FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS ALGER UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 00029633941 Digitized by tine Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill http://www.archive.org/details/fivehundreddollaOalge FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS HORATIO ALGER, Jr. AUTHOR OF " THE ERIE TRAIN BOY," " FROM FARM BOY TO SENATOR," "THE YOUNG ACROBAT," ETC. NEW YORK HURST & COMPANY PUBLISHERS ALGER SERIES FOR BOYS. UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME, By HORATIO ALGER, Jr. Making His Way. Mark Mason. Only an Irish Boy. Adrift in New York. A Cousin's Conspiracy. Andy Gordon. Andy Grant's Pluck. Bob Burton. Bound to Rise. Brave and Bold. Cash Boy. Chester Rand Do and Dare. Driven from Home. Erie Train Boy. Facing the World. Five Hundred Dollars. Frank's Campaign. Grit. Hector's Inheritance. Helping Himself. Herbert Carter's Legacy. In a New World. Jack's Ward. Jed, the Poor House Boy. Joe's Luck. Julius, the Street Boy. Luke Walton. Paul, the Peddler. Phil, the Fiddler. Ralph Raymond's Heir. Risen from the Ranks. Sam's Chance. Shifting for Himself. Sink or Swim. Slow and Sure- Store Boy. Strive and Succeed. Strong and Steady. Struggling Upward. Tin Box. Tom, the Bootblack. Tony, the Tramp. Try and Trust. Wait and Hope. Walter Sherwood's Pro- bation. Young Acrobat. Young Adventurer. Young Outlaw. Young Salesman. Price, Post-Paid, jjc. each, or any three books for $1.00. HURST & COMPANY Publishers, New York. FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS, OR, JACOB MARLOWE'S SECRET. CHAPTER I. A NEW ARRIVAL IN LAKEVILLE. Slowly through the village street walked an elderly man, with bronzed features and thin gray hair, supporting his somewhat un- certain steps by a stout cane. He was appar- ently tired, for, seeing a slight natural eleva- tion under a branching elm tree, he sat down, and looked thoughtfully about him. " Well," he said, " Lakeville hasn't changed much since I left it, twenty years since. Has there been any change among those who are near to me? I don't know, but I shall soon find out. Shall I receive a welcome or not? There ought to be two families to greet me, but " Beve a boy appeared on the scene, a boy of 3 4 Five Hundred Dollars. fifteen, with a sturdy figure and a pleasant face, whose coarse suit indicated narrow means, if not poverty. Seeing the old man, with instinctive politeness he doffed his hat and with a pleasant smile bade him good- morning. " Good-morning," returned the traveller, won by the boy's pleasant face and manner. *' If you are not in a hurry won't you sit down by me and answer a few questions?" " With pleasure, sir ; my business isn't driv- ing." '• This is Lakeville, isn't it? " " Yes, sir." " I used to know the place — a good many years since. It hasn't grown much." " No, sir; it's rather quiet." " Chiefly a farming region, isn't it? " " Yes, sir ; but there is a large shoe manu- factory here, employing a hundred hands." " Who is the owner? " " Squire Marlowe." " Ha ! " ejaculated the old man, evidently interested. " Albert Marlowe, isn't it? " " Yes, sir; do you know him? " " I haven't met him for twenty years, but we are acquainted. I suppose he is prosperous." " He is considered a rich man, sir. He is a relation of mine." Five Hundred Dollars. 5 ^' Indeed ! What then is your name? " asked the old man, eagerly. " Herbert Barton — most people call me Bert Barton." Bert was surprised at the keen scrutiny which he received from the traveller. " Was your mother Mary Marlowe? " the latter asked. " Yes, sir," returned Bert. " Did you know her, too?" " I ought to ; she is my niece, as the man you call Squire Marlowe is my nephew." " Then you must be Uncle Jacob, who has lived so many years in California? " said Bert, excitedly, " The same." " Mother will be very glad to see you," added Bert, cordially. " Thank you, my boy. Your kind welcome does me good. I hope your mother is well and happy," " She is a widow," answered Bert soberly. " When did your father die? " " Two years ago." " I hope he left your mother in comfortable circumstances." Bert shook his head. " He only left the small house we live in, and that is mortgaged for half its value." 6 Five Hundred Dollars. " Then how do you live? " " Mother covers base-balls for a firm in the next town, and I am working in the big shoe shop." " Doesn't Squire Marlowe do anything for your mother? " " He gave me a place in the shop — that is all." " Yet he is rich," said the old man, thought- fully. " Yes, he lives in a fine house. You can see it down the street on the other side — that large one with a broad piazza. He keeps two horses and two handsome carriages, and I am sure he must have plenty of money." " I am glad to hear it. I have been a long time among strangers. It will be pleasant to come to anchor at the house of a rich relation. Where does your mother live?" " In a small cottage at the other end of the street. Won't you come home with me, Uncle Jacob? Mother will be glad to see you." " I must call at Albert Marlowe's first. What family has he?" " He has one boy about my own age." " I suppose you are velry intimate — being cousins." Bert laughed. " He wouldn't thank you for calling us Fiod Hundred Dollars. 7 I'ousiDa," he aiiiivvered. "Percy Marlowe is a boy who thinks a good deal of himself. He puts on no end of airs." " Like his father before him. Is he a smart boy?" " Do you mean in his studies? " " Yes.'" " I don't know what he could do if he tried, but he doesn't exert himself much. He says it isn't necessary for him, as his father is a rich man."' "How is it with you?" " I only wish I had his chance," said Bert, warmly. " I am fond of study, but I am poor, and must work for a living." " You have the right idea, and he has not," said the old man, sententiously. At this moment a light buggy was driven swiftly by. Seated in it was a boy about the age of Bert, apparently, but of slighter figure. The horse, suddenly spying the old man, shied, and in a trice the buggy was upset, and the young dude went sprawling on the ground. Bert grasped the situation, and sprang to the rescue. He seized the terrified horse, while the old man helped reverse the carriage, which fortunately had not met with any ma- terial damage. The same may be said of the young driver who, with mortified face, strug- 8 Five Hundred DollarSo gled to his feet, and surveyed ruefully tht? muddy stains on his handsome suit. " I hope you're not, hurt, Percy," said Bert, "with solicitude. " I've spoiled my suit, that's all," returned Percy, shortly. " What made you scare my horse? " " I didn't," answered Bert, with spirit. " What right have you to charge me with such a thing? " " Then if it wasn't you, it was that old tramp you were talking with," persisted Percy, sullenly. " Hush, Percy ! " said Bert, apprehensive lest the old man's feelings might be hurt. " You don't know who this' gentleman is." " I never met the gentleman before," re- joined Percy, with ironical deference. " Then let me introduce him as your uncle, Jacob Marlowe, from California ! " Percy's face betrayed much more surprise than pleasure as he stammered, " Is that true? " " Yes," answered the old man, smiling calmly ; " I have the honor to be related to you, young /gentleman." " Does father know you are here? " " No ; I am going to call upon him." Percy hardly knew what to think. He h-ad Five Hundred Dollars. 9 heard his father speak of " Uncle Jacob" and indulge in the hope that he had accumulated a fortune in California. His shabby attire did not suggest wealth, certainly, but Percy was wise enough to know that appearances are not always to be relied upon. If this old man were wealthy, he would be worth propitiating. At any rate, till he knew to the contrary he had better be polite. " Will you ride to the house with me, sir?" he asked, considerably to Bert's surprise. " No, thank you. There might be another upset. Jump into the buggy, and I'll walk along after you." Percy was relieved by this decision, for he had no wish to be seen with such a companion. "All right, sir," he. said. "I'll see you at the house." Without a word of acknowledgment to Bert, Percy sprang into the buggy and drove rapidly away. " Shall I go with you, Uncle Jacob? " asked Bert. " No, thank you. I can find the way. Tell your mother that I will call on her very soon." lo Five Hundred Dollars. CHAPTER II. UNCLE JACOB'S RECEPTION. Percy found his father at home, and quickly acquainted him with the arrival in town of Uncle Jacob. His news was received with interest by Squire Marlowe. " Why didn't you invite him to ride home with you?" asked the squire. " I did ; but he preferred to walk." " What does he look like? " " Like an old tramp," answered Percy. Squire Marlowe was taken aback; for, with- out having received any definite intelligence from the long absent relative, he had somehow persuaded himself that Uncle Jacob had accu- mulated a fortune at the mines. " Then he is shabbily dressed? " said the squire, inquiringly. " I should say so. I say, father, I thought he was rich. You always said so." " And I still think so." " Then why don't he dress better? " " He is rather eccentric, Percy ; and these California miners don't care much for dress as a rule. I shouldn't wonder if he were worth half a million. You'd better treat him with Five Hundred Dollars. ii attention, for we are bis natural heirs, and there's no telling what may happen." " Enough said, father. I don't care how he dresses if he's got the cash." " I must go and speak to your mother, or she will treat him coldly. You know how particular she is." Squire Marlowe managed to drop a hint to his wife, who was as worldly wise as himself, and saw the advantage of being attentive to a w^ealthy relative. By this time Uncle Jacob had reached the door. Squire Marlowe himself answered the bell, as a mark of special attention, and gazed with curiosity at the old man. Jacob Marlowe, though coarsely clad, was scrupulously neat and clean, and there was a pleasant smile on his bronzed face as he recog- nized his nephew. " I believe you are Uncle Jacob," said the squire, affably. " Yes, Albert, and I'm mighty glad to see a relation. It's twenty-five years since I have seen one that was kin to me." " Welcome to Lakeville, Uncle Jacob. I am glad to see you. Percy told me he met you on the road. Why didn't you ride up with him? " "It wasn't worth gettin' in to ride a quarter 12 Five Hundred Dollars. of a mile. I am used to exercise in Cali- fornia." " To be sure. Come into the house, and lay your valise down anywhere. Here is my wife, Mrs. Marlowe. Julia, this is Uncle Jacob, of whom you have heard me speak so often." " I am glad to see you, Mr. Marlowe," said the lady, formally, just touching the old man's hand. " Where are you going to put Uncle Jacob, Julia? " asked the squire. " You may take him to the blue room," said Mrs. Marlowe, in a tone of hesitation. This blue room was the handsomest chamber in the house, and was assigned to those whom it was considered politic to honor. " Come right upstairs. Uncle Jacob. I'll show you your room myself," said Albert Marlowe. " I ain't used to such luxury, Albert," said the old man, as he gazed around the comfort- ably appointed apartment. " You ought to see my cabin at Murphy's diggings. I reckon your servant would turn up her nose at it." " I know you don't care much for style in California, uncle." " No, we don't, though we've got as hand- some houses in 'Frisco as anywhere else. Five Hundred Dollars. 13 Why, Albert, this room is fine enough for a prince." " Then you can think yourself a prince,'' said the squire, genially. " Now, if you want to wash your face and hands, and arrange your toilet, you will have abundant time before dinner. Come down when you have finished." Albert Marlowe returned to his wife. " Mr. Marlowe," said she, " are you very sure that old man is rich?" " I have no doubt of it, Julia." " But what an old fright he is ! Why, he looks dreadfully common, and his clothes are wretchedly shabby." " True, Julia ; but you must remember miners are not very particular about their dress." " I should think not, if he is a fair specimen. It makes me shudder to think of his occupy- ing the blue-room. The hall bedroom on the third floor would have been good enough for him." " Remember, my dear, he is in all probabil- ity very weathy, and we are his heirs. I am not so well off as people imagine, and it will be a great thing for us to have a fortune of a quarter or half a million drop in by and by." " There's something in that, to be sure," the 14 Five Hundred Dollars. lady admitted. " But can't you induce him to wear better clothes? " " I will suggest it very soon. We mustn't be too precipitate, for fear he should take offense. You know these rich uncles expect to be treated with a good deal of consideration." " Do you think he will expect to live with us? I shall really give up if I have got to have such a looking old tramp as a permanent mem- ber of the familj^" " But, Julia, if he is really very rich, it is important for us to keep him strictly in view. You know there will be plenty of designing persons, who will be laying snares to entrap him, and get possession of his money." " How old is he? Is he likely to live long?" " I think he must be about sixty-five." " And he looks alarmingly healthy," said Mrs. Marlowe, with a sigh. " His father died at sixty-seven." Mrs. Marlowe brightened up. " That is en- couraging," she said, hopefully. " I don't think he looks so very healthy," added the squire. " He has a good color." " His father was the picture of health till within a few weeks of his death." "What did he die of?" ^"' Apoplexy." Five Hundred Dollars. 15 " To be sure. The old man looks as if he might go off that way." " In that case we should only need to be troubled with him a couple of years, and for that we should be richly repaid." " They will seem like two eternities," groaned the lady, " and the chief burden will come on me." " You shall be repaid, my dear ! Only treat him well ! " "Will you give me half what money he leaves to us? " " Say one-third, Julia. That will repay you richly for all your trouble." " Very well ! Let it be a third. But, Mr. Marlowe, don't let there be any mistake! I depend upon you to find out as soon as pos- sible how much money the old man has." " Trust to me, Julia. I am just as anxious to know as you are." In twenty minutes Uncle Jacob came down stairs. He had done what he could to improve his appearance, or " slick himself up," as he expressed it, and wore a blue coat and vest, each provided with brass buttons. But from close packing in his valise both were creased up in such a manner that Squire Marlowe and his wife shuddered, and Percy's face wore aa amused and supercilious smile. i6 Five Hundred Dollars. " I declare I feel better to be dressed up," said the old man. " How long do you think I've had this coat and vest, Albert?" " I really couldn't guess." " I had it made for me ten years ago in Sacramento. It looks pretty well, but then I've only worn it for best." Percy had to stuff his handkerchief in his mouth to repress a laugh. Uncle Jacob re- garded him with a benevolent smile, and seemed himself to be amused about something. " Now, Uncle Jacob, we'll sit down to din- ner. You must be hungry." " Well, I have got a fairish appetite. What a nice eatin' room you've got, Albert. I ain't used to such style." " I presume not," said Mrs. Marlowe, dryly. CHAPTER III. A VISIT TO THE FACTORY. During dinner the old man chatted away in the frankest manner, but not a word did he let drop as to his worldly circumstances. He appeared to enjoy his dinner, and showed him- self entirely at his ease. Five Hundred Dollars. 17 " I'm glad to see you so well fixed, Albert," he said. " You've got a fine home." " It will do very well," returned the squire, modestly. " I suppose he never was in such a good house before," thought Mrs. Marlowe. " By the way, just before I fell in with you here," went on Jacob, " I ran across Mary's boy." " Herbert Barton ? " suggested the squire, with a slight frown. " Yes ; he said that w^as his name." " They live in the village," said his nephew, shortly. " They're poor, ain't they? " "Yes; Barton was not a forehanded man. He didn't know how to accumulate money." " I suppose he left very little to his widow." " Very little. However, I have given the boy a place in my factory, and I believe his mother earns a trifle by covering base-balls. They don't want for anything — that is, any- thing in reason. " Bert Barton seems a likely boy." " Oh, he's as good as the average of boys in his position." " I suppose he c^d Percy are quite intimate, being cousins." " Indeed we are not ! " returned Percy, toss- i8 Five Hundred Dollars. ing his head. " His position is very different from mine." Uncle Jacob surveyed Percy in innocent wonder. " Still, he's kin to you," he observed. " That doesn't always count," said Percy. " He has his friends, and I have mine. I don't believe in mixing classes." " I expect things have changed since I was a boy," said Uncle Jacob, mildly. " Then, all the boys were friendly and sociable, no matter whether they were rich or poor." "I agree with Percy," broke in Mrs. Mar- lowe, stiffly. " His position in life will be very different from that of the boy you refer to. Any early intimacy, even if we encouraged it, could not well be kept up in after-life." " Perhaps you are right," said the old man. " I've been away so long at the mines that I haven't kept up with the age or the fashions." Percy smiled, as his glance rested on his uncle's creased suit, and he felt quite ready to agree with what he said. " I was thinkin' how pleasant it would be if you would invite Mary and her boy to tea — we are all related, you know. We could talk over old times and scenes, and have a real social time." Five Hundred Dollars. 