Robert Coverdale's Struggle: or, on the Wave of Success

CHAPTER XXXIII
THE LANDLORD'S DEFEAT

About ten o'clock the next morning Mr. Nahum Jones approached the

Trafton cottage.

Sitting on a bench outside was Robert Coverdale, whittling. He had put on his old clothes, intending it to be for the last time. He wanted to surprise Mr. Jones.

"There's Bob Coverdale," said Mr. Jones to himself. "He don't look much as if he was able to pay the mortgage. I guess I've got the place fast enough."

"Is your aunt at home, young man?" he asked pompously.

"Yes," answered Robert, continuing to whittle.

"You might say 'yes, sir.'"

"All right. I'll remember next time."

"You'd better. Tell your aunt I want to see her – on business," emphasizing the last two words.

"Come right in, sir."

Mr. Jones, with a patronizing air, entered the house of which he already considered himself the proprietor.

Mrs. Trafton was engaged in making a pudding, for she had two boarders now, Julian and his father, who were to take their meals in the fisherman's cottage till they got ready to leave Cook's Harbor.

"Good mornin', ma'am," said Mr. Jones.

"Good morning. Will you take a seat?" she said quietly.

"I can't stay long, Mrs. Trafton. I called on a little matter of business."

"Very well, sir."

"I suppose you understand what it is?"

"Perhaps I do, but you had better explain."

"I have made up my mind to foreclose the mortgage I hold on this place, and I should like to have you move out within three days, as I am going to let it."

"Indeed! To whom do you intend to let it?"

"To Frank Shelton. He's goin' to be married, and this house will suit him."

"And what am I to do, Mr. Jones? You surely do not mean to deprive

Robert and me of our home?"

"It isn't yours any longer, or won't be. Of course, you can't expect to stay here. I haven't forgotten how you talked to me when I was here before nor how impudent your boy was."

"Meaning me?" asked Robert with a grave face.

"Of course I mean you!" said Mr. Jones sharply.

"I haven't said anything impudent to you to-day, have I?"

"No, but you'd ought to have thought of that before. It's too late now!"

"You won't turn us out on the street, will you, Mr. Jones?"

"Haven't I given you three days to stay? If you want my advice, I should say that you'd find a good, comfortable home in the poorhouse. Your boy there might be bound out to a farmer."

"I don't know any farmer that wants a boy," said Robert meekly.

"I'd take you myself," said Nahum Jones, "if you wasn't so impudent. I'm afraid you're a little too airy for me."

"Wouldn't you let the house to me, Mr. Jones?" asked the widow. "It's worth a good deal more than the face of the mortgage."

"You couldn't get a dollar more, in my opinion," said the landlord. "As to takin' you for a tenant, I haven't any assurance that you could pay the rent."

"What rent do you want for it, Mr. Jones?"

"Five dollars a month."

"Five dollars a month, when you say it's only worth two hundred dollars!"

"I'm goin' to fix it up a little," said Mr. Jones, rather nonplussed.

"I think, Mr. Jones, we won't move," said Robert.

"Won't move?" ejaculated the landlord, getting red in the face. "You've got to move."

"Who says so?"

"I say so, you young whelp!"

"No hard names, if you please, Mr. Jones. The fact is, my aunt doesn't fancy going to the poorhouse. To be sure, if she could have your society there it might make a difference."

"You'll repent this impudence, Bob Coverdale!"

"How am I impudent?"

"To talk of my being in the poorhouse!"

"You spoke of Aunt Jane going to the poorhouse."

"That's a different matter."

"At any rate, she won't go!" said Robert decidedly.

"Won't? We'll see about that. How are you going to help it?"

"By paying the mortgage," answered Robert quietly.

"You can't do it," said Mr. Jones, his jaw drooping.

"You are mistaken, Mr. Jones. If you'll write a receipt, I am ready to pay it now – principal and interest."

Robert drew out a roll of bills from the pocket of his ragged vest and began to count them.

"Where did you get this money?" ejaculated the landlord.

"I must decline telling you, Mr. Jones. It's good money, as you can see. I think you'll have to tell Frank Shelton he can't have the house unless he wants to hire of my aunt."

Nahum Jones hated to take the money that was offered him, but there was no loophole to escape. The good bargain was slipping from his grasp. The triumphant look faded from his face, and he looked exceedingly ill at ease.

"I'll come up with you for this, Bob Coverdale!" he muttered angrily.

"For what? Paying you money, Mr. Jones?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do know what you mean," returned the boy gravely. "This money is in payment for liquor furnished to my poor uncle – liquor which broke up the happiness of his home and finally led to his death. You laid a plot to deprive my aunt, whom you had so much injured, of her home, but you have been defeated. We don't care to have anything more to do with you."

