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PREFACE

"Out for Business" is a complete tale in itself, but forms the first of two companion stories, the second being entitled "Falling in with Fortune."

In this tale are related the various haps and mishaps which befall a sturdy country youth, of high moral aim, who, by the harsh actions of his step-father, is compelled to leave what had once been the best of homes, and go forth into the world to make his own way.

Robert Frost finds his path to fortune no easy one to tread. The thorns of adversity line the way, and there is many a pitfall to be avoided. But the lad is possessed of a good stock of hard, common sense, and in the end we find him on the fair road to success—and a success richly deserved.

The two stories, "Out for Business" and "Falling in with Fortune," give to the reader the last tales begun by that prince of juvenile writers, Mr. Horatio Alger, Jr., whose books have sold to the extent of hundreds of thousands of copies, not only in America, but also in England and elsewhere. The gifted writer was stricken when on the point of finishing the stories, and when he saw that he could not complete them himself, it was to the present writer that he turned, and an outline for a conclusion was drawn up which met with his approval,—and it is this outline which has now been filled out in order to bring the tales to a finish, so that both stories might be as nearly as possible what Mr. Alger intended they should be. It may be that the stories will not be found as interesting as if Mr. Alger had written them entirely, nevertheless the present writer trusts that they will still hold the reader's attention to the end.

Arthur M. Winfield.

March 1st, 1900.

CHAPTER I.
A GREAT SURPRISE

Robert Frost, with his books under his arm, turned into the front yard of a handsome residence in the village of Granville. He was a boy of sixteen, strongly built, and with a handsome, expressive face.

"I wish mother were at home," he soliloquized. "It seems very lonesome when she is away."

He opened the front door and let himself into the house. It was a handsome and spacious hall. Two paintings hung on the walls, and both were portraits. One represented a lady, with a pretty, but rather weak face. She looked as if she had very little resolution, and might easily be influenced by one with stronger will. The other picture was that of a man of near forty. It was an attractive face. The strong resemblance which it bore to the boy made it probable that it was his father, and such was the case. Robert looked up to it regretfully, for he had not yet got over the loss of his father, hardly twelve months dead.

"I wish dad were alive," he thought sadly, "we were such good friends, he and I."

Mr. Frost had not died of disease. He was cut off in the full vigor of life, the victim of a railroad accident. Robert remembered well when he was taken home, mangled and hardly to be recognized.

His death did not entail any privation upon his little family—Robert was the only child—for he left a considerable fortune and was heavily insured besides, so that they were still able to live in handsome style.

"When will supper be ready, Jane?" Robert asked of the servant, as he passed into the dining-room.

"At half-past five o'clock, Master Robert."

"All right, Jane. I will be on hand, and with a good appetite."

He put on his hat, after laying down his books, and was about to go out, when Jane arrested his steps.

"Wait a minute, Master Robert. There's a telegram for you."

He took the yellow envelope in some surprise.

"When was it left?" he asked.

"Half an hour since."

"It must be from mother," he said thoughtfully.

"Very likely—I hope it isn't bad news."

Robert echoed the wish, but did not say a word. He took out his penknife and opened the envelope.

There it was—just a few words, but they puzzled him.

"What is it?" asked Jane, whose curiosity was excited.

Robert read the telegram. It ran thus:

"Gloucester, June 5.

"Shall be at home to-morrow. Prepare for a great surprise.

"Mother."

Robert looked surprised and bewildered.

"What can it mean, Jane, do you think?" he asked.

"I don't know, I'm sure, Master Robert. Perhaps your mother is going to bring you a present."

"But she wouldn't call that a great surprise."

"I don't know then. You'll know to-morrow."

Yes, he would know to-morrow, but he could not help letting his mind dwell on the mystery. It occurred to him that it might be a gold watch, which he had long wanted, and which his mother had promised to get him very soon. But this would scarcely be considered a great surprise.

"Well, there's no use guessing," he decided at length. "I'll only have to wait till to-morrow, and then I shall know."

The next day was Saturday, and school did not keep. Robert looked over the railroad time-table, and concluded that his mother would arrive about twelve o'clock. This would bring her in time for dinner, which was usually on the table at half past twelve. He suggested to Jane to get a better dinner than usual, as his mother would probably be present to partake of it.

This suggestion proved unnecessary, for about ten o'clock Jane herself received a telegram to this effect.

"Have a good dinner ready at the usual time. I shall reach home in time for it, and bring another with me."

"So that's the surprise!" reflected Jane. "She is going to bring a friend with her. I wonder who it is. Maybe it's the lady she's been visiting. I hope it isn't, for lady visitors are so fussy."