19 Mrs. Marlowe seemed horror-struck at the suggestion. " I don't think it would be convenient," she said, coldly. " It would be better for you to see Mrs. Barton at her own house," put in the squire, hastily. " Well, perhaps it would." " By the way, Uncle Jacob, I hope your ex- periences of California are pleasant," insinu- ated Squire Marlowe. " They're mixed, Albert. I've had my ups and downs." " I have heard of large fortunes being made there," pursued the squire. " I suppose there's 8ome truth in what we hear? " " To be sure ! Why, ten years from the time I went to the mines I had a hundred thousand dollars deposited to my credit in a Sacramento bank." Squire Marlowe's eyes sparkled with pleas- ure. It was just what he had been hoping to find out. So Uncle Jacob was rich, after all I The squire's manner became even more gra- cious, and he pressed upon his relative another plate of ice cream. " No, thank you, Albert," said the old man. " I'm used to plain livin'. It isn't often I sit down to a meal like this. Do you know, there's 20 Five Hundred Dollars. nothing snits me bettor than a dinner of corned beef and cabbage." " How vulgar the old man is ! " thought Mrs. Marlowe. " He may have money, but his tastes are very common." " We never have corned beef and cabbage here," she said, with a slight shudder. " Very likely Bert Barton's mother has it very often," suggested Percy. " My dear," said the squire, urbanely, " if Uncle Jacob really enjoys those dishes so much, you might provide them for his special use." " I will think of it," replied Mrs. Marlowe, shortly. Now that Uncle Jacob had hinted at the possession of wealth, Squire , Marlowe beheld him as one tranfigured. He was no longer a common, shabby old man, but a worthy old gentleman of eccentric ideas in the matter of wardrobe and manners. " I wonder if Uncle Jacob wouldn't advance me twenty-five thousand dollars," was the thought that was passing through his mind as he gazed genially at his countrified guest. " It '..ould help me amazingly in my business, and enable me to do double as much. I will men- tion it to him in good time." ^^ I've a great mind to come upon the old Five Hundred Dollars. 21 man for a handsome birthday present," thought Percy. " Fifty dollars wouldn't be much for him to give. I shan't get more than a fiver from the governor." " Uncle Jacob," said the squire, as they rose from the table, " suppose you walk over to the factory with me; I should like you to see it." " Nothing would please me better," said Jacob Marlowe, briskly. "Will you come along, Percy?" asked his father. " No, papa," answered Percy, with a grim- ace, " You know I don't like the smell of leather." " / ought not to dislike it," said the squire, with a smile, " for it gives me a very handsome income." " Oh, it's different with you," returned Percy. " Just give me the profits of the fac- tory and I'll go there every day." " He's a sharp one ! " said the squire, with a smile. * " I am afraid he is too sharp to suit me," thought Uncle Jacob. " It seems to me the boy's mind runs upon money, and his own in- terests." The shoe factory was a large building of two stories, and within it was a hive of industry. As the squire led the way he explained the 25 Five Hundred Dollars. various workings to the old man, who was really curious and interested. It was on a larger scale than was common at the time he left for California, and the use of machinery had to a greater extent supplemented and superseded the work of the hands. Finally they came to a room where several boys were pegging shoes, for this work was still done in the old-fashioned way. Uncle Jacob's eyes lighted up when in one of them he recognized Bert Barton. He hurried forward, and put his hand on Bert's shoulder. " So this is your business," he said. " Yes," answered Bert, with a smile. "Do you find it hard work?" " Oh, no ! That is, I am used to it. It used to tire me at first." " Did you tell your mother I was in town? " " Yes," answered Bert, " and she says she hopes you will call." " To be sure I will. I may cal? this even- ing." " He's a likely boy, Albert," said Uncle Jacob, rejoining the squire, who stood aloof with a look of annoyance on his face. " He works very well, I believe," was the cold reply. "Shall we move on?" " Albert doesn't seem to feel much interest Five Hundred Dollars. 23 in his poor relations," thought Uncle Jacob. " Well, it's human nature, I suppose." " You seem to be doing a large business, Al- bert," he said aloud. " Yes; but with a little more capital I could very much increase it," rejoined the squire. " With twenty-five thousand dollars now, I would enlarge the factory to double its present size, and do twice the business I am now do- ing." " I am afraid you want to get rich too fast, Albert." " It would gratify my spirit of enterprise, Uncle Jacob. I feel that I have the ability to make a big business success." " Very likely, Albert. I've seen enough to convince me of that." " He'll lend me the money if I work things right," Squire Marlowe said to himself. " He'll be like wax in my hands." CHAPTER IV. UNCLE JACOB'S STARTLING REVELATION. " Uncle Jacob was at the factory this afternoon," said Bert to his mother, when he went home. " He says he may call here this evening." 24 Five Hundred Dollars. " I hope he will. He was my poor mother's favorite brother — always kind and good- hearted. How is he looking, Bert? " " He seems in good health for an old man. His face is browned up, as if he had been out in the open air a good deal." " I hope he has. It is twenty-five years since he went to California. Does he look as if he had prospered?" " I am afraid he is poor, mother, for al- though his clothing is neat and clean, it is plain and the cloth is faded? " " I am sorry to hear that, but I will wel- come him none the less warmly. It will in- deed seem like old times to have Uncle Jacob in my house." Meanwhile Bert had been bringing in wood and doing chores for his mother. " Did Uncle Jacob tell you how long he in- tended to stay in Lakeville? " "No, mother; I only had a short time to talk with him when Percy rode by, and then he started to call on the squire. Do you know, mother, I am rather surprised that, he should have been so well received, poor as he looks." " I think better of Albert for it. It shows that he is not so worldly as I feared^ Cer- tainly Uncle Jacob ought to be well received Five Hundred Dollars. 25 by Albert Marlowe, for when Albert's father was in trouble Jacob lent him five hundped dollars — all in money he had — and I feel sure the money has not been repaid to him to this day." " I don't think Percy will be very cordial. You know what high notions he has." " He gets them principally from his mother, who is extremely aristocratic in her ideas." " Was she of a high family? " Mrs. Barton smiled. " Her father was a fisherman," she replied, " and when a girl she used to run barefoot on the sand. Later on she sev/ed straw for a living. She is no worse for that, certainly, but it doesn't give her any claims to aris' tocracy." " Do you think Percy knows about his mother's early life?" " I presume she has kept it secret from him." " I shall think of it when Percy gets into one of his patronizing moods." , " Remember, Bert, that neither he nor his mother is any the worse for her humble birth." " I understand that, I hope, mother, just as I don't feel ashamed of our being poor." " As long as we can make an honorable liv- ing, we have no right to complain." 26 Five Hundred Dollars. " That reminds me, mother, that I heard ''bad news at the shop to-day." "What is that?" " That the shop is likely to be shut down all next month." " Why is that? " asked Mrs. Barton, an anxious look coming over her face. " I believe the market is over-supplied with shoes, and it is thought best to suspend tem- porarily. It'll be rather hard on me." " Yes, it will," said his mother, gravely. " I earn so little at sewing balls." " Don't 3^ou think I could get a job at that, mother? " " No, you could not do the work satisfac- torily. Besides there are hands enough for all that is required. Well, we must hope for the best." " I think I can manage to earn something, mother," said Bert, hopefully. " I'll try hard, anyway." " We w^on't worry till the time comes, Bert." An hour later there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Barton answered it in person. "Why, Uncle Jacob, is it really you?" she exclaimed, joyfully. " I'm delighted to see you, Mary," said the old man, his face lighting up. " I've been "waiting twenty-five years for this meeting." Five Hundred Dollars. 27 " Come right in, Uncle Jacob. I can hardly belicTe it is really you. Now tell me why you have not written these many years." " I've no good excuse, Mary, but perhaps I shall think of one bimeby. Now tell me how you are getting along? " " I am not rich, as you can see, Uncle Jacob; but as long as Bert and I have our health, and work to do, I shall be contented." " Do you know, Mary," said Jacob Mar- lowe, looking about the plain little sitting- room, " I like your house better than Al- bert's?" " I don't think you will find many to agree with you." " Perhaps not, but this seems like home, and that doesn't." " Albert's house is finely furnished." " True, and he lives in fine style ; but I don't think I should ever be contented to live with him." " Has he invited you? " "Yes," answered Jacob; "but," he added, with a smile, " I don't think the invitation will hold good after to-morrow." " Why not? " " The fact is, Albert and the whole family think I am rich." 28 Five Hundred Dollars. s " I shouldn't think they would judge that from your appearance," " Oh, they think I am eccentric and plain in iry tastes, and that I've got my pile safe some- where." " I wish you had, Uncle Jacob." " Happiness doesn't depend on money, Mary, as you realize in your own case. I am an old man, to be sure, but I am well and strong, and able to work for a living." " But at your age. Uncle Jacob, it would be comfortable to feel that you could rest." " Come, Mary, don't make me out a patri- arch. I'm only sixty-five, and I can tackle a pretty good day's work yet." " You might be sick, Uncle Jacob." " Don't let us imagine unpleasant things, Mary. I don't mean to be sick." " And at any rate you can come and stay with us. You will always find a home here, though an humble one." " Do you really mean that, Mary? " said Uncle Jacob, earnestly. " Would you really be willing to take in the old man, and provide for his comforts?" " Of course I would, Uncle Jacob," answered Mrs. Barton, heartily. " I hope you didn't think so poorly of me as to doubt it." " No, I was sure you hadn't changed so Five Hundred Dollars, 29 much since you were a girl. Well, Mary, I may some time remind you of your promise." " You won't need to remind me, Uncle Jacob. I was afraid Albert would take you wholly away from us." " So he might if I were as rich as he thinks I am ; but now let us talk about other things. Remember, I haven't heard any family news for many years, and I have a great many ques- tions to ask." The rest of the evening was spent in such conversation as Uncle Jacob suggested, and when he had occasion to look at his watch, he started in surprise. " Bless my soul ! " he exclaimed. " It is nearly ten o'clock. I ought to be getting back to Albert's." " Then Bert shall accompany you as far as the house. It will be lonely to go alone." Uncle Jacob reached Squire Marlowe's house as the church clock struck ten, and he bade Bert good-night. Shortly after his return, Uncle Jacob was shown to his room, and being fatigued he soon fell asleep, not waking till seven in the morn- ing. After breakfast. Squire Marlowe said graciously: *^ Have you any plans, Uncle Jacob, in which I can assist you? If you 30 Five Hundred Dollars. would like to consult me about any invest- ^-ments, I can perhaps be of service to you." " Now for it ! " thought the old man. " I was thinkin', Albert," he said, " of ask- in' your advice. I'm gettin' on in years, and can't work as well as I could once. Do you think it would pay me to open here in Lake- ville a cigar and candy store, and " "What!" exclaimed Squire Marlowe, with an expression of horror and disgust on his face. " You see I've got about five hundred dol- lars, w^hich I think would be enough to stock it comfortably and " " But I thought you were a rich man," gasped Squire Marlowe. " Didn't you tell me you had a hundred thousand dollars in a Sacramento bank? " " Yes, many years ago; but I bought mining stocks, and after a while they went down to nothing, and " " Then you are a pauper ! " said the squire, harshly. " No. I have five hundred dollars, and I hope with that to get started, so as to earn an honest living." Words cannot describe the scorn and dis- gust that appeared on the faces of Percy and Five Hundred Dollars. 31 his mother at the old man's confession of poverty. " Albert," said the wife, " may I speak with you outside a moment?" " Certainly, my dear." " Get rid of the old man as soon as you can ! " she said, imperiously. He doesn't eat another meal in my house!" " Be easy, my dear," said the squire. " I'll manage it." CHAPTER V. UNCLE JACOB RECEIVES HIS WALKING PAPERS. Squire Marlowe returned to the breakfast room, wearing rather an embarrassed expres- sion. Percy had followed his mother, and the old man found himself for a short time alone. There was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, which vanished on the reappearance of his nephew. " I am sorry to have left you alone, Uncle Jacob," said the squire, civilly. " Oh, don't treat me with any ceremony, Albert. Being as we are such near relations, we ought to be free and easy like." 32 Five Hundred Dollars. " I am glad to hear you say so, for I shall be Obliged to treat you unceremoniously." " Eh? " said Uncle Jacob, inquiringly. " I regret to say that my wife, who is of a very delicate organization, is taken suddenly ill, and I am afraid I shall have to ask you to fi^Mt your visit short, and come again some other time." " I'm surprised to hear that, Albert. I thought Mrs. Marlowe looked in excellent health." " You can't always tell by outward ap- pearances. She is subject to severe head- aches, and in that condition can't bear the least noise or excitement. That is why I can't invite you to stay any longer." " I understand," said Uncle Jacob, with — it might have been — a little significance in his tone. " I have no doubt," went on the squire, " that Mrs. Barton will be glad to have you pay her a short visit. I will get Percy to drive you down there." " Thank you," answered the old man, dryly, " but it's only a little way, and I don't mind walking." " Just as you prefer," said the squire, re- lieved by Uncle Jacob's declination of his of- Five Hundred Dollars. 33 fer, for he knew that Percy would not enjoy the trip. " I'll get ready to go at once, Albert. Oh, about my plan of opening a cigar store in Lakeville?" " I cannot advise you to do it," rejoined the squire, hastily. " You Avouldn't make enough to pay your rent, or not much more." " Don't the men in your factory smoke? There's a good many of them. If I could get their trade " " They smoke pipes for the most part," said the squire, hurriedly. " They'd find cigars too expensive." " I meant to combine candy with cigars. That would be a help." " They keep candy at the grocery store. Uncle Jacob." " I see there isn't much show for me. Now if I only understood your business, you could give me something to do in the factory, Al- bert." " But you don't, and, in fact. Uncle Jacob, it's too hard work for a man of your age." " Then what would you advise me to do, Albert?" asked the old man, earnestly. Squire Marlowe assumed a thoughtful look. In fact, he was jtuzzled to decide how best to get rid of the troublesome old man. To have 34 Five Hundred Dollars. him remain in Lakeville was not to be thought of. He would gladly have got rid of Mrs. Barton and her son, whose relationship to his family was unfortunately known, but there seemed to be no way clear to that without the expenditure of money. To have Uncle Jacob for a neighbor, in addition, would be a source of mortification, not only to himself, but even more to his wife and Percy, w^hose aristocratic ideas he well knew. " I think you told me you had five hundred dollars," he said, after a pause. " About that." " Then I really think it would be the best thing you could do to go back to California, where you are known, and where you can doubtless obtain some humble employment which will supply your moderate wants. It won't cost you much for dress " " No, Albert ; this coat and vest will, do me for best five years longer." " Just so ! That is fortunate. So you see you've only got your board to pay." " I might get sick," suggested Uncle Jacob, doubtfully. " You look pretty healthy. Besides, you'll have part of your five hundred dollars left, you know." " That's so ! What a good calculator you Five Hundred Dollars. 