Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition. Alger Horatio Jr.

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leave her.

      “I think you are safe now,” he said.

      “Oh, but I shan’t let you go yet,” said the girl. “You must come in and see mother.”

      Grant hesitated, but he felt that he should like to meet the mother of a young lady who seemed to him so attractive, and he allowed himself to be led into the yard. Mrs. Clifton was sitting in a rustic chair under a tree behind the house. There Grant and his companion found her. Carrie poured forth her story impetuously, and then drawing Grant forward, indicated him as her rescuer.

      Her mother listened with natural alarm, shuddering at the peril from which her daughter had so happily escaped.

      “I cannot tell how grateful I am to you for the service you have done my daughter,” she said, warmly. “You are a very brave boy. There is not one in ten who would have had the courage to act as you did.”

      “You praise me more than I deserve, Mrs. Clifton. I saw the man was drunk, and I did not really run much risk in what I did. I am very thankful that I was able to be of service to Miss Carrie.”

      “It is most fortunate that you were at hand. My daughter might have been killed.”

      “What do you think, mother? He is a minister’s son,” said Carrie, vivaciously.

      “That certainly is no objection in my eyes,” said Mrs. Clifton, smiling, “for I am a minister’s daughter. Where does your father preach?”

      “His church is only a mile distant, in the village.”

      “I shall hear him, then, next Sunday. Last Sunday Carrie and I were both tired, and remained at home, but I have always been accustomed to go to church somewhere.”

      “Papa will be here next Sunday,” said Carrie. “He can only come Saturday night on account of his business.”

      “Does he do business in New York?” asked Grant.

      “Yes; his store is on Broadway.”

      “We live on Madison Avenue, and whenever you are in the city we shall be very glad to have you call,” said Mrs. Clifton, graciously.

      “Thank you; I should like to call very much,” answered Grant, who was quite sincere in what he said. “But I don’t often go to New York.”

      “Perhaps you will get a place there some time,” suggested Carrie.

      “I should like to,” replied Grant.

      “Then your father does not propose to send you to college?” It was Mrs. Clifton who said this.

      “He wishes me to go, but I think I ought to go to work to help him. He has two other children besides me.”

      “Is either one a girl?” asked Carrie.

      “Yes; I have a sister of thirteen, named Mary.”

      “I wish you would bring her here to see me,” said Carrie. “I haven’t got acquainted with any girls yet.”

      Mrs. Clifton seconded the invitation, and Grant promised that he would do so. In fact, he was pleased at the opportunity it would give him of improving his acquaintance with the young lady from New York. He returned home very well pleased with his trip to Somerset, though he had failed in the object of his expedition.

      CHAPTER V – MRS. THORNTON’S PEARLS

      The next Sunday Mrs. Clifton and her daughter appeared at church, and Grant had the pleasure of greeting them. He was invited with his sister to take supper with them on the next Monday afternoon, and accepted the invitation. About sunset he met his new friends walking, with the addition of the husband and father, who, coming Saturday evening from New York, had felt too fatigued to attend church. Mr. Clifton, to whom he was introduced, was a portly man in middle life, who received Grant quite graciously, and made for himself acknowledgment of the service which our hero had rendered his daughter.

      “If I ever have the opportunity of doing you a favor, Master Thornton, you may call upon me with confidence,” he said.

      Grant thanked him, and was better pleased than if he had received an immediate gift.

      Meanwhile Deacon Gridley kept his promise, and advanced the minister fifty dollars, deducting a month’s interest. Even with this deduction Mrs. Thornton was very glad to obtain the money. Part of it was paid on account to Mr. Tudor, and silenced his importunities for a time. As to his own plans, there was nothing for Grant to do except to continue his studies, as he might enter college after all.

      If any employment should offer of a remunerative character, he felt that it would be his duty to accept it, in spite of his uncle’s objections; but such chances were not very likely to happen while he remained in the country, for obvious reasons.

      Three weeks passed, and again not only Mr. Tudor, but another creditor, began to be troublesome.

      “How soon is your father going to pay up his bill?” asked Tudor, when Grant called at the store for a gallon of molasses.

      “Very soon, I hope,” faltered Grant.

      “I hope so, too,” answered the grocer, grimly.

      “Only three weeks ago I paid you thirty-three dollars,” said Grant.

      “And you have been increasing the balance ever since,” said Tudor, frowning.

      “If father could get his salary regularly—” commenced Grant.

      “That’s his affair, not mine,” rejoined the grocer. “I have to pay my bills regular, and I can’t afford to wait months for my pay.”

      Grant looked uncomfortable, but did not know what to say.

      “The short and the long of it is, that after this week your father must either pay up his bill, or pay cash for what articles he gets hereafter.”

      “Very well,” said Grant, coldly. He was too proud to remonstrate. Moreover, though he felt angry, he was constrained to admit that the grocer had some reason for his course.

      “Something must be done,” he said to himself, but he was not wise enough to decide what that something should be.

      Though he regretted to pain his mother, he felt obliged to report to her what the grocer had said.

      “Don’t be troubled, mother,” he said, as he noticed the shade of anxiety which came over her face. “Something will turn up.”

      Mrs. Thornton shook her head.

      “It isn’t safe to trust to that, Grant,” she said; “we must help ourselves.”

      “I wish I knew how,” said Grant, perplexed.

      “I am afraid I shall have to make a sacrifice,” said Mrs. Thornton, not addressing Grant, but rather in soliloquy.

      Grant looked at his mother in surprise. What sacrifice could she refer to? Did she mean that they must move into a smaller house, and retrench generally? That was all that occurred to him.

      “We might, perhaps, move into a smaller house, mother,” said he, “but we have

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