Andy Gordon. Horatio Alger Jr.
“I believe your son is in his class, Mr. Ross.”
“Yes, very likely,” responded the lawyer, indifferently.
“You said you came on business?” inquired the widow.
“Yes, Mrs. Gordon. I fear the business may prove unpleasant for you, but you will remember that I am only an agent in the matter.”
“Unpleasant!” repeated Mrs. Gordon, apprehensively.
“Yes. Mr. Joshua Starr has placed in my hands, for collection, a note for one hundred dollars, executed by your late husband. With arrears of interest, it will amount to one hundred and thirty dollars, or thereabouts. I suppose you know something about it.”
“Yes, Mr. Ross, I do know something about it. The note was paid by my husband during his life – in fact, just before he set out for the war – and Mr. Starr knows it perfectly well.”
“You surprise me, Mrs. Gordon,” said the lawyer, raising his eyebrows.
In fact, he was not at all surprised, knowing that Starr was an unprincipled man and not too honest to take advantage of any loss or omission on the part of his debtor.
“Didn’t Mr. Starr say that we disputed his claim?” asked the widow.
“The fact is, Mrs. Gordon, I had very little conversation with Mr. Starr on the subject. He called at my house last evening and put the note into my hand for collection. I believe he said you had refused to pay it, or something of the kind.”
“I refused to pay what had been paid already,” said Mrs. Gordon, indignantly. “I regard Mr. Starr as a swindler.”
“Softly, Mrs. Gordon! You must be cautious how you speak of an old and respected citizen.”
“He may be old,” admitted the widow; “but I deny that he is respected.”
“Well, that is a matter of opinion,” said the lawyer, diplomatically. “Meanwhile, he has the law on his side.”
“How do you make that out, sir?”
“I have in my hands the note signed by your husband. If he paid it, why was it not given up?”
“I will tell you, sir. My husband was not a suspicious man, and he had confidence in others, crediting them with as much honesty as he himself possessed. When the note came due, he paid it; but Mr. Starr pretended that he had mislaid the note and couldn’t lay hands on it. He told my husband he would give him a receipt for the money, and that would be all the same. He was laying a trap for him all the time.”
“I don’t see that. The proposal was perfectly regular.”
“He thought, in case my husband lost the receipt, he would have the note and could demand payment over again. Oh, it was a rascally plot!”
“But,” said the lawyer, “I suppose you have the receipt, and, in that case, you have only to show it.”
“I am sorry to say that I have not been able to find it anywhere. I have hunted high and low, and I am afraid my poor husband must have carried it away in his wallet when he went South with his regiment. The note was paid only the day before he left, out of the bounty money he received from the State.”
“That would certainly be unfortunate,” said Lawyer Ross, veiling the satisfaction he felt, “for you will, in that case, have to pay the money over again.”
“Can the law be so unjust?” asked Mrs. Gordon, in dismay.
“You cannot call it unjust. As you cannot prove the payment of the money, you will have to bear the consequences.”
“But I have no money. I cannot pay!”
“You have your pension,” said the lawyer. “You can pay out of that. My client may be willing to accept quarterly installments.”
“I need all I have for the support of Andy and myself.”
“Then I am afraid – I am really afraid – my client will levy upon your furniture.”
“Oh, heavens!” exclaimed the poor woman, in agitation. “Can such things be allowed in a civilized country?”
“I don’t think you look upon the affair in the right light, Mrs. Gordon,” said Lawyer Ross, rising from the rocking-chair in which he had been seated. “It is a common thing, and quite regular, I can assure you. I will venture to give you a week to find the receipt, though not authorized by my client to do so. Good-afternoon!”
As he was going out he met, on the threshold, Andy, excited and out of breath.
The boy just caught a glimpse of his mother in tears, through the open door of the sitting room, and said to Mr. Ross, whom he judged to be responsible for his mother’s grief:
“What have you been saying to my mother, to make her cry?”
“Stand aside, boy! It’s none of your business,” said the lawyer, who lost all his blandness when he saw the boy who had assaulted his son.
“My mother’s business is mine,” said Andy, firmly.
“You will have enough to do to attend to your own affairs,” said the lawyer, with a sneer. “You made a great mistake when you made a brutal assault upon my son.”
“And you have come to revenge yourself upon my mother?” demanded Andy, in a tone indicating so much scorn that the lawyer, case-hardened as he was, couldn’t help winding.
“You are mistaken,” he said, remembering his determination to appear only as agent. “I came on business of my client, Mr. Starr. I shall take a future opportunity to settle with you.”
He walked away, and Andy entered the cottage to learn from his mother what had passed between her and the lawyer.
This was soon communicated, and gave our hero considerable anxiety, for he felt that Mr. Starr, though his claim was a dishonest one, might nevertheless be able to enforce it.
“How did Mr. Ross treat you, mother?” he asked, fearing that the lawyer might have made his errand unnecessarily unpleasant.
CHAPTER VII.
THE LOST RECEIPT
“Mr. Ross was very polite, Andy,” said Mrs. Gordon.
“Then he didn’t say anything rude or insulting?”
“No; far from it. He was very pleasant. He is acting only as the agent of Mr. Starr.”
Andy was puzzled.
“Did he say anything about a quarrel between his son Herbert and myself?” he inquired.
“Not a word. I didn’t know there had been one.”
Thereupon Andy told the story with which we are already familiar.
“I thought he had come about that,” he said.
“I wish he had. It wouldn’t give us as much trouble as this note. He says we will have to pay it if we can’t find the receipt.”
“I wish old Starr was choked with one of his own turnips,” said Andy, indignantly.
“Don’t speak so, Andy!”
“I mean it, mother. Why, the old swindler knows that the note has been paid, but he means to get a second payment because we can’t prove that it has been paid once.”
“It is very dishonorable, Andy, I admit.”
“Dishonorable! I should say it was. He knows that we are poor, and have nothing except your pension, while he is rich. He was too mean to marry, and has no one to leave his money to, and he can’t live many years.”
“That is all true, Andy.”
“I would like to disappoint the old skinflint.”
“The only way is to find the receipt, and I am afraid we can’t do that.”
“I’ll hunt all the evening,” said Andy, resolutely. “It may come to light somewhere.”
“I