35 are, Albert ! Besides, if things came to the worst, there's that five hundred dollars I lent your father twenty-seven years ago. No doubt you'd pay me back, and " " I don't know what you refer to," said Squire Marlowe, coldly. " Surely you haven't forgot the time when your father was so driven for money, when you were a lad of fifteen, and I let him have all I had except about fifty dollars that I kept for a rainy day." " This is news to me. Uncle Jacob,'"' said the squire, with a chilling frown. " You must excuse me for saying that I think you labor under a delusion." Uncle Jacob surveyed his neighbor intently, with a gaze which disconcerted him in spite of his assurance. " Fortunately, I am able to prove what I say," he rejoined, after a slight pause. He drew from his pocket a wallet which bore the signs of long wear, and, opening it, deliberately drew out a folded sheet of note paper, grown yellow with age and brittle with much handling. Then, adjusting his spec- tacles, he added : " Here's something I'd like to read to you, Albert. It's written by your father : 36 Five Hundred Dollars. My Dear Jacob: I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for lending me the five hundred dollars I so urgently need. I know it is very nearly, if not quite, all you possess in the world, and that you can ill spare it. It will save me from failure, and sometime I hope to repay it to you. If I cannot, I will ask my son Albert to do so when he is able. I don't want you to lose by your kindness to me. Your affectionate brother, Charles Marlowe. " You can see the signature, Albert. You know your father's handwriting, don't you?" Squire Marlowe reluctantly took the paper and glanced at it. " It may be my fathers writing," he said. " May be ! " repeated the old man, indig- nantly. "What do you mean by that?" " I dare say it is. In fact, I remember his mentioning the matter to me before he died." " What did he say? " " That it was quite a favor to him, the loan, but that he repaid it within three 3'ears from the time he received it." "What!" exclaimed Uncle Jacob, pushing his spectacles up, in his amazement. " Your father said that?" Five Hundred Dollars, 37 " Yes, he did," answered Albert Marlowe, with unabashed effrontery. " That he paid back the five hundred dollars I lent hirn?" " That's what I said," repeated the squire, impatiently. " Then it's a lie — not of my brother's, but of — somebody's. That money remains unpaid to this day." Squire Marlowe shrugged his shoulders. " No doubt you think so," he said, " but you are growing old, and old people are forgetful. That is the most charitable view to take of your statement." " I wouldn't have believed this, Albert," said the old man, sorrowfully. " And you a rich man, too! I don't mind the money. I can get along without it. But to be told that I am claiming what has already been repaid ! " " I don't lay it up against you," went on the squire, smoothly. " I've no doubt you have forgotten the payment of the debt, and " " I don't forget so easily, though I am sixty- five. Don't fear that I shall ask for it again — indeed, I haven't asked for it at all — but I shall not forget how you have treated my claim. Of course it amounts to nothing in law — it's outlawed long ago — but I only wish 38 Five Hundred Dollars. my poor brother were alive to disprove your words." Even Albert Marlowe was shamed by t£e old man's sorrowful dignity. " We can't agree about that, Uncle Jacob," he said ; " but if ever you get very hard up, let me know, and I'll see if I can't help you — in a small way." " You are very kind," answered the old man, " but I don't think that time will come. As you say, my wants are few, and I am still able to work. I'll go up to my room and get my valise, and then I'll go over to Mary Bar- ton's." " Thank Heaven ! I've got rid of him," mused the squire, as from the doorway he saw Uncle Jacob walking slowly down the street. " I was afraid he'd mention that money he lent father. With twenty-seven years' inter- est it would amount to a good deal of money — more than I could well spare. I don't think I shall hear from it again." " Has he gone, Albert? " asked Mrs. Mar- lowe, returning to the breakfast-room. " Yes ; I told him you were indisposed, and couldn't stand excitement." " No matter what you told him, as long as we are rid of him." Five Hundred Dollars. 39 CHAPTER VI. SQUIRE MARLO\YE IS SURPRISED. Mrs. Barton was washing the breakfast dishes, and was alone, Bert having gone to his daily work at the shoe shop, when the outer door opened and Uncle Jacob entered the cottage, valise in hand. " I've accepted your offer sooner than you expected, Mary," he said. *" You are heartily welcome. Uncle Jacob," responded his niece, with evident sincerity. " If you can put up with our poor accommoda- tions after being entertained in Albert's lux- urious home " " Don't trouble yourself about that, Mary," interrupted the old man. " Albert doesn't want me. He civilly asked me to find another stopping place." " You don't mean it ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bar- ton indignantly. " You see," explained Uncle Jacob, with a quiet smile, '' his wife was taken suddenly in- disposed — after she found I wasn't as rich as she expected." " I hope you won't take it too much to heart, Uncle Jacob," observed Mary Barton, in a tone of solicitude. 40 Five Hundred Dollars. Uncle Jacob's amused laugh reassured her. " It is just what I expected, Mary," he said, " and I shan't grieve over it much. You ought to have seen how they all looked when I asked Albert's advice about opening a small cigar and candy store in the village. You can imagine what a mortification it would be to my high-toned nephew to have my sign out, JACOB MARLOWE, Candy and Cigars. over a small seven by nine store, when our relationship was known." " I hope that won't prevent your carrying out the plan. Uncle Jacob. If your gains are small, you can make your home with us and pay what you can afford." " Thank you, Mary, you are a true friend, and I shan't forget your kind offer. But I never had the slightest idea of opening such a store. I only mentioned it to test Albert." " But you will have to do something. Uncle Jacob," said Mary Barton, perplexed ; " and that would be as easy as anything. Bert could go in the evening and help you if you found it too confining." " I have something else in view in the city," returned Jacob. " I don't need to earn much you know. I don't set up to be a dude," he Five Hundred Dollars. 41 added, with a comical glance at his rustic at- tire, " and I don't mean to board at the Fifth Avenue Hotel." " I am sorry you can't stay in Lakeville," said Mrs. Barton regretfully. " I will stay here a week, Mary, to get ac- quainted with you and your boy. I have taken a fancy to him. He is a fine, manly youth, worth a dozen of such fellows as Percy Mar- lowe." " Indeed, he is a good boy," said his mother proudly. " I don't see what I could do with- out him." " So, Mary, if you'll show me where you are going to accommodate me, I'll go up and take possession." " Will you mind my putting you in with Bert? I have but two chambers." " Not a bit. It will be all the better. If I were going to stay here permanently I would build an extension to the house for you." " But that would be expensive, Uncle Jacob." " So it would. I'm always forgetting that I am not a rich man. You see I was rich once. As I told Albert, I have seen the time when I had a hundred thousand dollars to my credit in a bank of Sacramento." " Oh, Uncle Jacob ! Why didn't you invest 42 Five Hundred Dollars. it in government bonds, and you would have been independent for life? " " Because I was not so prudent as my niece, I suppose. However, it's no use crying over spilt milk, and I've got a matter of five hun- dred dollars left." " But that won't last long. Uncle Jacob." " Not unless I Avork. But I'm pretty rugged yet, and I guess I can manage to scrape along." When Bert came home to dinner, he was sur- prised and pleased to find Uncle Jacob in- stalled and evidently feeling quite at home. " I wish I could stay at home this afternoon to keep you company," he said ; " but I have only an hour for dinner." *' Business first, my boy ! " said the old man. " For pleasure we'll wait till this evening. Is there a livery stable in the village? " " Yes, sir ; Houghton's." " Then after supper we'll hire a buggy, and you and your mother and I will take a ride." " But, Uncle Jacob, you forget that it will cost a dollar, or perhaps two." " No, I don't, Mary ; but I'm having a vaca tion, and I want to enjoy myself a little be fore pitching into hard work again. I am sure you will be the better for a ridCo" " Yes, I shall. I haven't had one for months, and it will be a real treat." Five Hundred Dollars. 43 " Tlien we will cast prudence to the winds for once, and have a good time. I suppose you can drive, Bert." " Oh yes, sir ; I like it. I worked for a few weeks in the grocery store, and drove every day. I like a horse." "So do I; but I don't care much about handling the reins myself. You'll promise not to upset the carriage, as Percy did the other day? " " Not unless' we meet two tramps, as he did," said Bert, laughing. " I declare, Mary, there is your boy calling his old uncle a tramp." " And myself, too, uncle." " That makes it seem a little better. Are you going back to the shop?" " Yes, uncle ; my time is up." " I'll walk along with you." As the two walked together, Uncle Jacob took a five dollar bill from his pocket, and handed it to Bert. " There, Bert," he said, " I want you to give that to your mother toward buying groceries and meat this week, as her expenses will be increased by my being in the house." " But, Uncle Jacob, we don't want you to pay boardo'* 44 Five Hundred Dollars. " t am able to do it, and prefer it, Bert. So say no more about it." In truth, this donation was a relief to Bert and his mother, for they were compelled to economize closely, and yet wanted to live well while Uncle Jacob was visiting them. About seven o'clock Bert drove round to the house in a handsome top buggy, drawn by a spirited black horse, the best in Houghton's stable. " I'll let you have it, Bert," said Mr. Hough- ton, " because I know you're a careful driver. There are few persons I would trust with Prince." " You may depend on me, Mr. Houghton." " I know I can, Bert ; " and with a few di- rections the stable keeper resigned the turn- out to Bert. " You have got a stylish rig, Bert," said Uncle Jacob. " I think we shall have to drive by Albert Marlowe's." " Just what I would like," remarked Bert, with a smile. Bert had his share of human nature, and rather enjoyed being seen by his aristocratic relatives in such a stylish turnout. Supper was over at Squire Marlowe's and the family were sitting on the piazza, the even- Five Hundred Dollars. 45 ing being warm, when Percy espied the buggy approaching. " I wonder who's driving Houghton's best team? " he said. " By gracious, if it isn't Bert Barton and his mother and Uncle Jacob!" he exclaimed, a minute later. The squire adjusted his eyeglasses, and looked at the carriage now nearly opposite. " You are right, Percy," he said. "What can it mean, Albert?" asked his wife, in bewilderment, as Uncle Jacob bowed from the buggy. " It means that a fool and his money are soon parted," answered the squire. " I thought your uncle was poor." " So he is, and he will soon be poorer from all appearances. Uncle Jacob never was a good financial manager. He was always too liberal, or he wouldn't be as poor as he is now. Why with five huudred dollars he probably feels as rich as a nabob." " No doubt Bert Barton will help him spend it," said Percy. " It won't last long at any rate, if he drives out every evening." " When his money is all gone he will prob- ably throw himself on you for support, father." " I wash my hands of him," said Squire 46 Five Hundred Dollars. Marlowe, in a hard tone. " If he squanders his money, he must take the consequences." " I am glad to hear you speak in that way, Albert," commented his wife, approvingly. Uncle Jacob enjoyed his drive and paid two dollars at the stable without letting the thought of his extravagance worry him. " I hope you enjoyed it, Mary,'^ he said. " I don't know when I have enjoyed myself so much, Uncle Jacob." " Nor I," put in Bert. " Then I think the money well spent. It makes me feel young again, Mary. I think I made a mistake in staying away so long."' CHAPTER VII. UNCLE JACOB LEAVES LAKEVILLE. On his way home to dinner the next day, Bert fell in with Percy Marlowe. " I saw you out driving last evening," re- marked Percy. " Yes," answered Bert composedly. "You had Houghton's best team?" " Yes." " How much did you have to pay? " " I believe Uncle Jacob paid two dollars." " He must be crazy to pay two dollars for a ride. Why, he's almost a pauper." Five Hundred Dollars. 47 " I think that is Ids business, Percy. As to being a pauper, I don't believe he will ever be that." " Don't be too sure of it. Why, he told father he had only five hundred dollars. How long do you think that's going to last him if he throws away his money on carriage rides? " " It's only for once, and, as I said, that isn't our business." " I don't know about that, either. When he has spent all his money he'll be coming upon father to support him." " I don't believe he will," said Bert, to whom it was disagreeable to hear the kind old man spoken of slightingly. " You see if he doesn't. But it won't do any good. Father saj^s as he makes his bed he must lie on it. And I say, Bert Barton, it isn't very creditable to you and your mother to help the old man squander his money." " I don't thank you for your advice, Percy Marlowe," retorted Bert, with spirit. " If ever Uncle Jacob does come to want, I'll work for him, and help him all I can." " You ! why you're as poor as poverty it- self ! " exclaimed Percy, with a mocking laugh. "Good morning!" said Bert shortly, pro- voked, but not caring to prolong the discus- sion. 48 Five Hundred Dollars. When he reached home, he gave Uncle Jacob an account of his conversation with Percy. The old man laughed. " So Albert says that as I make my bed I must lie upon it?" he repeated. " Yes, sir; but I hope you won't be troubled at that. You will always be welcome here." Uncle Jacob's eyes grew moist, and he re- garded Bert with affection. " You are a good boy and a true friend, Bert," he said, " and I shall not forget it." " I don't know but Percy was right. Uncle Jacob. It does seem extravagant paying such a price for a ride." " It's only for once in a way, Bert. Y'ou mustn't grudge the old man a little enjoyment in his vacation. I shall be going to work next week." "You will? Where?" asked Bert eagerly. " In New York. An old California friend of mine, who is in charge of a mine that has been put on the New York market, will give me a clerkship and a small salary which will support me in comfort. So you see I am all right." " I am very glad to bear it. Uncle Jacob," said Bert joyfully. " I was afraid you Five Hundred Dollars, 49 wouldn't find anything to do, and would have to spend all your money on living." " Come, Bert, that isn't much of a compli- ment to my ability. If I am sixty-five, I am able to earn a living yet, and though twelve dollars a week isn't much " " If I could earn twelve dollars a week I should feel rich. Uncle Jacob." " True, but you are only fifteen." " Almost sixteen." " I forgot that," said Uncle Jacob, smiling. " Well, even at sixteen, a boy can hardly ex- pect to earn as much as twelve dollars a week. By the way, how much does Albert pay you? " " Four dollars a week." " Is that about the usual price for boys employed as you are? " " Most shoe bosses pay more. The squire pays low wages all round." " Then why don't the men go elsewhere? " " Because they live here, and it is better to Avork cheaper here than to move. Some have gone away." " Well, keep up your courage, Bert, and the time will come when you will be earning twelve dollars a week like your rich old uncle. If the office were only in Lakeville, so that I could board with your mother " " I wish it was, Uncle Jacob." 