Grit

CHAPTER XXIV.
WHAT GRIT OVERHEARD BEHIND THE ELM-TREE

Grit listened with incredulous amazement to the words of the bank president.

"You mean to send me?" he ejaculated.

"Yes," answered Mr. Graves, nodding.

"But I am only a boy!"

"That is true; but you have shown a sagacity and good judgment which justify me in selecting you, young as you are. Of course, I shall take care that you are paid for your time. Now, are you willing to go?"

Willing to go to Boston, where he had not been for five years? Grit did not take long to consider.

"Yes," he answered promptly. "If you are willing to trust me, I am willing to go."

"That is well," said the president. "I need hardly caution you to keep your errand a profound secret."

"You must not even tell your mother," continued Mr. Graves.

"But she will feel anxious if I go away without a word to her."

"You mistake me. I would not for the world have you give her unnecessary anxiety. You may tell her that you are employed on an errand which may detain you from home a day or two, and ask her not to question you till you return."

"Yes, I can say that," returned Grit. "Mother will very likely think Mr. Jackson has employed me."

"Mr. Jackson?"

"A gentleman now staying at the hotel. He has already been very kind to me."

If Grit had been boastful or vainglorious, he would have given the particulars of his rescue of little Willie Jackson from drowning. As it was, he said no more than I have recorded above.

"Very well," answered the president. "Your mother will not, at any rate, think you are in any mischief, as she knows you too well for that."

"When do you want me to go, sir?" asked Grit.

"Let me see. To-day is Wednesday, and Friday is the day when we had decided to send the messenger. He was to go by the morning train. I think I will send you off in advance by the evening train of Thursday. Then the bonds will be in the bank at Boston, while the regular messenger is still on the way."

"That will suit me very well, sir."

"The train starts at ten o'clock. You can be at the train at half-past nine. I will be there at the same hour, and will have the bonds with me. I will at the same time provide you with money for the journey."

"All right, sir. Do you want to see me any time to-morrow?"

"No. I think it best that we should not be too much together. Even then, I don't think any one would suspect that I would employ you on such an errand. Still, it will be most prudent not to do anything to arouse suspicion."

"Then, Mr. Graves, I will bid you good night," said Grit, rising. "I thank you very much for the confidence you are going to repose in me. I will do my best, so that you may not have occasion to repent it."

"I don't expect to repent it," said Mr. Graves, shaking hands with Grit in a friendly manner.

When the young boatman left the house of the bank president, it was natural that he should feel a thrill of pride as the thought of the important mission on which he was to be sent. Then again, it was exhilarating to reflect that he was about to visit Boston. He had lived at Chester for five years and more, and during that time he had once visited Portland. That was an exciting day for him; but Boston he knew was a great deal larger than the beautiful city of which Maine people are pardonably proud, and contained possibilities of pleasure and excitement which filled him with eager anticipations.

But Grit knew that his journey was undertaken not for his own enjoyment, but was to be an important business mission, and he resolved that he would do his duty, even if he did not have a bit of fun.

As he thought over the business on which he was to be employed, his thoughts reverted to Ephraim Carver, the bank messenger, and the more he thought of him, the more he suspected that he was implicated in the projected robbery. It was perhaps this thought that led him to make a detour so that he could pass the house of the messenger.

It was a small cottage-house, standing back from the street, from which a narrow lane led to it. Connected with it were four or five acres of land, which might have yielded quite an addition to his income, but Mr. Carver was not very fond of working on land, and he let it lie fallow, making scarcely any use of it. Until he obtained the position of bank messenger he had a hard time getting a living, and was generally regarded as rather a shiftless man. He was connected with the wife of one of the directors, and that was the way in which he secured his position. Now he received a small salary, but one on which he might have lived comfortably in a cheap place like Chester. But in spite of this he was dissatisfied, and on many occasions complained of the difficulty he experienced in making both ends meet.

Grit turned down the lane and approached the house.

He hardly knew why he did so. He had no expectation of learning anything that would throw light on the question whether Carver was or was not implicated in the conspiracy. Still, he was drawn toward the house.

The night was quite dark, but Grit knew every step of the way, and he walked slowly up the lane, which was probably two hundred feet long.

