Horatio Alger - Luck and Pluck

"I don't feel sure of going to Cambridge myself," said John, soberly.

"You don't mean to say you're afraid you won't pass the examination? If you don't, there'll be precious little chance for the rest of us."

"That isn't what I mean," said John. "I think I should pass the examination. At any rate I am not afraid of it."

"What are you afraid of then?" asked Sam, in surprise.

"I am afraid Mrs. Oakley won't let me go."

"But your father always meant you to go. She knows that."

"Yes, she knows it, for father used often to refer to the time when I would be in college, in her presence. But I am afraid that won't make much difference with her."

"Has she said anything about it?"

"No, not yet; but it will cost considerable to keep me at Cambridge."

"Well, your father left a good deal of property."

"Yes; but it was left to Mrs. Oakley."

"There's enough to pay your expenses at college, and maintain Mrs. Oakley and Ben handsomely."

"I know that, but I am sorry to say that Mrs. Oakley and Ben both dislike me, and it will be reason enough with them to keep me at home because they know I am anxious to go."

"It's a burning shame," said Sam, indignantly, "that such a woman as that should have the control over you. As for Ben Brayton, I always did despise him. He's a mean fellow, and a coward to boot."

"I don't like Ben much," said John.

"And he returns the compliment."

"Yes, he has taken a dislike to me, I don't know why, for I have always treated him well, though I couldn't like him."

"I say, John," said Sam, "if you don't go to college, it'll knock all my plans into a cocked hat. You were to room with me, you know."

"Yes, Sam, I have been looking forward to that a long time."

"What a jolly time we should have! I shan't have half so much pleasure in going to college if you don't go with me. You're such a good scholar, too, it would be a great pity. But perhaps it may not be so bad as you think. Mrs. Oakley may be only too glad to get rid of you."

By this time they had reached the door of the academy. The bell sounded, summoning the pupils to their morning exercises, and John and Sam had other things to think of, for a while at least.

At the close of the afternoon John returned home. He went into the house to carry his Virgil and Greek Reader, being accustomed to prepare a part of his lessons out of school. On going out into the yard, he saw Ben lounging lazily against a fence, whittling.

"Are you going out to ride, John?" he asked, in an unusually friendly tone.

"I think I will ride a little way," said John.

"I got enough of it yesterday," said Ben.

"You were unlucky. If you had not struck Prince it would have been all right."

"I don't care about trying it again. I hope you'll have a pleasant ride."

"Thank you," said John, unsuspiciously.

He went out to the barn, and opened the door that led to the stables. He made his way at once to Prince's stall, and looked in.

It was empty!

Surprised, but not yet suspecting what had really happened, he called out to Mike, whom he saw outside:—

"Where's Prince, Mike?"

"Shure, sir, didn't you know he was sold?"

"Sold? When?"

"This morning, Master John."

"Who bought him?"

"Mr. Barnes, the man that keeps the livery stable. He was here this morning. He and the mistress came in, and they soon struck a bargain."

John's heart swelled with anger and sorrow, but he asked, calmly:—

"Do you know what price Mr. Barnes gave for Prince?"

"Yes, Master John; I heard him say that he would give one hundred and ninety dollars. The mistress wanted two hundred; but she finally let him have Prince at that, and a good bargain it is to him too."

John left the stable outwardly calm, but much disturbed in mind.

"Mrs. Oakley might at least have let me know what she meant to do," he said, bitterly. "My poor father's gift too."

Ben waited for John's return with malicious interest. He wanted to witness and enjoy his disappointment.

"I thought you were going to ride?" he said, with a smile of mockery.

"Can you tell me where your mother is?" asked John, coldly.

"She's in the house, I suppose. Do you want to see her?"

"Yes."

John entered the house without taking any further notice of Ben. He found his stepmother in the sitting-room. She looked up, as he entered, with a glance of satisfaction, for she saw that she had made him unhappy.

"Mike tells me you have sold Prince, Mrs. Oakley," he commenced.

"Yes. What of it?"

"As he was my horse, I think you might have let me know what you intended to do."

"Prince was not your horse," she said, sharply.

"He was my poor father's gift to me."

"Nonsense! He merely let you call him yours. The horse was mine."

"He was as much mine as Ben's watch is his. Are you going to sell Ben's watch?"

"No, I am not. If that is all you have to say, you may leave the room."

"It is not. I will not object to your selling the horse, because it would cost something to keep him; but it is only fair that the money for which he was sold should be given to me, or enough to buy a watch and chain like Ben's."

"You are very modest in your expectations, young man," sneered Mrs. Oakley.

"I'm only asking what is just."

"You seem to forget whom you are speaking to. If you think you can bully me, you will find yourself entirely mistaken."

"I am not in the habit of bullying anybody. I only want my rights," said John.

"Then you'll have to want. You may as well understand, first as last, John Oakley,"—and his stepmother raised her voice angrily,—"that I am mistress in this house, and owner of this property. You are entirely dependent upon me for the bread you eat and the clothes you wear, and it will be prudent for you to treat me respectfully, if you want any favors. Do you understand that?"

"I understand what you say, Mrs. Oakley," said John, indignantly. "You seem to have forgotten that every cent of this property belonged to my father, and would now be mine, if my father had not married you. You had better remember that , when you talk about my being dependent upon you, and favor Ben at my expense."

Mrs. Oakley turned white with rage.

"What do you mean by your impertinence, you young rascal?" she shrieked, rising to her feet, and glaring at John.

"I mean this," he exclaimed, thoroughly provoked, "that I don't believe my father ever intended to leave you all his property. I believe there is another will somewhere, and I mean to find it."

"Leave the room!" exclaimed Mrs. Oakley, in a voice almost inarticulate with rage. "You'll repent those words, John Oakley. You're in my power, and I'll make you feel it."

John left the room, his anger hot within him. When he reflected coolly upon what had passed, he did repent having spoken about the will. It might set Mrs. Oakley upon the track, and if she found it, he feared that she would have no scruples in destroying it, and then his last chance of obtaining his rights would be gone.

Mrs. Oakley was not only angry, but very much disturbed at the words which John had imprudently uttered. They startled her, because they intimated John's suspicion of something which she had good reason for knowing to be a fact.

Mrs. Oakley knew that her husband had executed a later will, and, though she did not know where it was, she believed it still to be in existence!

The will under which she inherited bore a date only two months after her marriage with Squire Oakley. She had cunningly influenced him to make it. He did so without proper consideration, and gave the will into her custody. But, though his wife carefully concealed from him her real character, she could not do so entirely. Little things, which came under his observation, led him to believe that she entertained a secret dislike for John, and, only three months before his death, Squire Oakley, to protect John's interests, made a second will, which superseded the first, and limited his wife to that portion of his property which she could legally claim,—that is, one third.