Alger Horatio Jr.
Struggling Upward, or Luke Larkin's Luck
CHAPTER VIII
MISS SPRAGUE DISCOVERS A SECRET
About this time it became known to one person in the village that the Larkins had in their possession a tin box, contents unknown.
This is the way it happened:
Among the best-known village residents was Miss Melinda Sprague, a maiden lady, who took a profound interest in the affairs of her neighbors. She seldom went beyond the limits of Groveton, which was her world. She had learned the business of dressmaking, and often did work at home for her customers. She was of a curious and prying disposition, and nothing delighted her more than to acquire the knowledge of a secret.
One day—a few days after Florence Grant's party—Mrs. Larkin was in her own chamber. She had the trunk open, having occasion to take something from it, when, with a light step, Miss Sprague entered the room. The widow, who was on her knees before the trunk, turning, recognized the intruder, not without displeasure.
"I hope you'll excuse my coming in so unceremoniously, Mrs. Larkin," said Melinda, effusively. "I knocked, but you didn't hear it, being upstairs, and I took the liberty, being as we were so well acquainted, to come upstairs in search of you."
"Yes, certainly," answered Mrs. Larkin, but her tone was constrained.
She quickly shut the lid of the trunk. There was only one thing among its contents which she was anxious to hide, but that Miss Melinda's sharp eyes had already discovered. Unfortunately, the tin box was at one side, in plain sight.
"What on earth does Mrs. Larkin do with a tin box?" she asked herself, with eager curiosity. "Can she have property that people don't know of? I always thought she was left poor."
Melinda asked no questions. The sudden closing of the trunk showed her that the widow would not be inclined to answer any questions.
"I won't let her think I saw anything," she said to herself.
"Perhaps she'll get anxious and refer to it."
"We will go downstairs, Melinda," said Mrs. Larkin. "It will be more comfortable."
"If you have anything to do up here, I beg you won't mind me," said the spinster.
"No, I have nothing that won't wait."
So the two went down into the sitting-room.
"And how is Luke?" asked Miss Sprague, in a tone of friendly interest.
"Very well, thank you."
"Luke was always a great favorite of mine," continued the spinster.
"Such a manly boy as he is!"
"He is a great help to me," said Mrs. Larkin.
"No doubt he is. He takes care of the schoolhouse, doesn't he?"
"Yes."
"How much pay does he get?"
"A dollar a week."
"I hope he will be able to keep the position."
"What do you mean, Melinda?" asked the widow, not without anxiety.
"You know Doctor Snodgrass has resigned on the school committee, and Squire Duncan has been elected in his place."
"Well?"
"Mrs. Flanagan went to him yesterday to ask to have her son Tim appointed janitor in place of Luke, and I heard that she received considerable encouragement from the squire."
"Do they find any fault with Luke?" asked Mrs. Larkin, jealously.
"No, not as I've heard; but Mrs. Flanagan said Luke had had it for a year, and now some one else ought to have the chance."
"Are you quite sure of this, Melinda?"
Miss Sprague, though over forty, was generally called by her first name, not as a tribute to her youth, but to the fact of her being still unmarried.
"Yes, I am; I had it from Mrs. Flanagan herself."
"I don't think Tim would do as well as Luke. He has never been able to keep a place yet."
"Just so; but, of course, his mother thinks him a polygon." Probably Miss Sprague meant a paragon—she was not very careful in her speech, but Mrs. Larkin did not smile at her mistake. She was too much troubled at the news she had just heard. A dollar a week may seem a ridiculous trifle to some of my readers, but, where the entire income of the family was so small, it was a matter of some consequence.
"I don't think Luke has heard anything of this," said the widow. "He has not mentioned it to me."
"Perhaps there won't be any change, after all," said Melinda. "I am sure Tim Flanagan wouldn't do near as well as Luke."
Miss Melinda was not entirely sincere. She had said to Mrs. Flanagan that she quite agreed with her that Luke had been janitor long enough, and hoped Tim would get the place. She was in the habit of siding with the person she chanced to be talking with at the moment, and this was pretty well understood.
Luke, however, had heard of this threatened removal. For this, it may be said, Randolph was partly responsible. Just after Mrs. Flanagan's call upon the squire to solicit his official influence, Prince Duncan mentioned the matter to his son.
"How long has Luke Larkin been janitor at the schoolhouse?" he asked.
"About a year. Why do you ask?"
"Does he attend to the duties pretty well?"
"I suppose so. He's just fit to make fires and sweep the floor," answered Randolph, his lip curling.
"Mrs. Flanagan has been here to ask me to appoint her son Tim in Luke's place."
"You'd better do it, pa," said Randolph, quickly.
"Why? You say Luke is well fitted for the position."