However, Jane went to the market and ordered a pair of chickens, with a variety of vegetables, and prepared apple dumplings, which she knew Mrs. Frost always enjoyed.

"Now," she said, "I'll have a dinner good enough for anybody."

Robert intended to go to the depot to meet his mother, but he went on an expedition with one of his schoolmates, and found that he would scarcely have time to do so. So he returned home.

"Has mother come, Jane?" he asked.

"No, Master Robert, not yet."

He posted himself at the front window, and five minutes later he saw the depot carriage approaching the house.

"She's coming, Jane!" he called out in excitement.

"I forgot to tell you that she's going to bring a visitor."

"How do you know?"

"Because I received a telegraph this morning," answered Jane.

"Did she say who was coming with her?"

"No; can you see anyone in the carriage?"

By this time the carriage had reached the entrance to the neat graveled path which led from the gate to the front door.

The door of the carriage was opened, and a man got out—a man of less than medium size.

Robert was surprised.

"Why, Jane" he said, "it's a gentleman!"

"Go out and meet them, Master Robert."

Robert opened the front door quickly, and hurried out. Meanwhile, the gentleman had helped Mrs. Frost out, and she was advancing up the walk, leaning on the arm of her companion. Mrs. Frost smiled, and turning to the man at her side, said, "This is my son Robert, James."

"Ah, indeed!" said the other with a smile. "He looks like a stout, strong boy."

"I wonder who he is," thought Robert. But he was soon to learn.

"Did you have a pleasant visit, mother?" he asked.

"Yes, very pleasant," answered his mother, with a meaning glance at her companion. "Robert, did you receive my telegram?"

"Yes, mother."

"You remember what I said about the great surprise?"

"Yes, mother."

"Well, this gentleman is the great surprise," she said, simpering.

By this time the whole party had entered the house.

"I don't understand you, mother," said the boy, but a sudden suspicion had entered his mind, and he was afraid that he did understand. He waited in painful suspense for his mother to speak.

"I have brought you a new father, Robert. This is my husband, Mr. Talbot."

"Oh, mother!" exclaimed Robert in a grief-stricken tone. "How could you marry again?"

Mrs. Talbot, for this was now her name, blushed and looked uncomfortable. Her husband looked angry.

"Really, young man," he said, "it seems to me that is a very improper way of addressing your mother."

For the first time Robert fixed his eyes upon this man whom he was so suddenly called upon to think of as—not his father, for he could not tolerate the thought—but as his mother's husband. As before mentioned, he was a small-sized man, with black hair and side whiskers, a thin face, aquiline nose, and an expression which, so far from attracting, actually repelled the boy. It was a baleful look, which suggested Mephistopheles, though this well-known character in Faust did not occur to Robert, for he had never heard of him. The boy was not accustomed to regard new acquaintances with repugnance, but this was the feeling with which he regarded Mr. Talbot.

"I hate you!" he blazed out in sudden fury. "Oh, mother, why did you marry him?"

This, it must be admitted, was not a very cordial welcome, and the boy's anger was reflected in the face of his new step-father, who bit his nether lip, and glared at our hero with wrathful eyes.

"You are an impudent cub!" he exclaimed. "I won't forget the way you have received me."

"Oh, James, forgive him!" pleaded the mother. "He doesn't realize what he says. He will get over it to-morrow."

"I shall never get over it, mother!" said Robert. "If you must marry again, why at least didn't you marry a gentleman?"

"I'll get even with you for this, young man!" exclaimed Talbot furiously.

Mrs. Talbot screamed and sat upon a couch. Robert seized his hat, and without waiting for dinner, dashed out of the house.

CHAPTER II.
MR. TALBOT AND THE DOG

"You didn't tell me what a violent temper your son had," said James Talbot, when Robert had left the house.

"He has a good temper, James, but I suppose he was taken by surprise."

"I'll take him by surprise!" said Talbot spitefully. "He'll find out that he has a master."

"No, James," pleaded Mrs. Talbot. "Remember that he is my son."

"I will treat him well if he treats me well, not otherwise. He has the temper of a fiend."

"I am so sorry," said the bride, and she indulged in weak tears. "I looked forward with so much pleasure to this day, and now–"

"Perhaps you are sorry you married me," said Talbot, biting his mustache.

"Oh no, not that, but Robert has gone away without his dinner."

"Serves him right. When he gets hungry enough he will come back."

"Promise, James, that you will overlook his rudeness."

