blow, and watching the effect—men whose best feelings have been deadened, and who have lost all sympathy for those less fortunate than themselves. That Squire Collins was a man of this kind will not seem strange to those who have followed the course of this story. He set out for Mrs. Manning's cottage with a comfortable complacency, though he knew that the communication he had to make would bring her great trouble and sorrow.
Quite unconscious of the impending blow, Mrs. Manning was sitting at the front window engaged in sewing, while her thoughts were with her absent boy, whom she seemed to miss more and more as his absence lengthened. Casually looking up from her work, she saw with considerable surprise the dignified figure of Squire Collins turning in at her gate.
"What can bring the squire here," she thought. She was not in the habit of receiving or expecting calls from her aristocratic townsman, and concluded that he must have some special object in calling.
Perhaps he had come to offer to take Mark back into the shop. If so, it might be the best thing for her son. She knew very little of old Anthony's circumstances, and she did not anticipate any permanent position for Mark from that quarter.
"Good morning, Squire Collins," she said, politely.
"Good morning, Mrs. Manning," he responded, somewhat stiffly.
"Won't you come in?"
"Thank you; I will step in for a few minutes, I have a little business to speak of."
"It must be that he means to take Mark back into the shop," thought the widow, cheerfully.
She led the way into the plain sitting-room, and invited the village magnate to take a seat.
"Ahem! your son Mark is away?" remarked the squire, inquiringly. This confirmed Mrs. Manning in her conjecture as to the squire's errand.
"Yes," she answered; "but I think he will be at home before long. I miss him a great deal."
"I suppose he can't make a living in New York," thought the squire. Rather fortunately he didn't inquire where Mark was, since this would have embarrassed Mrs. Manning, who knew that it was a secret not to be mentioned, and yet would have been reluctant to offend the squire by withholding the information.
"Probably he will be as well off at home," said the squire. "I don't believe much in boys leaving home on wild-goose expeditions. They think it perfectly easy to earn a living elsewhere, but they are pretty apt to reap only disappointment."
"I dare say you are right, squire," said Mrs. Manning, leading up to the subject of a return to the shop; "but there didn't seem to be anything for Mark to do at home."
Squire Collins understood her object, but had no intention of offering employment to Mark. He looked at the widow with a peculiar smile, and enjoyed the disappointment which his next words were calculated to bring.
"I dare say Mark can hire out to some good farmer," he replied, indifferently. "Farming is a good healthy business."
Mrs. Manning sighed, for she rightly interpreted that no place in the shop was to be offered to Mark.
"Ahem!" said the squire, changing the subject; "you have a boarder, I understand?"
"Yes; Mr. Taylor makes his home with us."
"A sensible move on his part. It was a strange thing to live in the woods by himself so many years. I hope he will be able to pay his board."
"He pays regularly every week," answered the widow.
"I presume he's quite poor?"
"Mark thinks he has considerable money, but I have no means of judging, except that he pays his bills promptly."
Squire Collins shrugged his shoulders.
"Mark is an inexperienced boy," he said. "The truth is, as I understand, old Anthony receives a small pension from some relatives in New York. It can't be much, but I hope, for your sake, that he has enough to pay his board."
Mrs. Manning began to wonder whether this was what Squire Collins came to talk about. She was soon more fully informed.
"How long have you lived in this cottage, Mrs. Manning?" asked the squire.
"Ten years, sir."
"You hire of Deacon Brooks?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ahem! I came here this morning to acquaint you with the fact that I have just bought the property."
"Has Deacon Brooks sold to you?" asked the widow, in surprise.
"Yes; the papers have passed, and the transfer has been made. I am now the legal owner."
"I shall be glad to keep the house, Squire Collins, if you have no other views," said Mrs. Manning. "I have been paying five dollars a month rent, and if that is satisfactory–"
"The fact is, Mrs. Manning," interrupted the squire, "I have other views. I intend to raise the house a story, and have promised to rent it, when completed, to my foreman, Mr. Lake, who contemplates marriage. He is boarding at present, as you know."
Mrs. Manning was very much disturbed. It is no light thing to be forced to leave a house which has been one's home for a period of ten years, especially in a country town where surplus houses are generally scarce and hard to find.
"I don't know where I can go," said the widow, anxiously.
"No doubt you'll find some place," said the squire, carelessly.
"How soon do you want me to vacate the house, Squire Collins?" asked Mrs. Manning, anxiously.
"At the end of the month."
"But that is only a week from to-day."
"Quite true."
"That is a very short time."
