Digging for Gold

“He deserved it.”

“Well, I’m glad he got it, but he had no right to spend it himself. Ther’s one thing that don’t occur to you, Mrs. T. What he did was done in time, and he lost at least an hour by the delay it cost. You know yourself how late he came home.”

“What is that, Mr. Tarbox, to the lives of the passengers and the safety of the train?”

“You don’t understand me, Mrs. T. Under the circumstances I think I ought to have half the money he received.”

“Mr. Tarbox!” exclaimed his wife in profound disgust.

“That’s so, and of course if I had it he wouldn’t have no twenty dollars to throw away on a suit of clothes.”

“You forget, Mr. Tarbox, that it has saved you the money you would have to pay for a new suit for him.”

“It has saved me nothing. I wouldn’t have bought him a new suit. My grandson, Rodney, was goin’ to give him one of his old suits. Now I think of it, I’ll go down and see Mr. Shick and warn him not to make up the suit, tellin’ him that Grant can’t pay for it with my permission.”

“That will be a mean thing to do, Seth Tarbox.”

Mrs. Tarbox always called her husband by his full name when she had occasion to feel displeased with him.

“You and I don’t look on things in the same way, Mrs. T.,” said her husband calmly. “I’ll go and see Mr. Shick at once.”

The tailor shop was still open for business when Mr. Tarbox entered.

“Well, Mr. Tarbox, have you come to pick out a suit for yourself?”

“No, I haven’t. Have you cut out Grant’s suit yet?”

“Yes; it is nearly finished.”

“Then I’m sorry for you. You mustn’t make it up?”

“Why not?”

“Because I shall forbid the boy to pay for it. He’s got the money, as I’ve found out, but part of it belongs to me, and I won’t have him spendin’ it so extravagantly.”

“I shan’t be able to oblige you, Mr. Tarbox. The suit will be made up, as I agreed, and delivered to Grant.”

“Well, you’ll be takin’ a risk. I’ve warned you that you won’t get your pay.”

“You are behind the times, Mr. Tarbox. You have taken your walk for nothing. The suit is already paid for.”

“What!” ejaculated Mr. Tarbox.

“It is just as I said. Grant has paid me for the suit in advance. I advise you to give me an order and do the same thing.”

Mr. Tarbox felt that he had been outwitted. He persuaded himself that Grant had treated him meanly. Of course there was no resource. He was too wise to ask Mr. Shick to refund the money, for he knew he would not do it. He found nothing to say, and shuffled out, looking down in the mouth.

“There goes the meanest man in town!” soliloquized the tailor, as his visitor walked slowly down the road. “Grant must have a pretty uncomfortable time at home. I am glad that in this case the boy has got the better of his step-father.”

“He’s got five dollars left,” reflected Mr. Tarbox. “I’d ought to have that, for it was in my time that he earned the money. I’ll go upstairs and get it to-night when Grant is asleep.”

Grant went to bed about nine o’clock, for he was tired out, and he was soon asleep.

Usually he did not wake up at all till morning, but it so happened that this night he waked up about eleven, and saw Mr. Tarbox rummaging in the pocket of his pantaloons.

He hardly knew whether to feel amused or indignant.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Tarbox?” he demanded in a voice which he made purposely loud.

CHAPTER VII

GRANT MAKES UP HIS MIND

Mr. Tarbox had not bargained for Grant’s being awake, and he had the grace to look ashamed, but he put a bold face on it.

“I’ve come for the rest of the money you got for stoppin’ the train,” he said.

“What right have you to it, Mr. Tarbox,” said Grant, more amused than surprised. “It was given to me.”

“Mebbe it was, but you stopped the train in my time, and I’d ought to have half the money.”

“You can’t have it, Mr. Tarbox.”

“I know you’ve fooled away twenty dollars on a new suit, when you might have had Rodney’s; but you got as much as twenty-five dollars, so Jotham Perry said.”

“How did he find out?” asked Grant in artful surprise.

“Then you did get twenty-five?”

“Yes.”

“So I thought. Well, I want you to give me the five. You came home an hour late.”

“And you charge me five dollars for an hour? If you’ll pay me at that rate, Mr. Tarbox, I’ll work for you all my life.”

“Quit your foolin’, Grant Colburn,” said Seth, feeling that logic was against him. “I’m your guardian, and I claim the money. I’ll keep four dollars of it for you.”

“The fact is, Mr. Tarbox, I’ve disposed of part of the money. I’ve only got a dollar left.”

This was true, for Grant had given his mother four dollars, to buy a new print dress.

“What did you do with it?” asked his step-father, disappointed.

“I gave it to mother.”

“You’d ought to have given it to me.”

“I don’t think so.”