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Helping Himself, or Grant Thornton's Ambition

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<h2> CHAPTER XXVIII — HERBERT IS PROVIDED WITH A NEW HOME </h2> Mrs. Barton regarded the newcomers with a wondering stare. “Did you want to see Joel?” she asked. “I shall be glad to see him in due time, Mrs. Barton,” returned Willis Ford, with unwonted politeness; “but I came principally to see you.” “Who be you?” inquired Mrs. Barton, unceremoniously; “I don't know you no more'n the dead.” “There is a slight connection between us, however. I am the stepson of Pauline Estabrook, of New York, who is a cousin of yours.” “You don't say Pauline is your mother?” ejaculated the lady of the house. “Well, I never expected to see kith or kin of hers out here. Is that your son?” “No, Mrs. Barton; but he is under my charge.” Herbert was about to disclaim this, but an ominous frown from Willis Ford intimidated him. “My name is Willis Ford; his is Sam Green.” Herbert's eyes opened wide with astonishment at this statement. “My name is—” he commenced. “Silence!” hissed Ford, with a menacing look. “You must not contradict me.” “I s'pose I ought to invite you to stay here,” said Mrs. Barton, awkwardly; “but he's so shif'less, and such a poor provider, that I ain't got anything in the house fit for dinner.” “Thank you,” returned Ford, with an inward shudder. “I shall dine at the hotel; but I have a little business matter to speak of, Mrs. Barton, and I would wish to speak in private. I will come into the house, with your permission, and we will leave the two boys together.” “Come right in,” said Mrs. Barton, whose curiosity was aroused. “Here, you Abner, just take care of the little boy.” Abner proceeded to do this, first thinking it necessary to ask a few questions. “Where do you live when you're at home, Sam?” he asked. “In New York; but my name isn't Sam,” replied Herbert. “What is it, then?” “Herbert.” “What makes him call you Sam, then?” asked Abner, with a jerk of the finger toward the house. “I don't know, except he is afraid I will be found.” Abner looked puzzled. “Is he your guardeen?” he asked. “No; he was my father's clerk.” “Ho! Did your father have clerks?” “Yes; he is a rich man and does business in New York.” “What made him send you out here?” “He didn't.” “Then why did you come?” “Mr. Ford was mad with papa, and stole me away.” “He wouldn't steal me away easy!” said Abner, defiantly; “but, then, I ain't a little kid like you.” “I'm not a kid,” said Herbert, who was not used to slang. “Oh, you don't know what I mean—you're a little boy and couldn't do nothin'. If he tried to take me, he'd find his hands full.” Herbert, who was not very much prepossessed by Abner's appearance, thought it very doubtful whether any one would ever attempt to kidnap him. “What's he goin' to do with you?” continued Abner. “I don't know. I expect he'll make papa pay a good sum to get me back.” “Humph!” remarked Abner, surveying with some contempt the small proportions of the boy before him. “You ain't much good. I don't believe he'll pay much for you.” Tears sprang to the eyes of the little boy, but he forced them back. “My papa would think differently,” he said. “Papa!” mimicked Abner. “Oh, how nice we are! Why don't you say dad, like I do?” “Because it isn't a nice name. Papa wouldn't like to have me call him so.” “Where did you get them clothes? I don't think much of 'em.” “Nor I,” answered Herbert. “They're not my own clothes. Mr. Ford bought them for me in Chicago.” “He must like you, to buy you new clothes.” “No, he doesn't. My own clothes were much nicer. He sold them. He was afraid some one would know me in the others.” “I wonder what he and marm are talking about so long?” This question Herbert was unable to answer. He did not guess how nearly this conversation affected him. No sooner had the two entered the house than Willis Ford began. “Mrs. Barton,” he said, “I'll tell you now what brought me here.” “Go ahead,” said the lady, encouragingly. “I want you to take the boy I have brought with me to board.” “Land sakes! I don't keep a boardin' house!” “No; but if I will make it worth your while you will take him, won't you?” “How much will you give?” asked Mrs. Barton, shrewdly. “Four dollars a week.” “He'll be a sight of trouble,” said the lady; but there was something in her tone that satisfied Ford that she was favorably inclined to the proposal. “Oh, no, he won't. He's so small that you can twist him round your finger. Besides, Abner will be company for him. He will be with him most of the time.” “Say five dollars and it's a bargain,” said Mrs. Barton. Ford hesitated. He did not care to spend more than he was obliged to, but it was of importance to obtain at least a temporary refuge for the boy, of whose care he was heartily tired. It seemed to him that five dollars would be enough to support the whole family in the style in which they were apparently accustomed to live. However, it was politic to make the sum sufficient to interest these people in retaining charge of the boy. “Well,” he said, after a pause, “it's more than I expected to pay, but I suppose I shall have to accept your terms. I conclude Mr. Barton will not object to your taking a boarder?” “Oh, Joel is of no account,” returned Mrs. Barton, contemptuously. “I run this house!” Willis Ford suppressed a smile. He could easily believe from Mrs. Barton's appearance that she was the head of the establishment. “There's one thing more,” added Mrs. Barton; “you're to pay the money to me. Jest as sure as it goes into Joel's hands, it'll go for drink. The way that man carries on is a disgrace.” “I should prefer to pay the money to you,” said Ford. “You'll have to pay somethin' in advance, if you want the boy to have anythin' to eat. I've got to send to the village, and I haven't got a cent in the house.” Willis Ford took out a pocketbook. Extracting therefrom four five-dollar bills, he handed them to Mrs. Barton. “There's money for four weeks,” he said. “When that time is up I'll send you more.” Mrs. Barton's eyes sparkled, and she eagerly clutched the money. “I ain't seen so much money for years,” she said. “I'll jest look out Joel don't get hold of it. Don't you tell Joel or Abner how much you've paid me.” “I'll take care of that, Mrs. Barton. By the way, I must caution you not to believe any of the boy's stories. He's the son of a friend of mine, who's put him under my care. The boy's weak-minded, and has strange fancies. He thinks his name isn't Sam Green, and that his father is rich. Why, only the other day he insisted his name was George Washington.” “Land's sake! How cur'us!” “Of course; you won't pay any attention to what he says. He may take it into his head to run away. If he does, you must get him back.” “You can trust me to do that!” said Mrs. Barton, with emphasis. “I ain't goin' to let no five-dollar boarder slip through my fingers!” “That's well! Now I must be going. You will hear from me from time to time.” He passed through the front door into the yard. “Good-by!” he said. Herbert was about to follow him, but he waived him back. “You are not to come with me, Sam,” he said. “I shall leave you for a few weeks with this good lady.” Herbert stared at him in dismay. This was something he had never dreamed of. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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