Andy Grant's Pluck. Alger Horatio Jr.
was a smile upon it as she greeted her son.
"Then you got my telegram?" she said. "I didn't think you would be here so soon."
"I started at once, mother, for I felt anxious. What has happened? Are you all well?"
"Yes, thank God, we are in fair health, but we have met with misfortune."
"What is it?"
"Nathan Lawrence, cashier of the bank in Benton, has disappeared with twenty thousand dollars of the bank's money."
"What has that to do with father? He hasn't much money in that bank."
"Your father is on Mr. Lawrence's bond to the amount of six thousand dollars."
"I see," answered Andy, gravely, "How much will he lose?"
"The whole of it."
This, then, was what had happened. To a man in moderate circumstances, it must needs be a heavy blow.
"I suppose it will make a great difference?" said Andy, inquiringly.
"You can judge. Your father's property consists of this farm and three thousand dollars in government bonds. It will be necessary to sacrifice the bonds and place a mortgage of three thousand dollars on the farm."
"How much is the farm worth?"
"Not over six thousand dollars."
"Then father's property is nearly all swept away."
"Yes," said his mother, sadly. "Hereafter he will receive no help from outside interest, and will, besides, have to pay interest on a mortgage of three thousand dollars, at six per cent."
"One hundred and eighty dollars."
"Yes."
"Altogether, then, it will diminish our income by rather more than three hundred dollars."
"Yes, Andy."
"That is about what my education has been costing father," said Andy, in a low voice.
He began to see how this misfortune was going to affect him.
"I am afraid," faltered Mrs. Grant, "that you will have to leave school."
"Of course I must," said Andy, speaking with a cheerfulness which he did not feel. "And in place of going to college I must see how I can help father bear this burden."
"It will be very hard upon you, Andy," said his mother, in a tone of sympathy.
"I shall be sorry, of course, mother; but there are plenty of boys who don't go to college. I shall be no worse off than they."
"I am glad you bear the disappointment so well, Andy. It is of you your father and I have thought chiefly since the blow fell upon us."
"Who will advance father the money on mortgage, mother?"
"Squire Carter has expressed a willingness to do so. He will be here this evening to talk it over."
"I am sorry for that, mother. He is a hard man. If there is a chance to take advantage of father, he won't hesitate to do it."
CHAPTER II.
SQUIRE CARTER
When Mr. Grant entered the room, he seemed to Andy to have grown five years older. His face was sad, and he had lost the brisk, cheerful manner which was habitual to him.
"Has your mother told you?" he asked.
"Yes, father." Then he added with indignation: "What a wicked man Mr.
Lawrence must be!"
"I suppose he was tempted," said Mr. Grant, slowly. "Here is a note I received from him this morning."
Andy took the envelope from his father's hand, and, opening it, read the following lines:
"OLD FRIEND: Perhaps by the time you receive this letter you will have heard of the wrong I have done you and yours, and the loss I have brought upon you. It is to me a source of the greatest sorrow, for I fear you will never recover from it. I am just ready to go away. I cannot stay here to receive punishment, for it would tie my hands, and prevent my making reparation, as I hope some day to do. Why did I go wrong? I can't explain, except that it was infatuation. In a moment of madness I took some of the funds of the bank and risked them in Wall Street. I lost and went in deeper, hoping to be more fortunate and replace the stolen money. That is the way such things usually happen.
"I can say no more, except that it will be my earnest effort to give you back the money you will lose by me. It may take years, but I hope we both shall live long enough for me to do it.
Andy read this letter in silence and gave it back to his father.
"Do you believe he is sincere?" he asked.
"Yes; he has many good points, and I believe he really feels attached to me."
"He has taken a strange way to show it."
"He was weak, and yielded to temptation. There are many like him."
"Do you believe he will ever be able to make up the loss?"
"I don't know. He is a man of fine business talent, and may be able in time to do something, but his defalcation amounts to twenty thousand dollars."
"We must try to make the best of it, father. You have been spending three hundred dollars a year for me, besides the expense of my clothes. If that is saved, it will make up your loss of income."
"But, my dear boy, I don't like to sacrifice your prospects."
"It won't be sacrificing them," said Andy, with forced cheerfulness. "It will only change them. Of course, I must give up the thought of a college education, but I may make a success in business."
"It will be very hard upon you," said Mr. Grant, sadly.
"No, father. I won't deny that I shall be sorry just at first, but it may turn out better for me in the end."
"You are a good boy, to take it so well, Andy. I had no right to risk so much, even for a friend like Lawrence."
"You have known Mr. Lawrence for many years, have you not, father?"
"Yes; we were schoolboys together. I thought him the soul of honor. But
I ought not to have risked three-quarters of my estate, even for him."
"You can't be blamed, father. You had full confidence in him."
"Yes, I had full confidence in him," sighed Mr. Grant.
"And he may yet be able to make up the loss to you."
Though Andy said this, he only said it to mitigate his father's regret, for he had very little confidence in the missing cashier or his promises. He was repaid by seeing his father brighten up.
"You have cheered me, Andy," he said. "I don't care so much for myself, but I have been thinking of you and your mother."
"And we have been thinking of you, father," said Mrs. Grant. "It might be worse."
"I don't see very well how that could be."
"We are in good health, thank God! and your reputation is unblemished. Compare your position with that of Nathan Lawrence, forced to flee in disgrace under a load of shame."
"You are right, wife. He is more to be pitied than I am."
"Is he a married man, father?"
"No; that is, he is a widower."
"While we are spared to each other. We must trust in God and hope for the best."
"Mother tells me you expect to get part of the money you need from
Squire Carter," said Andy.
"Yes, he has promised to take a mortgage of three thousand dollars on the old place."
"I have heard he is a hard man, father. I don't think he is influenced by kindness."
"I can't afford to inquire into his motives. It is enough that he will furnish the money. But for that I might have to sell the farm, and then we should be quite helpless."
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