Luke Walton

"No," said Luke, sternly, "but if you don't do it, I will myself have you arrested. I saw you throw the stone at the window."

"What concern is it of yours?" asked Tom, angrily. "Why do you meddle with my business?"

"If I hadn't meddled with your business, you might have a fractured skull by this time. It is a contemptibly mean thing to annoy a poor Chinaman."

"He's only a heathen."

"A well-behaved heathen is better than a Christian such as you are."

"I don't want any lectures," said Tom in a sulky tone.

"I presume not. I have nothing more to say except that I expect you to hand me that dollar to-night."

"I haven't got a dollar."

"Then you had better get one. I don't believe you got a dollar's worth of sport in breaking the window, and I advise you hereafter to spend your money better."

"I don't believe I will pay it," said Tom, eying Luke closely, to see if he were in earnest.

"Then I will report your case to the police."

"You're a mean fellow," said Tom, angrily.

"I begin to be sorry I interfered to save you. How ever, take your choice. If necessary, I will pay the dollar myself, for I have promised Ah King; but I shall keep my word about having you arrested."

It was a bitter pill for Tom to swallow, but he managed to raise the money, and handed it to Luke that evening. Instead of being grateful to the one who had possibly saved his life, he was only the more incensed against him, and longed for an opportunity to do him an injury.

"I hate that Luke Walton," he said to one of his intimate friends. "He wants to boss me, and all of us, but he can't do it. He's only fit to keep company with a heathen Chinee."

Luke spent a couple of hours in selling papers. He had not forgotten his engagement with Mrs. Merton, and punctually at ten o'clock he pulled the bell of the house in Prairie Avenue.

Just at that moment the door was opened, and he faced a boy of his own age, a thin, dark-complexioned youth, of haughty bearing. This, no doubt, he concluded, was Harold Tracy.

"What do you want?" he asked, superciliously.

"I should like to see Mrs. Merton."

"Humph! What business have you with Mrs. Merton?"

Luke was not favorably impressed with Harold's manner, and did not propose to treat him with the consideration which he evidently thought his due.

"I come here at Mrs. Merton's request," he said, briefly. "As to what business we have together, I refer you to her."

"It strikes me that you are impudent," retorted Harold, angrily.

"Your opinion of me is of no importance to me. If you don't care to let Mrs. Merton know I am here, I will ring again and ask the servant to do so."

Here a lady, bearing a strong personal resemblance to Harold, made her appearance, entering the hall from the breakfast room in the rear.

"What is it, Harold?" she asked, in a tone of authority.

"Here is a boy who says he wants to see Aunt Eliza."

"What can he want with her?"

"I asked him, but he won't tell."

"I must trouble him to tell me," said Mrs. Tracy, closing her thin mouth with a snap.

"Like mother – like son," thought Luke.

"Do you hear?" demanded Mrs. Tracy, unpleasantly.

"I am here by Mrs. Merton's appointment, Mrs. Tracy," said Luke, firmly. "I shall be glad to have her informed that I have arrived."

"And who are you, may I ask?"

"Perhaps you've got your card about you?" sneered Harold.

"I have," answered Luke, quietly.

With a comical twinkle in his eye, he offered one to Harold.

"Luke Walton," repeated Harold.

"Yes, that is my name."

"I don't think my aunt will care to see you," said Mrs. Tracy, who was becoming more and more provoked with the "upstart boy," as she mentally termed him.

"Perhaps it would be better to let her know I am here."

"It is quite unnecessary. I will take the responsibility."

Luke was quite in doubt as to what he ought to do. He could not very well prevent Harold's closing the door, in obedience to his mother's directions, but fortunately the matter was taken out of his hands by the old lady herself, who, unobserved by Harold and his mother, had been listening to the conversation from the upper landing. When she saw her visitor about to be turned out of the house, she thought it quite time to interfere.

"Louisa," she called, in a tone of displeasure, "you will oblige me by not meddling with my visitors. Luke, come upstairs."

Luke could not forbear a smile of triumph as he passed Harold and Mrs. Tracy, and noticed the look of discomfiture on their faces.

"I didn't know he was your visitor, Aunt Eliza," said Mrs. Tracy, trembling with the anger she did not venture to display before her wealthy relative.

"Didn't he say so?" asked Mrs. Merton, sharply.

"Yes, but I was not sure that he was not an impostor."

"You had only to refer the matter to me, and I could have settled the question. Luke is in my employ – "

"In your employ?" repeated Mrs. Tracy, in surprise.