Horatio Alger - Wait and Hope - or, A Plucky Boy's Luck

Five o'clock sounded from the church clock, and straightway the streets of Milltown were filled with men, women, and children issuing from the great brick factories huddled together at one end of the town. Among these, two boys waked in company, James Watson and Ben Bradford. They were very nearly of an age, James having just passed his fifteenth birthday, and Ben having nearly attained it.

Both boys looked sober. Why, will appear from their conversation.

"It's rather hard to get out of a job just now," said James.

"Why couldn't the superintendent discharge somebody else?"

"I suppose it's all right," said Ben. "We were taken on last, and we haven't as much claim to remain as those that have been in the mill longer."

"I don't believe there was any need of discharging anybody," complained James.

"You know business is very dull," said Ben, who was more considerate, "and I hear they have been losing money."

"Oh, well, they can stand it," said James.

"So can you," said Ben. "Your father is pretty well off, and you won't suffer."

"Oh, I shall have enough to eat, and so on; but I shan't have any spending money, and I can't get a new suit, as I expected to this fall."

"I wish that was all I had to fear," said Ben; "but you know how it is with me. I don't see how Aunt Jane is going to get along without my earnings."

"Oh, you'll get along somehow," said James carelessly, for he did not care enough about other people's prospects to discuss them.

"Yes, I guess so," said Ben, more cheerfully. "There's no use in worrying. Wait and Hope – that's my motto."

"You have to wait a thundering long time sometimes," said James. "Well, good night. Come round and see me to-morrow. You'll have plenty of time."

"I don't know about that. I must look up something to do."

"I shan't. I am going to wait till the superintendent takes me on again. There's one comfort. I can lie abed as long as I want to. I won't be tied to the factory bell."

The house which James entered was a good-sized two-story house, with an ample yard, and a garden behind it. His father kept a dry-goods store in Milltown, and was generally considered well-to-do. James entered the mill, not because he was obliged to, but because he wanted to have a supply of money in his pocket. His father allowed him to retain all of his wages, requiring him only to purchase his own clothes. As he was paid five dollars a week, James was able to clothe himself with half his income, and reserve the rest for spending-money. He was very fond of amusements, and there was no circus, concert, or other entertainment in Milltown which he did not patronize.

Ben kept on his way, till he reached the small house where his aunt lived, and which had been his own home ever since his parents died, when he was but five years of age. Two years before, Mr. Reuben Bradford, his uncle, died, and since then the family had been supported chiefly by Ben's wages in the mill. His aunt got some sewing to do, but her earnings were comparatively small.

There was one thing Ben dreaded, and that was, to tell his aunt about his loss of employment. He knew how she would take it. She was apt to be despondent, and this news would undoubtedly depress her. As for Ben, he was of a sanguine, cheerful temperament, and always ready to look at the bright side, if there was any bright side at all.

His little cousin Tony, seven years old, ran out to meet him.

"What makes you late, Ben?" he asked.

"I am not so very late, Tony," answered Ben, taking the little fellow's hand.

"Yes you are; it's half-past five o'clock, and supper's been ready quarter of an hour."

"I see how it is, Tony. You are hungry, and that has made you tired of waiting."

"No, I am not, but I wanted you to come home. It's always pleasanter when you are at home."

"I am glad you like my company. Good evening, Aunt Jane."

"Good evening, Ben. Sit right down at the table."

"Wait till I've washed my hands, aunt. I came home by Mr. Watson's, and that made me a little longer. Have you heard any news?"

Ben asked this, thinking it possible that his aunt had already heard of the discharge of some of the factory hands; but her answer satisfied him that she had not.

"Butter's a cent higher a pound," said Mrs. Bradford. "I declare, things seem to be going up all the time. Thirsty-five cents a pound! It really seems sinful to ask such a price."

"I wish that wasn't the worst of it," thought Ben.

"I'm afraid even at twenty-five cents it will be hard for us to pay for butter, if I don't get something to do soon."

"I guess I won't tell Aunt Jane till after supper," Ben decided. "After a good cup of tea, perhaps it won't make her feel so low-spirited."

So he ate his supper, chatting merrily with his little cousin all the time, just as if he had nothing on his mind. Even his aunt smiled from time to time at his nonsense, catching the contagion of his cheerfulness.

"I wish you'd split a little wood for me, Ben," said Mrs. Bradford, as our hero rose from the supper table. "I've had some ironing to do this afternoon, and that always takes off the fuel faster."

"All right, Aunt Jane," said Ben.

"I guess I'll wait till I've finished the wood before telling her," thought Ben. "It won't be any worse than now."

Tony went into the woodshed, to keep him company, and his aunt prepared to clear away the supper dishes.

She had scarcely commenced upon this when a knock was heard at the door. The visitor proved to be old Mrs. Perkins, a great-aunt of James Watson, who was an inveterate gossip. Her great delight was to carry news from one house to another.

"How do you do, Mrs. Bradford?" she began. "I was just passin' by, and thought I'd come in a minute."

"I am very glad to see you, Mrs. Perkins. Won't you have a cup of tea?"

"No thank you. The fact is, I've just took tea at my nephew Watson's. There I heard the news, and I couldn't help comin' right round and sympathizin' with you."

"Sympathizing with me! What for?" asked Mrs. Bradford, amazed. On general principles, she felt that she stood in need of sympathy, but her visitor's tone seemed to hint at something in particular.

"It ain't possible you haven't heard the news?" ejaculated Mrs. Perkins, feeling that she was indeed in luck, to have it in her power to communicate such important intelligence to one who had not heard of it.

"I hope it isn't anything about Ben," said Mrs. Bradford alarmed.

"Yes, I may say it is something about Benjamin," answered Mrs.

Perkins, nodding in a tantalizing manner.

"He hasn't got into any scrape, has he? He hasn't done anything wrong, has he?" asked Aunt Jane startled.

"No, poor child!" sighed the old lady. "That's the wust on't. It ain't what he has done; it's because he won't have anything to do."

"For mercy's sakes, tell me what you mean, Mrs. Perkins."

"Hasn't Benjamin told you that he's lost his place at the factory?"

"Is this true, Mrs. Perkins?" asked Mrs. Bradford, turning pale.

"Yes, business is dull and fifty men and boys have been turned off.

James Watson and your Benjamin are among them."

"Ben never told me anything about it," faltered Mrs. Bradford.

"Heaven only knows what we shall do."

"Oh, I guess you'll get along someway," said Mrs. Perkins, complacently. She was not herself affected, having sufficient property to live upon. "Well, I must be going," said the old lady, anxious to reach the next neighbor, and report how poor Mrs. Bradford took it. "Don't you be too much worried. The Lord will provide."

"I am afraid we shall all starve," thought Mrs. Bradford mournfully.