Chapter 4

"No, no; I don't--er--er--I won't say that--but--but be calm and let me see!"

"Do you withdraw your accusation, then?" demanded the youth, whose manner was such that Rexford was glad, for the time being, to retract his statement, or make any admission whatever, for he saw that in the boy's eyes which warned him to adopt a more conciliatory policy and to do it speedily.

He consequently retreated from his position, and assured Fred that he had spoken too hastily in accusing him. He also moved cautiously backward to another part of the store, doubtless feeling that the air would circulate more freely between them if they were some distance apart; then he added:

"But the bill is gone, and as I have not paid it out, I want it accounted for."

"No doubt you do," said Fred. "I should like to know where it is myself. As long as you put it on that ground I will not object, but you shall not charge me squarely with committing a theft."

"No, I won't charge you directly with taking it, but I have my opinion as to where it has gone," rejoined Rexford, with an insinuating air.

Fred knew well what that opinion was; but it was beyond his power to challenge it while unexpressed, and he could not at that time change it by proving his innocence, so he replied:

"Very well, you can think as you like, if that gives you any satisfaction."

"Yes, yes; very good! But I will get my satisfaction, not in thinking, but in acting! You were hired as my clerk, and it was your duty to work for my interest, and look out for this store in my absence. As this bill disappeared while under your charge, I shall hold you responsible for it," said the merchant, as he rubbed his thin, bony hands together.

This made the color again change in Fred's face, which, being noticed by Rexford, influenced him to move a few paces nearer to the door, as he possibly thought it still a little warm for his comfort, while young Worthington exclaimed:

"You will never get a cent of my money for this purpose! Now you just remember that!"

"Not so fast, young man! You forget that I owe you about fifteen dollars, and I'll keep that amount in partial payment for this loss. Don't think you are going to get ahead of me quite so easy!"

"I'm not trying to get ahead of you, but I want my rights and what is due me, and I will have both. I don't more than half believe there was a twenty dollar bill here at all! It is one of your mean tricks to beat me out of my money. It is not much more, sir, than I have seen you do by customers--adulterating goods, giving short weight and measures, and----"

"Stop there! you vil--er--insinuating rascal," yelled the proprietor, in a rage, his limbs and features twitching nervously. "Do you mean to say that I cheat my customers, and----"

"Yes, that is just what I mean," replied Fred firmly.

"I'll have you arrested at once. I won't be insulted by such a scamp!"

"Be careful whom you call a scamp!" said Fred, while Rexford again edged off. "I'd like to have you arrest me, for then I could tell things about you and your store that would make a stir in this village! What if some of the folks find out that the XXX St. Louis brand of flour, for which they pay you ten dollars a barrel, is a cheap grade that you bought in plain barrels and stamped yourself? Now do you want to arrest me? If you do there are many other things I can tell, and I wouldn't pass your accounts by either. I know something of what has been going on here--more than you think, perhaps."

These rapid and earnest utterances from young Worthington wrought a complete change in the merchant. They alarmed him, for he saw that the boy had the advantage, and out of policy he must stop matters before they became any worse. So he said, in a humble and subdued tone:

"Fred, it's no use for us to quarrel about this. You know it is not proper for you to go outside and tell your employer's business, and----"

"I know it is not, and I would only do so to defend myself; but when you threaten to keep my money, and to have me arrested, then I will show what kind of a man is trying to take advantage of me."

"Very well, then, if I pay you your money, you will say nothing about the business of this store, I suppose?"

"No, I will say nothing about what I have just mentioned, unless I should be put on trial; then, of course, I should be obliged to testify."

"You will not be put on trial. I take you at your word--your word of honor," added the merchant impressively.

"Yes, my word of honor!" repeated Fred, "and that means that your secrets are safe."

The wily Rexford had now gained his point--Fred's promise--and he quickly changed front and cried:

"Well, there's your money--fifteen dollars--now consider yourself discharged from my employ!"

"'Discharged,' did you say, sir?" ejaculated Fred, utterly taken aback at this sudden turn of events.

"I said 'discharged,'" repeated the merchant, fidgeting about; "you know what the word means, I presume?"

Fred did know what it meant. It meant more than Rexford's narrow spirit could even comprehend. It meant disgrace, perhaps ruin.

Fred took the money, the few bills, the last he would earn in the old store, and stood for a moment turning them over listlessly--evidently not counting them, but as if to aid him in solving the problem that rested heavily upon his mind.

X

"Isn't the money all right?" asked the merchant, finally.

"Mr. Rexford," said Fred, not noticing the inquiry, "I want you to tell me if I lost my place on account of that missing bill."

"That is exactly why," replied the merchant, "for I have always been satisfied with your work. Had you never got into that drunken scrape, though, I probably should not have thought so much of it, even if I could see no way in which to account for the mystery."

