gone out, “if you want to keep that boy, I think you had better be careful how you treat him.”
“Why do you say that?” demanded Abner, eying her sharply. “Has he been saying anything to you about me?”
“No.”
“Then why did you say that?”
“Because I can see what kind of a boy he is.”
“Well, what kind of a boy is he?” asked Abner, with a sneer.
“He is high-spirited, and will work faithfully if he’s treated well, but he won’t allow himself to be imposed upon.”
“How do you know that?”
“I can read it in his face. I have had some experience with boys, and you may depend upon it that I am not mistaken.”
“He had better do his duty,” blustered Abner, “if he knows what’s best for himself.”
“He will do his duty,” said the housekeeper, firmly, “but there is a duty which you owe to him, as well as he to you.”
“Don’t I always do my duty by boys, Mrs. Bickford?”
“No, Mr. Holden, I don’t think you do. You know very well you can never get a boy to stay with you.”
“This boy is bound to me, Mrs. Bickford—legally bound.”
“That may be; but if you don’t treat him as he ought to be treated, he will run away, take my word for it.”
“If he does, he’ll be brought back, take my word for that, Mrs. Bickford. I shall treat him as I think he deserves, but as to petting and pampering the young rascal I shall do nothing of the kind.”
“I don’t think you will,” said the housekeeper. “However, I’ve warned you.”
“You seem to take a good deal of interest in the boy,” said Abner, sneeringly.
“Yes, I do.”
“After half an hour’s acquaintance.”
“I’ve known him long enough to see that he’s better than the common run of boys, and I hope that he’ll stay.”
“There’s no doubt about that,” said Abner Holden, significantly. “He’ll have to stay, whether he wants to or not.”
CHAPTER VIII
THE GHOST IN THE ATTIC
After working two hours at the woodpile, Herbert was called in to tea. There was no great variety, Abner Holden not being a bountiful provider. But the bread was sweet and good, and the gingerbread fresh. Herbert’s two hours of labor had given him a hearty appetite, and he made a good meal. Mrs. Bickford looked on approvingly. She was glad to see that our hero enjoyed his supper.
There was tea on the table, and, after pouring out a cup for Mr. Holden, the housekeeper was about to pour out one for Herbert.
“He don’t want any tea,” said Abner, noticing the action. “Keep the cup for yourself, Mrs. Bickford.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Holden?” asked the housekeeper, in surprise.
“Tea isn’t good for a growing boy. A glass of cold water will be best for him.”
“I don’t agree with you, Mr. Holden,” said the housekeeper, decidedly. “Herbert has been hard at work, and needs his tea as much as you or I do.”
Therefore, without waiting for his permission, she handed the cup to Herbert, who proceeded to taste it.
Abner Holden frowned, but neither Herbert nor the housekeeper took much notice of it. The latter was somewhat surprised at this new freak on the part of Abner, as he had never tried to deprive any of Herbert’s predecessors of tea or coffee. But the fact was, Mr. Holden disliked Herbert, and was disposed to act the petty tyrant over him. He had neither forgotten nor forgiven the boy’s spirited defiance when they first met, nor his refusal to surrender into his hands the five dollars which the doctor had given him.
Feeling tired by eight o’clock, Herbert went up to his garret room and undressed himself. An instinct of caution led him to take out the money in his porte-monnaie, and put it in his trunk, which he then locked, and put the key under the sheet, so that no one could get hold of it without awakening him. This precaution proved to be well taken.
Herbert lay down upon the bed, but did not immediately go to sleep. He could not help thinking of his new home, and the new circumstances in which he was placed. He did not feel very well contented, and felt convinced from what he had already seen of Mr. Holden, that he should never like him. Then thoughts of his mother, and of her constant and tender love, and the kind face he would never more see on earth, swept over him, and almost unmanned him. To have had her still alive he would have been content to live on dry bread and water.
He thought, too, of the doctor’s family and their kindness. How different it would have been if he might have continued to find a home with them! But when he was tempted to repine, the thought of his mother’s Christian instructions came to him, and he was comforted by the reflection, that whatever happened to him was with the knowledge of his Father in heaven, who would not try him above his strength.
Try and trust! That was almost the last advice his mother had given him, as the surest way of winning the best success.
“Yes,” he thought, “I will try and trust, and leave the rest with God.”
Meanwhile Mr. Holden had not been able to keep out of his head the five dollars which he knew Herbert possessed. He was a mean man, and wished to appropriate it to his own use. Besides this, he was a stubborn man, and our hero’s resistance only made him the more determined to triumph over his opposition by fair means or foul. It struck him that it would be a good idea to take advantage of our hero’s slumber, and take the money quietly from his pocketbook while he was unconscious.
Accordingly, about eleven o’clock, he went softly up the attic stairs with a candle in his hand, and, with noiseless steps, approached the bed. Herbert’s regular breathing assured him that he was asleep. Abner Holden took up his pants and felt for his pocketbook. He found it, and drew it out with exultation.
“Aha!” he thought; “I’ve got it.”
But this brief exultation was succeeded by quick disappointment. The pocketbook proved to be quite empty.
“Curse it!” muttered Abner, “what has the boy done with his money?”
It was at this moment that Herbert, his eyes possibly affected by the light, awoke, and he discovered his employer examining his pocketbook.
His first feeling was indignation, but the sight of Abner Holden’s disappointed face amused him, and he determined not to reveal his wakefulness, but to watch, him quietly.
“Perhaps he’s got two pocketbooks,” thought Abner. But in this he was mistaken.
Next he went to Herbert’s trunk, and tried it, but found it locked.
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