as much amusement as Andy.
“I am afraid, Andy,” she said, “that Mr. Starr will deprive us of our furniture, unless something unexpected turns up in our favor.”
This recalled to Andy’s mind the packet which he had just brought from the post office.
“That reminds me, mother,” he said, quickly. “I got a letter, or package, from the post office just now, for you. Perhaps there is something in it that may help us.”
He drew from his pocket the package and handed it to his mother.
Mrs. Gordon received it with undisguised amazement.
“Erie, Pennsylvania,” she read, looking at the postmark. “I don’t know anybody there.”
“Open it, mother. Here are the scissors.”
Mrs. Gordon cut the string which helped confine the parcel, and then cut open the envelope.
“It is your father’s wallet, Andy,” she said, in a voice of strong emotion, removing the contents.
“Father’s wallet? How can it be sent you from Erie at this late day?” asked Andy, in surprise equal to his mother’s.
“Here is a note. Perhaps that will tell,” said his mother, drawing from the envelope a folded sheet of note paper. “I will read it.”
The note was as follows:
“Dear Madam: I have to apologize to you for retaining so long in my possession an article which properly belongs to you, and ought long ago to have been sent to you. Before explaining the delay, let me tell you how this wallet came into my possession.
“Like your lamented husband, I was a soldier in the late war. We belonged to different regiments and different States, but accident made us acquainted. Toward the close of a great battle I found him lying upon the ground, bleeding freely from a terrible wound in the breast. Though nearly gone, he recognized me, and he said, as his face brightened:
“ ‘Ramsay, I believe I am dying. Will you do me a favor?’
“ ‘You have only to ask,’ I said, saddened by the thought that my friend was about to leave me.
“ ‘You’ll find a wallet in my pocket. Its contents are important to my family. Will you take it and send it to my wife?’
“Of course I agreed to do it, and your husband, I have reason to know, died with a burden lifted from his mind in that conviction. But before the action was over I, too, was stricken by one of the enemy’s bullets. My wound was not a dangerous one, but it rendered me incapable of thought or action. I was sent to the hospital, and my personal effects were forwarded to my family.
“Well, in course of time I recovered, and, remembering your husband’s commission, I searched for the wallet – but searched in vain. I feared it had been taken by some dishonest person. The war closed and I returned home. I ought to have written to you about the matter, but I feared to excite vain regrets. Perhaps I decided wrongly, but I resolved to say nothing about the wallet, since it seemed to be irretrievably lost.
“Yesterday, however, in examining an old trunk, I, to my great joy, discovered the long-missing wallet. I have taken the liberty to look into it, but cannot judge whether the contents, apart from the money, are of importance. My duty, however, is plain – to forward you the article at once. I do so, therefore, and beg you to relieve my anxiety by apprising me as soon as you receive it.
“Once more let me express my regret that there has been so great a delay, and permit me to subscribe myself your husband’s friend,
It is needless to say that both Andy and his mother were deeply interested in a letter which threw light upon the closing scene in the life of one so dear to them.
“Andy,” said his mother, “open the wallet. I cannot.”
The sight of it naturally aroused painful recollections in the heart of the bereaved wife. Andy was not slow in obeying his mother’s directions.
The first, and most prominent in the list of contents, was a roll of greenbacks. The bills were of various denominations, and they aggregated the sum of forty-five dollars.
“Money saved by your poor father from his salary,” said Mrs. Gordon.
“He will be glad that it has come into our hands, mother.”
“Yes; he was always thinking of those he left behind.”
“Here are some papers, too, mother,” said Andy. “They seem to be receipted bills.”
“I wish,” sighed the widow, “that the receipt from Mr. Starr might be found among them.”
One by one Andy opened the papers, hoping, but not much expecting, that the missing receipt might be found.
“Here it is, mother!” he exclaimed at last, triumphantly, flourishing a slip of paper.
“Let me see it, Andy,” said his mother, hurriedly.
“Don’t you see, mother? Here is his signature – Joshua Starr. I wonder what the old rascal will say to that?”
“The Lord has listened to my prayer, Andy. He has brought us out of our trouble.”
“Don’t say anything about it, mother,” said Andy. “I want to see how far the old swindler will go. I wonder what he will say when we show him the receipt?”
CHAPTER X.
THE FATE OF A BULLY
The next day, Herbert Ross reappeared at school. As we know, it had been his intention not to go back unless Dr. Euclid would dismiss Andy from the post of janitor.
Now, however, he and his father saw a way of getting even with our hero, by the help of Mr. Starr, and the note which he had placed in the lawyer’s hands for collection.
The prospect of distressing the family of his poor schoolmate was exceedingly pleasant to Herbert, who from time to time cast glances of triumph at Andy, which the latter well understood. But, with the means at hand to foil his ungenerous foe, Andy, too, could afford to be in good spirits, and his face showed that he was so.
This puzzled Herbert not a little. He had expected that Andy would be cast down, and was annoyed because he seemed so far from despondent.
“Of course they can’t pay the note,” thought Herbert, with momentary apprehension. “But of course they can’t! I don’t suppose they have got ten dollars in the house. I mean to go round when the sheriff seizes the furniture. Andy won’t look quite so happy then, I am thinking!”
Herbert recited his Latin lesson as poorly as usual – perhaps even more so, for his mind had been occupied with other things – and Dr. Euclid, who never flattered or condoned the shortcomings of a pupil on account of his social position, sharply reprimanded him.
“Herbert Ross,” he said, “how do you expect to get into college if you recite so disgracefully?”
“The lesson was hard,” said Herbert, coolly, shrugging his shoulders.
“Hard, was
