Luck and Pluck

"Humph!" said Mr. Huxter. "Did he buy anything?"

"Only two sheets of paper and two envelopes."

A light began to dawn upon Mr. Huxter. John wanted to make trouble by writing home.

"Look here," said he; "if the boy brings in a letter you needn't send it. Keep it, and hand it to me."

The clerk looked surprised. Mr. Huxter, finding some explanation necessary, continued:—

"He's a very troublesome boy. He's almost broken his poor mother's heart,—she's my sister,—and I've agreed to take charge of him for a time. It takes a man to manage him. But it won't do for him to be writing home and making a fuss. You understand?"

"I shouldn't have thought him so troublesome. He looks very quiet."

"You can't judge from appearances," said Mr. Huxter, shaking his head. "He don't show out before folks. So, if any letters are put in directed to Hampton, just keep them, and I'll look them over. If they're proper to send, I will let them go."

"He wrote a letter here this morning."

"Did he?" asked Mr. Huxter, his eyes sparkling. "The young rascal's prompt. It's lucky I came in. He was cunning enough to write here, that I might not know anything about it. Let me see the letter."

The clerk, not doubting Mr. Huxter's authority, handed him the letter.

He broke it open hastily, and read it. It is needless to say that John's description of himself, though moderately expressed, was far from complimentary, and Mr. Huxter's heart was stirred with indignation.

"The young rascal shall pay for this," he thought.

"This letter is not fit to send," he said, aloud. "It would only make trouble. I will take charge of it. The boy needn't know but it is gone. You may take any letter he brings; but mind you don't send it till I have seen it."

"Very well," said the clerk; but he could not help pitying John, if he was to be under Mr. Huxter's guardianship. In a small village like Jackson every man's failings were a matter of general knowledge, and the estimation in which Mr. Huxter was held was not very high.

"Well, I've defeated the young rascal," thought Mr. Huxter, triumphantly, as he left the store. "He'll find it isn't so easy to outwit me. If Jane can't manage him I can, and I intend to. I reckon it'll be some time he'll have to wait for an answer to that letter."

This thought amused Mr. Huxter, so that he partly forgot his vexation at the unflattering description of himself which the letter contained. Having no further business to attend to, he went up the road towards home. The letter he put in one of the side-pockets of the loose coat which he wore. But there was a large hole in his pocket, and without Mr. Huxter's knowledge the letter slipped through. He kept on his way, not suspecting his loss.

The letter remained unnoticed in the grass by the side of the road, having been wafted there by the wind, until John, on his way home an hour and a half later, happened to catch sight of it. He went to pick it up, not suspecting what it was, and was immeasurably surprised when he found it to be the same letter he had put into the post-office two hours before. How came it there?

John was not long in guessing the truth. Mr. Huxter was determined that he should not communicate with any one in Hampton, and had recalled the letter. No doubt he had given instructions to the postmaster, which would make it impossible for John to post any letters in future in the village.

"I am very glad to know this," thought John; "I shall know better how to act."

He put the letter in his pocket, and kept on his way, determined to keep his discovery to himself. He began to see what sort of man he had to deal with.

CHAPTER XVII.

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE

Twelve o'clock was the dinner hour at Mr. Huxter's. John and he met once more, but the dispute between them was not renewed. John was deliberating as to what course he should pursue. Mr. Huxter was secretly exulting in having defeated John's attempt to communicate with his friends, little suspecting that John knew all about it. So on the whole he was pleasanter than usual, and allowed his young guest to eat in peace. Mrs. Huxter was glad to notice this change in his conduct, though she hardly dared to hope that it would continue.

"So you took a walk this morning, Oakley?" said Mr. Huxter.

"Yes, sir."

"Where did you go?"

"I went to the top of the hill behind the tavern."

"How do you like our village?"

"I can't tell yet. I haven't got sufficiently acquainted."

"You'll have chance enough before you get through," said Mr. Huxter, significantly.

John understood this very well; but did not see fit to show that he did so. He did not wish to provoke a quarrel.

"I am going to write to my sister this afternoon," said Mr. Huxter. "Perhaps you'd like to send a message."

"Thank you," said John; "I don't think of any message just at present."

"You wouldn't like to send your love to Ben, would you?" asked Mr. Huxter, jocosely.

"I don't think I should," said John, quietly.

"There isn't much love lost between you two, I reckon."

"We are not very good friends," said John, in the same quiet tone.

"I'm sure it's no wonder," said Mrs. Huxter; "Ben was always a troublesome, headstrong boy."

"Let me tell you, Mrs. Huxter," said her husband, sharply, "it doesn't look very well in you to run down your own relations."

Mrs. Huxter thought it prudent not to reply.

"Let me see," said Mr. Huxter, as they rose from the table, "it's Friday,—too late in the week to begin anything. You shall have till Monday morning to look about you, and then we'll see if we can't find something for you to do."

Here was a disclosure for John. He had understood that he was to board with Mr. Huxter. Now it appeared that the latter intended to set him to work. Had he any authority for doing so, and what was John's duty under the circumstances. He wished earnestly that he were able to consult Squire Selwyn without delay, and this reminded him that his letter had not yet gone. It would be useless to leave it again at the village post-office. It must go from some other. John had all the afternoon before him, and if the next town were not too far off, he determined to walk over and post his letter there. Not wishing Mr. Huxter to have any clue to his plans, he decided to obtain the necessary information, not from Mrs. Huxter, though he did not doubt her willingness to give it, but from some other person.

He went out into the road, and began to walk slowly in a direction opposite to that which he had taken in the morning. It was the stage road he knew, and was probably the most direct route to the next town.

Our hero had walked about three-quarters of a mile, when he heard a loud clattering sound behind him. Turning around, he saw a farm-wagon, driven by a boy of about his own age. It was but little past noon, and the walk which might be a long one was sure to be a hot one. As the boy-driver appeared to be alone, and there was plenty of room for another, John hailed him.

"Hallo!" he called out. "Hold on a minute."

"Whoa!" shouted the boy, and brought his horse to a stop.

"Are you going to the next village?" inquired John.

"To Milbank, you mean?"

"Yes," said John, who was not quite sure whether he meant it or not, but was willing to take the risk.