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Read book online Β«Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition by Jr. Horatio Alger (no david read aloud .txt) πŸ“•Β».   Author   -   Jr. Horatio Alger



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A hearty breakfast, consisting of beefsteak, potatoes, corn bread, fresh butter and apple sauce, made Abner's eyes glisten, for he had never in his remembrance sat down at home to a meal equally attractive. He wielded his knife and fork with an activity and energy which indicated thorough enjoyment. Even Herbert, though in the city his appetite had been delicate, and he had already eaten part of a loaf of bread, did excellent justice to the good things set before him. He was himself surprised at his extraordinary appetite, forgetting the stimulating effect of a seven-mile walk.

After breakfast they set out again on their tramp. At sunset, having rested several hours in the middle of the day, they had accomplished twenty miles. Abner could have gone further, but Herbert was well tired out. They obtained permission from a friendly farmer to spend the night in his barn, and retired at half-past seven. Mr. Reynolds would have been shocked had he known that his little son was compelled to sleep on a pile of hay, but it may truthfully be said that Herbert had seldom slept as soundly or felt more refreshed.

β€œHow did you sleep, Abner?” he asked.

β€œLike a top. How was it with you, bub?”

β€œI didn't wake up all night,” answered the little boy.

β€œI wonder what dad and marm thought when they found us gone?” said Abner, with a grin.

β€œWon't they feel bad?”

β€œNot much,” said Abner. β€œThey ain't that kind. I reckon it won't spoil their appetite.”

When they descended from the haymow, the farmer was milking his cows.

β€œWell, youngsters,” he said, β€œso you're up and dressed?”

β€œYes, sir.”

β€œAnd ready for breakfast, I'll be bound.”

β€œI reckon I should feel better for eatin',” said Abner, promptly.

β€œJest you wait till I get through milkin', and we'll see what Mrs. Wiggins has got for us.”

Abner heard these words with joy, for he was always possessed of a good appetite.

β€œI say, bub, I'm glad I run away,” he remarked, aside, to Herbert. β€œWe live enough sight better than we did at home.”

Leaving the boys to pursue their journey, we will return to the bereaved parents, and inquire how they bore their loss.

When Mrs. Barton rose to commence the labors of the day, she found that no wood was on hand for the kitchen fire.

β€œAbner's gittin' lazier and lazier,” she soliloquized. β€œI'll soon have him up.”

She went to the foot of the stairs, and called β€œAbner!” in a voice by no means low or gentle.

There was no answer.

β€œThat boy would sleep if there was an earthquake,” she muttered. β€œCome down here and split some wood, you lazy boy!” she cried, still louder.

Again no answer.

β€œHe hears, fast enough, but he don't want to work. I'll soon have him down.”

She ascended the stairs, two steps at a time, and opened the door of her son's room.

If Abner had been in bed his mother would have pulled him out, for her arm was vigorous, but the bed was empty.

β€œWell, I vum!” she ejaculated, in surprise. β€œEf that boy isn't up already. That's a new wrinkle. And the little boy gone, too. What can it mean?”

It occurred to Mrs. Barton that Abner and Herbert might have got up early to go fishing, though she had never known him to make so early a start before.

β€œI reckon breakfast'll bring 'em round,” she said to herself. β€œI reckon I shall have to split the wood myself.”

In half an hour breakfast was ready. It was of a very simple character, for the family resources were limited. Mr. Barton came downstairs, and looked discontentedly at the repast provided.

β€œThis is a pretty mean breakfast, Mrs. B.,” he remarked. β€œWhere's your meat and taters?”

β€œThere's plenty of 'em in the market,” answered Mrs. Barton.

β€œThen, why didn't you buy some?”

β€œYou ought to know, Joel Barton. You give me the money, and I'll see that you have a good breakfast.”

β€œWhere's all the money that man Ford gave you?”

β€œWhere is it? It's eaten up, Mr. Barton, and you did your share. Ef you'd had your way, you'd have spent some of the money for drink.”

β€œWhy don't he send you some more, then?”

β€œEf you see him anywheres, you'd better ask him. It's your business to provide me with money; you can't expect one boy's board to support the whole family.”

β€œIt's strange where them boys are gone,” said Joel, desirous of changing the subject. β€œLike as not, they hid under the bed, and fooled you.”

β€œEf they did, I'll rout 'em out,” said Mrs. Barton, who thought the supposition not improbable.

Once more she ascended the stairs and made an irruption into the boy's chamber. She lifted the quilt, and peered under the bed. But there were no boys there. Looking about the room, however, she discovered something else. On the mantelpiece was a scrap of paper, which appeared to be so placed as to invite attention.

β€œWhat's that?” said Mrs. Barton to herself.

A moment later she was descending the staircase more rapidly than she had gone up just before.

β€œLook at that,” she exclaimed, holding out a scrap of paper to Joel Barton.

β€œI don't see nothin' but a bit of paper,” said her husband.

β€œDon't be a fool! Read what it is.”

β€œRead it aloud. I ain't got my specks.”

β€œThe boys have run away. Abner writ it. Listen to this.”

Rudely written on the paper, for Abner was by no means a skillful penman, were these words:

β€œBub and I have runned away. You needn't worry. I reckon we can get along. We're going to make our fortunes. When we're rich, we'll come back. ABNER.”

β€œWhat do you think of that, Joel Barton?” demanded his wife.

Joel shrugged his shoulders.

β€œI shan't worry much,” he said. β€œThey'll be back by to-morrer, likely.”

β€œThen you'll have to split some wood to-day, Joel. You can't expect a delicate woman like me to do such rough work.”

β€œYou're stronger'n I be,

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