“Yes, I believe: he had.”
“How much did he have?”
“I can’t say exactly. Over a hundred dollars, I believe.”
“Then he won’t come back,” said Mrs. Chase, decidedly.
Here the conference closed, as it was necessary for Mr. Henderson to take medicine.
“Has the boy returned?” asked the professor, the next morning.
“You don’t expect him, do you?”
“Certainly I expect him.”
“Well, he ain’t come, and I guess he won’t come.”
“I am sure that boy is honest,” said Professor Henderson to himself. “If he isn’t, I’ll never trust a boy again.”
Mrs. Chase was going downstairs with her patient’s breakfast dishes, when she was nearly run into by our hero, who had just returned, and was eager to report to his employer.
Mrs. Chase was so curious that she returned, with the dishes, to hear Harry’s statement.
“Good-morning,” said Harry, entering the chamber. “I’m sorry to have been so long away, but I couldn’t help it. I hope you haven’t worried much about my absence.”
“I knew you would come back, but Mrs. Chase had her doubts,” said Professor Henderson, pleasantly. “Now tell me what was it that detained you?”
“A highwayman,” said Harry.
“A highwayman!” exclaimed both, in concert.
“Yes. I’ll tell you all about it. But, first, I’ll say that he only stole my money, and didn’t suspect that I had a hundred and fifty dollars of yours with me. That’s all safe. Here it is. I think you had better take care of that yourself, sir, hereafter.”
The professor glanced significantly at Mrs. Chase, as much as to say, “You see how unjust your suspicions were. I am right, after all.”
“Tell us all about it, Harry.”
Our hero obeyed instructions; but it is not necessary to repeat a familiar tale.
“Massy sakes!” ejaculated Betsy Chase. “Who ever heered the like?”
“I congratulate you, Harry, on coming of with such flying colors. I will, at my own expense, provide you with a new overcoat, as a reward for bringing home my money safe. You shall not lose anything by your fidelity.”
CHAPTER XXVII.
IN DIFFICULTY.
We must now transfer the scene to the Walton homestead.
It looked very much the same as on the day when the reader was first introduced to it. Poverty reigns with undisputed sway. Mr. Walton is reading a borrowed newspaper by the light of a candle for it is evening–while Mrs. Walton is engaged in her never-ending task of mending old clothes.
“It seems strange we don’t hear from Harry,” said Mrs. Walton, looking up from her work.
“When was the last letter received?” asked Mr. Walton, laying down the paper.
“Over a week ago. He wrote that the professor was sick, and he was stopping at the hotel to take care of him.”
“Perhaps his employer is recovered, and he is going about with him.”
“Perhaps so; but I should think he would write. I am afraid he is sick himself. He may have caught the same fever.”
“It is possible; but I think Harry would let us know in some way. At any rate, it isn’t best to worry ourselves about uncertainties.”
“I wonder if Harry’s grown?” said Tom.
“Of course he’s grown,” said Mary.
“I wonder if he’s grown as much as I have?” said Tom, complacently.
“I don’t believe you’ve grown a bit.”
“Yes, I have; if you don’t believe it, see how short my pants are.”
“You ought to have some new pants,” said his mother, sighing; “but I don’t see where the money is to come from.”
“Nor I,” said Mr. Walton, soberly. “Somehow I don’t seem to get ahead at all. To-morrow my note for the cow comes due; and I haven’t but two dollars to meet it.”
“How large is the note?”
“With six months’ interest, it amounts to forty- one dollars and twenty cents.”
“You say you won’t be able to meet the payment. What will be the consequence?”
“I suppose Squire Green will take back the cow.”
“Perhaps you can get another somewhere else, on better terms.”
“I’m afraid my credit won’t be very good. I agreed to forfeit ten dollars to Squire Green if I couldn’t pay at the end of six months.”