Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute by Jr. Horatio Alger (short novels to read .txt) 📕

“I am just as glad to see you, Walter,” said Hector, heartily. “Mr. Crabb, here is your future pupil, Walter Boss.”

“I hope we may soon be friends, Walter,” said the usher, attracted by the bright, sunny face of the boy.

Walter gave the usher his hand.

“I hope so, too,” he said, smiling. “I’ll try not to worry you any more than I can help.”

“I have no misgivings,” said Mr. Crabb, as he mentally contrasted his new pupil with Jim Smith, and two or three others at the institute, who had been a frequent source of trouble and annoyance.

“Here is the carriage,” said Walter, pointing out a plain but handsome carriage waiting outside. “Bundle in, both of you! I beg your pardon, Mr. Crabb, for my familiarity. That was intended for Hector.”

“I am ready to be classed with Hector,” said Mr. Crabb.

“I am glad to hear you say so. I was afraid you would be stiff and dignified.”

“I think I shall take my cue from you.”

“Oh, my rule is, go as you please. Edward, drive home!”

The house occupied by Mr. Boss was a fine brown-stone dwelling on Forty-second Street. Arrived there, Mr. Crabb was shown into a spacious chamber, on the third floor, furnished with a luxury to which the poor usher was quite unaccustomed.

“Now, Hector, you can have a room to yourself, or you may share my den,” said Walter.

“I would rather share the den,” said Hector.

“That’s what I hoped. You see, we shall have ever so much to say to each other. We haven’t seen each other for over a year.”

A slight shade of gravity overspread Hector’s face. Since he had met his friend, his father had died, and he had been reduced from the heir of wealth to a penniless orphan. Of this last change Walter knew nothing, but Hector did not mean long to leave him in ignorance.

At dinner the two newcomers saw Mr. Ross, from whom they received a friendly welcome. The usher was put at his ease at once.

“I hope you’ll get along with my boy,” said the bluff city merchant. “Of one thing you may be assured, your scholarship won’t be severely taxed in educating him. Walter is a pretty good boy, but he isn’t a prodigy of learning.”

“I may be some day, father,” said Walter, “with Mr. Crabb’s help.”

“I take it Mr. Crabb isn’t able to perform miracles,” said Mr. Ross, good-humoredly. “No, Mr. Crabb, I shan’t expect too much of you. Get your pupil on moderately fast, and I shall be satisfied. I am glad, Hector, that you were able to pay Walter a visit at this time.”

“So am I, sir.”

“I thought you might not be able to leave your studies.”

“I have given up study, sir.”

“I am surprised at that, Hector. I thought you contemplated going to college.”

“So I did, sir, but circumstances have changed my plans.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes, sir; I will explain after dinner, and will ask your advice.”

Mr. Ross dropped the subject, and after dinner led the way to the library, where he sank into an armchair, and, breathing a sigh of satisfaction, said: “This, Mr. Crabb, is the most enjoyable part of the twenty-four hours for me. I dismiss business cares and perplexities, and read my evening paper, or some new book, in comfort.”

As the usher looked about him and saw costly books, engravings, furniture and pictures, he could well understand that in such surroundings the merchant could take solid comfort. It was a most agreeable contrast to the plain and poverty-stricken room at Smith Institute, where the boys pursued their evening studies under his superintendence.

“Well, Hector, so you don’t propose to go back to school,” said the merchant. “Isn’t that rather a sudden resolution?”

“Yes, sir; but, as I said, circumstances have changed.”

“What circumstances? Because you are rich, you don’t think you ought to be idle, I hope?”

“Oh, no, sir. It is because I have discovered that I am not rich.”

“Not rich! I always understood that your father left a large estate,” said Mr. Ross, in surprise.

“So he did, sir.”

“Didn’t it descend to you?”

“I thought so till recently.”

“Why don’t you think so now?”

In answer, Hector told the story of the revelation made to him by Allan Roscoe, after his father’s death.

“You see, therefore,” he concluded, “that I am penniless, and a dependent upon Mr. Allan Roscoe’s generosity.”

“This is a most extraordinary story!” said the merchant, after a pause.

“Yes, sir; it changes my whole future.”

“I suppose Mr. Allan Roscoe is the beneficiary, and the estate goes to him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did your father—the late Mr. Roscoe—ever hint to you anything which could lead you to suspect that you were not his own, but an adopted son?”

“Never, Mr. Ross,” answered Hector, with emphasis.

“Did he continue to treat you with affection.”

“Always. Nothing in his manner ever would have led me to imagine that I was not his own son.”

“He left no will?”

“No, sir.”

“What are your plans?”

“I do not wish to remain dependent upon Allan Roscoe. I should like to obtain a situation of some kind in the city, if I can.”

“I can probably serve you, then, after a while. For the present, stay here as Walter’s companion.”

“Thank you, sir; I should like nothing better.”