Phoebe Daring. Baum Lyman Frank
Phoebe Daring / A Story for Young Folk
CHAPTER I
HOW TOBY CLARK LOST HIS JOB
“It’s a shame!” cried Becky Daring, indignantly shaking her scraggly red locks for emphasis.
“So say we all of us,” observed her brother Don in matter-of-fact tones. “But that won’t help it, Beck.”
“Wasn’t it all Judge Ferguson’s fault?” asked little Sue, listening with round, solemn eyes.
“Why, the poor old judge couldn’t help dying, you know,” said Don, judicially. “And he hadn’t an idea his candle would flicker out so soon. Old Mr. Ferguson liked Toby Clark and I’m sure, if he’d thought his own end was so near, he’d have fixed it so his clerk wouldn’t be left out in the cold.”
“And now Toby hasn’t any job, or any money, or any friends,” remarked Sue, sighing deeply.
“Yes, he has!” declared Becky. “He has me for a friend, for one, and all the village to back me up. But friends ain’t bread-an’-butter and I guess a poor cripple out of work is as bad off as if he hadn’t a friend in the world. That’s why I say it’s a shame Judge Ferguson didn’t leave him any money. It’s worse than a common shame – it’s just a howling shame!”
“Dear me,” said Phoebe, entering the room with a smiling glance at her younger sisters and brother, “what’s wrong now? What’s a howling shame, Becky?”
“The way Judge Ferguson treated Toby Clark.”
Phoebe’s smile vanished. She went to the window and stood looking out for a moment. Then she turned and seated herself among the group.
“You’ve heard the news, then?” she asked.
“Yes. Doris Randolph told us the Fergusons read the will this morning, and Toby wasn’t mentioned in it,” replied Don.
“That is not strange,” said Phoebe, thoughtfully. “Toby Clark was not a relative of the Fergusons, you know; he was just a clerk in the judge’s law office.”
“But he’s a cripple,” retorted Becky, “and he was made a cripple by saving Judge Ferguson’s life.”
“That is true,” admitted Phoebe. “Judge Ferguson went into grandfather’s vault, where he suspected all the Daring money had been hidden by old Elaine, our crazy housekeeper, and while he was in there, in company with Toby and the constable, old Elaine tried to shut the heavy door and lock them all up. Had she succeeded they would soon have suffocated; but Toby stopped the door from closing, with his foot, which was badly crushed, and so by his quick wit and bravery saved three lives – including his own. The judge was grateful to him, of course, and had he lived Toby would have remained in his law office until in time he became a partner. That his friend and patron suddenly died and so deprived Toby of further employment, was due to the accident of circumstances. I do not think anyone can be blamed.”
They were silent a moment and then Sue asked: “What’s going to become of Toby now, Phoebe?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t any father or mother; they both died years ago, long before Judge Ferguson took the boy to work for him. The Clarks owned a little cabin down by the river – a poor place it is – and there Toby has lived and cooked his own meals while he studied law in the judge’s office. He lives there yet, and since the judge died, a week ago, he has done nothing but mourn for his friend and benefactor. But Toby will find some other work to do, I’m sure, as soon as he applies for it, for everyone in the village likes him.”
“Can’t we do something?” asked Becky earnestly. “We owe Toby a lot, too, for he helped the judge to save grandfather’s fortune for us.”
“We will do all we can,” replied Phoebe, positively, “but we can’t offer Toby charity, you understand. He is very proud and it would hurt him dreadfully to think we were offering him alms. I’ll ask the Little Mother about it and see what she thinks.”
That ended the conversation, for the time, and the younger Darings all ran out into the crisp October air while Phoebe went about her household duties with a thoughtful face. She and her twin, Phil, were the real heads of the Daring family, although the orphans had a “Little Mother” in Cousin Judith Eliot, a sweet-faced, gentle young woman who had come to live with them and see that they were not allowed to run wild. But Phil was now in college, paving the way for mighty deeds in the future, and Phoebe knew her twin would be deeply grieved over the sudden death of their father’s old friend, Judge Ferguson. The judge had also been their guardian and, with Cousin Judith, a trustee of the Daring estate – a competence inherited from their grandfather, Jonas Eliot, who had been one of the big men of the county. The fine old colonial mansion in which the Darings lived was also an inheritance from Grandpa Eliot, and although it was not so showy as some of the modern residences of Riverdale – the handsome Randolph house across the way, for instance – it possessed a dignity and beauty that compelled respect.
The loss of their guardian did not worry the young Darings so much as the loss of their friend, for the shrewd old lawyer had been very kind to them, skillfully advising them in every affair, big or little, that might in any way affect their interests. Mr. Ferguson – called “Judge” merely by courtesy, for he had always been a practicing lawyer – had doubtless been the most highly esteemed member of the community. For a score of years he had been the confidential adviser of many of the wealthiest families in that part of the state, counseling with them not only in business but in family affairs. In his dingy offices, which were located over the post office in Riverdale, many important transactions and transfers of property had been consummated, and the tall wooden cupboard in the lawyer’s private room contained numerous metal boxes marked with the names of important clients and containing documents of considerable value. Yet, in spite of his large and varied practice, Mr. Ferguson attended to all his clients personally and only a young boy, Toby Clark, had been employed as a clerk during the past few years.
At first Toby swept out the office and ran errands. Then he developed an eagerness to study law, and the judge, finding the young fellow bright and capable, assisted his ambition by promoting Toby to copying deeds and law papers and laying out for him a course of practical study. In many ways Toby proved of value to his employer and Mr. Ferguson grew very fond of the boy, especially after that adventure when Toby Clark heroically sacrificed his foot to prevent them both from being hermetically sealed up in old Mr. Eliot’s mausoleum, where they would soon have perished from lack of air.
Knowing ones declared that so strong was the affection between the old lawyer and his youthful clerk that Toby would surely inherit the fine law business some day. But no one realized then that the grizzled old lawyer’s days were numbered. He had been so rugged and strong in appearance that it was a shock to the entire community when he was suddenly stricken by an insidious heart disease and expired without a word to even the members of his own family. Many grieved at Judge Ferguson’s death, but none more sincerely than his office boy and daily companion, Toby Clark. He had no thought, at the time, of his own ruined prospects, remembering only that his one staunch friend had been taken from him.
Except that the lawyer’s friendship had distinguished him, Toby was a nobody in Riverdale. The Clarks, who were not natives of the town but had strayed into it years before, had been not only poor and lowly but lacking in refinement. They had not even been considered “good citizens,” for the man was surly and unsociable and the woman untidy. With such parents it was wonderful that the boy developed any ability whatever, and in his early days the barefooted, ragged urchin was regarded by the villagers with strong disapproval. Then his mother passed away and a year or so later his father, and the boy was left to buffet the world alone. It was now that he evinced intelligence and force of character. Although still considered a queer and unaccountable little fellow, his willingness to do any odd job to turn an honest penny won the respect of the people and many gave him a day’s employment just to help him along. That was how the waif came under Judge Ferguson’s notice and the old lawyer, a shrewd judge of humanity, recognized the latent force and cleverness in the boy’s nature and took him under his wing.
Toby wasn’t very prepossessing in appearance. At nineteen years of age he was so small in size that he seemed scarcely fifteen. His hair was unruly and of a dull tow color, his face freckled and red and his nose inclined to