Horatio Alger - Out For Business or Robert Frost's Strange Career

"He told me not to mind—that he would get out some way."

"Perhaps through the key-hole," laughed James Talbot, apparently much amused.

"You are real mean," whimpered his wife. "The poor boy has had no breakfast."

"Don't let that interfere with your breakfasting, Mrs. T."

"How can I eat when he is hungry?"

"You see it doesn't affect my appetite. Really, this steak is unusually good."

Meanwhile Robert was considering how he was to escape. It was rather a puzzling question to consider, and he could not think of any way. But as he was looking out of the window he saw Sam Jones, a school friend, pass by. An idea came to him. Sam's father was a carpenter, and the owner of a tall ladder.

"I say, Sam!" he called out.

Sam looked up in the direction of the voice, and to his surprise saw Robert at the window.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I am."

"Why don't you come down?"

"For a very good reason—because I am locked in."

"What's that for?" asked Sam in natural surprise.

Robert explained.

"What are you going to do?"

"Get out, if you will help me."

"What shall I do?"

"Ask your father to bring his tall ladder. I am sure it will reach up to my window. Only be quick about it. I want to get out before Mr. Talbot is through breakfast."

"I'll do it. It will be good fun to circumvent the old rascal."

Sam started on a run, and in less than ten minutes came back with his father and the ladder. Mr. Jones was very ready to lend his assistance, for he had taken a dislike to Mr. Talbot, who had beaten him down on the price of some repairs he had made to the barn.

The two together put up the ladder against the window, and Robert stepping through the opening, put his foot on the top rung and quickly descended.

He breathed a sigh of relief and exultation as he set foot on the ground.

"That's the first time I was ever a prisoner, and I don't like it," he said. "I wish I had old Talbot up there. He wouldn't dare to escape as I did, for he is an awful coward."

He told the story of the dog, and how frightened his step-father had been. Sam and his father enjoyed the story.

"Now, take away the ladder quick. I don't want Mr. Talbot to know how I got out. I mustn't forget to thank you for your kindness."

"You can do as much for me if father ever locks me up," said Sam.

"I don't think there's much danger."

Meanwhile, Mr. Talbot having got through breakfast went upstairs to enjoy the uncomfortable position of his step-son.

"Robert!" he called through the key-hole.

There was no answer.

"You needn't be sullen. It will do you no good."

Still there was no answer.

"I would open the door," thought the man, "but he may be lying in wait for me, and he is very strong for a boy."

A third time he called, but still there was no answer.

"I hope he hasn't done anything desperate," thought James Talbot.

Finally he summoned up courage to unlock the door. Lo, the bird was flown, and the window was open.

"I wonder if he has jumped out!" said Talbot in alarm.

He went to the window and looked out, but could see nothing of Robert.

"It is very strange," he muttered. "If he had broken a limb, he would be lying on the lawn."

He went downstairs considerably perturbed. Hearing noise in the dining-room, he looked in, and saw Robert sitting at the table.

"Good morning, Mr. Talbot," said Robert, with much politeness. "You will excuse my being late to breakfast, but circumstances prevented my being on time."

James Talbot sank into a chair and stared at Robert open-mouthed.

"Did you get out of the window?" he asked.

"Yes, but next time I'd rather go through the door."

"What a very remarkable boy!" thought his step-father.

Nothing more was said about the woodpile. Apparently Mr. Talbot concluded that he was not likely to carry his point, and prudently withdrew from the conflict. But his sense of defeat only made him the more incensed against his rebellious step-son.

"I would give five dollars to see that boy thrashed," he said to himself moodily, as from the window he watched Robert playing ball in the street with his friend Sam Jones.

As Robert seemed to be enjoying himself, he could not resist the temptation to interfere.

So he opened the window and called out, "Robert, I wish you would stop playing ball in the street."

"Why?" asked his step-son.

"Because the ball might come this way and break one of the windows."

"There is no chance of it, Mr. Talbot. We are sending the ball up and down the street."

"Still there is danger."

"I don't see it."

"Will you be guided by my wishes?" demanded Talbot querulously.

"I would if they were reasonable. I don't think they are."

"I am the best judge of that. I don't want you to play ball in front of my house."

"Your house? How long has it been yours? It belongs to my mother."

"Your mother is my wife."

"I am sorry to say that you are right. But that doesn't make the house yours."

"I have no wish to quibble. I represent your mother, and I have a right to ask you to stop playing ball in front of the house."

"Even if the house were yours, you don't own the street. Go ahead, Sam!"

Mr. Talbot banged the door and went into the house.

"That is the most impudent cub I ever saw," he muttered. He was worsted again, and he felt angry and provoked.

"What a sweet step-father you've got, Robert," said Sam.

"Isn't he? But don't call him my step-father. I want to forget that he is connected with me in any way. He is constantly nagging me. I don't think I can stand it much longer."

"How does your mother stand it?"

"Mother has a very sweet temper, and she has no will of her own."

"Unlike you," said Sam, smiling.

"Yes, I have a will of my own. I don't think a boy or man can succeed who hasn't."

"You say you can't stand it. What will that lead to?"

"It may lead to my leaving the house, and going out into the world to seek my fortune. Our house is a large one, but it isn't large enough to contain Mr. Talbot and myself."

"I hope you won't have to go, Robert. I should miss you awfully."

"And I should miss you, Sam. But time will show."

Probably no persons could be more incompatible, or less likely to get along together, than Robert and Mr. Talbot. The presence of one was a constant irritation to the other. This could have but one issue. One day, perhaps a week after the dispute about ball-playing, Robert entered the gate on his way back from the village. Mr. Talbot was standing on the lawn. He had scarcely entered the yard when a man reeling under the influence of drink staggered by.

"That man has more than he can carry," observed Robert.

"Yes," answered Talbot with a smile. "Take care that you don't fall into the same habit."

"Why do you caution me," asked Robert curtly. "Do you think there is any need of it?"

"Yes, if all that I have heard is true."

"What have you heard?"

"That your father was an intemperate man."

Robert's eyes flashed with intense anger.

"It is a lie," he said. "Take it back."

"I have every reason to believe it is true, and I won't take it back."

This was too much for Robert, who was a boy of spirit, and had been devotedly attached to his father.

"Take it back!" he repeated in a tone of menace.

"Do you think I would take it back at the order of a whipper-snapper like you?" sneered his step-father.

Robert waited to hear no more. His affection and reverence for his father were so strong that he felt outraged by the insult to his memory. He made a sudden attack upon his step-father, so impetuous that it dashed Mr. Talbot to the ground.