He had gone, perhaps, half the distance, when he saw the front door of Carver's house open. Mr. Carver himself could be seen in the doorway with a kerosene-lamp in his hand, and at his side was a person whom with a thrill of surprise Grit recognized as the man staying at the hotel under the name of Colonel Johnson.

"That looks suspicious," thought Grit. "I am afraid the messenger is guilty."

He reflected that it would not do for either of them to see him, as it might render them suspicious. He took advantage of the darkness, and the fact that the two were not looking his way, to jump over the stone wall and hide behind the broad trunk of the lofty elm which stood just in that spot.

"I wish I could hear what they are saying," thought Grit. "Then I should know for certain if my suspicions are well founded."

The two men stood at the door for the space of a minute or more, and then the stranger departed, but not alone. Ephraim Carver took his hat and accompanied him, both walking slowly up the lane toward the main road.

By a piece of good luck, as Grit considered it, they halted beneath the very elm-tree behind which he lay concealed.

These were the first words Grit heard spoken:

"My dear friend," said Johnson, in bland, persuasive accents, "there isn't a particle of danger in it. You have only to follow my directions, and all will be well."

"I shall find it hard to explain how it happened that I lost the package," said Carver.

"Not at all! You will have a facsimile in your possession—one so like that no one need wonder that you mistook it for the original. Undoubtedly you will be charged with negligence, but they can't prove anything more against you. You can stand being found fault with for five thousand dollars, can't you?"

"If that is all, I won't mind. I shall probably lose my situation."

"Suppose you do; it brings you in only six hundred dollars a year, while we pay you in one lump five thousand dollars—over eight times as much. Why, man, the interest of this sum at six per cent. will yield half as much as your annual salary."

"The bank people ought to pay me more," said Carver. "Two months since I asked them to raise me to eight hundred a year, but they wouldn't. There was only one of the directors in favor of it—the man who married my wife's cousin."

"They don't appreciate you, friend Carver," said Johnson. "How can they expect you to be honest, when they treat you in so niggardly a manner?"

"Just so," said Carver, eager to find some justification for his intended treachery. "If they paid me a living salary, I wouldn't do this thing you ask of me."

"As it is, they have only themselves to blame," said Colonel Johnson.

"That's the way I look at it," said the bank messenger.

"And quite right, too! I shouldn't be surprised if you managed to keep your place, after all. They won't suspect you of anything more than carelessness."

"That would be splendid!" returned Carver. "With my salary and the interest of five thousand dollars, I could live as comfortably as I wanted to. How soon shall I receive the money?"

"As soon as we can dispose of the bonds safely. It won't be long."

Here the two men parted, and Carver returned to his house.

Grit crept out from behind the elm-tree when the coast was clear, and made his way home. He had learned a most important secret, but resolved to communicate it only to Mr. Graves.

CHAPTER XXV.
MRS. BRANDON IS MYSTIFIED

When Grit explained to his mother that he was going away for a day or two on a journey, she was naturally surprised, and asked for particulars.

"I should like to tell you, mother," said the young boatman, "but there are reasons why I cannot. It is a secret mission, and the secret is not mine."

"That is perfectly satisfactory, Grit," said Mrs. Brandon. "I have full confidence in you, and know I can trust you."

"After I return I shall probably be able to tell you all," said Grit. "Meanwhile, I shall, no doubt, be paid better than if I were ferrying passengers across the river."

"At any rate, I shall be glad to see you back. We have not been separated for a night for years, or, indeed, since you were born."

The next day, Mr. Brandon, taught by experience that he need not look for his meals at home, went over to the tavern to breakfast. He felt unusually independent and elated, for he had money in his pocket, obtained from Colonel Johnson, and he expected soon to receive the handsome sum of five thousand dollars. A shrewder man, in order to avert suspicion, would have held his tongue, at least until he had performed the service for which he was to be so liberally paid; but Brandon could not forego the opportunity to boast a little.

"It is quite possible, Mrs. B.," he said, in the morning, "that I may leave you in a day or two, to be gone a considerable time."

Mrs. B. did not show the expected curiosity, but received the communication in silence.

"You don't inquire where I am going," said Brandon.