Fred felt it a cruel injustice that he should be discharged and disgraced simply on the suspicion of a crime of which he was, in fact, entirely innocent: still he could see that the merchant had some grounds for his distrust, for when a boy once gets a stain upon his character it is almost impossible to utterly efface it. It may be forgotten for a time, but if any untoward circumstance afterward arises, the remembrance of the old misdeed comes speedily to the surface and combines with later developments to work injury to him. Thus my readers can see the great importance of always doing what is right, thereby keeping their reputations unsullied.

Had Fred not fallen a victim to De Vere's revengeful plot, he would have been saved the shame that caused him so much misery; he would have retained the good opinion of the people of Mapleton; he would not have forfeited a certain very desirable friendship; and he would, in all probability, have held his position with Mr. Rexford, regardless of the mysterious disappearance of the bill.

Our young friend left the store where he had worked hard and faithfully, and where he was gaining an insight into a business, the knowledge of which, he hoped, would some day enable him to become an active and prosperous merchant. But now, alas! he had been discharged and sent away in disgrace.

Fred started for home with a more sorrowful heart than he had ever known before. His last chance of success seemed, for a time, to be gone. The villagers would now lose all faith in him, he would have no friends, and even his father and mother might doubt his honesty. It would be useless for him to try for a situation in another store, when it became known why he was discharged from John Rexford's.

It was not surprising that young Worthington was so cast down, while the shock was fresh upon him, for there seemed now to be no way by which he could build himself up. But in this country there is always a chance for an honest, ambitious, and determined boy to succeed by careful thought, patient endurance, and hard work. Sometimes, to be sure, one can see very little ahead to encourage him to push on and hope to come out victorious. This is the very point at which many fail. They cannot stand up "under fire," but fall back when by sufficient will force they might win a decisive victory in the battle of life.

When Fred reached home, wearing a most dejected look, Mrs. Worthington exclaimed:

"Why, my son, what brings you home so early? I hope you are not ill!"

"No, I'm well enough, mother, but I'm tired of trying to amount to anything."

"What has happened now?" exclaimed the mother, with an alarmed expression on her face.

"I have been discharged by Mr. Rexford, on suspicion of having stolen money from the store."

"Stolen money!" uttered both parents simultaneously, as they grew pale at the terrible thought.

"Yes, that is what I am charged with, though I know nothing about the missing money. That is what makes it so hard to bear."

"Tell me the particulars," said the anxious father; whereupon his son related all that had taken place between himself and the merchant--all save that which related to Rexford's sharp practices, of which he had promised to say nothing.

After the story was finished, all were silent for a time. Both mother and boy looked heart sick, and gazed wistfully into the blaze that burned brightly in the open grate, as if they might discover there the secret of the mystery, while the father sat with knitted brows, studying carefully the statements which Fred had made.

At length he broke the silence, and said:

"My son, you have never deceived me. You came to your mother and me with true manhood, and told us of your first disgrace, while many boys would have tried hard to keep it from their parents. Though I never had reason to suspect you of wrong doing, yet that voluntary act upon your part proved to me that you had the courage to do right and own the truth. Now something has taken place that seems worse than the other; but as you say you are innocent, I believe it, and think that some great mistake has been made. I don't know where it can be, but we must try to clear it up."

Though these were welcome words to Fred, he was much cast down notwithstanding.

"But, father," he replied, "the people will all believe me guilty when they see I am out of the store, and learn the circumstances."

"It is far better for you, my boy, that they should suppose you guilty, when you are conscious of your innocence, than that the whole world should believe you innocent, if you were really guilty."

"Well, I don't see how we can show that I did not take the money."

"Neither do I, at present; but time will straighten this matter, as it does almost everything. Don't expect that we can accomplish much while we are sitting here and talking about it."

"What shall we do, then, father?"

"Wait until we can see how to proceed."

"Well, I don't see any way; and, besides, I am about discouraged, now this is added to the other disgrace; and to think that I am not responsible for either!" exclaimed Fred, with deep emotion.

"I think you were responsible, to a certain extent, for the first," said his father.

"How was I responsible when De Vere led me into it, and had my drink adulterated?"

"You were to be blamed for going to the bar at all. You should not have been influenced by such a fellow as that scamp."

"Yes, I know I didn't do right in that respect, but I had no reason to suppose that such a result would follow."

"One hardly ever does when he is being led on to do some wrong act by a crafty villain."

"Matthew probably would have had his revenge in some other way, if he had not succeeded in his first trial."

"Very true; but had it been in some other form, it might have been shown that he was the guilty party; whereas now it would seem that you were the author of your own misfortune, while the real agent of the occurrence goes unsuspected, and exults in your downfall."