"Oh, anybody could do as well, but Luke puts on airs. He feels too big for his position."
"I suppose Mrs. Larkin needs the money."
"So does Mrs. Flanagan," said Randolph.
"What sort of a boy is Tim? I have heard that he is lazy."
"Oh, I guess he'll do. Of course, I am not well acquainted with a boy like him," said the young aristocrat. "But I'm quite disgusted with Luke. He was at Florence Grant's party the other evening, and was cheeky enough to ask her to dance with him."
"Did she do so?"
"Yes; I suppose it was out of pity. He ought to have known better than to attend a party with such a suit. His coat and pantaloons were both too small for him, but he flourished around as if he were fashionably dressed."
Squire Duncan made no reply to his son's comments, but he felt disposed, for reasons of his own, to appoint Tim Flanagan. He was hoping to be nominated for representative at the next election, and thought the appointment might influence the Irish vote in his favor.
"Shall you appoint Tim, pa?" asked Randolph.
"I think it probable. It seems only right to give him a chance.
Rotation in office is a principle of which I approve."
"That's good!" thought Randolph, with a smile of gratification. "It isn't a very important place, but Luke will be sorry to lose it. The first time I see him I will give him a hint of it."
Randolph met Luke about an hour later in the village street. He did not often stop to speak with our hero, but this time he had an object in doing so.
CHAPTER IX
LUKE LOSES HIS POSITION
"Luke Larkin!"
Luke turned, on hearing his name called, and was rather surprised to see Randolph hastening toward him.
"How are you, Randolph?" he said politely.
"Where are you going?" asked Randolph, not heeding the inquiry.
"To the schoolhouse, to sweep out."
"How long have you been janitor?" asked Randolph, abruptly.
"About a year," Luke answered, in surprise.
"That's a good while."
Luke was puzzled. Why should Randolph feel such an interest, all at once, in his humble office?
"I suppose you know that my father is now on the school committee?"
Randolph continued.
"Yes; I heard so."
"He thinks of appointing Tim Flanagan janitor in your place."
Luke's face showed his surprise and concern. The loss of his modest income would, as he knew, be severely felt by his mother and himself. The worst of it was, there seemed no chance in Groveton of making it up in any other way.
"Did your father tell you this?" he asked, after a pause.
"Yes; he just told me," answered Randolph, complacently.
"Why does he think of removing me? Are there any complaints of the way I perform my duties?"
"Really, my good fellow," said Randolph, languidly, "I can't enlighten you on that point. You've held the office a good while, you know."
"You are very kind to tell me—this bad news," said Luke, pointedly.
"Oh, don't mention it. Good morning. Were you fatigued after your violent exercise at Florence Grant's party?"
"No. Were you?"
"I didn't take any," said Randolph, haughtily. "I danced—I didn't jump round."
"Thank you for the compliment. Is there anything more you wish to say to me?"
"No."
"Then good morning."
When Luke was left alone he felt serious. How was he going to make up the dollar a week of which he was to be deprived? The more he considered the matter the further he was from thinking anything. He was not quite sure whether the news was reliable, or merely invented by Randolph to tease and annoy him. Upon this point, however, he was soon made certain. The next day, as he was attending to his duties in the schoolhouse, Tim Flanagan entered.
"Here's a note for you, Luke," he said.
Luke opened the note and found it brief but significant. It ran thus:
"LUKE LARKIN: I have appointed the bearer, Timothy Flanagan, janitor in your place. You will give him the key of the schoolhouse, and he will at once assume your duties.
"PRINCE DUNCAN."
"Well, Tim," said Luke, calmly, "it appears that you are going to take my place."
"Yes, Luke, but I don't care much about it. My mother went to the squire and got me the job. The pay's a dollar a week, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"That isn't enough."
"It isn't very much, but there are not many ways of earning money here in Groveton."
"What do you have to do?"
"Make the fire every morning and sweep out twice a week.
Then there's dusting, splitting up kindlings, and so on."
"I don't think I'll like it. I ain't good at makin' fires."
"Squire Duncan writes you are to begin at once."
"Shure, I'm afraid I won't succeed."
"I'll tell you what, Tim. I'll help you along till you've got used to the duties. After a while they'll get easy for you."
"Will you now? You're a good feller, Luke. I thought you would be mad at losin' the job."
"I am not mad, but I am sorry. I needed the money, but no doubt you do, also. I have no grudge against you."
Luke had just started in his work. He explained to Tim how to do it, and remained with him till it was done.
"I'll come again to-morrow, Tim," he said. "I will get you well started, for I want to make it easy for you."
Tim was by no means a model boy, but he was warm-hearted, and he was touched by Luke's generous treatment.
