our hero was gifted with pretty sharp ears, and he caught enough of this conversation to understand Mr. Holden’s plot, which he straightway determined should not succeed.
“You shan’t take me in this time, Mr. Holden,” he thought.
He opened his pocketbook to see if he had enough small change to pay for his dinner without intrenching upon his bill. There proved to be a quarter and two half-dimes, amounting, of course, to thirty-five cents. This would not be quite sufficient.
“I must change the bill somewhere,” he said to himself.
Looking out of the tavern window, he saw the village store nearly opposite. He took his cap and ran over. There was a clerk leaning with his elbows upon the counter, appearing unoccupied.
It occurred to Herbert that he might want some paper and envelopes. He inquired the price.
“We sell the paper at a penny a sheet, and the envelopes will cost you eight cents a package.”
“Then you may give me twelve sheets of paper and a package of envelopes,” said Herbert.
The package was done up for him and in payment he tendered the bill.
The clerk gave him back four dollars and eighty cents in change. He put the money in his pocketbook, and the paper and envelopes in his jacket-pocket, and returned to the tavern well pleased with his success. Mr. Holden was in the barroom, taking a glass of “bitters,” and had not noticed the absence of our hero.
Dinner was soon ready.
There was some beefsteak and coffee and a whole apple pie. Herbert surveyed the viands with satisfaction, having a decidedly good appetite. He soon found, however, that hungry as he was, he stood a poor chance with Abner Holden; that gentleman, being a very rapid eater, managed to appropriate two-thirds of the beefsteak and three-quarters of the pie. However, the supply being abundant, Herbert succeeded in making a satisfactory repast, and did not grudge the amount which he knew he should have to pay for it before leaving.
“Now,” said Abner Holden, his eyes twinkling at the thought of our hero’s coming discomfiture, “we’ll go and settle our bill.”
“Very well,” said Herbert, quietly.
They entered the public room and advanced to the bar.
“This boy wants to pay for his dinner, Mr. Robinson,” said Abner, significantly.
“How much will it be?” asked Herbert.
“Thirty-seven cents.”
Herbert took out of his vest pocket a quarter, a dime and two cents, and handed them over.
To say that Abner Holden looked amazed is not sufficient. He looked disgusted and wronged, and glared at Herbert as if to inquire how he could have the face to outrage his feelings in that way.
“Ho! ho!” laughed the landlord, who, having no interest in the matter, was amused at the course affairs had taken.
Herbert suppressed his desire to laugh, and looked as if he had no knowledge of Mr. Holden’s plans.
“Where did you get that money?” growled Abner, with a scowl.
“Out of my vest pocket,” said Herbert, innocently.
“I know that, of course, but I thought you had only a bill.”
“Oh, I got that changed at the store.”
“How dared you go over there without my permission?” roared Abner.
“I didn’t think it necessary to ask your permission to go across the street.”
“Well, you know it now. Don’t you go there again without my knowledge.”
“Very well, sir.”
“Did you buy anything at the store?” continued Mr. Holden.
“Yes, sir.”
“What was it?”
“Some paper and envelopes.”
“Humph!” muttered Abner, discontentedly.
He proceeded to pay his own bill and in a few minutes got into the wagon and drove off rather sulkily. Herbert saw that Mr. Holden was disturbed by the failure of his little plan, and felt amused rather than otherwise. But when he reflected that he was going to live with this man, and be, to a considerable extent under his control, he felt inclined to be sad. One thing he resolved that he would not submit to tyranny. The world was wide, and he felt able to earn his own living. He would give Mr. Holden a trial, and if he treated him with reasonable fairness he would remain with him. But he was not going to be any man’s slave.
Meanwhile they were getting over the road, and a few more hours brought them to their journey’s end.
Abner Holden’s house stood in considerable need of paint. It had no great pretensions to architectural beauty, being about as handsome for a house as Abner Holden was for a man. There was a dilapidated barn, a little to one side, and the yard was littered up with a broken wagon, a woodpile and various odds and ends, giving the whole a very untidy look.
“Is this where you live, Mr. Holden?” asked Herbert, looking about him.
“Yes, and I’m glad to get home. Do you know how to unharness a horse?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then jump out and unharness this horse. A man will come for it to-morrow.”
Herbert did as directed. Then he took his little trunk from the wagon, and went with it to the back door and knocked.
CHAPTER VII
A NEW HOME
The door was opened by an elderly woman, rather stout, who acted as Abner Holden’s housekeeper. Though decidedly homely, she had a pleasant look, which impressed Herbert favorably. He had feared she might turn out another edition of Mr. Holden, and with two such persons he felt that it would be difficult to get along.
“Come right in,” said Mrs. Bickford, for that was her name. “Let me help you with your trunk. You can set it down here for the present.”
“Thank you,” said Herbert.
“You must be tired,” said the housekeeper.
“No, not very,” said our hero. “We rode all the way.”
“Well, it’s tiresome riding, at any rate, when it’s such a long distance. You came from Waverley, Mr. Holden tells me.”
“Yes.”
“And that is more than thirty miles away, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“So you’ve come to help Mr. Holden?” she added, after a pause.
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Herbert, rather seriously.
“What is your name?”
“Herbert
