Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy

“Little Mary is quite attached to Herbert,” said the doctor.

“I am sorry,” said Mr. Holden, “that I have no little girls, as Herbert seems fond of them.”

Herbert doubted if he could become attached to anyone related to Mr. Holden.

“I’m a bachelor,” said Mr. Holden, “though perhaps I ought to be ashamed to say so. If I had had the good fortune early in life to encounter a lady like your good wife here, it might have been different.”

“It isn’t too late yet, Mr. Holden,” said the doctor.

“Well, perhaps not. If Mrs. Kent is ever a widow, I may try my luck.”

“What a disagreeable man,” thought the doctor’s wife, not propitiated by the compliment. “Herbert,” she said, “here are a couple of handkerchiefs I bought in the village yesterday. I hope you will find them useful.”

“Yes; no doubt he will,” said Mr. Holden, laughing. “He will think of you whenever he has a bad cold.”

Nobody even smiled at this witty sally, and, Mr. Holden, a little disappointed, remarked: “Well, time’s getting on. I guess we must be going, as we have a long journey before us.”

The whole family accompanied Herbert to the road. After kissing Mary and Mrs. Kent, and shaking the doctor cordially by the hand, Herbert jumped into the wagon. Just before the horse started the doctor handed our hero a sealed envelope, saying, “You can open it after a while.”

Though, like most boys of his age, Herbert had a great horror of making a baby of himself, he could hardly help crying as he rode up the street, and felt that he had parted from his best friends. His eyes filled with tears, which he quietly wiped away with the corner of his handkerchief.

“Come, come, don’t blubber, boy,” said Mr. Holden, coarsely.

Herbert was not weak enough to melt into tears at an unkind word. It roused his indignation, and he answered, shortly, “When you see me blubbering, it’ll be time enough to speak, Mr. Holden.”

“It looked a good deal like it, at any rate,” said Abner. “However, I’m glad if I’m mistaken. There’s nothing to cry about that I can see.”

“No, perhaps not,” said Herbert; “but there’s something to be sorry for.”

“Something to be sorry for, is there?” said Abner Holden.

“Yes.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I’ve left my best friends, and I don’t know when I shall see them again.”

“Nor I,” said Mr. Holden. “But I think it’s high time you left them.”

“Why?” asked Herbert, indignantly.

“Because they were petting you and making too much of you. You won’t get such treatment as that from me.”

“I don’t expect it,” said our hero.

“That’s lucky,” said Abner Holden, dryly. “It’s well that people shouldn’t expect what they are not likely to get.”

Here a sense of the ludicrous came over Herbert as he thought of being Mr. Holden’s pet, and he laughed heartily. Not understanding the reason of his sudden mirth, that gentleman demanded, in a tone of irritation, “What are you making a fool of yourself about?”

“What am I laughing at?” said Herbert, not liking the form of the question.

“Yes,” snarled Abner.

“The idea of being your pet,” explained Herbert, frankly.

Mr. Holden did not appreciate the joke, and said roughly, “You better shut up, if you know what’s best for yourself.”

They rode along in silence for a few minutes. Then Abner Holden, thinking suddenly of the envelope which Dr. Kent had placed in Herbert’s hand at parting, and feeling curious as to its contents, asked:

“What did the doctor give you just as you were starting?”

“It was an envelope.”

“I know that; but what was there in it?”

“I haven’t looked,” said our hero.

He felt a little satisfaction in snubbing Mr. Holden, whom he saw he would never like.

“Why don’t you open it?”

“I didn’t think of it before.”

“I suppose there is some present inside.”

Herbert decided to open the envelope, out of respect for Dr. Kent. On opening it, he drew out a five-dollar bill, and a few penciled words, which were as follows:

“DEAR HERBERT: I would gladly give you more if I had the means. I hope you will use the inclosed money in any way that may be most serviceable to you. You must write to me often. Be a good boy, as you always have been; let your aims be noble; try to do right at all hazards, and may God bless your efforts, and make you a good and true man. Such is the prayer of your affectionate friend, GEORGE KENT.”

Herbert read these lines with emotion, and inwardly resolved that he would try to carry out the recommendations laid down. His thoughts were broken in upon by Mr. Holden, whose sharp eyes detected the bank-note.

“There’s money in the letter, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Five dollars.”

“Five dollars, hey?” he said. “You’d better give it to me to keep for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Holden; I can take care of it, myself.”

“It isn’t a good plan for boys to have so large a sum of money in their possession,” said Abner Holden, who was anxious to secure it himself.

“Why not?” asked Herbert.

“Because they are likely to spend it improperly.”