Digging for Gold

“Grant didn’t take a fortune with him,” said his mother. “How could you expect he would have much money left when he reached the end of his journey?”

“I didn’t, Mrs. T. That is what I said. Read on.”

“I haven’t decided yet what I will do first. I expect sometime to go to the gold fields, but I may get a position first and earn some money to buy my outfit. I am well and strong, and I am sure I can make a living some way.”

“Mark my words,” said Sophia Bartlett, “the time will come when your son will wish he had never left the farm.”

“I don’t feel sure of that,” said Mrs. Tarbox. “Grant is a manly boy, and he can work in California just as well as here, and will be paid better than here.”

“Do you mean to say that I didn’t pay the boy enough for his work, Mrs. T.?”

“I will express no opinion on that subject. California is a new country, where labor is naturally more highly compensated than here.”

“I am glad I am not in Grant’s place,” said Rodney.

“So am I,” added his mother; “but you always had good judgment, Rodney.”

“I hope so. When I am a man I may go to California, just to see the country, but I prefer to stay at home now.”

“He has an old head on young shoulders,” said his mother complacently.

“It’s my birthday to-morrow, grandpa,” observed Rodney significantly.

“Is it?” asked Seth Tarbox. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Well, well, I didn’t know you were getting on so fast. There’s a quarter for a birthday present.”

Rodney accepted the coin, but turned up his nose at his grandfather’s niggardliness, and expressed himself freely on the subject to his mother on the way home.

“What a mean old skinflint grandfather is!” he exclaimed. “Twenty-five cents, and he a rich man!”

“Hush, Rodney, don’t let any one hear you speak in that way!”

“But he is mean! you can’t deny it!”

“He is close,” said Mrs. Bartlett cautiously. “Most farmers are, I believe; but just wait patiently, and the money which he has saved by his economy will come to us. You must seem grateful, or he may take a notion to leave his property to Mrs. Tarbox and Grant.”

“Oh, I’ll be careful, ma, never fear! I hope Grant Colburn won’t get a cent.”

“I don’t think he will. In fact, I feel sure of it.”

“Do you think Mrs. Tarbox will get much?”

“Not if I can prevent it!” said his mother, closing her lips firmly.

“I expect she only married the old man for his money.”

“I suppose she wanted a home for herself and Grant.”

“Will the law give her anything?”

“Yes; but I’ve thought of a way to get over that.”

“What is it, ma?”

“If I can induce your grandfather to make a deed of gift to me of his property before he dies, on condition of my supporting him the rest of his life, that will evade the law.”

“That will be a good idea. I shouldn’t wonder if Grant and his mother had to go to the poorhouse at last. He’d come down off his high horse then.”

“I hope not. Mrs. Tarbox can get employment as a housekeeper probably, and Grant ought to be able to support himself. Of course they must look out for themselves.”

Not long afterward, unfortunately for Mrs. Tarbox, her husband lost fifty dollars. He had sold a horse to a man in a neighboring town for an excessive price, and fifty dollars remained due on the purchase money. This the purchaser refused to pay, and as his property was all in his wife’s name, Seth Tarbox was unable to collect it, although, as may be imagined, he moved heaven and earth to accomplish it.

This made him feel very poor, and he determined to make it up by retrenchment in his personal expenses. Had the economy fallen upon himself he might have been justified, but as it occurred to him that by dismissing the woman who helped his wife on washing day he could save seventy-five cents a week, he was mean enough to make this proposal.

Mrs. Tarbox could hardly believe him in earnest, for she saw only too clearly at what he was aiming.

CHAPTER XXXVII

MRS. BARTLETT’S LITTLE SCHEME

“Do you mean that I am to get along without Nancy, Mr. Tarbox?” Mrs. Tarbox said quickly.

“I’ve met with losses, Mrs. T.,” replied Seth, “and I don’t feel as if I could afford to pay out seventy-five cents every Monday for work that might as well be done in the family.”

“Does that mean that you expect me to do it, Mr. Tarbox?”

“Ahem!” said Tarbox, a little embarrassed. “It’s your duty to help bear my burden.”

“I think I do that. I am sure that I work beyond my strength.”

“We all have to work. Don’t I work in the fields, Mrs. Tarbox?”

“You choose to do it. You are able to lead an easier life.”

“Who says I am?”

“Everybody in the village knows that you are well to do, and have a large sum in the savings-bank.”

Seth Tarbox frowned.

“If I have got a little money ahead,” he said, “I don’t mean to squander it in extravagant living.”

“I don’t think you are in any danger of it,” remarked Mrs. Tarbox dryly.

Mr. Tarbox left the house, and made it in his way to call at the home of Nancy Stokes and give her notice that her services would not be needed on the coming Monday.