Now or Never; Or, The Adventures of Bobby Bright by Oliver Optic (tohfa e dulha read online txt) 📗
- Author: Oliver Optic
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"Yes, you are. Why don't you go to work?"
"I do work."
"No, you don't; you waste your time paddling in the river."
"I don't."
"You had better teach this boy manners too, marm," said the creditor, who, like all men of small souls, was willing to take advantage of the power which the widow's indebtedness gave him. "He is saucy."
"I should like to know who taught you manners, Mr. Hardhand," replied Bobby, whose indignation was rapidly getting the better of his discretion.
"What!" growled Mr. Hardhand, aghast at this unwonted boldness.
"I heard what you said before I came in; and no decent man would go to the house of a poor woman to insult her."
"Humph! Mighty fine," snarled the little old man, his gray eyes twinkling with malice.
"Don't, Bobby; don't be saucy to the gentleman," interposed his mother.
"Saucy, marm? You ought to horsewhip him for it. If you don't, I will."
"No, you won't!" replied Bobby, shaking his head significantly. "I can take care of myself."
"Did any one ever hear such impudence!" gasped Mr. Hardhand.
"Don't, Bobby, don't," pleaded the anxious mother.
"I should like to know what right you have to come here and abuse my mother," continued Bobby, who could not restrain his anger.
"Your mother owes me money, and she doesn't pay it, you young scoundrel!" answered Mr. Hardhand, foaming with rage.
"That is no reason why you should insult her. You can call me what you please, but you shall not insult my mother while I'm round."
"Your mother is a miserable woman, and——"
"Say that again, and though you are an old man, I'll hit you for it. I'm big enough to protect my mother, and I'll do it."
Bobby doubled up his fists and edged up to Mr. Hardhand, fully determined to execute his threat if he repeated the offensive expression, or any other of a similar import. He was roused to the highest pitch of anger, and felt as though he had just as lief die as live in defence of his mother's good name.
I am not sure that I could excuse Bobby's violence under any other circumstances. He loved his mother—as the novelists would say, he idolized her; and Mr. Hardhand had certainly applied some very offensive epithets to her—epithets which no good son could calmly hear applied to a mother. Besides, Bobby, though his heart was a large one, and was in the right place, had never been educated into those nice distinctions of moral right and wrong which control the judgment of wise and learned men. He had an idea that violence, resistance with blows, was allowable in certain extreme cases; and he could conceive of no greater provocation than an insult to his mother.
"Be calm, Bobby; you are in a passion," said Mrs. Bright.
"I am surprised, marm," began Mr. Hardhand, who prudently refrained from repeating the offensive language—and I have no doubt he was surprised; for he looked both astonished and alarmed. "This boy has a most ungovernable temper."
"Don't you worry about my temper, Mr. Hardhand; I'll take care of myself. All I want of you is not to insult my mother. You may say what you like to me; but don't you call her hard names."
Mr. Hardhand, like all mean, little men, was a coward; and he was effectually intimidated by the bold and manly conduct of the boy. He changed his tone and manner at once.
"You have no money for me, marm?" said he, edging towards the door.
"No, sir; I am sorry to say that I have been able to save only five dollars since I paid you last; but I hope——"
"Never mind, marm, never mind; I shall not trouble myself to come here again, where I am liable to be kicked by this ill-bred cub. No, marm, I shall not come again. Let the law take its course."
"O, mercy! See what you have brought upon us, Bobby," exclaimed Mrs. Bright, bursting into tears.
"Yes, marm, let the law take its course."
"O, Bobby! Stop a moment, Mr. Hardhand; do stop a moment."
"Not a moment, marm. We'll see;" and Mr. Hardhand placed his hand upon the latch string.
Bobby felt very uneasy and very unhappy at that moment. His passion had subsided, and he realized that he had done a great deal of mischief by his impetuous conduct.
Then the remembrance of his morning adventure on the bridge came like a flash of sunshine to his mind, and he eagerly drew from his pocket the handkerchief in which he had deposited the precious gold,—doubly precious now, because it would enable him to retrieve the error into which he had fallen, and do something towards relieving his mother's embarrassment. With a trembling hand he untied the knot which secured the money.
"Here, mother, here is thirty-five dollars;" and he placed it in her hand.
"Why, Bobby!" exclaimed Mrs. Bright.
"Pay him, mother, pay him, and I will tell you all about it by and by."
"Thirty-five dollars! and all in gold! Where did you get it, Bobby?"
"Never mind it now, mother."
Mr. Hardhand's covetous soul had already grasped the glittering gold; and removing his hand from the latch string, he approached the widow.
"I shall be able to pay you forty dollars now," said Mrs. Bright, taking the five dollars she had saved from her pocket.
"Yes, marm."
Mr. Hardhand took the money, and seating himself at the table, indorsed the amount on the back of the note.
"You owe me sixty more," said he, maliciously, as he returned the note to his pocket book. "It must be paid immediately."
"You must not be hard with me now, when I have paid more than you demanded."
"I don't wish to come here again. That boy's impudence has put me all out of conceit with you and your family," replied Mr. Hardhand, assuming the most benevolent look he could command. "There was a time when I was very willing to help you. I have waited a great while for my pay for this house; a great deal longer than I would have waited for anybody else."