"Where do you propose to go?" asked his wife, whose chief feeling was that she and Grit would now be left to their old quiet and peace.

"I may go to Europe," said Mr. Brandon, in an important tone.

"Isn't this a new plan?" asked Mrs. Brandon, really surprised.

"Yes, it is new. I shall go on business, Mrs. B. My friend Travers and I will probably go together. You and Grit made a great mistake when you treated him with rudeness. It is through him that I am offered most remunerative employment."

"I don't enjoy the society of your friend," said Mrs. Brandon. "If he is likely to give you a chance to earn something, I am glad, but that does not excuse the rudeness with which he treated me."

"My friend Travers is a gentleman, Mrs. B., a high-toned gentleman, and if you had treated him with the respect which is his due, you would have had nothing to complain of. As it is, you may soon discover that you have made a mistake, and lost a great pleasure. I had not intended to tell you, but I am tempted to do so, that but for your impoliteness to Travers, I might have taken you and Grit with me on a European tour."

Mr. Brandon watched his wife, to see if she exhibited severe disappointment at the dazzling prospect which was no sooner shown than withdrawn, but she showed her usual equanimity.

"Grit and I will be quite as happy at home," she answered.

"Sour grapes!" thought Brandon, but he was wrong. A tour of Europe taken in his company would have no attractions for his wife.

"Very well," said Brandon. "You and Grit are welcome to the charms of Pine Point. As for me, it is too small and contracted for a man of my business capacity."

"I wonder whether there is any truth in what he says," thought Mrs. Brandon, puzzled.

"Your business seems a profitable one," she ventured to remark.

"It is, Mrs. B.," answered her husband. "It is of an unusually delicate nature, and requires business talents of a high order."

"Your friend Travers does not impress one as a man possessed of a high order of business talent," said Mrs. Brandon.

"That is where you fail to appreciate him, but I cannot say more. My business is secret, and cannot be revealed."

So saying, Brandon took his hat, and with a jaunty step walked to the hotel.

"More secrecy!" thought Mrs. Brandon. "Grit tells me that his mission is a secret one, and now Mr. Brandon says he, too, is engaged in something that cannot be revealed. I know that it is all right with Grit, but I do not feel so sure about Mr. Brandon."

The day passed as usual. Grit plied his boat on the river, and did a fair day's work. But about four o'clock he came home.

"You are home early, Grit," said his mother.

"Yes, for I must get ready to go."

He had not yet mentioned to his mother when he was to start.

"Do you go to-morrow morning?" asked Mrs. Brandon.

"I go to-night, and may be away for a couple of days, mother."

Mrs. Brandon uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"I suppose I must not ask you where you are going," said his mother.

"I cannot tell, for it is somebody else's secret. One thing more, will you take care to say as little as possible about my going away? I would rather Mr. Brandon should not know of it."

"I will do as you wish, Grit. By the way, Mr. Brandon tells me he is soon going to Europe."

Grit smiled. He knew where the money was to come from, which his stepfather depended upon to defray the expenses of a foreign journey.

"I don't feel sure about his going, mother," he answered.

"He said he would have taken you and me if we had treated his friend Travers more politely."

"Well, mother, we must reconcile ourselves as well as we can to staying at home."

"Home will be happy while I have you with me, Grit."

"And Mr. Brandon away," added the young boatman.

"Yes; I can't help hoping that he will be able to carry out his purpose, and go to Europe, or somewhere else as far off."

"I think it very likely we sha'n't see him again for some time," said Grit, "though I don't think he will be traveling in Europe."

"As you and Mr. Brandon are both to be engaged in business of a secret nature," said Mrs. Brandon, smiling, "I don't know but I ought to follow your example."

"I have full confidence in you, mother, whatever you undertake," said Grit, with a laugh, repeating his mother's own words.

Evening came on, and Grit stole out of the house early, lest his stepfather might by some chance return home, and suspect something from his unusual journey.

He need not have been alarmed, for Brandon did not leave the tavern till ten o'clock, though he, too, expected to leave town the next morning.

When he returned he didn't inquire for Grit, whom he supposed to be abed and asleep.

"Mrs. B.," he said, "I must trouble you to wake me at seven o'clock to-morrow morning. I am going to take the early train to Portland."

