Herbert Carter's Legacy; Or, the Inventor's Son by Jr. Horatio Alger (top reads .TXT) 📕

“Yes.”

“Has Mr. Crane hired you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then, why are you at work in his field?”

“Because I've agreed to work it on shares.”

“How is that?”

“I am to have a third of the crops to pay me for my services.”

“What can you do with it?”

“Part of the vegetables we can use at home, and the balance I shall sell.”

“I shouldn't think you'd like that arrangement.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have so long to wait for your pay.”

“That is true, but it's better than not working at all, and I've tried all over the village in vain to get employment.”

“Do you think you'll make much out of it?”

“I don't think I shall make my fortune, but I shall make something.”

“Don't it tire you to work?” asked James, with some curiosity.

“Of course, if I work all day; but I don't mind that.”

“I should.”

“You are not used to work.”

“I should say not,” returned James, with pride. “I never worked in my life.” It was a strange thing to be proud of, but there are some who have nothing better to be proud of.

“I like to work,” said Herbert.

“You do?”

“Yes, only I like to get something for my labor. You expect to work some time, don't you?”

“Not with my hands,” said James. “I shall never be reduced to that.”

“Do you think it so very bad to work with your hands? Isn't it respectable?”

“Oh, I suppose it's respectable,” said James; “but only the lower classes do it.”

“Am I one of the lower classes?” asked Herbert, amused.

“Of course you are.”

“But suppose I should get rich some day,” said Herbert.

“That isn't very likely. You can't get rich raising vegetables.”

“No, I don't expect to. Still, I may in some other way. Didn't you ever know any poor boys that got rich?”

“I suppose there have been some,” admitted James.

“Haven't you ever heard of Vanderbilt?”

“Of course I have. Father says he's worth forty millions.”

“Don't you consider him a gentleman?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, he was a poor boy once, and used to ferry passengers across from Staten Island to New York.”

“Did he? I didn't know that.”

“Suppose my uncle had left me all his fortune—a hundred thousand dollars—would I have been a gentleman, then?”

“Yes, but it isn't the same as, if you had always been rich.”

“I don't agree with your ideas, James. It seems to me something besides money is needed to make a gentleman; still, I hope to get on in the world, and I shouldn't object to being rich, though I don't see any prospect of it just at present.”

“No,” said James. “You will probably always be poor.”

“That's very encouraging,” said Herbert, laughing. “How about yourself?”

“Oh, I shall be a rich man like father.”

“That's very encouraging for you. I hope when you are a man you'll give me work if I need it.”

“I will bear it in mind,” said James, with an important air. “Now I must be going.” That day, at dinner, James said to his father: “That Carter boy has got a job.”

“Has he?” asked the squire, not very well pleased.

“Yes, he's working at Mr. Crane's.”

“What is he doing?”

“Working in the garden.”

“What wages does Crane pay him?”

“None at all. He says he has agreed to work for the third of the crops.”

“Did he say that?” asked the squire, with satisfaction.

“Yes, he told me so this morning.”

“You are sure he gets no money?”

“Yes; he is paid wholly in vegetables. He said he couldn't find employment anywhere else in the village, so he had to work that way.”

“That boy stands very much in his own light,” said the squire.

“How is that, father?”

“I told him Mr. Banks would give him work if he would agree to sell me his cottage.”

“He doesn't own it, does he?”

“His mother, of course, I mean. It's the boy that keeps her from selling it.”

“Why does he do that?”

“Oh, they've got a silly notion that no other place would seem like home to them, and, besides, they think I don't offer them enough.”

“How much do you offer them?”

“Eleven hundred dollars; that is, I have a mortgage on the place for seven hundred and fifty. I offer them three hundred and fifty dollars besides.”

“Is that all the money they are worth?”

“Yes; they are very foolish to refuse, for they'll have to come to it some time. In about a week the interest comes due, and I'm very sure they won't be able to meet it.”

“Suppose they don't?”

“Then,” said the squire, with a satisfied smile, “I shall take possession, and they'll have to sell.”

“Herbert says he hopes to be rich some time.”

“I dare say,” said the squire, laughing heartily. “Everybody does, so far as I know.”

“Do you think there is any chance of it?”

“About one in a thousand.”

“I shouldn't want the lower classes to get rich,” said James, thoughtfully. “They'd think they were our equals.”