5o Five Hundred Dollars. " Well, Mary, I shan't have to open a cigar store in Lakeville," remarked Uncle Jacob, as his niece entered the room. Mrs. Barton looked an inquiry, and Bert exclaimed : " Uncle Jacob has secured a clerk- ship in New York at twelve dollars a week." " I am really glad I " said Mrs. Barton, with beaming face. *' Come, Mary, did you too think, like Bert here, that I was headed for the poorhouse? " " I felt a little anxious for you. Uncle Jacob, I admit." " You see that your fears were idle." " Will you have to work very hard? " asked Mrs. Barton. "No; my emplo^^er is an intimate friend." " When do you commence work? " " Next Monday, so that I must leave you on Saturday." " Bert and I will both miss you; but as it is for your good, we won't complain. Now, Uncle Jacob, I hope you won't take it amiss if I urge you not to be too free with your money, but to try to save up some of your salary so that you can add to your little fund." " Thank you, Mary. I suppose you a^e afraid I will be driving fast horses in Central Park, eh?" " I am more afraid you will be too generous Five Hundred Dollars. 51 Mr. Kobinson, he felt the latter tremble. " Do you remember your father, Herbert? " asked the supposed stranger. " Not very well. He died when I was quite a young boy." " True ! It was indeed a long time since," murmured Robinson, with a sigh. " Bert, I have invited Mr. Robinson to stay with us to-night. It is long since I have seen him and we may not meet again for some time. He will share your room." " Certainly, mother." They went together to the cottage. Mrs. Barton prepared some tea, and they sat down to a slight meal. "Oh, if it could only continue thus!" thought Simeon Barton, as he looked wistfully at the wife and son from whom he had been so long separated. "It is like a sight of the promised land." " Do you know my mother's cousin, Al- bert Marlowe? " asked Bert, during the evening. " I used to know him some years ago." Five Hundred Dollars. 60 "Shall you call upon him? He is a ricli man now." '' I think not. I never — liked — him much." Bert laughed. "Ditto for me!" he said. "He is a cold, selfish man. He is not popular with his work- men." " By the way, Bert," said his mother, " you need not mention Mr. Robinson's visit. His business requires secrecy." "All right, mother! I'll bear it in mind." CHAPTER X. STOLEN MONEY. Saturday afternoon arrived, and with it came Bert's discharge from the shoe shop. He put the four dollars in his pocket, and with a sober face went home. " There are my week's wages, mother," he said. " I don't know when I shall have any more money to hand you." " We won't borrow trouble to-night, Bert," responded Mrs. Barton, concealing her solici- tude under a cheerful exterior. " To-morrow is Sunday, and we will defer all worldly anx- ieties till it is over." " You are right, mother," said Bert, readily 70 Five Hundred Dollars. chiming Id with her cheerful humor. " I am young and strong, and there is plenty of work to be done in the world." " Keep up your courage, Bert, and you will be more likely to win success." When Sunday was over, however, Bert felt that he must begin to look about him. But the more he looked the more downhearted he became. He went to the village store, having heard that the boy employed there was about to leave. After buying a pound of sugar for his mother, he ventured to say, " Mr. Jones, don't you want to hire a boy?" " Why should I want to hire a boy? " asked the store-keeper, in a tone of surprise. " I thought that Herman was going to leave you." " So he was, but he has changed his mind." " Oh ! " ejaculated Bert, disappointed. " Are you asking for yourself? " inquired the merchant. " Yes, sir." " I thought you were at work in the shoe shop." " So I was, but I have lost my place." "Ha!" exclaimed the store-keeper suspi- ciously. "If Squire Marlowe has discharged you, I don't want to hire you." " You are mistaken, Mr. Jones, about the Five Hundred Dollars. 71 cause of my discharge. He had no fault to find with me." " So you say," returned Jones, in evident skepticism. " Boys don't get discharged for nothing." Bert felt inclined to be angry, but he con- trolled his temper. " I am a pegger, and the squire has intro- duced a pegging machine, so he has discharged all the peggers." " Oh, that's different. Well, I'm sorry for you, but I have no vacancy." " If Herman should change his mind again, will you think of me?" " Yes, I will. I think j^ou are a good boy, and you look strong for your size." Bert felt a little encouraged by this promise, though it was very doubtful if it would ever amount to anything. Day after day passed, and no employment offered. But one morning a bright idea came to Bert. Blueberries were just coming into the market, and he knew of a large pasture a little over a mile away. " Mother," he said, " if you'll give me a large tin pail, I'll go after some berries. I may be able to sell them at the hotel." " If you can't, we can use them ourselves," rejoined Mrs. Barton. 72 Five Hundred Dollars. " It will be better to sell thera, for I hear they are bringing fifteen cents' a quart. They won't stay long at that figure, so we will put off having them ourselves till they are cheaper." It was with a light heart that Bert set out for the berry pasture. He had become tired of having nothing to do. Any sort of employ- ment seemed desirable. Besides, they were very much in want of money, and here seemed a chance of earning some. Bert spent five hours in the pasture. Ber- ries were high, because they were scarce, and it took fully twice as long to gather a quart as it would two weeks later. But he kept steadily at his task, and at length the pail — which held four quarts — was full. He was tired enough and his back ached, but still he felt happy as he left the field and trudged to- ward the Lake House, which was the name of the village hotel. There were a few summer boarders there from New York and Philadel- phia, who were glad to exchange the brick walls and crowded city streets for the verdure and pure breezes of the country. Fortunately Bert found the landlord on the piazza, and to him he preferred his request. " Would you like to buy some blueberries? " " Go round to the side door, Bert," said Mr. Five Hundred Dollars. 73 Holbrook, the good-natured landlord. " I leave all such matters to Mrs. Holbrook." " Blueberries? " exclaimed the landlady. " Why, it's just what I wanted. Mrs. Case- well, from Philadelphia, has been teasing me for some blueberry pudding. What do you ask?" " Fifteen cents a quart," answered Bert. " You know they have just come into the market." " That's true. Well, I will pay you your price," said Mrs. Holbrook, who received a good income from her boarders, and was will- ing to be liberal to others, '' How many have you got? " " I think there are four quarts, but you can measure them." There proved to be four quarts, and Bert was made happy by receiving sixty cents in silver. " It is almost as much as I made in the shop," he reflected complacently. '' And per- haps I can sell some more to-morrow." Bert continued to pick berries, but the price fell rapidly until it touched six cents, and it was not so easy to sell the berries at all, for many others engaged in picking them, and the market was overstocked. Bert occasionally fell in with Percy Mar- 74 Five Hundred Dollars. lowe, but the manufacturer's son usually took very little notice of him. This did not trou- ble Bert, however, who felt independent, and cared little for the opinion or notice of his wealthy cousin. In one respect, however, Percy resembled Bert. He was always short of money. His father allowed him two dollars a week for spending money, more than any other boy in Lakeville received, but Percy felt that it was too little. He had formed an intimacy with Eeginald Ward, a young man from New York, who was boarding at the hotel, and with him he used to play pool, which he found rather an expensive game; and still worse, he played poker with him in his own room, locking the door carefully, as this game was not looked upon with favor in Lakeville. The young man from the city was much sharper than the country boy, and steadily won his money till Percy found himself in debt to him in the sum of ten dollars. For this Percy gave his note, but no one knew better than Reginald Ward that it was not valid in law, and he re- solved to secure the money, if possible. " Percy, you owe me ten dollars," he said one afternoon. ^' I know it/^ admitted Percy, rather rue- fully. Five Hundred Dollars. 75 " When are yon going to pay me? " " I don't know," answered Percy. " But that won't do, don't you know," re- turned Reginald frowning. '' I may go away next week, and I want mv money." " I would pay it to you if I had it," said Percy; "but you know I have only my allow- ance of two dollars a week." " Stuff and nonsense ! Do you think you are going to put me off that way? " demanded Reginald angrily. " I must have my money." " Then I don't see how you're going to get it," said Percy doggedly. " I can't pay what I haven't got." " Go to your father and ask for it." " As if he would give it to me ! You don't know" him," " Doesn't he ever leave money lying round? " asked Reginald significantly. "What do you mean?" asked Percy, red- dening. " I see you understand. I was only suggest- ing a way to get the money." " I am not a thief." " Who said you were? I see I shall have to take the matter into my own hands." " How? What do you mean? " asked Percy nervously. " I will go to your father, show him this 76 Five Hundred Dollars. I O U of yours, and ask him for the money." " You wouldn't do that, Reginald? He would be awful mad with me, and you wouldn't get your money, either." " I must do something. I can't afford to lose the money." " Just wait a day or two. I'll see what I can do." " Mind you do something, then." Percy regretted that he had ever made the acquaintance of Reginald Ward, or con- sented to play poker with him, but the regret came too late. The mischief was done, and he saw from Ward's determined look that he must do something. He was just in that frame of mind when temptations have the most power. In the evening he went to the village store to purchase a fishing-line, for he had made an arrangement to go out fishing with Reginald Ward the next day. He made the purchase, and was about to go when his eye caught sight of a twenty-dollar bill lying on the desk. Mr. Jones had gone to the other end of the store, and no one was looking. On the impulse of the moment he seized the bill, and with his heart beating quickly, he left the store. As he passed through the door Bert Barton en- tered with a kerosene can in his hand, and Five Hundred Dollars. 77 walked up to the counter, taking his stand near the desk. CHAPTER XI. THE TWENTY-DOLLAR BILL. In order to understand what followed, it is necessary to explain that the evening pre- vious Bert and his mother found themselve- out of money. About a dollar was due the latter for covering balls, but it would not be paid for three days, and meanwhile they were in an embarrassing condition. "What shall we do?" asked Mrs. Barton, with a troubled look. " If Uncle Jacob were only here, I would ask his advice." " He left a note to be opened if we got into trouble," said Bert, brightening up. " So he did. Do you think the time has come, Bert? " " I have no doubt of it. Where is it, mother? " " I put it in a bureau drawer in my room." "Shall I go up and get it?" " No ; I will do so, as I know exactly w^here it is." She went upstairs, and returned almost im- mediately with the letter in her hand. Bert produced his knife and cut open the envelope ^S Five Hundred Dollars. at one end. Then, drawing out the contents, he found them to be a half sheet of note paper and a bank bill. "It's a twenty-dollar bill, mother!" he ex- claimed joyfully. "Shall I read the note?" "Yes, read it, Bert." Bert read as follows: My Dear Niece : As I know your income is small, and you are liable, in case of sickness or loss of employment to need help, I put a twenty-dollar bill into this envelope, which I wish you to use freely. Do not fear that it will inconvenience me to give it. My health is good, and I hope to earn my living for years to come. Your affectionate uncle, Jacob Marlowe. " Dear Uncle Jacob," said the widow grate- fully, " how good and kind he is. With his small savings I don't feel that he can afford to be so generous." " I will pay him back some time, mother." " You think then that we are justified in using it, Bert?" " Uncle Jacob meant us to do so. Before it is gone I shall probably find something to do, Five Hundred Dollars. 79 and then I may gradually be able to pay back the money." " In that case, Bert, I am afraid we must break into it to-morrow. Probably Mr. Jones can change it for us." So it happened the next evening that Bert, with the kerosene can in his hand, went to the store, entering, as already described, just as Percy left it with the bill which he had pur- loined on the impulse of the moment. " I would like two quarts of kerosene, Mr. Jones," said Bert, handing over the can. The proprietor went to one corner of the store to fill the can, and brought it back. " Please take your pay out of this," said Bert, handing him the twenty-dollar bill. Mr. Jones started in surprise, and. his face darkened ominously. He scanned the desk on which he remembered placing his own twenty- dollar bill, and it was nowhere to be seen. " Wliy, you audacious young thief!" he ex- claimed in a fury. "What do you mean?" demanded Bert angrily. "What do I mean?" gasped Jones. "You know what I mean well enough. I never knew such audacity." " Please explain yourself, Mr. Jones," said 8o Five Hundred Dollars. Bert with spirit. " I didn't come here to bfe insulted." " You are a hardened young reprobate ! Do jou mean to say you didn't steal this twenty- dollar bill from my desk, where I laid it five minutes since? " " I don't know anything about any twenty- dollar bill of yours, Mr. Jones. This money is mine, or rather my mother's, and I brought it with me from home." " Do you expect me to believe this bold falsehood, Bert Barton? " the store-keeper ex- ploded wrath fully. " I don't expect you to believe any falsehood at all, Mr. Jones. Will you either change that bill or give it back to me?" " I will do neither." " Then, sir, it is you who are the thief." " You impudent young rascal, now I won't have any mercy on you. For your mother's sake, I might have done so, but as you persist in brazening out your guilt, I will see that you have a chance to repent. Here is the con- stable come in just at the right moment. Mr. Drake, please come here." A tall, pleasant-looking officer, who had just entered the store, approached the desk. " What can I do for you, Mr. Jones? " he asked. Five Hundred Dollars. 8i "Arrest this boy!" said Jones, pointing with flushed face at his joung customer. " Arrest Bert Barton ! " exclaimed Consta- ble Drake, in amazement. '' What on earth has he done? " " Stolen a twenty-dollar bill from my desk, and then presented it to me in payment for some kerosene." " The charge is false ! " said Bert, his eyes glowing with indignation. " Hear him deny it ! " said Jones, looking at the circle that had gathered around them. " I find it hard to credit your charge, Mr. Jones," replied the constable. " We all know Bert Barton, and I don't believe he would be guilty of theft." " I require you to arrest the boy ! " persisted the store-keeper, stamping his foot in excite- ment. "Wait a moment! Did you see him take the bill?" " No," answered Jones reluctantly. "Then why do you accuse him? Please state the circumstances." " A few minutes since I was paid twenty, dollars by Mr. Holbrook of the hotel, in settle- ment of his weekly bill for groceries, and being somewhat hurried I laid it down on the desk while I was filling an order." 82 Five Hundred Dollars. " Go on ! " " Five minutes since Bert Barton came in and took up his position where he is now standing. He asked me for two quarts of kerosene. I filled his can for him, and he gave me a twentj-dollar bill from which to take payment. I was naturally surprised, and looked for the bill I had left on the desk. It was gone!" Mr. Jones gazed about the circle triumph- antly. "What do you say to that?" he asked. Sympathetic eyes were turned upon Bert. Things certainly looked black for him. " I don't think I need say any more,'^ added the store-keeper. " I want you to arrest that boy." Bert looked at the faces that encircled him. He saw that they believed him guilty, and a feeling of hot indignation possessed him. " Bert, my boy," said Officer Drake, " what have you to say to this? " " That the twenty-dollar bill I handed to Mr. Jones belongs to my mother. I know nothing of the bill he says he laid on his desk." " That's a likely story ! '' put in Mr. Jones, in a tone of sarcasm. " How many more Five Hundred Dollars. 