"Very well."

"And as it will be rather inconvenient for me to go out to breakfast, I would be glad if you would give me some breakfast before I go."

"I will do so," said his wife.

"It may be some time before I see you again, as I am to go away on business."

"I hope you may be successful," said Mrs. Brandon.

Brandon laughed queerly.

"If the old lady knew that I was going to steal some government bonds, she would hesitate a little before she wished me success," he thought, but he said:

"Thank you, Mrs. B., your good wishes are appreciated, and I may hereafter be able to show my appreciation in a substantial way. I suppose Grit is asleep."

Mrs. Brandon did not answer, finding the question an embarrassing one.

The next morning Brandon, contrary to his wont, showed considerable alacrity in dressing, and did justice to the breakfast his wife had set before him.

"Well, good-bye, Mrs. B.," he said, as he took his hat and prepared to leave the house. "Perhaps I had better go up-stairs and bid good-by to Grit, as I may not see him again for some time."

"Grit is out," said Mrs. Brandon hastily, for she did not wish her husband to go up to Grit's room, as he would discover that his bed had not been slept in.

"Out already?" said Brandon. "He's made an early start. Well, bid him good-by for me."

"It's very strange," repeated Mrs. Brandon, as she cleared away the breakfast dishes; "there's Grit gone, I don't know where, and now Mr. Brandon has started off on some mysterious business. What can it all mean?"

CHAPTER XXVI.
THE FALL RIVER MANUFACTURER

Grit lost no time in prosecuting his journey. In Portland he found that he should need to stay over a few hours, and repaired to the United States Hotel. He left word to be called early, as he wished to take a morning train to Boston.

At the breakfast-table he found himself sitting next to a man of swarthy complexion and bushy black whiskers.

"Good morning, my young friend," said the stranger, after a scrutinizing glance.

"Good morning, sir," said Grit politely.

"Are you stopping at this hotel?"

"For the present, yes," answered the young boatman.

"Are you going farther?"

"I think of it," said Grit cautiously.

"Perhaps you are going to Boston," proceeded the stranger.

"I may do so," Grit admitted.

"I am glad of it, for I am going, too. If agreeable, we will travel in company."

"I suppose we shall go on the same train?" said Grit evasively.

"Just so. I am going to Boston on business. You, I suppose, are too young to have business of any importance?"

"Boys of my age seldom have business of importance," said Grit, resolved to baffle the evident curiosity of the stranger.

"Exactly. I suppose you have relations in Boston?"

"I once lived in that neighborhood," said Grit.

"Just so. Are you going to stay long in the city?"

"That depends on circumstances?"

"Do you live in this State?"

"At present I do."

The man looked a little annoyed, for he saw that Grit was determined to say as little about himself as possible. He decided to set the boy an example of frankness.

"I do not live in Maine," he said; "I am a manufacturer in Fall River, Mass. I suppose you have heard of Fall River?"

"Oh, yes!"

"It is a right smart place, as a Philadelphian would say. You never heard of Townsend's Woolen Mill, I dare say?"

"No, I never have."

"It is one of the largest mills in Fall River. I own a controlling interest in it. I assure you I wouldn't take a hundred thousand dollars for my interest in it."

"You ought to be in very easy circumstances," said Grit politely, though it did occur to him to wonder why the owner of a controlling interest in a large woolen mill should be attired in such a rusty suit.

"I am," said the stranger complacently. "Daniel Townsend's income—I am Daniel T., at your service—for last year was twelve thousand three hundred and sixty-nine dollars."

"This gentleman seems very communicative," thought Grit.

"Your income was rather larger than mine," he said.

"Ho, ho! I should say so," laughed Mr. Townsend. "Are you in any business, my young friend?"

"I am connected with navigation," said Grit.

"Indeed?" observed Townsend, appearing puzzled. "Do you find it a paying business?"

"Tolerably so, but I presume woolen manufacturing is better?"

"Just so," assented Townsend, rather absently.

At this point Grit rose from the table, having finished his breakfast.

"Mr. Townsend seems very social," thought our hero, "but I think he is given to romancing. I don't believe he has anything more to do with a woolen mill in Fall River than I have."