James Talbot was silent a moment, and then constrained his harsh features into a smile, which he tried to make pleasant.

"I will remember that he is your son, Sarah," he said, softening his voice. "It will not be my fault if I do not teach him to like me."

"Thank you! How good you are!"

"And now, my love, let me remind you that I am hungry. Won't you order dinner served? Really, I am almost famished."

"Jane, you may put the dinner on the table," said Mrs. Talbot, looking relieved.

Jane followed directions.

"And where is Master Robert, Mrs. Frost—no, I mean Mrs. Talbot?"

"He has gone out for a short time. If he is not back before long, you may save some dinner for him."

"That's queer, his going out just as his mother gets back," thought Jane, but she kept silence.

She looked disapprovingly at the new husband.

"Sure, he looks like a gorilla," she mused. "How could the mistress marry him when her first husband was such a fine handsome man? I mistrusts he and Master Robert won't get along very well together."

James Talbot took the place at the head of the table, and began to carve the fowls. Jane noticed that though he helped his wife first, he reserved the nicest portion of the chicken for himself.

"Sure, he's a selfish beast!" reflected Jane. "If he was a gentleman he wouldn't take all the breast for himself."

She was right. Talbot was selfish and had always been so. Some men can conceal this trait. He did not try to do so. He did not trouble himself about criticism, as long as he got what he wanted.

"I wish Robert were here," said Mrs. Talbot plaintively. "I can't be happy, thinking that he is going without his dinner."

"He'll be all right to-morrow. I'll try to make friends with him."

"Will you really? It will be so good of you."

"I always try to be kind and considerate, my love. Your son is very hasty, but he will soon understand me better."

"Oh, I do hope so."

After dinner Talbot said: "Now, my love, I wish you would show me over the house—our house," he added with cat-like softness.

"I shall be so glad to do so."

They passed out into the hall, and the new husband's attention was drawn to the portrait of Robert's father. He frowned slightly.

"Who is that?" he asked.

"It is my first husband."

James Talbot glanced curiously at the picture. He was displeased to notice that the portrait represented such a handsome man—a man with whom he was not to be compared.

"He was generally considered a fine-looking man," remarked the bride.

"Humph! Tastes differ. No doubt he was a good man, but I don't consider him handsome."

Through the open door Jane heard this remark, and took instant offense, for she had liked Mr. Frost, who was always kind to her.

"He didn't look a gorilla, as you do," she said to herself, and would like to have said aloud.

Meanwhile Robert went down to the village. He was the prey of contending emotions. It looked as if all the happiness of their quiet home was gone. This man—this interloper—would spoil it all.

"How could mother marry him?" he said to himself.

But in spite of his dissatisfaction, he felt hungry. There was a restaurant in the village, and he turned in there. He felt that on this day at least he could not dine at home.

He sat down at the table beside Mr. Jameson, a jeweler, and an old friend of the family. The jeweler regarded Robert with surprise.

"How is it that you don't dine at home?" he asked. "I believe, however, that your mother is away."

"It isn't that, for Jane prepares the meals."

"You want a change then?" said Mr. Jameson smiling.

"No, it isn't that either. Mother has got home," he added bluntly.

"And you go away at such a time?"

"I may as well tell you—everybody will know it soon. She has come home with a new husband."

"You amaze me! And you don't like the arrangement?" he asked, with a keen glance at his young companion.

"No; he's not a gentleman," answered Robert bitterly. "I don't see how she could have married him—or anybody, after my father."

"It is natural for you to feel so. Still, she had a right to do so."

They talked further, and Mr. Jameson gradually modified Robert's excited feelings. He made the boy promise that if Mr. Talbot should show a disposition to be friendly, he would at any rate treat him with courtesy.

About three o'clock in the afternoon Robert met his new step-father in the street. He paused, uncertain how to act. But James Talbot approached him with a soft, ingratiating smile.

"Robert," he said, "I am sorry you have taken such a dislike to me. You will excuse my saying that it is quite unreasonable, as you can't know anything about me."

"Perhaps I was hasty," Robert forced himself to say, "but it was a trial to me to think my mother had married again."

"Quite natural, I am sure, so I shall not look upon your manifestations of dislike as personal to myself."

"I suppose not," said Robert slowly. "Of course, I don't know much about you."

"When you do, I hope you will like me better," said Talbot cheerfully. "Have you had any dinner?"

"Yes, sir."

"I hope you will come home to supper. It makes your mother feel very sad to have you stay away."

"Yes, I will come."

"Shall we take a walk together? I don't know anything of your village. You might show me something of it."