83 twenty-dollar bills have you got at your house? I wasn't aware that your mother was so wealthy." Again opinion was unfavorable to poor Bert. His mother's straitened circumstances were well known, and it certainly did seem improbable upon the face of it that she should have a twenty-dollar bill in her possession. " This was the only twenty-dollar bill that my mother had," replied Bert. " Oh, indeed ! I thought as much," said Mr. Jones significantly. " Mr. Drake, do you intend to arrest that boy? " he added angrily. " I have no warrant," returned the officer. " If you will swear that you saw him take the bill, I will assume the responsibility." " I didn't see him take it," the store-keeper again admitted reluctantly; "but it stands to reason that it is mine." Here a young man in the outer circle stepped forward. He was a summer boarder at the hotel, and Bert knew him slightly. " I am a lawyer," he said, " and if Bert v/ili place his' interests in my hands I will see what I can do to throw light upon this mystery." " I shall be very glad to do so, Mr. Con- way," answered Bert. " No lawyer is needed," sputtered Jones. " The c^se is as plain as can be. I have no §4 Five Hundred Dollars. ''more doubt that the boy took my bill than if I had seen him do it." "That isn't legal proof; it is only an as- sumption," said the young lawyer. " Squire Marlowe is, I believe, your magistrate here, and I agree in behalf of my client to have the matter brought before him to-morrow morn- ing. Meanwhile, Mr. Jones, will you hand the twenty-dollar bill in dispute to officer Drake? " "Why should I? The bill is mine," said the merchant sullenly. " That remains to be proved. Do I under- stand that you refuse to give up the bill? " " I do? " answered Jones doggedly. " Then I will apply at once for a warrant for your arrest for holding property belonging to my young client," said Mr. Conway. CHAPTER XII. MR. JONES IS EXCITED. The astonishment and wrath of Mr. Jones were almost ludicrous as he stared at the lawyer, who, cool and composed, reiterated his threat. "I never heard of such a thing!" he gasped. " You take my own money from me?" Five Hundred Dollars. 85 " It remains to be proved whether it is your own money. The boy says it is his." "The boy lies." " Really, Mr. Jones, I cannot allow you to make such charges against my client, unless you are ready to substantiate them by proof." " It stands to reason," began Mr. Jones, but the young lawyer interrupted him. " Nothing stands to reason that you can't prove," he said. " We will give you an opportunity to prove your ownership of the bill to-morrow in court. Now hand the bill to officer Drake." Very much against his will, Mr. Jones felt compelled to do this. "Isn't the boy going to be arrested?" he demanded, with an ugly look at Bert. " It is unnecessary. You can bring a formal charge against him before Squire Mar- lowe to-morrow." " The boy may escape during the night. I won't trust him." There was a murmur of disapproval among those present. All liked Bert, and Mr. Jones, from his quick temper and ugly disposition, was by no means a favorite. The store-keeper saw that it would not be good policy to insist upon Bert's arrest, and he said, sullenly, " I S6 Five Hundred Dollars. s will hold you responsible for his presence at the trial." Mr. Conway smiled. " If he is not present, I will myself see that you do not suffer in consequence. Besides, flight would be tantamount to confession, and the case would go against him by de- fault." " And should I in that case get the twenty- dollar bill?" " I will take it upon me to offer no opposi- tion," said the lawyer. " Now, can I go? " asked Bert. " Yes ; I will accompany you home for con- sultation." Bert took the can of kerosene and was about to leave the store, when the store-keeper said harshly : " Put down that kerosene ! you haven't paid for it ! " Bert flushed and looked embarrassed. It was true that he had not paid for it, nor did he have the money to pay, outside of the twenty-dollar bill which had been taken from him. " I have no money," he said. '' I will leave it till to-morrow." " How much is it, Mr. Jones? " asked Con- way. " Twenty-five cents." Five Hundred Dollars. 87 " I will advance the money. Bert, take your can." " You are very kind, Mr. Conway," said the boy gratefully. " We will settle hereafter. Now let us be going." In explanation of the price mentioned, I may say that kerosene is now much cheaper than at the date of my story. " Now, Bert," said Mr. Conway, " as your legal adviser I shall have to ask you to tell me just where you obtained the bill you offered in payment to Mr. Jones for the kero- sene. I have no doubt of your Innocence, but we must make it plain to all who may attend the trial." " I should like to have you come home with me, Mr. Conway. Mother will confirm what I say." " I shall be glad to do so. Will your mother be alarmed? " " Yes, I think she will ; but you can make things clear to her." Mrs. Barton was indeed startled when she learned that Bert had been charged with theft, but after a free talk with Mr. Conway she felt much relieved. " Your defence is perfect, I think," said the young lawyer. " Of course Mr. Jones or his 88 Five Hundred Dollars. lawyer may claim that you wrote the letter yourself." '^ Will it be necessary to send to Uncle Jacob and get him to testify? " " I don't think so. I think your defence will be complete without it. There is another point of considerable importance which I shall look up to-night. If things turn out as I suspect they will, we shall not need to dis- turb your Uncle Jacob." At nine o'clock Mr. Conway took his leave and returned to the hotel. He had a short conference with the landlord, which was evi- dently satisfactory. " I think we shall prove too many for Mr. Jones," he murmured softly, as he went up to bed. CHAPTER XIII. PERCY GETS RID OF THE BILL. When Percy Marlowe left the grocery store with the stolen bill in his hand, he was tremulous with excitement and agitation. He felt that he had committed a crime, and he was almost tempted to go back and replace the money. But it was possible that its loss had already been discovered, and he might be connected with it. He felt that it would be Five Hundred Dollars. 89 safe to get as far away as possible from the store. " Nobody will suspect me," he said to him- self, plucking up courage. Then there was the pleasant thought that he could pay up his debt to Reginald Ward, and have ten dollars left over. It would be very comfortable to have ten dollars to spend, and Percy, whose conscience was not sensitive, be- gan to consider what would be the pleas- antest way of disposing of it. He soon came to a decision on this point, having, like most boys, rather a talent for spending money. " I'll go round by the hotel," he said to himself, " and if I find Reg there I'll pay him what I owe him and get it off my mind." Percy walked around to the Lake House, and found Reginald Ward in the billiard room. Ward treated him rather coldly. " Good-morning, Percy," he said. " Good-morning, Reg." " I hope you have come prepared to pay me what you owe me. I may have to go back to New York to-morrow." " I wish he would," thought Percy. " Then, if there's any trouble about this money, he will be well out of the wa}', and nobody can find out about it." " I can pay you to-night," said Percy. 90 Five Hundred Dollars. '* You can? You're a trump!" said Regi- nald, in gratified surprise. " Suppose we go up to your room," went on Percy nervously, " and don't talk about it here. I don't want anybody to know that I am owing you any money." " I understand. The governor wouldn't like it, hey? " ^' No, he'd be awful mad." " Follow me, then, Percy," and Ward led the way up to his room. " Lock the door," said Percy. " Seems to me we are mighty mysterious," commented Ward, laughing. '' Oh, well ; any- thing to accommodate. Now, where are the spondulicks? " "Can you change a twenty-dollar bill?" asked Percy. " Whew ! you are wealthy," said Ward, in surprise. " Let me see ! " and he opened his pocket book. " Much as ever," he replied, after investigating the contents. " Here is a five, a two, a silver dollar, and I think I can make up two dollars in small change. It'll take up about all I've got." " Then perhaps you'd rather wait till I have a chance to get the bill changed," suggested Percy. " Not much," returned Reginald, with a Five Hundred Dollars. gt crafty smile. " ' A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,' as somebody says. I am willing to be inconvenienced for the sake of getting the debt paid." " Oh, well ; just as you say," rejoined Percy, secretly glad to get the tell-tale bill out of his possession, and to replace it in his pocket with the smaller bills and silver which Ward pro- posed to give him. When the transfer was made, Ward asked, "Where did you raise the twenty, Percy?" Now it was that Percy looked embarrassed. " It is some money I had given to me a long while ago," he answered with hesitation. " Oh ! " exclaimed Ward, evidently incred- ulous. " I promised not to use it, but to keep iti saved up," continued Percy, " and I meant to ; but you wanted me to pay what I owed you, and so " " You acted like an honest young man," said Ward, finishing his sentence for him. " Yes." There was a peculiar smile on Reginald Ward's' face, but he did not think it best to question Percy's statement. His money had been paid him, and that was all he cared for. " Percy's found it in his father's desk, I reckon," be said to himself, " but that doesn't 92 Five Hundred Dollars. concern me. I've got my money and that's more than I expected." " By the way, Reg," said Percy hurriedly, " don't mention to any one my paying you this money." " Why not? " " It would be found out that I had been playing cards for money, and there'd be no end of a row. Besides, then it would come out that I had parted with this bill." " All right, Percy. I'll keep mum. Won't you go down and have a game of billiards? " " Not to-night. I'm rather tired." " That boy's got something on his mind," thought Reginald Ward. CHAPTER XIV. BERT STANDS TRIAL. Percy went to bed early, and heard nothing of Bert's arrest for the theft which he had himself committed till at the breakfast table the next morning his father said : " Well, young Barton has got into a bad scrape." " What is it, father? " asked Percy, prick- ing up his ears. " He is charged with stealing a twenty-dol- lar bill from Mr. Jones, the store-keeper." Five Hundred Dollars. 93 This was certainly amazing, and Percy, in his agitation, nearly choked with some coffcb that went the wrong way. '^ Be more careful, Percy ! " said his mother sharply. " I was so surprised, mother, at what father told me," apologized Percy. " I don't know why you need be surprised," said Mrs. Marlowe. " I never had a very good opinion of the boy." "How did it happen?" asked Percy, curious to know how suspicion could have fallen upon Bert. " It appears that Mr. Jones laid a twenty- dollar bill on his desk — a very careless pro- ceeding, by the way — while he was waiting upon a customer in another part of the store. About five minutes afterward the Barton boy called upon him to fill a small can with kero- sene, and actually had the hardihood to offer his own twenty-dollar bill in payment.'' " Bert Barton offered Mr. Jones a twenty- dollar bill? " asked Percy, in great surprise. "Yes; no wonder you are surprised at his boldness." " Perhaps it wasn't the same bill," Percy was constrained to suggest. " You must be a fool, Percy. Where else could he have got so large a bill as that? We 94 Five Hundred Dollars. all know how poor the Bartons are. Besides, the bill on the desk had disappeared." Percy was silent for a moment. He felt be- wildered, and could not understand it at all. He knew very well that it was not the same bill. But where did the other bill come from? How happened a poor boy like Bert Barton to have such a large bill in his possession? That was certainly mysterious. " Was — was Bert arrested?" he asked, in a hesitating tone. " He would have been but for the interfer- ence of a meddlesome young lawyer, who, it appears, is staying at the hotel." "Mr. Conway?" ^' I believe that is his name. He offered to defend the Barton boy, and would not permit him to be arrested." Percy was glad to hear this. He was mean and selfish, but he was not mean enough to wish Bert to suffer for a crime of which he knew him to be innocent. "What was done, then?" he asked, after a pause. " The boy was allowed to go home, but his trial is to take place before me this morning at ten o'clock. You can be present, if you desire." ^* I— (ion't — know as I do," said Percy. Five Hundred Dollars. 95 His father looked surprised. " I thought you would be eager to be there," he said. "I may come in," said Percy; "but I am sorry for Bert, and I should not like to see him under arrest." " You are too good-hearted, Percy," said his mother. " I am sure I hope the boy did not do what is charged, though I don't think there is the slightest doubt of it; but if he is guilty I want him punished. That is the only way to protect the community from further thefts." " What would mother say if she knew I did it?" thought Percy, shivering. "I wish I hadn't done it." But it was too late to wish that. He had appropriated the money, and it had been paid aw^ay. Suppose Reginald Ward should be- tray him? Percy earnestly hoped that he would leave town before he had a chance to hear of the stolen money, for he felt certain that sharp young man would suspect him of having had something to do with it. As the time drew near, Percy decided that he had better not attend the trial. He was afraid that some one would call to mind that he too had been standing near the desk just before the bill disappeared. He felt nervous o6 Five Hundred Dollars. and excited. He wished it was all over, and Bert was acquitted. Suppose he were found guilty and sentenced to imprisonment? It would be terrible, Percy admitted to himself; but what could he do? He couldn't confess, and incur the same punishment himself. The very thought made him shudder. He walked about the streets in a very uncomfortable frame of mind till about a quarter of ten. Then he suddenly encountered Bert, who, in company with his lawyer, was on his way to a room in the town hall where the trial was to take place. Bert held his head erect, but his face was flushed with shame at the unpleas- ant predicament in which he found himself. When he saw Percy approaching he said to himself bitterly : " There is one who will re- joice at my misfortune." What was his surprise, then, when Percy came up with a pleasant smile, and said, " Good-morning, Bert." Bert looked at him sharply, to see if there was anything triumphant in his smile, but Percy^s manner was cordial and friendly. "Have you heard of my trouble, Percy?" asked Bert abruptly. " Yes, Bert, and I am very sorry for it." "Do you believe me guilty?" Five Hundred Dollars. 97 " No, I don't," returned Percy, and he offered his hand. " Thank you, Percy," said Bert, moved in spite of himself. " I misjudged you. If yow don't believe me guilty, I hope others won't. Are you going to the trial? " " I wasn't thinking of doing so, but I will walk with you as far as the town hall.'^ There was' quite a crowd gathered near the entrance to the building, for it was generally known that Bert was to be tried for the theft that morning. Some of those composing it — in fact most^ — were Bert's friends; but there were a few whp delighted in scandal and looked forward with eagerness to hearing the details, and did not care much how Bert might be affected by it. The surprise was general when Bert ap- proached, apparently in friendly converse with Percy Marlowe, a boy whose want of cordial feeling toward him was generally known. The occasion was a trial for Bert, "i but Percy's unexpected friendliness sustained him, though he had not got over his surprise at it. All parties entered the court-room, and presently Squire ^Nfarlowe himself appeared. He walked with dignity to the platform, and 98 Five Hundred Dollars. took his seat behind the desk over which jus- tice was dispensed. " Who is the complainant in this case? " he asked. " I am, squire," said Mr. Jones, advancing eagerly. " State your case." " I charge this boy — Bert Barton — with stealing a twenty-dollar bill from my desk last evening." "Have you counsel?" " No, squire. The case is plain, and I can manage it myself." " I represent the defendant," said the young lawyer Conway. " You are a lawyer, are you? " asked Squire Marlowe, frowning. " Yes, sir." " Have you any evidence or certificate to show this? " " I can prove it, if necessary ; but I will ven- ture to suggest that your doubts on the sub- ject are very singular, and that, lawyer or no lawyer, I am at liberty to appear for the de- fendant if he desires it." Squire Marlowe coughed and looked dis- pleased at this remark. " State your case, Mr. Jones," he said, after the latter had been sworn. Five Hundred Dollars. 