Grit reached the station in time, and took his seat in the train. He bought a morning paper, and began to read.

"Ah, here you are, my young friend!" fell on his ears just after they passed Saco, and Grit, looking up, saw his breakfast companion.

"Is the seat beside you taken?" asked Mr. Daniel Townsend.

Grit would like to have said "yes," but he was compelled to admit that it was unengaged.

"So much the better for me," said the woolen manufacturer, and he sat down beside our hero.

He had with him a small, well-worn valise, which looked as if in some remote period it had seen better days. He laid it down, and, looking keenly about, observed Grit's parcel, which, though commonplace in appearance, contained, as we know, thirty thousand dollars in government bonds.

"It is rather a long ride to Boston," said Mr. Townsend.

"Yes; but it seems shorter when you have something to read," answered Grit, looking wistfully at his paper, which he would have preferred reading to listening to the conversation of his neighbor.

"I never care to read on the cars," said Mr. Townsend. "I think it is injurious to the eyes. Do you ever find it so?"

"I have not traveled enough to be able to judge," said Grit.

"Very likely. At your age I had traveled a good deal. My father was a rich merchant, and as I was fond of roving, he sent me on a voyage to the Mediterranean on one of his vessels. I was sixteen at that time."

"I wonder whether this is true, or not," thought Grit.

"I enjoyed the trip, though I was seasick on the Mediterranean. It is really more trying than the ocean, though you might not imagine it. Don't you think you would enjoy a trip of that sort?"

"Yes; I am sure I would," said Grit, with interest.

"Just so; most boys of your age are fond of traveling. Perhaps I might find it in my way to gratify your wishes. Our corporation is thinking of sending a traveler to Europe. You are rather young, but still I might be able to get it for you."

"You know so little about me," said Grit sensibly, "that I wonder you should think of me in any such connection."

"That is true. I don't know anything of you, except what you have told me."

"That isn't much," thought Grit.

"And it may be necessary for me to know more. I will ask you a few questions, and report your answers to our directors at their meeting next week."

"Thank you, sir; but I think we will postpone discussing the matter this morning."

"Is any time better than the present?" inquired Townsend.

Grit did not care to say much about himself until after he had fulfilled his errand in the city. He justly felt that with such an important charge it was necessary for him to use the greatest caution and circumspection. Still, there was a bare possibility that the man beside him was really what he claimed to be, and might have it in his power to give him a business commission which he would enjoy.

"If you will call on me at the Parker House this evening," said Grit, "I will speak with you on the subject."

"Whom shall I inquire for?" asked the Fall River manufacturer.

"You need not inquire for any one. You will find me in the reading-room at eight o'clock."

"Very well," answered Mr. Townsend, appearing satisfied.

The conversation drifted along till they reached Exeter.

Then Mr. Townsend rose in haste, and, seizing Grit's bundle instead of his own, hurried toward the door.

Grit sprang after him and snatched the precious package.

"You have made a mistake, Mr. Townsend," he said, eyeing his late seat companion with distrust.

"Why, so I have!" ejaculated Townsend, in apparent surprise. "By Jove! it's lucky you noticed it. That little satchel of mine contains some papers and certificates of great value."

"In that case I would advise you to be more careful," said Grit, who did not believe one word of the last statement.

"So I will," said Townsend, taking the satchel. "I am going into the smoking-car. Won't you go with me?"

"No, thank you."

"I have a spare cigar," urged Townsend.

"Thank you again, but I don't smoke."

"Oh, well, you're right, no doubt, but it's an old habit of mine. I began to smoke when I was twelve years old. My wife often tells me I am injuring my health, and perhaps I am. Take the advice of a man old enough to be your father, and don't smoke."

"That's good advice, sir, and I shall probably follow it."

"Well, good day, if we don't meet again," said Townsend.

Mr. Townsend, instead of passing into the smoking-car, got off the train. Grit observed this, and was puzzled to account for it, particularly as the train started on, leaving him standing on the platform.

A few minutes later the conductor passed through the train, calling for tickets.

Grit looked in vain for his, and, deciding that he should have to pay the fare over again, he felt for his pocketbook, but that, too, was missing.

He began to understand why Mr. Townsend left the train at Exeter.