"It ought to be time enough, Mrs. Manning," said the squire, stiffly.
"I would be willing to pay a little higher rent if you would allow me to remain, Squire Collins."
"Quite out of the question, Mrs. Manning. Indeed, I will say that I think you already pay all you can afford to. I doubt whether you will be able—with Mark out of employment—to keep up your present rent. As I understand, about all your income comes from a boarder, whose means must be extremely limited, and who, in all probability, will end his days in the alms-house."
"I don't know of any other house in the village."
"Well, you can think it over; of course that is your own affair, not mine."
"If Mark were only at home," said the perplexed woman; "I would know better what to do."
"You had better send for him then. Good morning."
Squire Collins rose and left the presence of the widow whom he had made thoroughly anxious and unhappy.
In the course of the afternoon old Anthony came home. He was looking unusually jubilant and happy, in direct contrast with the widow's anxious face.
"Mrs. Manning," he said, "I bring you good news."
"I am glad of it, sir, for I have only bad news."
"And what is your bad news?"
"I must leave this house."
"How is that?" asked the hermit, looking surprised.
"Because it has been sold. Squire Collins has bought it, and says that he is intending to enlarge it, and then let it to Mr. Lake, his foreman."
"And that is all your bad news?"
"Yes, sir; but I consider it bad enough. I don't know where I can go."
"I will let you have my cabin in the woods rent free," said the hermit, with a smile.
"I don't know but I shall have to go there," said the widow, sighing.
"You don't ask me what my good news is," said Anthony.
"I would like to hear it, sir."
"By day after to-morrow Mark will be home."
Mrs. Manning's face did brighten up at this intelligence.
"This is really good news," she said gladly. "Mark will advise me what to do."
"Mark will not come alone. Do you think, Mrs. Manning, you can accommodate another boarder?"
"Who is it, sir?"
"A little boy. I don't care to keep it secret. It is my grandson."
"Your grandson?"
"Yes; I sent Mark out West to find him. He has succeeded in his mission, and the two are now on the way home."
"I shall be glad to take him, sir, if I have anywhere to receive him. Squire Collins's visit has rather upset me, and I don't know what to do, or where to turn."
"If your only trouble is about a house, I will undertake to find one for you. Don't borrow any trouble on that score."
"But I don't know of any house that will come within my means."
"I am afraid, Mrs. Manning, that you haven't confidence in me. I tell you again, not to borrow any trouble. I may as well tell you that this house will not be large enough for your increased family, and that I intended to propose to you to take another."
The widow's anxiety was somewhat relieved. Still she could not help wondering what house old Anthony would succeed in finding. There was one comfort. In two days Mark would be at home, and would be able to help him.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE HERMIT SECURES A HOUSE
A short distance from the house occupied by Squire Collins was one which had been for six months vacant. It had been erected as a summer residence by a New York gentleman, and occupied by him for several seasons. It was the finest house in the village, and it seemed a pity it should remain untenanted.
Mr. Beech, the builder, now spent his summers at various watering-places, and had apparently tired of Pocasset. It was understood that the house was left in the hands of Mr. Thompson, who was authorized to let it to a responsible tenant.
Old Anthony the next morning made it in his way to call at the office of Mr. Thompson. The latter received him with his usual courtesy.
"I hear that you are boarding with Mrs. Manning, Mr. Taylor," he said.
"Yes."
"I think you must find it much more agreeable than your life in the woods."
"I do; I am getting over my misanthropy, and am taking more cheerful views of life."
"That is good. My son Frank is an intimate friend of Mark, and thinks a great deal of him and his mother."
"So do I," responded the hermit. "Mark is a straightforward boy, and will succeed life."
"I hope so. I wish I had anything for him to do—Frank would be glad. Perhaps in time I may find him a place."
"I think I shall be able to provide employment for Mark myself," said the hermit, quietly.
Mr. Thompson regarded him with surprise. Like the rest of the villagers, he had been in the habit of regarding old Anthony as a man of limited means.
"By-the-way, Mr. Thompson, I called this morning on a little matter of business," continued the hermit. "I believe you have the rental of the Beach house."
"Yes," answered Mr. Thompson, somewhat surprised.
"I am acquainted with a family who are on the lookout for a house in Groveton. This, I think, would suit them, if the rent is not too high."
"It is, you know, a fine house. Would your friends like to have it furnished?"
"I think so."
"In that case, the rent will be four hundred dollars a year, or a hundred dollars a quarter. In the city, or at Long Branch, as you probably are aware, four times as much would be required."
