Herbert Carter's Legacy; Or, the Inventor's Son

“That won’t do as well. I am much heavier than you. Now you and Herbert are about the same weight.”

“Very well, then,” said James, and turning to Herbert, he said, ungraciously: “Will you row with me?”

“If you desire it,” said Herbert.

“Get in, then.”

When they returned Cameron made some criticisms Upon their rowing. They started out again but Herbert profited better by the instructions he had received and the young collegian said so when they returned.

James was far from liking this and when Cameron asked him if he would try another row he answered: “No, I am tired of it.”

“If you get tired so soon, I am afraid you will have to strengthen your arms by gymnastic exercises.”

“Oh, I am not tired. I don’t feel like rowing.”

“Then suppose we walk back to the village. Does your way lie with ours?”

“Nearly all the way,” said James.

He enjoyed the idea of walking with the collegian, but it was rather a drawback that Herbert was to share that pleasure with him. Still he could not very well suggest that Herbert should leave them.

“Have you seen my father’s house?” asked James.

“Perhaps, without knowing whose it was.”

“You couldn’t help knowing it. It is the best in the village,” said James, pompously.

Cameron looked at him curiously.

“If he comes to Yale,” he thought, “and puts on these airs, he’ll be taken down without ceremony.”

“Oh, indeed!” he said aloud, dryly.

“Are you going to stay here long?” asked James.

“I can’t say how long. I am here for my health.”

“You must come and see us. My father will be very glad to see you. My aunt has written us about you.”

“Indeed! May I ask your aunt’s name?”

“Her name is Davenport—Mrs. John Davenport. She lives in New Haven.”

“Oh, yes, I have met her.”

Cameron smiled to himself. The lady referred to was not unlike her brother and nephew, being pompous and presuming—one, indeed, whom he secretly disliked.

“She wants me to prepare for Yale,” said James.

“Of course we Yale men are biased, but we think no student can do better than to come to Yale.”

“My father wants me to be a professional man—a lawyer.”

“A good profession. Do you think you should like it?”

“Yes,” said James, complacently. “It’s a very genteel profession. Besides, most of our public men are lawyers. I might stand a chance to get into public life.”

“Should you like it?”

“Yes, I should like to be a member of Congress. My father has a good deal of influence and I am his only son, so I should have a very good chance; don’t you think so?”

“It would seem so,” said Cameron, with a quiet smile. “I think you had better come to Yale. You would be improved in many ways.”

He referred to the possibility of James having some of the self-conceit taken out of him; but then the squire’s son interpreted the remark as a compliment. “Have you ever thought of going to college, Herbert?” asked Cameron, turning to our hero.

“I always thought I should like to go,” answered Herbert, “but I never thought there was any chance of it.”

James laughed scornfully.

“No, I should think not,” he said.

“Why?” asked Cameron, meaning to draw him out.

“He’s too poor,” said James.

“You, I suppose, have no trouble in that way?”

“My father is the richest man in Wrayburn.”

“That is lucky for you,” said the collegian.

“I shouldn’t like to be as poor as Carter.”

“It isn’t pleasant or convenient to be poor,” said Herbert, quietly. “I don’t mean always to be poor.”

“You probably will be,” said James. “Poor boys don’t always stay poor.”

“There isn’t much chance for you to rise.”

“I don’t know why,” said Herbert.

“Then it seems, Herbert,” said Cameron, smiling, “there is not much chance of my welcoming you at Yale.”

“I wish there was.”

“So you will have to be content with serving as my professor here.”

James did not understand this allusion, but privately wondered how Cameron could talk so intimately with a boy in Herbert’s low social position.