"Who do you think I met this morning, father?" asked James, later in the day.

"I don't know."

"The Carter boy."

"Where did you meet him?"

"He was selling papers in front of the Astor House."

"He won't get rich very fast in that business. What did he have to say for himself?"

"He wouldn't tell me how much money he was making. He pays four dollars a week for board." "He probably finds it hard to pay that. It isn't likely he lays up anything. He would do better to stay in Wrayburn."

"Then you think he can't send any money to his mother?" "No; he will find it hard to pay his own expenses."

"Then she won't be able to pay the interest on the mortgage?"

"I don't see how she can."

"And you will seize the house?"

"I fully intend to do so."

"Good! That'll bring down Carter's pride. He's as cheeky as ever."

"He hasn't much to be proud of."

"That don't seem to make any difference with him. He talks as if he were my equal."

"That don't make him so."

"When are you going to move to the city, father?"

"I don't know," said the squire, shortly.

"I've got tired of Wrayburn."

"You'll have to stay there till my business will allow me to move."

The fact was, Squire Leech had just had an unsatisfactory interview with Mr. Andrew Temple. Under the advice of that gentleman he had invested a very considerable sum of money in some mining shares, in the a.s.surance that he would be able in a very short time to sell at a large profit. But from the time he bought, they began to drop. He asked an explanation of Mr. Temple.

"My dear sir," said the financier, "there's no being sure of the market. So many trivial circ.u.mstances affect it, that the wisest of us cannot absolutely predict anything. We can only calculate probabilities."

"You told me there was no doubt about the stock rising," grumbled the squire.

"Nor is there any, if you only have patience to wait Rome was not built in a day, you know."

"It seems to me there is a good deal of uncertainty and risk in these stock operations," objected the squire, very sensibly.

"Not under discreet guidance; if you only have pluck and patience, you are morally sure of a fortune in the end. Fortunes are made every day.

Why, there's old Jenkins, a grocer on Sixth Avenue--you've heard of his luck, haven't you?"

"No."

"Made fifty thousand dollars in six months from an original investment of ten thousand. At first, things went against him, but he was bound to see the thing through, and he did, and he's forty thousand better off for it."

"What did he invest in? "asked the squire, eagerly.

Mr. Temple told him, but I regret to say that the whole thing was a fiction, intended to encourage his dupe. He succeeded in influencing the squire to put another large sum into his hands, and sent him away hopeful. To raise this sum Squire Leech was obliged to sell or mortgage most of his real estate to parties whom Mr. Temple found for him. The prices realized were less than his valuation of the property; but Temple told him this was not so important, as he was sure to double his money in twelve months by investments in Wall Street.

So Squire Leech gave himself up to dreams of sudden wealth. He subscribed for two financial papers, and spent many hours in studying their columns. He was soon able to talk glibly of stocks and bonds, and the Wrayburn people thought he was on the high road to becoming a millionaire.

"Depend upon it, the squire's a long-headed man," said old Tom Cooper, in the village tavern. "It wouldn't surprise me a mite if he died worth a million."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

HERBERT'S LEGACY

The weeks slipped rapidly away. Herbert succeeded in maintaining himself at his new business, and never failed to have ready the four dollars which he had agreed to pay for board. It was lucky he did, for he soon found that there would be no chance of borrowing from his roommate. Cornelius was always hard up. As he only paid a dollar more board than Herbert, the latter wondered what he did with his twenty dollars a week. But the fact was, Mr. Dixon at present received but half that sum, though pride induced him to represent otherwise. And what, I ask, are ten dollars a week to a young man of fashionable tastes? No wonder he was always short of funds. How could it be otherwise?

Of course it was satisfactory to Herbert to feel that he was paying his way. But still he had a source of anxiety. He felt that he ought-- indeed, it was absolutely necessary--to contribute to his mother's support. Moreover, the dreaded day on which the semi-annual interest came due was now close at hand. So far as he could judge, his mother would have nothing to meet it. It seemed inevitable that she should submit to the squire's demand, and sacrifice the house. It was a sad thing to think of, yet there was this consolation: the three or four hundred dollars cash which the squire would pay would tide over the next year or two, until Herbert was older and could earn more.

But, after all, was it certain that he would earn more? Could he sell more papers two years hence than now? That was hardly likely. If he wanted to advance his income, it must be in some other business. Yet, to a boy situated as he was, there was little chance of getting any employment that would make as good immediate returns as selling papers.

So, thinking over these things, our hero was much perplexed, and could see no way out of the difficulty. He had never read "David Copperfield," and had not accustomed himself to expecting something to turn up. He was sensible enough, indeed, to know that it is idle to wait for such chances. Yet, when one does his duty faithfully, things will occasionally turn up, and this was precisely what happened to Herbert.

He was standing at his accustomed post one day, when a pleasant- looking gentleman of fifty, or perhaps a little more, accosted him, inquiring for a particular morning paper.

"I haven't got it, sir; but I will get you one," said Herbert.

"Will you be long?"

"No, sir; I know where I can get one at once."

"Very well, then, I will wait here till you return."

Herbert was as good as his word. As the gentleman paid him, he asked, pleasantly: "How is business, my young friend?"

"Pretty good, sir."

"Can you make money enough to support yourself?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I suppose you are contented?"