"I think that will be satisfactory. Can immediate possession be given?"
"Yes; I will at once set the cleaners to work, and have it got ready by the end of the week. One question I am obliged to ask. Is the party for whom you are acting, responsible, in a pecuniary way?"
"The first quarter's rent will be paid in advance."
"Pretty satisfactory. May I ask the name of the tenant?"
"There are reasons for keeping it secret for a few days."
"Oh, well, that is not material."
Old Anthony never said a word about what he had done, for, as my readers will conjecture, he meant to have Mark and his mother occupy the house. It did, however, get noised about, that Mr. Beach's house was taken. Squire Collins among others, was curious to ascertain something about the new tenants, and made a call on Mr. Thompson, with the special object of finding out.
"I am no wiser than you, Squire Collins," said Mr. Thompson. "Of course we shall all know in a few days."
"By whom was the matter negotiated?"
"There again I am bound to secrecy, but all will be known."
"Of course the party must have ample means, and I look forward to having a pleasant neighbor—there are very few in the village with whom we can associate, on an equality, and so any good family is an acquisition."
"You are more fastidious than I, Squire Collins," said Mr. Thompson smiling. "I don't value men according to the size of their pocket-books."
"You must admit, however, that refinement and wealth are likely to go together. You are not too democratic for that?"
"I am not sure. I have known many rich people who were very far from being refined. By-the-way, I hear that you have bought the house occupied by Mrs. Manning."
"Yes."
"Shall you allow her to remain there?"
"No; I mean to enlarge it, and let my foreman occupy it."
"That will be a disappointment to Mrs. Manning."
"Oh, I suppose so," said the squire, carelessly; "but that is her lookout, not mine."
"I really don't know of any house in the village she can obtain."
Squire Collins shrugged his shoulders.
"I really haven't troubled my mind about the matter," he said.
"If I had time, I don't know but I would build them a small cottage on the vacant lot I have on Glen Street."
"Take my advice, and don't; the widow is in very precarious circumstances. Her son, Mark, is out of employment."
"Can't you find him something to do, in your shop?"
"I could, but do not feel disposed to. He is a very independent boy, and more than once, he treated my son, James, in a disrespectful way. No; he must shift for himself some other way."
"Of the two boys, I certainly very much prefer Mark," thought Mr. Thompson; but politeness prevented his saying so.
Squire Collins soon took his leave, having failed to acquire the information he sought.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CONCLUSION
Meanwhile, Mrs. Manning could not help feeling anxious, about her prospects of a house.
"Have you heard of any house, Mr. Taylor?" she asked.
The hermit smiled.
"Don't be troubled, Mrs. Manning," he said; "when you leave this house you will find another one to move into."
Mrs. Manning was silenced, but still disquieted. She was even tempted to wonder whether old Anthony was really quite right in his mind. But there was nothing to be done. She could only wait, patiently.
The next day Mark arrived with little Jack. He was looking unusually well, his journey having given him a healthy color, and added to his flesh. Jack was still thin and pale, but was beginning to look better than when under Peggy's care.
The hermit was much moved, as he took the boy in his arms and kissed him.
"I can see my daughter's looks in you, Jack," he said. "I fear your life has been a sad one, poor child. It shall be my task to repay you for the hardships you have had to meet in your short life."
Little Jack seemed to take instinctively to the rough-looking but, kind-hearted old man. The poor match boy seemed to have drifted into a haven of rest.
"Shall I ever have to go back to Peggy?" he asked.
"Never, my child. This good lady," indicating Mrs. Manning, "will supply the place of your own mother."
"I will sell matches for you, if you want me to, grandfather. I didn't like working for Peggy, but I will work for you."
"My dear Jack, instead of working you must go to school, and learn all you can. When you are grown up, it will be time for you to work."
It soon became noised about that the little boy, who was seen about the village with Mark, was the hermit's grandson. But the grandson of old Anthony was not considered a very important person, and only excited passing interest.
Mark was let into the secret of the new home to which Mr. Taylor proposed to move, and he was naturally pleased to think that his mother's condition was to be so much improved.
Nothing had leaked out in the village, however, about the contemplated removal.
The week was nearly ended when Mark happened to meet James Collins in the street. James had been informed by his father that Mrs. Manning had received notice to leave the cottage, and it gratified his dislike of Mark. What puzzled him was, Mark's apparent indifference and evident good spirits.
"Perhaps he thinks my father will relent, and let him stay, but he'll find himself mistaken as I shall let him know when I get a chance."
The chance came that very day.
