“Mr. Pettigrew,” said Wheeler angrily,
“I feel interested in you, and I want to warn
you against the boy who is with you. He is a dangerous
companion.”
“I dare say you are right,” said Pettigrew
in a quizzical tone. “I shall look after
him sharply, and I thank you for your kind and considerate
warning. I don’t care to take up any more
of your valuable time. Rodney, let us be going.”
“It must have been the kid that exposed me,”
muttered Wheeler, as he watched the two go down the
street. “I will get even with him some time.
That man would have been good for a thousand dollars
to me if I had not been interfered with.”
“You have been warned against me, Mr. Pettigrew,”
said Rodney, laughing. “Mr. Wheeler has
really been very unkind in interfering with my plans.”
“I shan’t borrow any trouble, or lie awake
nights thinking about it, Rodney. I don’t
care to see or think of that rascal again.”
The week passed, and the arrangement between Mr. Pettigrew
and Rodney continued to their mutual satisfaction.
One morning, when Rodney came to the Continental as
usual, his new friend said: “I received
a letter last evening from my old home in Vermont.”
“I hope it contained good news.”
“On the contrary it contained bad news.
My parents are dead, but I have an old uncle and aunt
living. When I left Burton he was comfortably
fixed, with a small farm of his own, and two thousand
dollars in bank. Now I hear that he is in trouble.
He has lost money, and a knavish neighbor has threatened
to foreclose a mortgage on the farm and turn out the
old people to die or go to the poorhouse.”
“Is the mortgage a large one?”
“It is much less than the value of the farm,
but ready money is scarce in the town, and that old
Sheldon calculates upon. Now I think of going
to Burton to look up the matter.”
“You must save your uncle, if you can, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“I can and I will. I shall start for Boston
this afternoon by the Fall River boat and I want you
to go with me.”
“I should enjoy the journey, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“Then it is settled. Go home and pack your
gripsack. You may be gone three or four days.”
A CHANGE OF SCENE.
“Now,” said Mr. Pettigrew, when they were
sitting side by side on the upper deck of the Puritan,
the magnificent steamer on the Fall River line.
“I want you to consent to a little plan that
will mystify my old friends and neighbors.”
“What is it, Mr. Pettigrew?”
“I have never written home about my good fortune;
so far as they know I am no better off than when I
went away.”
“I don’t think I could have concealed
my success.”
“It may seem strange, but I’ll explain—I
want to learn who are my friends and who are not.
I am afraid I wasn’t very highly thought of
when I left Burton. I was considered rather shiftless.