"Your interest has always been paid punctually," suggested the widow, modestly.
"That's true; but very few people would have waited as long as I have for the principal. I wanted to help you——"
"By gracious!" exclaimed Bobby, interrupting him.
"Don't be saucy, my son, don't," said Mrs. Bright, fearing a repetition of the former scene.
"He wanted to help us!" ejaculated Bobby.
It was a very absurd and hypocritical expression on the part of Mr. Hardhand; for he never wanted to help any one but himself; and during the whole period of his relations with the poor widow, he had oppressed, insulted, and abused her to the extent of his capacity, or at least as far as his interest would permit.
He was a malicious and revengeful man. He did not consider the great provocation he had given Bobby for his violent conduct, but determined to be revenged, if it could be accomplished without losing any part of the sixty dollars still due him. He was a wicked man at heart, and would not scruple to turn the widow and her family out of house and home.
Mrs. Bright knew this, and Bobby knew it too; and they felt very uneasy about it. The wretch still had the power to injure them, and he would use it without compunction.
"Yes, young man, I wanted to help you, and you see what I get for it—contempt and insults! You will hear from me again in a day or two. Perhaps you will change your tune, you young reprobate!"
"Perhaps I shall," replied Bobby, without much discretion.
"And you too, marm; you uphold him in his treatment of me. You have not done your duty to him. You have been remiss, marm!" continued Mr. Hardhand, growing bolder again, as he felt the power he wielded.
"That will do, sir; you can go!" said Bobby, springing from his chair, and approaching Mr. Hardhand. "Go, and do your worst!"
"Humph! you stump me,—do you?"
"I would rather see my mother kicked out of the house than insulted by such a dried-up old curmudgeon as you are. Go along!"
"Now, don't, Bobby," pleaded his mother.
"I am going; and if the money is not paid by twelve o'clock to-morrow, the law shall take its course;" and Mr. Hardhand rushed out of the house, slamming the door violently after him.
"O, Bobby, what have you done?" exclaimed Mrs. Bright, when the hard-hearted creditor had departed.
"I could not help it, mother; don't cry. I cannot bear to hear you insulted and abused; and I thought when I heard him do it a year ago, that I couldn't stand it again. It is too bad."
"But he will turn us out of the house; and what shall we do then?"
"Don't cry, mother; it will come round all right. I have friends who are rich and powerful, and who will help us."
"You don't know what you say, Bobby. Sixty dollars is a great deal of money, and if we should sell all we have, it would scarcely bring that."
"Leave it all to me, mother; I feel as though I could do something now. I am old enough to make money."
"What can you do?"
"Now or never!" replied Bobby, whose mind had wandered from the scene to the busy world, where fortunes are made and lost every day. "Now or never!" muttered he again.
"But, Bobby, you have not told me where you got all that gold."
"Dinner is ready, I see, and I will tell you while we eat."
Bobby had been a fishing, and to be hungry is a part of the fisherman's luck; so he seated himself at the table, and gave his mother a full account of all that had occurred at the bridge.
The fond mother trembled when she realized the peril her son had incurred for the sake of the young lady; but her maternal heart swelled with admiration in view of the generous deed, and she thanked God that she was the mother of such a son. She felt more confidence in him then than she had ever felt before, and she realized that he would be the stay and the staff of her declining years.
Bobby finished his dinner, and seated himself on the front door step. His mind was absorbed by a new and brilliant idea; and for half an hour he kept up a most tremendous thinking.
"Now or never!" said he, as he rose and walked down the road towards Riverdale Centre.
CHAPTER V IN WHICH BOBBY GIVES HIS NOTE FOR SIXTY DOLLARS
A great idea was born in Bobby's brain. His mother's weakness and the insecurity of her position were more apparent to him than they had ever been before. She was in the power of her creditor, who might turn her out of the little black house, sell the place at auction, and thus, perhaps, deprive her of the whole or a large part of his father's and her own hard earnings.
But this was not the peculiar hardship of her situation, as her devoted son understood it. It was not the hard work alone which she was called upon to perform, not the coarseness of the fare upon which they lived, not the danger even of being turned out of doors, that distressed Bobby; it was that a wretch like Mr. Hardhand could insult and trample upon his mother. He had just heard him use language to her that made his blood boil with indignation, and he did not, on cool, sober, second thought, regret that he had taken such a decided stand against it.
He cared not for himself. He could live on a crust of bread and a cup of water from the spring; he could sleep in a barn; he could wear coarse and even ragged clothes; but he could not submit to have his mother insulted, and by such a mean and contemptible person as Mr. Hardhand.
Yet what could he do? He was but a boy, and the great world would look with contempt upon his puny form. But he felt that he was not altogether insignificant. He had performed an act that day, which the fair young lady, to whom he had rendered the service, had declared very few men would have undertaken. There was something in him, something that would come out, if he only put his best foot forward. It was a tower of strength within him. It told him that he could do wonders; that he could go out into the world and accomplish all that would be required to free his mother from debt, and relieve her from the severe drudgery of her life.
A great many people think they can "do wonders." The vanity of some very silly people makes them think they can command armies, govern nations, and teach the world what the world never knew before and never would know but for them. But Bobby's something within him was not vanity. It was something more substantial.
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