Horatio Alger - Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition

“Where did you fall in with this man?” inquired Grant.

“I was taking a walk,” answered the girl, “and overtook him. I did not take much notice of him at first, and was not aware of his condition till he began to run after me. Then I was almost frightened to death, and I don’t think I ever ran so fast in my life.”

“You were in serious danger. He was fast overtaking you.”

“I saw that he was, and I believe I should have dropped if you had not come up and saved me. How brave you were!”

Grant colored with pleasure, though he disclaimed the praise.

“Oh, it was nothing!” he said, modestly. “But we had better start at once, for he may revive.”

“Oh, let us go then,” exclaimed the girl in terror, and, hardly knowing what she did, she seized Grant’s arm. “See, he is beginning to stir. Do come quickly!”

Clinging to Grant’s arm, the two hastened away, leaving the inebriate on the ground.

Grant now had leisure to view more closely the girl he had rescued. She was a very pretty girl, a year or two younger than himself, with a bright, vivacious manner, and her young rescuer thought her very attractive.

“Do you live round here?” she asked.

“I live in Colebrook, the village close by. I was walking from Somerset.”

“I should like to know the name of the one who has done me so great a service.”

“We will exchange names, if you like,” said Grant, smiling. “My name is Grant Thornton. I am the son of Rev. John Thornton, who is minister in Colebrook.”

“So you are a minister’s son. I have always heard that minister’s sons are apt to be wild,” said the girl, smiling mischievously.

“I am an exception,” said Grant, demurely.

“I am ready to believe it,” returned his companion. “My name is Carrie Clifton; my mother is a minister’s daughter, so I have a right to think well of ministers’ families.”

“How long have you been boarding in this neighborhood, Miss Carrie?”

“Only a week. I am afraid I shan’t dare to stay here any longer.”

“It is not often you would meet with such an adventure as this. I hope you won’t allow it to frighten you away.”

“Do you know that drunken man? Does he live nearby?”

“I think he is a stranger—a tramp. I never saw him before, and I know almost everybody who lives about here.”

“I am glad he doesn’t live here.”

“He will probably push on his way and not come this way again during the summer.”

“I hope you are right. He might try to revenge himself on you for tripping him up.”

“I don’t think he saw me to recognize me. He was so drunk that he didn’t know what he was about. When he gets over his intoxication he probably won’t remember anything that has happened.”

By this time they had reached the gate of the farmhouse where Carrie was boarding, and Grant prepared to leave her.

“I think you are safe now,” he said.

“Oh, but I shan’t let you go yet,” said the girl. “You must come in and see mother.”

Grant hesitated, but he felt that he should like to meet the mother of a young lady who seemed to him so attractive, and he allowed himself to be led into the yard. Mrs. Clifton was sitting in a rustic chair under a tree behind the house. There Grant and his companion found her. Carrie poured forth her story impetuously, and then drawing Grant forward, indicated him as her rescuer.

Her mother listened with natural alarm, shuddering at the peril from which her daughter had so happily escaped.

“I cannot tell how grateful I am to you for the service you have done my daughter,” she said, warmly. “You are a very brave boy. There is not one in ten who would have had the courage to act as you did.”

“You praise me more than I deserve, Mrs. Clifton. I saw the man was drunk, and I did not really run much risk in what I did. I am very thankful that I was able to be of service to Miss Carrie.”

“It is most fortunate that you were at hand. My daughter might have been killed.”

“What do you think, mother? He is a minister’s son,” said Carrie, vivaciously.

“That certainly is no objection in my eyes,” said Mrs. Clifton, smiling, “for I am a minister’s daughter. Where does your father preach?”

“His church is only a mile distant, in the village.”

“I shall hear him, then, next Sunday. Last Sunday Carrie and I were both tired, and remained at home, but I have always been accustomed to go to church somewhere.”

“Papa will be here next Sunday,” said Carrie. “He can only come Saturday night on account of his business.”

“Does he do business in New York?” asked Grant.

“Yes; his store is on Broadway.”

“We live on Madison Avenue, and whenever you are in the city we shall be very glad to have you call,” said Mrs. Clifton, graciously.

“Thank you; I should like to call very much,” answered Grant, who was quite sincere in what he said. “But I don’t often go to New York.”

“Perhaps you will get a place there some time,” suggested Carrie.

“I should like to,” replied Grant.

“Then your father does not propose to send you to college?” It was Mrs. Clifton who said this.

“He wishes me to go, but I think I ought to go to work to help him. He has two other children besides me.”

“Is either one a girl?” asked Carrie.

“Yes; I have a sister of thirteen, named Mary.”

“I wish you would bring her here to see me,” said Carrie. “I haven’t got acquainted with any girls yet.”

Mrs. Clifton seconded the invitation, and Grant promised that he would do so. In fact, he was pleased at the opportunity it would give him of improving his acquaintance with the young lady from New York. He returned home very well pleased with his trip to Somerset, though he had failed in the object of his expedition.

The next Sunday Mrs. Clifton and her daughter appeared at church, and Grant had the pleasure of greeting them. He was invited with his sister to take supper with them on the next Monday afternoon, and accepted the invitation. About sunset he met his new friends walking, with the addition of the husband and father, who, coming Saturday evening from New York, had felt too fatigued to attend church. Mr. Clifton, to whom he was introduced, was a portly man in middle life, who received Grant quite graciously, and made for himself acknowledgment of the service which our hero had rendered his daughter.

“If I ever have the opportunity of doing you a favor, Master Thornton, you may call upon me with confidence,” he said.

Grant thanked him, and was better pleased than if he had received an immediate gift.

Meanwhile Deacon Gridley kept his promise, and advanced the minister fifty dollars, deducting a month’s interest. Even with this deduction Mrs. Thornton was very glad to obtain the money. Part of it was paid on account to Mr. Tudor, and silenced his importunities for a time. As to his own plans, there was nothing for Grant to do except to continue his studies, as he might enter college after all.

If any employment should offer of a remunerative character, he felt that it would be his duty to accept it, in spite of his uncle’s objections; but such chances were not very likely to happen while he remained in the country, for obvious reasons.

Three weeks passed, and again not only Mr. Tudor, but another creditor, began to be troublesome.

“How soon is your father going to pay up his bill?” asked Tudor, when Grant called at the store for a gallon of molasses.

“Very soon, I hope,” faltered Grant.

“I hope so, too,” answered the grocer, grimly.

“Only three weeks ago I paid you thirty-three dollars,” said Grant.