"I say, Luke," he exclaimed, "I don't want to take your job. Say the word, and I'll tell mother and the squire I don't want it."
"No, Tim, it's your duty to help your mother. Take it and do your best."
On his way home Luke chanced to meet the squire, walking in his usual dignified manner toward the bank, of which he was president.
"Squire Duncan," he said, walking up to him in a manly way, "I would like to speak a word to you."
"Say on, young man."
"Tim Flanagan handed me a note from you this morning ordering me to turn over my duties as janitor to him."
"Very well?"
"I have done so, but I wish to ask you if I have been removed on account of any complaints that my work was not well done?"
"I have heard no complaints," answered the squire. "I appointed Timothy in your place because I approved of rotation in office.
It won't do any good for you to make a fuss about it."
"I don't intend to make a fuss, Squire Duncan," said Luke, proudly. "I merely wished to know if there were any charges against me."
"There are none."
"Then I am satisfied. Good morning, sir."
"Stay, young man. Is Timothy at the schoolhouse?"
"Yes, sir. I gave him some instruction about the work, and promised to go over to-morrow to help him."
"Very well."
Squire Duncan was rather relieved to find that Luke did not propose to make any fuss. His motive, as has already been stated, was a political one. He wished to ingratiate himself with Irish voters and obtain an election as representative; not that he cared so much for this office, except as a stepping-stone to something higher.
Luke turned his steps homeward. He dreaded communicating the news to his mother, for he knew that it would depress her, as it had him. However, it must be known sooner or later, and he must not shrink from telling her.
"Mother," he said, as he entered the room where she was sewing, "I have lost my job as janitor."
"I expected you would, Luke," said his mother, soberly.
"Who told you?" asked Luke, in surprise.
"Melinda Sprague was here yesterday and told me Tim Flanagan was to have it."
"Miss Sprague seems to know everything that is going on."
"Yes, she usually hears everything. Have you lost the place already?"
"Tim brought me a note this morning from Squire Duncan informing me that I was removed and he was put in my place."
"It is going to be a serious loss to us, Luke," said Mrs. Larkin, gravely.
"Yes, mother, but I am sure something will turn up in its place."
Luke spoke confidently, but it was a confidence he by no means felt.
"It is a sad thing to be so poor as we are," said Mrs. Larkin, with a sigh.
"It is very inconvenient, mother, but we ought to be glad that we have perfect health. I am young and strong, and I am sure I can find some other way of earning a dollar a week."
"At any rate, we will hope so, Luke."
Luke went to bed early that night. The next morning, as they were sitting at breakfast, Melinda Sprague rushed into the house and sank into a chair, out of breath.
"Have you heard the news?"
"No. What is it?"
"The bank has been robbed! A box of United States bonds has been taken, amounting to thirty or forty thousand dollars!"
Luke and his mother listened in amazement.
CHAPTER X
MELINDA MAKES MISCHIEF
"Where did you hear this, Melinda?" asked Mrs. Larkin.
"I called on Mrs. Duncan just now—I was doing some work for her—and she told me. Isn't it awful?"
"Was the bank broken open last night, Miss Sprague?" asked Luke.
"I don't know when it was entered."
"I don't understand it at all," said Luke, looking puzzled.
"All I know is that, on examining the safe, the box of bonds was missing."
"Then it might have been taken some time since?"
"Yes, it might."
The same thought came to Luke and his mother at once. Was the mysterious stranger the thief, and had he robbed the bank and transferred the tin box to Luke? It might be so, but, as this happened more than a fortnight since, it would have been strange in that case that the box had not been missed sooner at the bank. Luke longed to have Miss Sprague go, that he might confer with his mother on this subject. He had been told to keep the possession of the box secret, and therefore he didn't wish to reveal the fact that he had it unless it should prove to be necessary.
"Were any traces of the robber discovered?" he added.
"Not that I heard of; but I pity the thief, whoever he is," remarked Melinda. "When he's found out he will go to jail, without any doubt."
"I can't understand, for my part, how an outside party could open the safe," said Mrs. Larkin. "It seems very mysterious."
"There's many things we can't understand," said Melinda, shaking her head sagely. "All crimes are mysterious."
"I hope they'll find out who took the bonds," said the widow.
"Did they belong to the bank?"
"No, they belonged to a gentleman in Cavendish, who kept them in the bank, thinking they would be safer than in his own house. Little did he know what iniquity there was even in quiet country places like Groveton."
"Surely, Melinda, you don't think any one in Groveton robbed the bank?" said Mrs. Larkin.
"There's no knowing!" said Miss Sprague, solemnly. "There's those that we know well, or think we do, but we cannot read their hearts and their secret ways."
"Have you any suspicions, Miss Sprague?" asked Luke, considerably amused at the portentous solemnity of the visitor.