"I thought he wanted to be friends with me, so I tried not to displease him."

"Well, I hope that affair will be a valuable lesson to you. It has certainly proved itself a costly one. You should learn to look at the motives of people, and not trust them too far, simply because they smile upon you once and seem friendly. I don't think that your judgment was very keen, or you would have seen through De Vere's sudden change of manner when you had reason to suppose he would maintain a more hostile attitude than ever."

"Don't be too hard upon him, Samuel," interrupted Mrs. Worthington, who saw that Fred was growing restive under his father's rebukes.

"I am not trying to be hard upon him," replied her husband, "but simply wish to bring this matter before him in a way that will enable him to make the most of this experience. I want to teach him to avoid such errors in the future; for this is an almost fatal mistake in his case, which will follow him for years, and will, so far as I can see, change his whole life's career."

"Why, how is that, father?" inquired Fred, in a half frightened voice.

"It is simply this: your mother and I always intended that you should become a merchant. We instilled that idea into you from a child, and as you grew older, to our satisfaction you showed a decided taste for such a life. At last I got you a place in a store where I thought you could build yourself up, and, in course of time, go into business for yourself. You showed an aptitude for the work, and Mr. Rexford assured me that you were one of the very best clerks that ever worked for him. This, however, was before he was led to suspect you because of the De Vere affair. Now you have been discharged by him on the suspicion of having stolen money from his drawer. Under these circumstances, no one in town would take you into his store as clerk; so you may as well give up, first as last, the idea of becoming a trader."

"Couldn't I get a place in Boston, or somewhere else?"

"I think not; and if you could, I should not be willing to have you go away from home."

"Why not, father? Wouldn't it be better than for me to stay here, where I can get nothing to do?"

"No, my son; you are too young to go away from home, where you would have no one to look after you, and where you would be subject to many evil influences."

"Here every one will think I am a thief, and probably my friends will not speak to me," added Fred, in a more sorrowful tone than ever.

"So much the more reason why you should remain here. Were you to go away now, the people would surely think you guilty. No, no, my son! You must stay here, where circumstances have conspired against you, and show by your life that you are innocent. Then, too, by living here, you can gather evidence that may be of value to you."

"Where can I get any evidence?"

"You can give it, if you can't get it," replied his father, "by going to work tomorrow morning, and thus showing your good intentions."

"There is nothing to do in this dull town that I know of."

"There is always something to be done. But work won't come to you; you must look it up. The important thing with you now is to find something to do; for nothing so injures a boy or man in the sight of others as loafing."

"Can't I be with you in the shop, father?"

"No, I don't want you to learn a shoemaker's trade. If I had been in some other business, I might, perhaps, have been rich now. Shoemaking doesn't afford one much chance to rise, however hard he works. You will have to give up the idea of being a merchant, for the present, at least, and perhaps forever; so I want you to engage in something where your opportunities for advancement will not be limited as mine have been. No matter if you have to commence at the very bottom of the ladder; you can build yourself up by hard and intelligent work."

Fred now began to brighten up a little, and after some further conversation with his father and mother, in which they tried to encourage him as much as possible, he said:

"Father, you know I have always had an ambition to be somebody. When I saw that De Vere was trying to turn my friends against me, because I was a poor man's son, I made up my mind that I would push ahead harder than ever; but now"--he spoke with a good deal of determination and force for a boy--"I will succeed if I have to work day and night to accomplish it."

XI.

The village of Mapleton had but three manufacturing industries: a lumber mill, where logs were sawed up into various dimensions; a box shop, in which were made wooden boxes of many different sizes and shapes; and a large woolen factory. After leaving home, Fred went directly to the agent of the lumber mill and tried to get a chance to work for him, but in this he was unsuccessful. At the box shop he likewise received no encouragement, for there they needed no help. So there was but one more place left to try--that was the woolen factory, where he might still find a vacancy.

The idea of becoming a factory hand, after having been behind the counter as clerk, was repulsive to him; still he must do something; anything was better than idleness. Consequently he went to the mill, and climbed four long flights of stairs, which took him to the top of the building. Here he opened a large, heavy iron door, and entered the spinning room, down which he passed until he came to the overseer's desk.

The latter--a large, gruff, red faced man--was not there at the time, but on spying Fred he hurriedly came forward and demanded to know the boy's business. On being informed that employment was wanted, he said he needed no help, and indicated by his manner that he wished to be bothered no further.

Young Worthington now dropped down a flight and tried to get work in the card room, but with no success. On the next floor below was the weaving room, and here he soon learned that the overseer considered that he could get along very successfully without his help.

But two more departments--the finishing and the dyeing rooms--remained to be visited, and then the ordeal would be over.