99 The grocer told the storj as it happened, making it bear as heavily against Bert as pos- sible. " Do you wish to ask the witness any questions, Mr, Conway," inquired the judge. " Yes, sir. Mr. Jones, what makes you think my client took your twenty-dollar bill?" " It stands to reason — " commenced the grocer. " Never mind about that ! Please stick to facts." " Well, the bill disappeared." " Admitted. Go on." " The Barton boy was standing near the desk." " Did you see him take it? " "No; how could I? My back was turned." " This is important. Then, so far as your knowledge goes, any other person may have taken the bill." " Didn't I tell you that the boy was brazen enough to of^'er me the same bill in payment for some kerosene which I got for him?" " You are very sure it was the same bill, are you, Mr. Jones? " asked Conway carelessly. " Why, of course it was." " That won't do I How can you prove ifc was? " 100 Five Hundred Dollars. " Because," said the grocer triumphantly^ " the bill I lost was a twenty-dollar bill, and the bill the boy offered me was a twenty-dol- lar bill," and Mr. Jones looked around the court-room with a complacent and triumphant smile. Squire Marlowe, judge though he was, gave a little nod, as if to show that he, too, thought the argument was unanswerable. Even Bert's friends in the court-room glanced at each other gravely. It certainly looked bad for our hero. CHAPTER XV. BERT'S TRIUMPHANT VINDICATION. " You have not answered my question, Mr. Jones," persisted the young lawyer. ^' I rather think I have," said the grocer, looking around him triumphantly. " But not satisfactorily. I ask you again, how do you know that the twentj'-dollar bill tendered you by my client was the same bill which you left on the desk? " " It stands' to reason '' " Stop there ! That is no answer." " It seems to me you're mighty particular," retorted the grocer sharply. " My young client's interests require it. Now for your answer," Five Hundred Dollars. loi *' Well, there wasn't any other twenty-dol- lar bill around." '' How do you know ! Young Barton says^ he brought the bill from home." " He says so I " repeated Mr. Jones, with a suggestive sneer. " Upon that point I propose to call a wit-< nes who will corroborate his statement. Mrs. Barton I " The widow Barton came forward, pale and anxious, and was sworn. She was regarded with sympathy by all present except the gro- cer and the acting judge. After one or two unimportant questions, Mr. Conway asked: " When your son went to the grocery store, did he take any money with hin??" " Yes, sir." ^^How much?" " Twenty dollars." " Was it in the form of one bill, or sev- eral?" " It was a single twenty-dollar bill." Mr. Jones, who had now taken his" ^at, looked insultingly incredulous. "Can I ask a question?" he said, turning to Squire Marlowe. " You can." " I should like to ask Mrs. TJarton where the prisoner obtained the ,wentv ^dollar bill?" A02 Five Hundred Dollars. And the grocer looked around the court-room again, triumphantly. " It came from my uncle, Jacob Marlowe,"" answered Mrs. Barton. "Ah, that's it! Is Mr. Jacob Marlowe in town? " " No, sir." " When was he in town? " " Three or four weeks since." "When did he give you the money?" " He left a sealed envelope containing it, which we were not to open unless in case of need." " When did you first open it? " " Last evening." " Can you produce the envelope? " asked Jones, with an ironical smile. "Here it is." The envelope was taken and examined by the grocer. " There is nothing to show that this could not have been prepared by the defendant, without the knowledge of this convenient uncle," he said. " There was a note accompanying it," Mrs. Barton added. " Let me see it." " I will read it," said Mr. Conway, taking it in his hand. Five Hundred Dollars. 103 This note has already been quoted in Chap- ter XI. Mr. Jones looked somewhat nonplussed. " I am free to confess/' he said, after a pause, " that I doubt tlie genuineness of this note. Nothing could be easier than to pre- pare it." " I appeal to the court to protect the wit- ness from insult," interposed Mr. Conway. " I do not consider that she has been in- sulted," said Squire Marlowe coldly. " The credibility of testimony is always a matter to be considered." Mr. Jones eyed the young lawyer with a triumphant smile. " Have you any further questions to put, Mr. Jones? " added Conway. " No, sir, I am satisfied." " Then the witness may step down. I call upon Mr. Jones to take the witness stand again." " I have no objection, I am sure! " said the grocer jauntily. He saw that the judge was , with him, and he confidently anticipated Bert's conviction. " From whom did you obtain the twenty- dollar bill which you charge my client with taking? " asked Mr. Conway. 104 Five Hundred Dollars. " From Mr. Holbrook, the landlord of the hotel." " You are sure of this? " demanded Conwaj sternly. '^ Of course I am." " And you will swear that this is the case? " " Certainly ! " answered Mr. Jones aggres- sively, thinking it very important that he should substantiate this fact. " That will do, Mr. Jones." The grocer took his seat, feeling that he had scored a victory and foiled the lawyer. It was not long before he had occasion to change his opinion. " Mr. Holbrook," called Conway. The landlord of the Lakeville Hotel took the stand. He was a pleasant-looking, good- hearted man, and he glanced sympathetically at Bert and his mother. " Mr. Holbrook," said Conway, " do you remember paying Mr. Jones, the complainant, a twenty-dollar bill?" " Yes, sir." The grocer smiled again. Everything seemed to favor his side of the case. " For what was the payment made? " " For groceries furnished by Mr. Jones." " Would you recognize the bill you paid if you should see it again? " Five Hundred Dollars. 105 * Yes, sir." "Is this the bill?" asked the lawyer, ex- hibiting the note taken from the grocer, and now in the custody of the court. Mr. Holbi'ook took the bill in his hand, and, turning it over, looked at the reverse side. All eyes were upon him, and there was a hush of expectation, for it was felt that the whole case hinged upon the answer to this question. " This is not the same bill," answered the landlord composedly. Bert's friends looked joyful, and Mr. Jones looked dismayed. " He is mistaken ! " ejaculated the grocer, much perturbed. " Of course," continued the young lawyer, " you have some means of identification. Please state to the court how you know that this is not the same bill." " The bill which I paid to Mr. Jones," an- swered the landlord, " had the letters I. W. written in red ink on the back. This note has no such mark." Conway looked triumphant. It was his turn now. He took the bank-note, and hold- ing it up in sight of all, called the attention of the court and those present to the fact at- tested by the witness. " It is clear," he said, " that nothing was io6 Five Hundred Dollars. ever written on the back of this note in red ink." " It might have been effaced," suggested the grocer querulously. " The bill, since it was taken from the com- plainant, has been in charge of the court," said Conway. " I hardly think the complain- ant will dare to assert that it has been tampered with. And now, your honor," turn- ing to the presiding judge, " I submit that the charge has been completely answered. We have shown that the bill tendered by my client was not the bill lost by Mr. Jones. I claim his discharge," Squire Marlowe hesitated, but he could think of no pretext for holding Bert, since the case against him had so signally failed. " The prisoner is discharged ! " he said briefly, and rose from his seat. Bert's friends surrounded him, and he be- gan to fear that in their enthusiasm they would shake his hand oi¥. It was almost as serious as being a Presidential candidate. It is needless to say, however, that Mr. Jones was not one of the friends who congratulated him. He, on the other hand, looked decidedly grumpy, and as if he had lost his best friend. He pushed his way through the crowd up to the young lawyer. Five Hundred Dollars. 107 " This is all very fine, Mr. Lawyer," lie said, " but will you tell me how I am to get my money back? " " What money, Mr. Jones? " " The twenty-dollar bill taken from my desk, of course." " I wish I could, Mr, Jones, but I know no more than the man in the moon." " Is that all the satisfaction I am going to get?" demanded Jones angrily. " From me — yes. You will have to find the person who actually took the money." " I don't see how I am to do it. I would have sworn that it was Bert Barton, and I am not sure now " "Stop there, Mr. Jones! If after my client's full vindication you insinuate any t'harge of dishonesty, I shall advise him to sue you for defamation of character." The grocer looked startled, and Conway continued : " But I will volunteer the suggestion that as you can now identify the bill, you can advertise that a note so marked has been stolen from you, and call upon any one into whose hands it may come to help you trace it back to the thief. There is a chance that you may recover it." K)8 Five Hundred Dollars. CHAPTER XVI. WHAT BECAME OF THE STOLEN NOTE. Among the attentive listeners at Bert's trial was a tall young man with light hair and pallid complexion, upon whose thin face there played a shrewd smile. He seemed unusually interested, as was indeed the case, for he strongly suspected that he knew who was the actual purloiner of the stolen twenty-dol- lar bill. It is hardly necessary to say that the young man was Percy's friend, Reginald Ward. When the landlord gave his testimony, he was no longer in doubt, for he had himself noticed the letters I. W. on the back of the bank-bill. As he left the court-room, he saw Percy lin- gering near the door. " Come with me, Percy," he said, linking his arm with that of the boy. " I have some- thing to say to you." " I have an engagement," pleaded Percy, trying to release himself. " I will call round this afternoon." I can't wait till afternoon," said Reginald decidedly. " I must speak to you now on a matter of importance." Five Hundred Dollars. 109 " How did the trial come out?" " The boy was acquitted." " I thought he would be." "Why?" asked Reginald Ward, eyeing Percy curiously. " Because I don't think he would steal." " Is he a friend of yours? " "No; he is only a working boy." " Still you think he is honest? " "Oh, yes." " How then do you account for the bill's being stolen? " Percy shrugged his shoulders. " I don't feel sure that any bill was stolen," he said. " I don't think much of old Jones. I dare say he made up the story." " That is hardly likely. What object could he have? " " He wanted to get hold of Bert Barton's bill. Where did Bert get it from? Did he say?" " He said it was left in an envelope by some old uncle of his." " Uncle Jacob? " "Yes; I think that was the name." " I didn't think the old man had so much money to spare." "You seem to know him then?" " I have heard of him." tlo Five Hundred Dollars. By this time thej had reached the hotel, and Keginald asked Percy to come up to his room. " What was it you wanted to speak to me about? " asked Percy, as he took a seat at the window. " I wanted to tell you that the stolen bill came from Mr. Holbrook. Mr. Jones testified to this effect, and Mr. Holbrook also." "Well, what of that?" " Mr. Holbrook described the bill and stated that the letters I. W. were written in red ink on the reverse side.'' Percy began to see the point, and waited anxiously for Reginald to continue. Ward drew from his pocket the twenty- dollar bill, and held it up to open view. " This is the bill you paid me last evening," he said. " You will observe the letters I. W. as described by the landlord. Now, where did you get this bill?" he asked searchingly. Drops of perspiration stood on Percy's fore- head, and he hesitated to reply. Finally an inspiration came to him, and he said, *" I picked it up in the street, near the grocery store. The thief must have dropped it." " You didn't tell me that when you paid it to me,'' Five Hundred Dollars. iii " No, I didn't think it necessary. I was anxious to get out of debt to you." " Percy Marlowe, that statement of yours won't pass muster. Weren't you in the gro- cery store last evening? " " No — yes," stammered Percy. " And you saw this bill on Mr. Jones's desk — yes or no? " " I don't see what right you have to ques- tion me," said Percy sullenly. " Because you have paid me stolen money, and if I keep it I am likely to get into t^'ouble. Indeed, I came very near it this morning. I was on the point of paying it to Mr. Holbrook for my board. You can imagine that he would have recognized it at once." " I don't see as you are to blame." "No, I am not; but if the bill were known to be in my possest^on, the only thing I could do would be to state from whom I received it." "You wouldn't do that!" said Percy, in alarm, " I should have to. But I don't mean to run the risk. I will give you back the bill, and you must return me the ten dollars I gave you in change." " But what can I do with the bill? " 112 Five Hundred Dollars. " That is your lookout. Of course you will still owe me ten dollars." Keluctantly Percy drew out the ten dollars he had received in change, not having yet spent any of it, and Reginald Ward gave him back the unlucky bill. Percy thrust it quickly into his vest pocket. " Now, Percy," said Reginald, " let me ad- vise you as a friend to get that bill out of 3^our possession as soon as possible. If it is traced to you, you will get into hot water." " I can't pass it here." " You have no right to pass it anywhere." " You could pass it in New York." Reginald Ward considered a moment, but shook his head. " No, it would be too danger- ous," he said. " It might be traced to me, and it would be known that I have been in Lakeville. I should have to expose you to screen myself." " Then what would you advise me to do? " " Get it back to Mr. Jones in some way. Here, take an envelope, inclose the bill, and mark the grocer's name on it. Then drop it somewhere, and the thing will be done; Jones will be happy and you will be safe." "All right!" " Percy followed Reginald's advice, and then put the letter in his pocket. Five Hundred Dollars. 113 " When are you going back to New York? " he asked. " To-morrow. I will leave you my address, and hope you will have the honesty to pay me what you owe me as* soon as possible." " Yes, I will, but I am afraid that won't be soon." " You ought to make an effort to pay me." " It isn't as if I reall}^ owed it to you. It is money I have lost at cards." " If you are a boy of honor," said Reginald impressively, " you will feel that such debts ought to be paid above all others." "Why should they?" asked Percy, and there will be many others who will be disposed to echo the question. " Why should gambling- debts take precedence of honest obligations? " It is not necessary to repeat Reginald's ex- planation, as it was shallow and sophistical. Two hours later Sam Doyle, a young Irish boy, espied, under a bush by the roadside, what seemed to be a letter. He picked it up, and, though his education was by no means extensive, he made out the name of Mr. Jones. " Shure Mr. Jones must have dropped it out of his pocket," he said. " I'll carry it to him." He entered the store, and attracted the attention of the grocer, who was behind the '*ii4 Five Hundred Dollars. counter, and in a bad humor, smarting still from his loss of twenty dollars. "Clear out, you Sam Doyle!" he said, " unless you want to buy something, I don't want any boys loafing round my store." " Is this your envelope, Mr. Jones? " asked Sam, producing the envelope. " Give it to me." Mr. Jones read his name on the envelope in some wonder and tore it open. What was his amazement and delight when he saw the lost bill! " Where did you get this, Sam? " he asked. " I found it under a bush by the side of the road, near the blacksmith's shop." "When?" " Shure it wasn't more'n five minutes.'* " Do you know what was in the envelope? '* " No." " You are sure no one gave you the letter to hand to me? " said the grocer, with a search- ing glance. "Shure, I found it." " Well, I'm glad to get it. You are a good boy to bring it to me. Here's ten cents." Sam took the money, as much surprir>ed as pleased, for the grocer was considered, and justly, a very mean man. " Thank you, Mr. Jones," he said. Five Hundred Dollars. 115 " You are sure that Bert Barton didn't give you the letter? " " Yes, sir. I haven't seen Bert since morn- in'." " Did you see any other boy near? " " Yes, sir, I saw Percy Marlowe." "Did he speali to you?" "Yes, sir; he asked me what I'd got in my hand." "' What did you say? " " I showed him the letther." "Did he say anything to you then?" " He told me it was for you, and he said I'd better take it right over to your store." " He gave you good advice. Wait a minute, and I'll do up a pound of sugar and send it to your mother as a present." "What's come to the old man?" thought Sam. " Shure he's gettin' generous in his old age ! " " I wish I knew who took that bill,'" thought the grocer meditatively. " However I've got it back, and that's the main thing." When Percy dropped the envelope, he re- mained near at hand, and seeing Sam pick it up, instructed him to carry it to the grocer. He then breathed a sigh of relief, and felt that he was lucky to get out of a bad scrape so safely. ^ii6 Five Hundred Dollars. CHAPTEE XVII. AFTER THE TRIAL. " Mr Conway," said Bert, as they walked home together froDi the trial, " I am very grateful to you for getting me out of my trouble. If you will let me know your fee, I will pay it." " My dear boy," rejoined the young lawyer, " this is my vacation, and I only took up your case to keep my hand in." " You are very kind, and I shall always re- member it." " Lawyers are not always mercenary, though they have that reputation with some. I should like, by the way, to find out who did steal the bill." " So should I. I have no idea for my part." "If you ever find out, let me know. I go back to New York to-morrow, and am glad to leave the memory of a professional triumph behind me." " What is your address, Mr. Conway? " " No. Ill Nassau Street, Eoom 15. Here is my card. When you come to New York, call and see me." ^* I shall do so, though it may be some time Five Hundred Dollars. 