Robert hesitated, but he was naturally polite, and, though rather reluctantly, he walked through different parts of the village and pointed out the churches and the public library, the center school-house, and other buildings. Gradually they approached the outskirts of the village till they reached a house occupied by an eccentric old bachelor, who kept a large dog of an uncertain temper. As the two passed, the dog bounded from the yard and ran after them. This gave Robert a chance to judge of his step-father's courage.

James Talbot turned pale with fright, and started to run.

"Save me, Robert!" he called out, in tremulous accents. "Will he—will he bite?"

"I don't think so, Mr. Talbot," said Robert manfully, not exhibiting the least alarm. "What do you mean, Tige?" he continued sternly, addressing the dog.

He snatched a stout stick from the side of the road, and made threatening demonstrations.

The dog stood still, evidently cowed.

"I don't think he is dangerous, Mr. Talbot," Robert started to say, but he looked in vain for his step-father.

"Here I am, Robert," he heard in quavering accents.

James Talbot had managed, with an agility hardly to be expected of a man of forty-five, to climb into a tree by the roadside.

"I—I thought I should be safer here," he said, Robert wanted to laugh, but he was polite, and refrained.

"I—I hope he won't bite you."

"I'll risk it, sir."

"What a terrible situation! I don't dare to come down."

"I think you may, sir; I will protect you."

"How can you? You wouldn't be a match for a dog like that."

By this time Tiger had got over his fierce demonstrations, and seemed quite friendly.

"You see he has got over his fierceness. You had better come down."

"Do you really think it would be safe?"

"I am sure of it."

James Talbot got down from the tree cautiously, eyeing the dog askance.

"Now let us get away from here at once," he said nervously.

"Very well, sir."

They took the road for home, the dog making no hostile demonstrations.

"I—I was always afraid of dogs," said Talbot, half ashamed. "If it had been a man I wouldn't have cared." And then he began to tell Robert how he had once frightened a burglar from the house where he was lodging; but Robert didn't believe him. He felt contempt for his step-father as a coward.

CHAPTER III.
THE LITTLE PLOT AGAINST ROBERT

Robert resumed his place in the home circle. Between him and his step-father there was no cordiality, but formal politeness, though at times Mrs. Talbot tried to cultivate more friendly relations. He was somewhat ashamed of the cowardice he displayed during their walk through the village. It was partly because Robert had been a witness of his humiliation that he grew to dislike him the more and determined, when occasion offered, to get even with the boy. He was somewhat afraid of the spirited boy, but gradually plucked up courage for an encounter.

When Robert came home from school three days later, he found his step-father in the hall, standing on a chair, engaged in taking down the portrait of Mr. Frost.

"What are you doing, Mr. Talbot," he demanded indignantly.

Talbot turned his head, and answered curtly, "I apprehend that is my business."

"Are you going to take down my father's portrait?"

"That's exactly what I am going to do."

"Why?" asked Robert sternly.

"It is not fitting, now that your mother is my wife, that the picture of her first husband should hang here."

"Are you going to put yours in its place?"

"As soon as I have one painted."

Robert paused for a moment. After all, why should he interfere? His mother had transferred her love and allegiance to another husband, and his father's face would be a silent reproach to her.

"Did my mother authorize this removal?" he asked.

"Certainly."

"Then I have only one request to make, that the portrait be hung up in my chamber. I still revere the memory of my father."

"I have no objections. You can take it up to your room when you please."

The portrait was taken down, and Robert received it. He at once carried it upstairs. His heart swelled within him, and a look of bitterness came over his young face.

"I can't stand it long," he said to himself. "The sight of that man fills me with indignation and disgust. I would as soon see a serpent."

As yet, however, there had been no open outbreak, but it was to come very soon.

"May I ask a favor of you, James?" said his wife at the breakfast table.

"What is it, my dear?"

"I find that our woodpile needs replenishing. Will you stop at Mr. Webber's on your way to the post-office and ask him to call? I want to speak to him about sawing and splitting a new supply."

"My dear," said her husband, "let me make a suggestion. Why employ Mr. Webber when you have a strong, able-bodied boy in the house?"

"Do you mean Robert?"

"There is no other boy in the house, I take it."

"But," expostulated Mrs. Talbot, "there is no occasion to put Robert at such work. I am quite able to employ and pay Mr. Webber."

"And bring up the boy in idleness. That's a very bad plan. He will be getting lazy."

"He has his studies to attend to."

"He needs physical exercise."

"He plays ball and foot-ball."

"His time is thrown away. He could get quite as healthful exercise in sawing and splitting wood, and it would save money."