"Hallo!" said James, as Mark was about to pass him.
"Hallo!" responded Mark smiling.
"I hear you've got to move."
"So I hear."
"It's high time you were finding a new house."
"I think so myself, but that's my mother's business."
"You needn't think my father will let you stay where you are."
"Don't you think he would let us stay a month longer?"
"No, I don't."
"He wouldn't put us out in the street, would he?"
"Look here, Mark Manning, I see what you are at. You want to impose on my father's good nature. I shall warn him of your plan."
"Just as you please, James."
The result was that Squire Collins, sharing to some extent his son's apprehensions, made a call that same evening at the cottage. All the family were at home.
After the usual greetings were over, the squire said:
"I suppose, Mrs. Manning, you will be ready to move on Saturday?"
"Suppose my mother can't get a house," suggested Mark.
"She must find a house," said the squire, severely. "She has had time enough to find one. You mustn't blame me if I say that move you must on Saturday."
"You need have no anxiety, Squire Collins," said Mrs. Manning, with dignity. "I intend to move on that day."
"And where, may I ask?" inquired the squire, with curiosity.
"We move into the Beach house," answered Mark, his eyes fixed with smiling interest on the village magnate.
"What!" exclaimed the squire in amazement and incredulity. "Do you mean the house near mine?"
"Yes."
"You must be crazy," he gasped. "That is a very elegant house, and the rent is high."
"I think we can pay it."
"And your furniture is unfit for so handsome a residence, even if there were enough of it."
"We hire the house with its present furniture," said Mark complacently.
"I don't understand it at all!" exclaimed the perplexed squire. "How can you, being almost a beggar, dream of living there?"
"I think, Squire Collins," said old Anthony, quietly, "that you are somewhat in error as to my young friend Mark's circumstances."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that he has a very good property for a boy of his age."
Mark was as much amazed as the squire at this statement. The latter said with a sneer:
"And where is this famous property?"
"I will inform you with pleasure. There are a thousand dollars to his credit in a savings' bank in New York, and he holds a mortgage of four thousand dollars on your manufactory."
Even Mark thought Anthony was out of his mind.
"Why," stammered the squire, "I negotiated that mortgage through Mr. Hardy, of New York."
"Exactly! The money he advanced he held in trust for Mark."
"I can't believe this!" exclaimed the squire in mortification and bewilderment.
"Is this really true, Mr. Taylor?" asked Mark.
"Yes. Let me inform you, Squire Collins, that though I have lived as a hermit, I am really a moderately rich man, and some time since transferred without his knowledge five thousand dollars to Mark here, who, as you see, is really chief owner of the shop from which you discharged him."
"I didn't dream of this!" ejaculated the squire.
"I presume not," said the hermit dryly.
"If Mark chooses to come back into the shop, I will raise his wages."
"My friend Hardy intends to offer Mark a position in his office in the city, which I think will suit him better. It only remains to say that this cottage will be vacated on Saturday."
"I don't want to inconvenience Mrs. Manning," said the squire, filled with respect by the unexpected prosperity of those whom he had come to bully. "Stay another week if you wish."
"We don't wish, thank you," said Mark.
It was a wonderful story that Squire Collins had to tell at home, and the deep chagrin of James can be imagined. But he was worldly wise, and he soon decided to court the boy he had hitherto despised. What annoyed him most was the thought Mark held a mortgage on his father's shop, and was to live in a house handsomer than his own.
Five years have elapsed since the incidents recorded above. Mark fills a responsible position in the office of Mr. Hardy, with a handsome salary. Little Jack is now a rosy, healthy child of thirteen, and those who remembered him as a match boy would not know him now. His grandfather's happiness is bound up in his little grandson, but he is still very much attached to Mark, and he has made a new will, in which he divides his fortune equally between these two.
Lyman Taylor is again within the walls of a penitentiary, having forged a check upon a well-known merchant of Chicago; and old Peggy, taking Jack's place, is to be seen any day on Clark or State streets, with a basket of matches, which she makes an excuse for appealing to the charity of passers by. Her face is growing redder and redder, as her potations increase, and she will probably end her career in a hospital or alms-house.
James Collins is now a clerk in Newport, on a small salary, with which he is very much discontented, and from time to time asks a loan of his old schoolfellow, Mark, to whom he is now compelled to look up. He has developed extravagant tastes, and is always in debt. I greatly fear that neither his habits nor his fortunes will improve as he grows older. For our hero, Mark, and those who belong to him, we may anticipate brighter days and greater prosperity, as a fitting recompense of industry and good habits.