As the boy descended the stairs to the former, he had very little hope of accomplishing his purpose, for thus far he had received no encouragement whatever.

Fred knew the gentleman in charge of the department perfectly well, for he was his Sunday school teacher, and moreover, was the father of his friend Dave; nevertheless he passed down the long hall with many a misgiving, and approaching the overseer timidly, said:

"Good morning, Mr. Farrington."

"Good morning, Fred," said the latter cordially. "What brings you here this morning?"

"I came in, sir," replied Fred, with an evident sense of humiliation, "to see if you could give me work in your department."

"Why, you can't mean it! You have not left the store, I hope?"

"Yes, I do mean that I want a job, and I am sorry to say I got through in the store last night."

"You surprise me! What could have been the trouble?"

Fred knew he was now talking to a large hearted, sympathetic man, and one who had always seemed to take a keen interest in his welfare, so he related the entire incident.

Mr. Farrington watched him closely as he recited what had taken place at the store, and then the kind hearted man expressed, both by words and manner, his regret that matters should have taken such a turn. "My boy, don't look so discouraged," he said. "I will do what I can to help you. Mr. Rexford should not have judged you so hastily; from what you tell me, I can't see that he has any good proof that you are guilty."

"I am certain that I am not guilty, but how can I prove my innocence?"

"Ah, that may be difficult, as it is a mysterious affair. But I believe you have told me the truth, and I shall do all I can to help you in every way."

Our young friend brightened up somewhat at this cheering statement, and with a grateful look, replied:

"You know, Mr. Farrington, I just told you why he so readily suspected me, and he has had no faith in me ever since that time."

"That was an unfortunate occurrence, to be sure, but from what Dave says, I think if the whole truth were known you would be blamed less."

"I am glad you know something of the facts of that affair, and have some charity for me; before coming in here, I began to think that every one had turned against me, and I hardly had courage to ask you for a place, they treated me so in all the upper rooms."

"Did you go up there to try to get work?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you come to me first?"

"I hardly know, only I didn't feel like asking you for favors under the circumstances, for I couldn't tell what you would think of me since being discharged by Mr. Rexford."

"Well, that is human nature, I suppose, for I have often noticed that when one gets into trouble, instead of going to his friends for advice and assistance, he will seek the aid of those who care nothing for his welfare. I am glad, however, that you did not get work in the other rooms, for then you would not have come to me, and I should not have heard your version of this matter. Moreover, I suspect the feeling that kept you away from me this morning would have influenced you to leave my class at the Sunday school. But now you won't do that, will you?"

"No, I will not. Father and mother would not allow me to, any way."

"You are fortunate in having such parents; but as to coming here to work, I want to see you get something better. You are too smart and ambitious a boy to come into a factory, for such labor, as a rule, makes one stupid and unfits him for anything else."

"I would like something better," replied Fred more cheerfully. "I couldn't bear the thought of always being a common mill hand; still I should be very glad to get even this for a while, rather than lie idle. Isn't there a chance to work up, the same way that you did?"

"Yes, there is a chance, but it is a small one; for I should say that from the great number who enter a factory, not one out of ten thousand ever gets as high as an overseer. Still, you are right in wanting to get to work, and you had better be here than on the street corners; but instead of taking up with this, can't it be shown what became of the missing money? If so, perhaps I can influence Mr. Rexford to take you back. Or, if I couldn't, yet by your showing yourself innocent of his charge you would then be in a fair way of getting a position in some other store, for you were popular with customers, I understand."

"I don't know of any way to account for the missing bill. I never saw it at all."

"You never saw it, and you say there were just eighteen dollars missing?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Farrington mused thoughtfully a moment, then muttered to himself, yet audibly: "Eighteen dollars missing!"

Presently he said aloud: "I will think this matter over, and see what I can do for you. Come and see me tomorrow forenoon."

XII.

John Rexford cared very little for the interests of others. His humanity was dwarfed and his regard for Fred's feelings or reputation amounted to nothing. In fact, he cherished malice against the boy for getting the better of him in the matter of his dealings with his customers.

That our young friend should have found out so much about his business methods, and should dare to hold the threat of exposure over his head, rankled in the breast of J. Rexford, Esq. With something of a spirit of revenge he took good care to let his suspicions become generally known regarding his former clerk, knowing, as he must, that the injury to him would be almost irreparable.

In consequence of the merchant's free expression of opinion, by noon nearly all of the villagers knew of Fred's discharge and his dishonesty--or rather what they supposed and were willing to accept as his dishonesty.

They further coupled this episode with the bar room occurrence, and at once decided that Worthington was a dissipated young scamp, and whatever good opinions they might have held of him before were straightway forgotten.