There is no need of recording the landlord's ill-natured answer. He was angry and humiliated, and, when he got home, snapped up Mrs. Jones when she began to make inquiries about the new property. He felt the worse because he had been defeated by a boy.

CHAPTER XXXIV
HOW IT ENDED

"Robert," said Gilbert Huet later in the day, "next week Julian and I go to Boston, where we shall try to make a home for ourselves."

Robert looked sober.

"I shall feel very lonely without you," he said.

"You are to go, too, Robert," said Julian quickly.

"If you will. Julian wants your society, and so do I."

Robert's face flushed with eager delight.

"But my aunt?" he said.

"I have been speaking to your aunt. In fact, I invited her to accompany us, but she says she is used to Cook's Harbor and cannot leave it."

"I don't like to leave her alone."

"Then I'll tell you what you can do. I understand that young Frank Shelton is seeking for a home where he can take his promised wife. I advise you to enlarge the cottage, putting on another story and perhaps an L also. This will give you plenty of room for your aunt and the young couple, who will be company for her."

"Yes," said Mrs. Trafton, "I always liked Frank Shelton and his wife that is to be. The arrangement will be very agreeable to me."

"But," objected Robert, "how can I build an addition to the house? I have no money."

"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Huet, smiling, "but I don't think a young gentleman worth ten thousand dollars can truthfully say he has no money. I hope, Robert, you are not growing mean."

"Ten thousand dollars!" ejaculated Robert, his eyes wide open with amazement.

"Certainly."

"I don't understand you, Mr. Huet."

"Then perhaps you will understand this."

Mr. Huet handed Robert a slip of paper, which proved to be a check on the Merchants' Bank, of Boston, for the sum of ten thousand dollars, payable to Robert Coverdale or order. It was signed by Gilbert Huet.

"You see, you are rich, Robert," said Julian, smiling with joy at his friend's good fortune.

"Oh, Mr. Huet, I don't deserve this," said Robert, his heart full.

"You must let me judge of that, my dear boy. Say no more or you will be depreciating Julian's value. You have restored him to me, and I consider him worth much more than ten thousand dollars."

Of course, Robert joyfully accepted the munificent gift so cordially offered. By Mr. Huet's advice, he invested the money in good dividend-paying securities and monthly sent his aunt twenty-five dollars, which, with the rent, made her quite easy in her circumstances.

The additions were made to the cottage, and Frank Shelton and his wife were glad to hire the house, thus providing Mrs. Trafton with society as well as adding to her income.

As for Robert, henceforth he shared in all the educational advantages which Julian enjoyed.

Mr. Huet took a house, engaged an excellent housekeeper and at length enjoyed a home.

One letter he wrote to Charles Waldo – a scathing letter denouncing him for his infamous conduct and threatening severe punishment if he ever again conspired against his happiness. Mr. Waldo did not answer the letter for very shame. What excuse or apology could he possibly offer?

Three years later Robert and Julian made a vacation journey westward.

"I should like to call on my old friend Nathan Badger," said Julian.

"So should I," said Robert. "I want to see how he looks."

The Badgers could not at first be convinced that the elegant young gentleman, introduced as Julian Huet, was no other than the bound boy, Bill Benton; but he recalled so many incidents of his past life that they credited it at last.

"You were always a favorite of mine, Bill – I mean Mr. Julian!" said the farmer, who had a wonderful respect for wealth.

"And of mine!" chimed in Mrs. Badger. "And I'm sure my Andrew Jackson loved you like a brother."

Andrew Jackson, a gawky youth, no more prepossessing than his boyhood promised, winked hard and looked enviously at Julian.

When the latter drew from his pocket a silver watch and chain and asked Andrew to accept it for old acquaintance sake he was quite overcome and said he liked Julian "better than any feller he knew!"

"Then you forgive me for hitting you with a hoe, Andrew?" said Julian smilingly.

"I don't care for that," said Andrew Jackson stoutly, "and I guess you more'n got even with us that time you stayed with Dick Schmidt and father tried to thrash a tramp – thinking it was you – and got thrashed himself!"

Then Andrew Jackson fixed an admiring glance on the watch he had coveted so long.

"Boys will be boys!" said Mr. Badger with a fatherly smile. "Andrew

Jackson don't have no ill feelings."

It was the way of the world. Julian was rich now and had plenty of friends. But he had one true friend whom money could not buy, and this was Robert Coverdale, the young fisherman of Coolers Harbor, prosperous henceforth and happy, as he well deserved to be.

THE END