"No, it will not give you back your money, but it may give you back a son purified and prepared to take an honorable position in society."

"No, no; he's bad, bad!" said the stricken father. "What did he care for the labor and toil it took to save up that money?"

"I hope the loss of the money will not distress you, Mr. Graham."

"Well, no, not exactly," said Ebenezer, hesitating. "I shall have to take some money from the savings bank to make up what that graceless boy has stolen."

It was clear that Ebenezer Graham would not have to go to the poorhouse in consequence of his losses.

"I can hardly offer you consolation," said George Melville, "but I suspect that you will not be called upon to pay any more money for your son."

"I don't mean to!" said Ebenezer, grimly.

"Going away as he has done, he will find it necessary to support himself, and will hardly have courage to send to you for a.s.sistance."

"Let him try it!" said Ebenezer, his eyes snapping.

"He may, therefore, being thrown upon his own resources, be compelled to work hard, and that will probably be the best thing that can happen to him."

"I hope he will! I hope he will!" said the storekeeper. "He may find out after a while that he had an easy time at home, and was better paid than he will be among strangers. I won't pay any more of his debts. I'll publish a notice saying that I have given him his time, and won't pay any more debts of his contracting. He might run into debt enough to ruin me, between now and the time he becomes of age."

George Melville considered that the storekeeper was justified in taking this step, and said so.

While they were on the train, Ebenezer got measurably reconciled to his loss, and his busy brain began to calculate how much money he would save by ceasing to be responsible for Eben's expenses of living and prospective debts. Without this drawback, he knew he would grow richer every year. He knew also that notwithstanding the sum it had just cost him, he would be better off at the end of the year than the beginning, and to a man of his character this was perhaps the best form of consolation that he could have.

Suddenly it occurred to Mr. Graham that he should need a clerk in place of his son.

"Now that Eben has gone, Herbert," he said, "I am ready to take you back."

This was a surprise, for Herbert had not thought of the effect upon his own business prospects.

"I have got a place, thank you, Mr. Graham," he said.

"You don't call trampin' round huntin' and fishin' work, do you?" said Ebenezer.

"It is very agreeable work, sir."

"But it stands to reason that you can't earn much that way. I wouldn't give you twenty-five cents a week for such doings."

"Are you willing to pay me more than Mr. Melville does?" asked Herbert, demurely, smiling to himself.

"How much does he pay you now?" asked Ebenezer, cautiously.

"Six dollars a week."

"Six dollars a week!" repeated the storekeeper, in incredulous amazement. "Sho! you're joking!"

"You can ask Mr. Melville, sir."

Ebenezer regarded George Melville with an inquiring look.

"Yes, I pay Herbert six dollars a week," said he, smiling.

"Well, I never!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Ebenezer. "That's the strangest thing I ever heard. How in the name of conscience can a boy earn so much money trampin' round?"

"Perhaps it would not be worth as much to anyone else," said Melville, "but Herbert suits me, and I need cheerful company."

"You ain't goin' to keep him long at that figger, be you, Mr. Melville?"

asked Mr. Graham, bluntly.

"I think we shall be together a considerable time, Mr. Graham. If, however, you should be willing to pay Herbert a larger salary, I might feel it only just to release him from his engagement to me."

"Me pay more'n six dollars a week!" gasped Ebenezer. "I ain't quite crazy. Why, it would take about all I get from the post office."

"You wouldn't expect me to take less than I can earn elsewhere, Mr.

Graham," said Herbert.

"No-o!" answered the storekeeper, slowly. He was evidently nonplused by the absolute necessity of getting another clerk, and his inability to think of a suitable person.

"If Tom Tripp was with me, I might work him into the business," said Ebenezer, thoughtfully, "but he's bound out to a farmer."

An inspiration came to Herbert. He knew that his mother would be glad to earn something, and there was little else to do in Wayneboro.

"I think," he said, "you might make an arrangement with my mother, to make up and sort the mail, for a time, at least."

"Why, so I could; I didn't think of that," answered Ebenezer, relieved.

"Do you think she'd come over to-morrow mornin'?"

"If she can't, I will," said Herbert. "I don't meet Mr. Melville till nine o'clock."

"So do! I'll expect you. I guess I'll come over and see your mother this evenin', and see if I can't come to some arrangement with her."

It may be added that Mr. Graham did as proposed, and Mrs. Carr agreed to render him the a.s.sistance he needed for three dollars a week. It required only her mornings, and a couple of hours at the close of the afternoon, and she was very glad to convert so much time into money.

"It makes me feel more independent," she said. "I don't want to feel that you do all the work, Herbert, and maintain the family single-handed."

The same evening Herbert broached the plan of traveling with Mr.

Melville. As might have been expected, his mother was at first startled, and disposed to object, but Herbert set before her the advantages, both to himself and the family, and touched upon the young man's need of a companion so skillfully and eloquently that she was at last brought to regard the proposal favorably. She felt that George Melville was one to whom she could safely trust her only boy. Moreover, her own time would be partly occupied, owing to the arrangement she had just made to a.s.sist in the post office, so that Herbert carried his point.

The tenth of October arrived, the date which George Melville had fixed upon for his departure. Mrs. Carr had put Herbert's wardrobe in order, and he had bought himself a capacious carpetbag and an umbrella, and looked forward with eagerness to the day on which their journey was to commence. He had long thought and dreamed of the West, its plains and cities, but had never supposed that it would be his privilege to make acquaintance with them, at any rate, until he should have become twice his present age. But the unexpected had happened, and on Monday he and George Melville were to start for Chicago.

CHAPTER XX. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE IN CHICAGO.