117 in the future. Do you think I could get any- thing to do in New York? " " Yes ; but perhaps not enough to pay your expenses." " I find the same trouble here." " You have been at work in the shoe fac- tory, I believe." "Yes; but I have been discharged. My place has been taken by a machine.'^ " That is unfortunate. Is there no other opening in Lakeville? " " I have not found any yet." " I will keep your case in mind, and if I hear of anything I will let you know." When Squire Marlowe returned home from the trial, his wife inquired with interest, " How did the case come out? " " The boy was acquitted," answered her hus- band shortly. "Acquitted! Why, you thought it was a close case." " So I did, but it came out on the trial that there were two twenty-dollar bills, and the one which the Barton boy presented was left for him by Uncle Jacob." " By that old man? Why, I thought he was poor." " So he is — worth only five hundred dollars, ii8 Five Hundred Dollars. and he is making ducks and drakes of that as fast as he can." " And then he will fall back on you? " " I suppose so." " Then I hope you will let him go to the poor house," said Mrs. Marlowe with energy. " I shall. I have no pity for a man who throws away his money." Percy came home to dinner in lively spirits. He was free from anxiety, and felt that he had been remarkably fortunate. "Were you at the trial, Percy?" asked his mother. " No, ma." " I thought you w^ould be interested in see- ing that boy on trial." " I was sorry for him, and didn't want to be present." " Sorry for him? " " Yes ; I felt sure he had not taken the money." " Seems to me this is a new streak, Percy," said the squire. " I thought you didn't like Bert Barton." " I am not intimate with him, for he is only a working boy; but all the same I don't want him convicted when he is innocent." " It is a mystery to me who could have Five Hundred Dollars. 119 taken the other twenty-dollar bill," said the squire. " Can you think of anybody? " "No; how should I?" returned Percy, nearly swallowing a spoonful of soup the wrong wa}'. " There are so few people in the village, that it must be some one we know." " Perhaps old Jones didn't lose any money, after all." " There is no doubt on that point. The stolen bill has been returned to him in an envelope by Sam Doyle." "Is that so?" exclaimed Percy, counter- feiting surprise. " Why, it must be the same envelope Sam showed me." " He showed you the envelope? " "Yes; he picked it up by the roadside. It was directed in pencil to Mr. Jones. So that contained the stolen bill?" " Yes." " Then perhaps it was taken in joke." "A poor joke! No; the thief got alarmed, and took that way of returning it. I sug- gested to Jones that the handwriting on the envelope might furnish a clew to the thief." " What did he say? " asked Percy, alarmed. " He said he should do nothing about it, now that he had the money back." " I guess he's right," said Percy, relieved. ,.», 120 Five Hundred Dollars. In the afternoon Bert met Percy in the street. He advanced cordially. " Well, Percy, I got free, after all." " Yes, I am glad of it." " I feel grateful to you for believing in my innocence." " It's all right," said Percy, in a patronizing tone. " Even if you are a working boy, I was sure you wouldn't steal." Bert's feelings cooled a little. Somehow Percy's manner kept him aloof. " Yes, I am a working boy," he replied, " or at any rate I would like to be, but I don't find it easy to get work." "Just so! If I hear of anything I will let you know. Good-morning!" " I don't know what to make of Percy," thought Bert, perplexed. " He was as kind as he could be this morning, and now he is ofiQsh. At any rate, he didn't believe me guilty, and I won't forget that in a hurry." Two more weeks passed, and Bert still found himself unable to find employment. Berries had become so plenty that he was un- able to sell any, and only picked some for con- sumption at home. The sum of money which had been received from Uncle Jacob gradually dwindled, and Bert became alarmed. What would they do when it was all gone? He had Five Hundred Dollars. 121 no doubt that Uncle Jacob would give them further assistance, if appealed to, but both he and his mother felt that it would be an imposition on the old man, with his limited fund of money, to ask anything more of him. " I don't want any more of Uncle Jacob's money, mother," said Bert ; " but I should like to ask him if he could find me a place in New York." " I couldn't bear to have you leave me, Bert." '' But I must take work wherever I can find it." So Bert with his mother's permission, wrote to Uncle Jacob, informing him of his dis- charge from the factory, and his desire to ob- tain work elsewhere. This letter reached Jacob Marlowe, and led to his writing as fol- lows to the squire: Nephew Albert: I hear by a letter from Lakeville that you have discharged Bert Barton from your em- ployment, and that he cannot secure any other kind of work. I am surprised that you should treat Mary's bo}^ in this manner, considering the relationship that exists between you. T appeal to your better nature to reinstate him in his old place, I can assure you that you 122 Five Hundred Dollars. will have no cause to regret it. I have steady work here, and am quite well satisfied with my position and prospects. Jacob Marlowe. " The stupid old meddler ! " ejaculated the squire, throwing the letter from him in impa- tience. " I suppose the Barton boy has been writing to him. He evidently considers it my duty to support all my poor relations, himself included. I will undeceive him on that point." He drew writing materials toward him and wrote as follows: Uncle Jacob: I have received your letter asking me to re- instate the Barton boy in his old place. This is a business matter, and I don't permit any interference with my business. I may add that, even if he is a poor relation, I do not feel called upon to support all my needy relations. I am glad you have obtained a situation in which you can make an honest living. I hope you will keep it, and won't squander the small ( sum of money you have in reserve. Yours, etc., Albert Marlowe. When Uncle Jacob read this letter, he smiled. " It is what I expected, " he said to himself. Five Hundred Dollars. 123 " Albert Marlowe is tfiorougfily selfish, and so, I think, are his wife and son. I must find some other way of helping Bert." The day succeeding the receipt of Uncle Jacob's letter, the squire met Bert in the post- ofiSce. " Have you been writing to Jacob Mar- lowe? " he asked. " Yes, sir." " I suppose you asked him to urge me to take you back into the factory? " " No, sir." "At any rate, he has done so; but I allow no one to interfere in my business affairs. You hear, do you?" " Yes, sir." " Then remember it ! " and Squire Marlowe turned his back rudely upon Bert. " Here is a letter for you, Bert I " said the postmaster. Bert opened the letter in some surprise, and read it with interest and excitement. CHAPTER XVIII. BERT OBTAINS WORK. To begin with, the letter, which Bert so un- expectedly received, contained a ten-dollar bill. 124 Five Hundred Dollars. "It must be from Uncle Jacob!" he thought. lie turned to the next page, and looked for the signature. It was, as he antici- pated, Jacob Marlowe. It was brief, as will be seen from the copy given below : My Dear Nephew: I am sorry to hear that you have lost your place in the factory. I think Albert Marlowe might at any rate have retained you, knowing how much you and your mother needed your weekly wages. I have written to him, asking him to take you back into the shop, but I do not suppose he will. It is more to test him than anything else that I have made the re- quest. But, at any rate, we will give him a chance to deal considerately. Next week, Thursday, if you should not have found work, come up to the city and seek me at the office where I am employed, No. Ill Nassau Street, Room 19, and I may have it in my power to employ you in an important matter. Bring - all your clothes with you, but take only money * enough to get to the city, leaving the balance with your mother. Give my love to her, and tell her to keep up good courage. Your affectionate uncle, Jacob Marlowe. Five Hundred Dollars. 125 " I am to go to New York!" thought Bert joyfully. " Perhaps Uncle Jacob will find me a place there. I shall enjoy that ever so much. Let me see, I am to go next week, Thursday, and it is now Saturday. I wish the time had come ! " Of course, Bert carried the letter home and showed it to his mother, " How kind Uncle Jacob is ! " she mur- mured. " But I am afraid he is too generous. He is a poor man. He cannot afford to be giv- ing us money all the time." " He is earning a good salary, you know, mother." " Only twelve dollars a week, Bert." " But that is a good deal. If I were earn- ing twelve dollars a week I should feel rich." " It doesn't go very far in a large and ex- pensive city like New York." " I could save half of it, if I had it. Would you mind much, mother, if I should take a place in New York? " " It would be terribly lonely for me, Bert,'' sighed Mrs. Barton. " But you Avould not oppose it? " " Not if your Uncle Jacob thought it best. He seems to be our only friend just now." " Yes ; I don't know what we should have done without him," 126 Five Hundred Dollars. On Monday morning, considerably to his surprise, Bert received an offer of employ- ment. About a mile from his mother's cottage lived Silas Wilson, an old farmer about sixty years of age, who had the reputation of being one of the meanest men in Lakeville. Even his horses and cows had a hungry look, and it w\is easy to see that they were not pampered or injured by over-feeding. This was the man who stopped his farm wagon in front of Mrs. Barton's dwelling, and spoke to Bert, who was just coming out of the front door. " Here, you, Bert Barton ! " " Good-morning, Mr, Wilson," replied Bert. " Squire Marlowe tells me you are out of a job." " Yes, sir." " And I've been tainkin' I could give you work on my farm." Bert was not overjoyed at this announce- ment, but he felt that he ought to take into consideration any offer that might be made to him. " Would you expect me to board at your house? " he asked. " Sartin! All my boys board with me." " How much wages would you be willing to pay?" Five Hundred Dollars. 127 " Fifty cents a v/eek and board. I calculate that Avoald be about right." " Fifty cents a v.eek and board? " repeated Bert, by no means dazzled by the tempting offer. " Yes. What do you say? " " I shouldn't be willing to work for that." " You wouldn't, hey? " What did you get in the shoe shop? " " Four dollars a week." " Board's worth that, so I give you what's equal to four dollars and a half." Bert had heard something of the kind of board supplied by the farmer, and he was hardly prepared to rate it so high. " It wouldn't be worth that to me," he said. " I would rather work for three dollars and a half in cash, and board at home." " I've got to have ray boy in the house," said Silas Wilson decidedly. " Come, now, what do you say? " He regarded Bert with some anxiety, for he had been suddenly left in the lurch by a hired man who had received a better offer elsewhere, and hardly knew where to turn for assistance. " I'll tell you what I'll do," said Bert. " I've got to go to New York on Thursday on business, but I'll come and work for you till 128 Five Hundred Dollars. Wednesday night for half a dollar and my board." " I'll give you thirty-five cents," replied the farmer cautiously. Bert shook his head. " Forty, then, and that's high pay for a half- grown boy." " I'm more than half grown," returned Bert. " It's no use, Mr. Wilson, I won't take less than fifty cents." " Then jump on the wagon. It's a big price to pay, but I'm in a hole, and won't stop to dicker." " I will go and tell my mother first." " Well, hurry up, for part of the day is gone already." '' I don't believe you'll like it, Bert," said Mrs. Barton. '' Nor I, but I made up my mind to accept the first offer I got, and I shall feel better sat- isfied if I keep my word. I'll come round this 1 evening, after work, and tell you how I like it as far as I've got." Bert seated himself in the v/agon next to the farmer. " Be you the boy that Jones charged with stealin'? " asked Silas. " Yes, sir." Five Hundred Dollars. 129 "You didn't do it?" asked Silas, in some , apprehension. .' " No, of course not I " answered Bert, indig- nantly. " Didn't you know I was acquitted, and that it was shown that there were two twenty-dollar bills? '' " It's wicked to steal," observed the farmer, apparently a little anxious still. " (3f course it is.'' " One of the boys that worked for me stole some money from a chest-of-drawers in my chamber. You see Mis' Wilson and me sleep in a bedroom on the first floor openin' out of the settin' room." "Did the boy take much?" asked Bert, in some curiosity. "Yes; he took a twenty-five cent piece," ans-^-ered Silas Wilson, soberly. Bert wanted to laugh, but controlled his facial muscles, though he eyed his companion with a queer look. " That was a good deal of money," he said, soberly. " Yes, it was." " How did you find him out — the boy, I mean? " " He spent the money at Jones's store." " What did he buy with it? " " He bought some doughnuts." 1^0 Five Hundred Dollars. " Did he board with you? " asked Bert sig- nificantlj. " Yes, he did.'* " Then/' thought Bert, " I don't wonder much that he was tempted." " I've got fifty cents in my pocket,'' he said aloud, producing the coin, " I show it to you, so that if you hear of my spending money you needn't think I took it from you." Silas Wilson eyed the half-dollar with a covetous look, which the sight of money al- ways brought to his face. " Hadn't you better give ^t 'm me to keep for you? " " No, thank you; I am very careful. 1 shall not lose it." " Boys ginerally are keerless. They are apt to lose money." " I don't believe you ever lose money, Mr. WilsoD " " Not since I was a boy. I lost two cents ** once, but it was a lesson to me, and I've never lost a copper since." By this time they had reached the farm- house. The farmer drove into the barn and put up the horse. " Now we'll go to work," he said. The work which awaited Bert »Yas in the cornfield. He was set to hoeing, and kept it Five Hundred Dollars. 131 up for three hours, along with the farmer in the adjoining row. Noon came, and Silas, pausing in his work, said: ''I calculate Mis' Wilson will have dinner ready. We'll go to the house." CHAPTER XIX. Bert's experience as a farmer's boy. Bert followed the farmer into the kitchen, in the center of which a table was set. A bony and angular woman was just placing on it a large pitcher of water. " Mis' WMlson," said the farmer, " this is Bert Barton, who is helping me about the farm work." Bert was' no stranger to Mrs. Wilson, whose pew in church was near the one he occupied. "How's your ma?" she inquired jerkily. " Pretty well, thank you, Mrs. Wilson." " I'm glad to hear it. She looks like a friend of mine, Mrs. Dusenberry, who died of heart disease." " I don't think her heart is affected," said Bert, not without anxiety. " Maybe not, but you can't tell. Folks lives along for years with their hearts out -f kilter, who never find it out till some day they drop dead." Mrs. Wilson decidedly was not a cheerful 132 Five Hundred Dollars. , converser. She prided herself on detecting signs of unsuspected diseases. " Mebbe you've got heart disease yourself, Sophia," remarked the farmer jocosely. " Just as likely as not," answered Mrs. ViW- son calmly. " I'm sure my liver's affected, for I feel it squirm sometimes." " Mebbe I'd better look out for a second Mis' Wilson," suggested the farmer smiling. " You ain't over healthy yourself, Silas," responded his better half, surveying her hus- band in a business-like manner. " It looks to me as if your kidneys was out of order, and you're the very image of Jed Pettibone, who died of apoplexy. He lived next door to my mother. One day he was alive and well, and to-morrow he was as the grass of the field.'* The farmer's face wore a very uncomfort- able look, and he was evidently by no means pleased with his wife's prognostications. " Nonsense! " he said testily. '' I'm as well as any man of my age in Lakeville." " ' Boast not thyself of to-morrow ' ! " quoted Mrs. Wilson solemnly. " Come, Bert, let us set down to dinner," said Silas hastily. " What have you got for us, Sophia?" " I've warmed over them beans we had yes- terday," answered his helpmeet, "and there's Five Hundred Dollars. 