Part 2 — CHAPTER XXVIII.
Reading edition
A REVELATION.
The little conference at Mr. Furbush's was over, and Mr. Morrison, rising, said slowly:
"I was very sorry to feel it my duty to take part in this matter. Let us forget it, and all be friends. Good-day, Mr. Furbush."
He shook hands with that gentleman, and also with Isaac, both of whom responded with very poor grace.
Then they walked out into the open air. Mr. Morrison, turning to Tony as they reached the sidewalk, remarked:
"My boy, I was glad to see that you exhibited no desire for revenge."
As they walked back toward Mr. Smart's store, the senior Morrison talked earnestly with the stranger, while young Morrison said to Tony:
"Well, good-by, my friend. Father is determined to go back to Boston to-night, and wants me to go with him. I won't forget you."
Morrison gave him a warm pressure of the hand, and then Tony found himself alone. How unutterably lonesome the world seemed to the boy at that moment! and as he walked slowly home he reviewed the events of the last few months.
His winter's work had exceeded his most sanguine expectations, and yet he felt the burden of defeat upon him. When he reached home, his father questioned him closely in regard to what had transpired, all of which he explained minutely.
"The young rascal!" said Job Loring, clenching his hands and frowning. "He got off too easy. He'd orter had a lesson."
"I am satisfied," said Tony. "I think it will be a lesson to him."
Tony was treated with much more consideration than formerly, but somehow it brought him little comfort, and a week dragged slowly by.
Aaron had improved greatly, now that poverty had loosened its grip upon them, and was helping his father fix up around the house, when a stranger came walking up to the door one afternoon.
"Hullo, Job! How are you?" he cried, reaching out his hand.
Tony, who was reading, looked up to see his father shaking hands with the red-whiskered man whom he had such good reason to remember.
The stranger nodded to Tony.
"So you're Job Loring's son, are you?" he said. "I tell you what it is, Job, that chap isn't very big," pointing to Tony, "but he's a boy to be proud of."
After this, he talked in low, earnest tones to Mr. Loring and Aaron, and soon the three started together in the direction of Ashville.
Father and son did not return till nearly dark, and then they came with quick, hopeful tread.
"Amanda," said Mr. Loring, eagerly, "what do you think? I've got every cent o' my pay."
Mrs. Loring stopped her work in surprise.
"I'm glad for Tony's sake," she replied. "Now he can have his money. He's been moping around the house like a shadow."
Mr. Loring looked thoughtful.
"I have been harsh with him sometimes, I s'pose, and I've said lot's o' things ag'in the rich folks that I hadn't orter. There's one decent one, anyway."
"Who's that?" his wife wanted to know.
"Mr. Morrison."
Tony came into the room at this moment, and caught the sound of the name.
"What of him?" he asked.
Then Job Loring told his story:
"That chap who was here to-day worked with me'n Aaron, over on Scaly Brook last winter, and the land we trespassed on belonged to this Mr. Morrison. I didn't know it at the time. Morrison was away, but a lawyer in Ashville advised Smart to take the hull lot o' logs, 'cause they was forfeited. But there was one landin', or brow of logs, that could be proved as come off of our permit, every stick of it, though I didn't know it. This brow was in the way of the others, and some o' the boys attached it for their wages. Then they sent this red-whiskered man through to see what Morrison was going to do about it. He came home himself and agreed to pay every man, and to-day we got it."
Then he turned to Tony.
"How much did you make last winter?" he asked.
"A hundred and thirty-three dollars," replied Tony, omitting the odd cents.
"Four dollars more than Aaron and me," said Mr. Loring.
He got up and paced across the room and back.
"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," he continued, speaking with some effort, "I'm going to pay that all back to you, Tony—every cent of it."
He had expected to see Tony spring to his feet with a great outburst of joy. Instead, he only shook his head and said, slowly:
"I don't want it; you can keep it."
"Well! well! well!"
It was all Job Loring could say.
"You can give me part of it, if you like," said Tony, at length. "I suppose I shall need some clothes."
"And you ain't going to peddling, nor nothing?" queried Mr. Loring.
Again Tony shook his head.
And so the matter was dropped.
Another week went by and Tony was one day walking through Ashville. He had purchased, at the earnest solicitation of his mother, a suit of well-fitting clothes; but he was low-spirited, and in spite of the money he had made, the past winter seemed a sort of failure to him.
Suddenly some one grasped him by the shoulder and a familiar voice shouted in his ear:
"Hello, Tony, how are you? I hardly knew you, with your new toggery on."
Could it be possible? Yes, he was shaking hands with Morrison.
They were near Mr. Smart's hardware store.
"Come inside," said Morrison. "I've got a bit of news to tell you."
They entered. Mr. Smart was nowhere in sight.
"Right into the office," continued the young man, gaily. "Now, no backwardness to-day. Sit right down, while I spin my yarn, as the sailors say. It was as big a surprise to me as it will be to you."
Tony sank into one of the chairs, while Morrison elevated his feet upon the desk before him.
"Now, are you ready?" he said, with a laugh. "Well, here goes. I worked in this store two years, under this man Smart—and a precious rascal he was, too—and never knew that my father owned this store and everything in it. Mr. Smart had been a clerk for father in Boston, and the object of the deception was to see if I really had any liking for business. And what do you suppose the result is?"
"I don't know," said Tony, feebly.
"I'll tell you," continued Morrison. "I was twenty-one years old yesterday, and I am sole proprietor here."
Tony looked at his companion in a peculiar way; saw how his eyes sparkled and his cheeks flushed with eagerness, and he knew that his heart was light and happy with ambition and hope. But the gulf between them was wider than ever.
"I congratulate you," he said, huskily. "I wish you everything—"
He stopped and rose to his feet, but Morrison pulled him down into the chair again.
"Don't go yet," he pleaded. "I'm not through. Now I want a favor of you. I want you in the store with me. Stop!" he said, imperatively, as Tony attempted to speak. "I know what your objection will be, but it's no use. There are evening schools here in the village, and you can attend them as much as you wish. You are bright and quick; I'll risk you. Mind before muscle, any time."
What could the poor fellow do? Nothing, except to grasp the hand of Morrison and shed tears of gladness, while his lips vainly strove to utter the thankfulness which over-flowed his heart. His wildest dreams were more than realized, and, better than all material advancement, he would not be parted from his friend.
And Morrison never had occasion to regret his offer, for Tony took to the business like a duck to water. A year later, Mr. Morrison, senior, said to Job Loring, who was making some alterations in the rich man's stable:
"A wonderfully smart boy of yours, Mr. Loring. It doesn't seem possible that twelve months can work such a change."
Job ran his great fingers through his shaggy hair, and made answer in a puzzled sort of way:
"It do seem strange, Mr. Morrison—it do, for a fact. I al'ays pitied the little chap, and kep' tellin' him he'd never be any good. But there, it shows that size don't al'ays count, and I wish Aaron could 'a had more brains, even if he didn't have quite so much muscle."
The story of Isaac Furbush's petty pilfering in some way got noised about the village, and it seemed as though the disgrace would ruin his prospects in Ashville, till Tony induced Morrison to give him a job as porter in the store.
Isaac, to whom the bitter lesson had been extremely beneficial, accepted the situation thankfully, and a goodly portion of his superfluous flesh disappeared in his zeal to prove himself worthy of his employer's confidence.
And in the hunting seasons, Morrison and Tony manage to steal away and chase the flying caribou and deer, and more than one lordly moose has been forced to succumb to their prowess and skill.