"I may and I may not, Luke," answered Melinda, with the air of one who knew a great deal more than she chose to tell; "but it isn't proper for me to speak at present."
Just then Miss Sprague saw some one passing who, she thought, had not heard of the robbery, and, hastily excusing herself, she left the house.
"What do you think, Luke?" asked his mother, after the spinster had gone. "Do you think the box we have was taken from the bank?"
"No, I don't, mother. I did think it possible at first, but it seems very foolish for the thief, if he was one, to leave the box in the same village, in the charge of a boy. It would have been more natural and sensible for him to open it, take out the bonds, and throw it away or leave it in the woods."
"There is something in that," said Mrs. Larkin, thoughtfully. "There is certainly a mystery about our box, but I can't think it was stolen from the bank."
Meanwhile, Miss Sprague had formed an important resolve. The more she thought of it, the more she believed the missing box was the one of which she had caught a glimpse of in Mrs. Larkin's trunk. True, Luke and the widow had not betrayed that confusion and embarrassment which might have been anticipated when the theft was announced, but she had noticed the look exchanged between them, and she was sure it meant something. Above all, her curiosity was aroused to learn how it happened that a woman as poor as the Widow Larkin should have a tin box in her trunk, the contents of which might be presumed to be valuable.
"I don't like to get Luke and his mother into trouble," Melinda said to herself, "but I think it my duty to tell all I know. At any rate, they will have to tell how the box came into their possession, and what it contains. I'll go to the bank and speak to Squire Duncan."
Prince Duncan had called an extra meeting of the directors to consider the loss which had been discovered, and they were now seated in the bank parlor. There were three of them present, all of whom resided in Groveton—Mr. Manning, the hotelkeeper; Mr. Bailey, a storekeeper, and Mr. Beane, the Groveton lawyer.
Miss Sprague entered the bank and went up to the little window presided over by the paying-teller.
"Is Squire Duncan in the bank?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss Sprague."
"I would like to speak with him."
"That is impossible. He is presiding at a directors' meeting."
"Still, I would like to see him," persisted Melinda.
"You will have to wait," said the paying-teller, coldly. He had no particular respect or regard for Miss Sprague, being quite familiar with her general reputation as a gossip and busybody.
"I think he would like to see me," said Melinda, nodding her head with mysterious significance. "There has been a robbery at the bank, hasn't there?"
"Do you know anything about it, Miss Sprague?" demanded the teller, in surprise.
"Maybe I do, and maybe I don't; but I've got a secret to tell to Squire Duncan."
"I don't believe it amounts to anything," thought the teller. "Well, I will speak to Squire Duncan," he said aloud.
He went to the door of the directors' room, and after a brief conference with Prince Duncan he returned with the message, "You may go in, Miss Sprague."
She nodded triumphantly, and with an air of conscious importance walked to the bank parlor.
Prince Duncan and his associates were sitting round a mahogany table.
Melinda made a formal curtsy and stood facing them.
"I understand, Miss Sprague, that you have something to communicate to us in reference to the loss the bank has just sustained," said the squire, clearing his throat.
"I thought it my duty to come and tell you all I knew, Squire Duncan and gentlemen," said Melinda.
"Quite right, Miss Sprague. Now, what can you tell us?"
"The article lost was a tin box, was it not?"
"Yes."
"About so long?" continued Miss Sprague, indicating a length of about fifteen inches.
"Yes."
"What was there in it?"
"Government bonds."
"I know where there is such a box," said Miss Sprague, slowly.
"Where? Please be expeditious, Miss Sprague."
"A few days since I was calling on Mrs. Larkin—Luke's mother—just happened in, as I may say, and, not finding her downstairs, went up into her chamber. I don't think she heard me, for when I entered the chamber and spoke to her she seemed quite flustered. She was on her knees before an open trunk, and in that trunk I saw the tin box."
The directors looked at each other in surprise, and Squire Duncan looked undeniably puzzled.
"I knew the box was one such as is used to hold valuable papers and bonds," proceeded Melinda, "and, as I had always looked on the widow as very poor, I didn't know what to make of it."
"Did you question Mrs. Larkin about the tin box?" asked Mr. Beane.
"No; she shut the trunk at once, and I concluded she didn't want me to see it."
"Then you did not say anything about it?"
"No; but I went in just now to tell her about the bank being robbed."
"How did it seem to affect her?" asked Mr. Bailey.
"She and Luke—Luke was there, too—looked at each other in dismay.
It was evident that they were thinking of the box in the trunk."
Melinda continued her story, and the directors were somewhat impressed.
"I propose," said Mr. Manning, "that we get out a search-warrant and search Mrs. Larkin's cottage. That box may be the one missing from the bank."
