Strong and Steady

"Oh, it's the richest joke, mother!"

"What is?" asked Mrs. Drummond, perplexed.

"I can't tell you now, but you'll find out pretty soon. Ho, ho!"

And Joshua commenced to laugh again.

"Has Mr. Conrad come downstairs?"

"I haven't seen Mr. Conrad this morning," answered Joshua, imitating his mother's tone in repeating the name.

Just then Walter entered, and said "Good-morning."

"Good-morning, Mr. Conrad," said Mrs. Drummond. "I hope you slept well."

"Very well, thank you," said Walter.

Mr. Drummond here entered from the street, having been for an hour in the store opposite.

"Good-morning, Mr. Conrad," he said. "I trust you rested well, and can do justice to our humble repast. I have been in the store an hour. We who are not endowed with the gifts of Fortune must be early astir."

Joshua tried to suppress a laugh, but not with entire success.

"What are you snickering at, Joshua?" demanded Mr. Drummond, in a displeased tone. "I don't know what Mr. Conrad will think of your manners."

"You'll excuse them, won't you, Mr. Conrad?" asked Joshua, beginning to chuckle again.

Knowing very well the source of his amusement, and feeling his own position to be an awkward one, Walter was all the more resolved to impart to Mr. Drummond without delay the posture of his father's affairs. He did not answer Joshua's appeal.

"I don't see what has got into you this morning, Joshua," said Mrs. Drummond, mildly. "You seem in very good spirits."

"So I am," said Joshua, with a grin.

His father suspected that the unusual excellence of the breakfast had something to do with Joshua's mirth, and was afraid he would let out something about it. This made him a little nervous, as he wanted to keep up appearances before his young guest.

Walter's appetite was not very good. His father's death weighed heavily upon him, and Joshua's revelation of the night before was not calculated to cheer him. It was mortifying to think that Mr. Drummond's gracious manner was entirely owing to his supposed wealth; but of this he entertained little doubt. He was anxious to have the truth known, no matter how unfavorably it might affect his position with the Drummonds. There were some, he knew, whose kindness did not depend on his reputed wealth. "You have a poor appetite, Mr. Conrad," said Mr. Drummond. "Let me give you another piece of steak."

"No, I thank you," said Walter.

"I'll take another piece, father," said Joshua.

"I have already helped you twice," said his father, frowning.

"I'm hungry this morning," said Joshua, who, knowing that he could not expect another as good breakfast, determined to do full justice to this.

"If you are, you need not overeat yourself," said Mr. Drummond, depositing on his son's outstretched plate a square inch of meat.

Joshua coolly helped himself to fried potatoes, and appropriated a hot biscuit, much to his father's annoyance. He resolved to give Joshua a private hint that he must be more sparing in his eating. He did not like to speak before Walter, desiring to keep up with him the character of a liberal man. Joshua understood his father's feelings, and it contributed to the enjoyment which he felt at the thought of how richly his father was sold.

At length breakfast was over.

"I must go back to the store," said Mr. Drummond. "Joshua will look after you, Mr. Conrad. I hope you will be able to pass the time pleasantly."

"If you can spare me five minutes, Mr. Drummond, I should like to speak to you in private," said Walter, determined to put an end to the misunderstanding at once.

"Certainly. I can spare five or ten minutes, or more, Mr. Conrad. Won't you walk into the parlor?"

The parlor was a very dreary-looking room, dark, cold, and cheerless. A carpet, of an ugly pattern, covered the floor; there was a centre-table in the middle of the room with a few books that were never opened resting upon it. Half-a-dozen cane-bottomed chairs stood about the room, and there were besides a few of the stock articles usually to be found in country parlors, including a very hard, inhospitable-looking sofa. As the Drummonds did not have much company, this room was very seldom used.

"Take a seat, Mr. Conrad," said Mr. Drummond, seating himself.

Mr. Drummond was far from anticipating the nature of Walter's communication. Indeed, he cherished a hope that our hero was about to ask his assistance in settling up the estate,—a request with which, it is needless to say, he would gladly have complied.

"I don't suppose you know how I am situated," Walter commenced. "I mean in relation to my father's estate."

"I suppose it was all left to you, and very properly. I congratulate you on starting in the world under such good auspices. I don't, of course, know how much your father left, but—"

"It is not certain that my father left anything," said Walter, thinking it best to reveal every thing at once.

"What!" exclaimed Mr. Drummond, his lower jaw falling, and looking very blank.

"My father made some investments recently that turned out badly."

"But he was worth a very large property,—it can't all be lost."

"I am afraid there will be very little left, if anything. He lost heavily by some mining stock, which he bought at a high figure, and which ran down to almost nothing."

"There's the house left, at any rate."

"My father borrowed its value, I understand; I am afraid that must go too."

Now, at length, it flashed upon Mr. Drummond how he had been taken in. He thought of the attentions he had lavished upon Walter, of the extra expense he had incurred, and all as it appeared for a boy likely to prove penniless. He might even expect to live upon him. These thoughts, which rapidly succeeded each other, mortified and made him angry.

"Why didn't you tell me this before, young man?" he demanded with asperity.

His change of tone and manner showed Walter that Joshua was entirely right in his estimate of his father's motives, and he in turn became indignant.

"When did you expect me to tell you, Mr. Drummond?" he said quickly. "I only arrived yesterday afternoon, and I tell you this morning. I would have told you last night, if you had been in the house."

"Why didn't you tell me when I was at Willoughby?"

"I had other things to think of," said Walter, shortly. "The thought of my father's death and of my loss shut out everything else."

"Well, what are you going to do?" asked Mr. Drummond, in a hard tone.

"I shall have to earn my own living," said Walter. "I am well and strong, and am not afraid."

"That is a good plan," said Mr. Drummond, who knew Walter so little as to fear that he wanted to become dependent upon him.