Horatio Alger - Andy Gordon

The Hamilton Academy, under the charge of Rev. Dr. Euclid, stands on an eminence about ten rods back from the street, in the town of the same name. It is a two-story building, surmounted by a cupola, or belfry, and, being neatly painted brown and well cared for, is, on the whole, an ornament to the village.

It was a quarter of nine, when a boy of sixteen, rather showily dressed, ascended the academy hill and entered the front door, which was already open. He swung a small light cane in his hand – rather an unusual article for a schoolboy to carry – and it was clear, from his general appearance and bearing, that he had a high opinion of himself.

“I am early,” he said to himself. “I shall have a chance to look over my Latin before Dr. Euclid comes.”

It may be supposed from this speech that Herbert Ross was an earnest student, but this would be altogether a mistake. The fact is, he had been playing with some companions till a late hour the previous evening, and this had prevented his paying the necessary attention to his lessons in Virgil.

As Dr. Euclid was strict in his requirements, and very slow to accept excuses, Herbert, to avoid trouble, wished to have, at any rate, a superficial acquaintance with the lesson.

As he entered the schoolroom he was met by a cloud of dust. A boy of about his own age was sweeping the floor. He had nearly completed his task, and was just about to sweep the pile of accumulated dust into the entry when Herbert Ross presented himself. The boy who was wielding the broom, the young janitor of the academy, being our hero, we may as well stop here and describe him.

His name was Andrew Gordon, commonly changed by his friends to Andy. He was a stout, well-made boy, with a face not exactly handsome, but bold, frank and good-humored; but about the mouth there were lines indicating firmness and resolution. He was evidently a boy who had a respect for himself.

It may be said, further, that Andy received his tuition free and a dollar a week for his services in taking care of the schoolhouse. He was the son of a widow, who was in receipt of a pension of twenty dollars a month from the government, as the widow of an officer who had surrendered his life during the Civil War on the field of Gettysburg. This, with what Andy could earn, was nearly all she and he had to live upon.

It may easily be supposed, therefore, that the dollar a week which Andy received from Dr. Euclid, or, rather, from the trustees of the academy, was an appreciable help in their frugal household.

Herbert Ross was the only son of the village lawyer, a man of private fortune, who lived in a style quite beyond the average mode of living among his neighbors. Herbert was impressed, as many boys are under such circumstances, with an idea of his consequence, and this made itself felt in his intercourse with his school fellows.

In particular he looked down upon Andy Gordon, the first in rank in his class, because he was poor and filled the position of school janitor, which he regarded as menial.

Andy knew very well how his proud classmate regarded him, but it did not materially diminish his happiness or cause him to lose even a minute’s sleep.

“What are you kicking up such a dust for, Andrew Gordon?” asked Herbert, considerably ruffled in temper, for some of the dust had settled upon his clothing.

“I am sweeping the schoolroom, Herbert,” said Andy, “as you see.”

“You needn’t cover me with your confounded dust,” said Herbert, testily.

“I didn’t see you coming in,” said Andy, good-naturedly, “or I would have stopped a minute. The fact is, I am rather late this morning, or my job would be over.”

“I’ll give you a lesson to teach you to be more careful next time,” said Herbert, who was getting more and more ill-natured, and, as is usual with young bullies, got more impudent on account of Andy’s good nature.

As he spoke, he drew back his foot and kicked at the pile of dust which Andy had carefully swept to the doorway, spreading it over a considerable portion of the floor.

Good-humored as he was, Andy’s eye grew stern, and his voice was quick and imperative, as he demanded:

“What did you do that for, Herbert Ross?”

“I told you already,” said Herbert. “I am a gentleman, and I don’t mean to let a servant cover me with dust.”

“I am the janitor of this academy,” said Andy, “and if that is being a servant, then I am one. But there is one thing I tell you, Herbert. I won’t allow any boy, gentleman or not, to interfere with my work.”

“How can you help yourself?” asked Herbert, with a sneer.

“Take this broom and sweep up the pile of dust you have scattered,” said the young janitor.

As he spoke he tendered the broom to Herbert.

“What do you mean?” demanded the young aristocrat, his dark face growing darker still with anger.

“I mean what I say,” responded Andy, resolutely. “You must repair the mischief you have done.”

“Must? You low-lived servant!” Herbert burst forth. “Do you know who you are talking to?”

This was rather ungrammatical, but it is a common mistake, and Herbert was too angry to think of grammar.

“I am talking to a boy who has done a mean action,” retorted Andy. “Take that broom and sweep up the dust you have scattered.”

Herbert by this time was at white heat. He seized the broom which was extended toward him, but instead of using it as he was requested, he brought it down upon Andy’s shoulders.

It was not the handle, but the broom end which touched the young janitor, and he was not hurt; but it is needless to say that he considered himself insulted. Under such circumstances, though far from quarrelsome, it was his habit to act promptly, and he did so now.

First he wrested the broom from Herbert; then he seized that young gentleman around the waist, and, despite his struggles, deposited him forcibly on the floor, which was thick with dust.

“Two can play at your game, Herbert,” he said.

“What do you mean? you low hound!” screamed Herbert, as he rose from the floor.

“I think you can tell, without any explanation,” said Andy, calmly.

Herbert looked as if he would like to annihilate the young janitor, but there was something in the strong grasp which he had just felt which convinced him that Andy was stronger than himself, and he hesitated.

“Do you know that my father is one of the trustees of the academy?” he shouted, shaking his fist. “I’ll get you discharged from your place.”

“You can do what you like,” answered Andy, “but you’d better get out of the way, for I’m going to sweep. I’ll let you off from sweeping up, as you have had a lesson already.”

“You’ll let me off!” exclaimed Herbert, passionately. “You – a servant – give me a lesson! You don’t know your place, you young beggar!”

“No more talk like that, Herbert Ross, for I won’t stand it!” said Andy, firmly.

“I’ll call you what I please!” retorted Herbert.

“If you call me another name, I’ll lay you down in the dirt again!” said Andy.

Just then, at the open door, appeared the tall, dignified figure of Dr. Euclid, who was in time to hear the last words spoken.

“What’s the matter, boys?” he asked, looking keenly from Andy to Herbert.

Both boys were surprised to see Dr. Euclid, for it was ten minutes before his usual hour of coming.

It happened, however, that he had had occasion to go to the post office to deposit an important letter, and as it was so near the hour for commencing school, he had not thought it worth his while to go home again.