Mrs. Talbot was of a gentle, yielding temper, but she was not disposed to adopt her husband's views. She still ventured to expostulate.

"Robert is not lazy, James," she said. "If I were poor and there were any need of it, he would willingly saw and split the wood."

"Perhaps he would and perhaps he wouldn't. From what I have seen of him, I am decidedly of the opinion that he has been pampered and spoiled. He has a very bad temper–"

"Oh, James!"

"It is true, but it is partly because of his bringing-up. He needs to have his will broken. He has always had his own way, and it is quite time that he learned who is master here."

"You are very hard and cruel, James," said his wife, the tears filling her eyes.

"You think so, but I am only seeking the boy's good. I am quite decided on this point. We will drop the discussion."

"Oh, what will happen?" thought the poor mother. "Robert will never submit, and there will be serious trouble."

The next morning was Saturday, and Robert had a holiday from school. He was out in the yard, after breakfast, and was about to leave the premises, when his step-father appeared in the doorway.

"Stop a minute," he called out in a tone of command.

Robert looked back in surprise.

"What is wanted?" he asked.

"Where are you going?"

"Out fishing with Harry Baker."

"I think you had better postpone it."

"Why?" demanded Robert in surprise.

"Come out in the back-yard and I will tell you."

Very much surprised, Robert followed his step-father out into the back-yard.

"What does all this mean?" he thought.

"I want you to spend the forenoon in sawing and splitting wood. Your mother tells me there is need of a fresh supply."

"I don't understand you, sir," said Robert coldly. "Mr. Webber always saws and splits wood for us."

"He always has hitherto, but this arrangement is to be changed."

Robert's eyes flashed. He was beginning to understand now.

"Why? Is my mother unable to pay him?"

"That is not the point. You are strong and well able to do the work. There is no need of going to unnecessary expense."

Robert's lip curled.

"You really expect me to work at the woodpile?" he said.

"I do. What is more, I command you to go to work at once."

Robert looked his step-father firmly in the face.

"You command me to go to work?" he repeated slowly.

"Yes, I do," blustered Mr. Talbot, thinking by his loud voice to intimidate the boy.

But he didn't understand the boy with whom he had to deal. Robert eyed his step-father contemptuously. James Talbot, though perhaps an inch taller, was less heavily built, and looked thin and puny beside the sturdy boy whom he was trying to coerce. He felt the contempt which Robert's face so plainly expressed, and it enraged him, for he was a man of violent temper.

"I think, Mr. Talbot," said Robert, after a pause, "that you will have hard work in getting your orders obeyed."

If James Talbot had not been beside himself with rage, he would not have dared to act as he did. He seized a stout stick lying on the ground and sprang towards his disobedient step-son.

Robert instantly seized the ax, which was conveniently near, and brandished it in a threatening manner.

"Don't you dare to touch me!" he exclaimed in excitement.

James Talbot turned pale.

"Are you insane?" he demanded, drawing back in affright.

"No, but I don't propose to be bulldozed. Just lay down that stick, if you please."

Mechanically Talbot dropped it.

"You have a terrible temper!" he exclaimed.

"I hope not, but I am quite prepared to defend myself, Mr. Talbot."

"How old are you, sir?"

"Sixteen."

"Then you are under authority. You are bound to obey me."

"Am I? I don't recognize you as having any authority over me."

"Evidently you have a good deal to learn. Once more, will you obey me?"

"Once more, I won't," returned Robert firmly.

"You will be sorry for your disobedience. You haven't seen the end of this."

He turned and walked back to the house, feeling with mortification that he had been worsted in this first encounter with his step-son.

"I'd like to flog that boy within an inch of his life," he muttered spitefully. "I—I wish I dared to grapple with him."

Robert and his step-father didn't meet at dinner or supper, as the latter had to go away on business.

"Mother," said Robert, "do you wish me to take Mr. Webber's place at the woodpile?"

"No, Robert. It was Mr. Talbot's idea. He thought it would be healthful exercise for you."

"Why not for him?"

"I will try to get him off the idea."

"It makes no difference. He can't make me do it, though he threatened me with a stick this morning."

"Surely he did not strike you?" said his mother nervously.

"No, I guess not. He did not dare to."

It so happened that James Talbot did not reach home till a late hour in the evening, when Robert was already in bed. He went upstairs softly, ascertained from Robert's regular breathing that he was sound asleep, then taking the key from the lock inside, locked the door from the outside, and went downstairs with a smile.

"When the boy wakes up, he will find himself a prisoner," he said. "I shall get even with him, after all."