Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition by Jr. Horatio Alger (no david read aloud .txt) 📕

“You'd better ask marm. She attended to the business. It was a young man.”

“Where is she?”

“Gone to the village to buy some sassiges for dinner.”

“Good!” exclaimed Barton, in a tone of satisfaction. “I'll stay at home to dinner to-day. Did the man pay your mother any money?”

“I s'pose so, or she wouldn't be buyin' sassiges. Old Schickman won't trust us any more.”

“The money should have been paid to me. I'll see about it when your marm comes back from the store.”

“You'd spend it all for drink, dad,” said Abner.

“How dare you speak so to your father, you ungrateful young dog!”

He essayed to reach Abner to strike him, but his dutiful son dodged easily, and his father, being unsteady on his legs, fell on the ground.

Abner laughed, but Herbert was too much shocked to share in his enjoyment.

“Come here and help me up, you Abner!” said his father.

“Not much, dad! If you hadn't tried to lick me you wouldn't have fallen!”

“Let me help you, sir!” said Herbert, conquering his instinctive disgust and approaching the fallen man.

“You're a gentleman!” murmured Barton, as he took the little boy's proffered hand and, after considerable ado, raised himself to a standing position. “You're a gentleman; I wish I had a boy like you.”

Herbert could not join in the wish. He felt that a father like Joel Barton would be a great misfortune.

But just then Mrs. Barton entered the yard, marching with long strides like a man's.

“Here's marm!” announced Abner.

Barton steadied himself as he turned to look at his wife.

“I want to see you, Mrs. B.,” he said. “When are you goin' to have dinner?”

“Never, if I depended on you to supply the vittles!” she answered, bluntly.

“Don't speak so before a stranger,” said Barton, with a hiccough. “You hurt my feelin's.”

“Your feelin's are tough, and so are mine by this time.”

“What have you got there?”

“Some sassiges. Ef you want your share, you'll have to be on time. I shan't save you any.”

“How much money did the man pay you, Mrs. B.?”

“That's my business!” retorted his wife, shortly.

“Mrs. B.,” said her husband, straightening up, “I want you to understand that I'm the master of this house, and it's my right to take care of the money. You'll oblige me by handin' it over.”

“I'll do nothing of the sort, Joel Barton! You'd only spend it for drink.”

“Would you grudge me the few pennies I spend for drink? My system requires it. That's what the doctor says.”

“Then you must find the money for it yourself. My system requires something to eat, and, ef I take a boarder, he's got to have something to eat, too.”

“Mrs. B., I didn't think your heart was so hard,” said Barton, in a maudlin tone.

“Look here, Joel Barton; you might as well stop such foolish talk. It won't do no good. I can't stay here all day. I must go and be gettin' dinner.”

Had Barton succeeded in raising money from his wife, he would probably have returned at once to the tavern, and his place would have been vacant at the dinner table. Failing in this, he lay back and fell asleep, and was not roused till dinner time.

Mrs. Barton was a fair cook, and Herbert ate with an unexpected relish. It is needless to say that Abner also did full justice to the meal.

“I say, Sam,” he said, “I'm glad you've come.”

Herbert was hardly prepared to agree with him.

“Now we'll have to live better,” Abner explained. “Mam and I gen'ally have to skirmish round for vittles. We don't often get meat.”

This frank confession rather alarmed Herbert. He was not over self-indulgent, but he had never lacked for nourishing food, and the prospect of an uncertain supply was not encouraging.

When dinner was over—there was no second course—they left the table. Joel Barton made a fresh attempt to extort a small sum from his wife, but was met with an inflexible refusal. Mrs. Barton proved deaf alike to entreaties and threats. She was a strong, resolute woman, and not one to be intimidated.

When Barton left the house, his look of disappointment had given place to one of cunning.

“Come here, Abner!” he said, beckoning to his son and heir.

“What for?”

“Never you mind.”

“But I do mind. Do you want to catch hold of me?”

“No; it's only a little matter of business. It's for your good.”

Abner accompanied his father as far as the fence.

“Now, what do you want?” he asked, with his eyes warily fixed on his father.

“I want you to find out where your marm keeps that money,” said Barton, in a coaxing tone.

“What for?”

“You're to take it and bring it to me.”

“And go without eatin'?”

“I'll buy the provisions myself. I'm the head of the family.”

“Do you want me to hook money from marm?”

“'Twon't be hookin'. The money by right belongs to me. Ain't I the head of the family?”

“I dunno about that. Marm's the boss, and always has been,” chuckled Abner.

Joel frowned, but immediately tried another attack.

“Of course I'll give you some of it, Abner,” he resumed. “If there's five dollars I'll give you a quarter.”

“I'll see about it, dad.”

“Get it for me before evenin', if you can. I shall need it then.”

Abner returned to Herbert, and frankly related the conversation that had taken place between himself and his father.

Herbert was shocked. He did not know what to think of the singular family he had got into.

“You won't do it, will you?” he