13^ two sausages besides'. I don't want any. You'd ought to make a dinner off of that." " Why, to be sure ! Beans and sausages is hearty, and will stand by us in the field. The laborer is worthy of his meat," " Where's the meat,'' thought Bert. Silas Wilson put a moderate portion of beans on a large plate, flanking it with a thin, consumptive-looking sausage. " Help yourself to potatoes," he said, as he handed the plate to Bert. Bert availed himself of the invitation, and helped himself to a potato in that condition known as soggy. He tried to eat it, but. though fond of potatoes, he left it almost en- tire on his plate. This, however, was not all. There was a plate of rye-bread on the table, from which Bert helped himself to a slice. It was apparently two or three days old, and needed something to make it palatable. " Please give me some butter," asked Bert, not having observed that this was a prohibited article on the Wilsons' dinner table. " There ain't none," answered Mrs. Wilson promptly. " I beg pardon. I hadn't noticed," said Bert, blushing. "We never have butter at dinner," ex- plained Silas Wilson. " It's apt to lead to 134 I^ive Hundred Dollars. humors, particularly in boys, isn't it, Mis' Wilson? " " So I've always hrard, Silas'. Besides, as we have it at breakfast and supper, that's enough. It goes fast enough, even then. Why, we used most a pound last week." "And butter twenty-seven cents a pound!'' chimed in the farmer. " Why, it's extrava- gant!" " Do you know, Silas, how much butter is used in Squire Marlowe's family? " " No," answered the farmer, with interest. " Hannah — Mrs. Marlowe's girl — told me they used six pounds and a half last week, and there's only four of them, including the girl. What do you think of that? " "What do I think? I think it's sinful— positively sinful ! Six pounds and a half at twenty-seven cents " " They pay thirty-two, and get the best in the market," amended his wife. " W^orse and worse ! That comes to what — Bert? " " Two dollars and eight cents," answered Bert promptly. " Sho ! Did you ever? " " Well, I s'pose the squire can stand it. No doubt they live on the fat of the land. I just wish they'd invite me to tea, so I could judge Five Hundred Dollars. 135 for mjsolf. I could tell within five cents how much the supper cost." It must be confessed that Bert did not en- joy his dinner. The sausage was far from rich or juicy, and the beans were almost cold. The potatoes and bread have already been referred to. However, there was to be a second course, and to that Bert looked forward anxiously, for he had by no means satisfied his appetite. It was a plain r'ce pudding, and partially satis- factory, for it takes very little skill to boil rice, and there is little variety in the qual- ity. By way of sauce Mrs. Wilson provided cheap grade of molasses. Still Bert enjoyed it better than any other article on the table. " There's nothing like a good dinner to strengthen us for the labors of the field," said Silas Wilson complacently, as he rose from the table. " Come, Bert, now let us get to work to make up for lost time." " So Mr. Wilson considers the time spent in eating as lost time," thought Bert. " I'd rather have one of mother's dinners than half a dozen like this. Ugh ! how nasty those pota- toes were." Bert returned to the field, and resumed his work. He found it hard to keep up with Silas Wilson, whose energies seemed to be quick- ened by his midday meal. 136 Five Hundred Dollars. About four o'clock a man came along who wanted to see Silas on business, and he went & back to the house, leaving Bert to continue his work alone. " This is about the longest day I ever passed," thought Bert, pausing to wipe his moistened forehead. " I am afraid I shall never want to be a farmer. I mustn't for- get, though, that I am to receive sixteen cents and a little over per day, besides board — and such board! Yet this is the way Silas Wilson has lived all his life, and he must be sixty-five at least. How much more enjoyment Uncle Jacob has out of life, though he is a poor man compared to the farmer." At this moment he heard wheels' passing on the road hard by, and looking up he recog- nized Percy Marlowe, neat and trim in hU attire, driving a light buggy. *' Hallo ! " called out Percy, checking his horse. " Hallo, Percy ! " "Are you working for Silas Wilson?" " Yes, for a few days." " I guess you'll make a f 01 tune in that time?" said Percy laughing. " It seems like it," responded Bert. "How much does he pay you?" " Fifty cents for three days and board." Five Hundred Dollars. 137 Percy laughed. " I should want fifty cents an hour, and then I wouldn't do it." " I'd work all the year round at that price/' said Bert. " I never expect to work — with my hands," went on Percy. " Have you decided what to do? " asked Bert curiously. " My father wants me to be a manufacturer, but I think I shall be a lawyer." " I am afraid I shan't have much choice. I must take what I can get." " You might stay with Mr. Wilson and be a farmer." " I don't think that will suit me at any rate, unless I can work for a different man." " Perhaps father can take you back into the shop when you are older." " I wish he would take me back now. I like it a great deal better than working out in the field here." " You mustn't get too bigh notions into your head, Bert. You know you are a work- ' ing boy and mustn't expect to have things all your own way." " I am not likely to forget that I am a work- ing boy, especially with kind friends to re- mind me of it. But we live in the best coun- #: 138 Five Hundred Dollars. trj in the world, and there is many a working boy who grows up to be a distinguished man." Percy laughed ironically. " I wouldn't get such silly ideas into your head, he said. "Why are they silly?" " You talk as if you expected to be a distin- guished man. Ha, ha ! " " I hope to be a successful man," answered Bert stoutly. Percy laughed again and drove on. Five minutes later Bert saw the farmer running from the house in a state of great apparent excitement. "Have you seen anything of my wallet?" he gasped, as he came within hearing dis- tance. CHAPTER XX. BERT IS PLACED IN AN EMBARRASSING POSITION. Bert regarded his employer with surprise. " Your wallet? " he repeated. ; " Yes," answered Silas Wilson impatiently. *' I had it in my pocket when I w^as at w^ork here. I didn't think about it till just now, after Mr. Dexter had left me. Then I found that my pocket was empty." Five Hundred Dollars. 131) " I haven't seen it, but jou may have dropped it somewhere." " Just help me look for it. Has anybody been here? " " No ; at least not in the field. Percy Mar- lowe passed in his buggy, and " " Never mind about that. Help me look for the wallet." The rows of corn were of considerable length, and there were a good many of them. At least ten minutes elapsed before anything was seen of the missing article, and dark sus- picions of his young assistant entered the mind of Mr. Wilson. But at last Bert's sharp eyes espied a faded leather wallet be- tween two hills in one of the rows which the farmer had hoed. " Is this it?" he asked, holding it up in his hand. '* Yes ! " exclaimed Silas delighted. " Where did you find it? " " JiTst here." Mr. Wilson opened it, anxious to see whether the contents were intact. " It's all safe," he said, with a sigh of relief. " Was there much money in it? " asked Bert. "Yes; two dollars and sixty-seven cents. 140 Five Hundred Dollars. It's a narrow escape! Suppose a dislionest person had found it? " " It would have been terrible ! " said Bert, successfully checking his disposition to laugh. " I'm much obliged to you, Bert, for fiudin' it. I suppose you don't want any reward? " " Oh, no ! I am working for you, you know, and it wasn't my own time I w^as using." " That's true I Still, I am willin' to give you two cents to encourage you to be honest." "Thank you, Mr. Wilson; but I don't need any reward for that." " You're a good boy, and -'f you stay with me I'll make a man of you." "Thank you." Bert was privately of opinion that if he re- mained till the age of twenty-one in Silas Wil- son's employ, boarding at his table, he would grow into a very thin, under-sized man in- deed. Supper was a less substantial meal tha? dinner in the Wilson household, consisting of bread and butter and tea, with the addition of a plate of doughnuts, which were so tough and hard that it occurred to Bert that they would make very good baseballs if they had been of the right shape. A-fter supper he went home for an hour. Five Hundred Dollars. 141 " Don't 3011 feel very tired, Bert? " asked his mother. " Yes, mother, but I feel still more hungry. If you've got anything left from supper 1 think I can dispose of it." " Certainly, Bert ; but didn't you eat supper at Mr. Wils^ons?'' " Mother, they don't know what good living is there. I'd rather have one of your suppers than a dozen of Mr. Wilson's. I begin t(i think that the board part won't be worth over fifty cents for three days. I am sure it won't cost them any more." " I wish you were going to sleep here, Bert. I shall feel lonely." " So do I, but I shall only be away two nights. Silas Wilson promises to make a man of me if I'll stay, but I'd rather grow to man- hood somewhere else." Bert returned to the farm-house, and about half-past eight went to bed. lie knew he musjt be early astir, and he felt fatigued by his day of labor in the field. Besides, Mr. and Mrs. WMlson went to bed at this hour. The farmer was not fond of reading, nor indeed was there anything in the house to read, for neither he nor his wife had a literary taste. Once he took an agricultural paper for a yefir at a cost of two dollars, but whenever the 142 Five Hundred Dollars. paper arrived he groaned in spirit over the cost, and deplored his extravagance in sub- scribing for it. The room assigned to Bert was over the kitchen, which was in the ell part. The roof was sloping, and, toward the eaves, very low. There was one window near the bed which he occupied. Bert went to sleep in ten minutes, and slept soundly for three or four hours. Then some- thing roused him, and he opened his eyes. What he saw startled him. By the bright moonlight he perceived a man climbing in at the window. To say that Bert was perfectly calm would not be true. He was very much startled, as I think almost any bo}', or man either, would have been under the circumstances. " It is a burglar I " thought Bert in excite- ment. "What can I do?" Some one evidently had heard of Silas Wil- son's miserly disposition, and judged that there would be a good chance to secure booty in the farm house. Bert, though he did not admire Mr. Wilson, felt that it was his duty to protect him from being plundered, if possi- ble. He knew that he was in some personal peril, but he was naturally a brave boy, aod Jiis spirit rose to the occasiQp, Five Hundred Dollars. 143 He waited until the supposed burglar was in the room, and theu, sitting up in bed, asked stoutly: "Who are you? What brings you here? " The man turned swiftly toward the bed, and fixed his eyes on Bert, but did not immediately speak. " If you are a burglar,'' continued Bert, em- boldened by the man's hesitation, " you had better get out of the window again, or I shall call Mr. Wilson." " No, don't call him, at least not yet," said the intruder, sinking into a chair a few feet from the bed. " Are you working here? " " Yes." " Who are you?" This seemed a singular qutestion. What could his name matter to a burglar? How- ever, Bert answered mechanically, " My name is Bert Barton." " The widow Barton's boy? " "Yes; how do you know that?" demanded Bert, in bewilderment. " Don't you know me? " was the unexpected rejoinder. He drew nearer to the bed, and Bert gazed at him earnestly, but no light dawned upon liim. 144 Five Hundred Dollars. " No, I don't know you," he said, shaking his head. " I am Silas Wilson's son," said the stranger. " Phineas Wilson? " Now Bert remembered that eight years be- fore, the farmer's son, a man grown, had left Lakeville, and, so far as he knew, had not been heard of since. He had contracted a habit of drinking and had tired of farm work. More' over, when he left, he had taken fifty dollars of his father's money with him, which had led to bitter feelings on the part of the farmer, who appeared to mourn the loss of his money more than that of his son. And this was the young man who had crept into his father's house like a thief in the night. " Why did you get into my window? " asked Bert. " Why didn't you come to the door? " " I — didn't know if I would be welcome. I wanted to ask. Do you know how my father feels toward me?" " No ; I have only been here one day. He ought to be glad to see his son." " I took some money with me when I went away," said Phineas hesitating. " Father's very fond of money." " Yes," assented Bert. " And he would find it hard to forget that." Five Hundred Dollars. 145 " Why didn't jou come back before? " " I didn't dare to come till I could bring the money. I have got it with me, but not a dol- lar more. If you want to know what brings me back, look in my face and see for your- self." The moon came out from behind a cloud, and by its light Bert saw that the young man's face was thin and ghastly. " I am sick," he said; " irregular hours and whiskey have done their work. I am afraid I have got to pass in my checks." " What does that mean — die? " " Yes." '^ Don't give up ! " said Bert, feeling his sympathies go out toward this prodigal son. " You are young. It takes a good deal to kill a young man." " You're a good fellow, Bert. That's your name, isn't it? Will you do me a favor?" "To be sure I will." " I am famished. I haven't had anything to eat for twenty-four hours*. Can you slip downstairs and fetch me something to eat — no matter what — and a glass of milk?" Bert hesitated. He could get what was re- quired in the pantry, but suppose the farmer or his wife should wake up! It would make his position a very awkward one. 146 Five Hundred Dollars. " Hadn't you better go down yourself? " he asked. " I can hardly stand, I am so tired. Be- sides, I don't know where mother keeps things." "I will try," said Bert; and he slipped on his pantaloons, and went softly downstairs. CHAPTER XXI. THE MIDNIGHT VISIT TO THE PANTRY. " Suppose Mrs. Wilson sees me? " thought Bert uncomfortably. " She will take me for a thief." He was actuated by the kindest motives, but he heartily wished his errand were done. As he stepped into the kitchen he heard the deep breathing of Mrs. Wilson and the noisy snore of her husband, and rightly judged that it would not be easy to rouse either of them. He opened the pantry door, and by the light of the moon was able to inspect the shelves. There W'as a half loaf of bread on one shelf, half a dozen doughnuts on a plate on the shelf below, and a few cold beans close beside them. Then there was a small pitcher half-full of milk. " I don't think the beans or doughnuts will set well on an empty stomach," Bert reflected. Five Hundred Dollars. 147 " I'd better take the milk and two or three slices of bread." Here the cat, who had been asleep on the hearth, roused herself, perhaps at the sight of the milk pitcher, and, mewing loudly, rubbed herself against Bert's legs. " Scat ! " cried Bert, in a lovr voice, anx- iously looking toward the door of the bed chamber in which the farmer and his wife lay asleep. The cat got between his legs and nearly tripped him up, but he managed to get out of the room and upstairs. Phineas looked at him eagerly. " I have some bread and milk here," said Bert. '^ I couldn't find any butter. There were some cold beans and doughnuts, but — " " The bread and milk are better. Give them to me. I am almost famished." The bread was dry and stale, but Phineas w^as not in the mood to be particular. He ate like one famished, and drained the pitcher to the last drop. " I feel better," he said then, with a sigh of relief. " I suppose I had better take the pitcher back to the kitchen. It will be missed," re- flected Bert, and he started downstairs again in his bare feet. He paused at the kitchea 148 Five Hundred Dollars. door, and heard the farmer talking in hij sleep. This alarmed him. He decided that it is, would not do to replace the pitcher in the pantry, as he would be likely to be heard. He waited where he was for five minutes, and then ventured into the kitchen. This time he was successful, and with mind relieved re- turned to his chamber. Phineas was dozing in his chair. " You had better get into the bed, Mr. Wil son," said Bert, filled with compassion for the weary wayfarer. " I'll lie on the floor." " If you don't mind. I am fagged out." Bert made a pillow of his coat and trousers^ and stretched himself on the floor. He found that there was an inside bolt, with which ht fastened the door, to guard against any unex- pected visit from Mr. or Mrs. Wilson. He fell asleep again, and was only roused by a loud voice at the foot of the back stairs, " Time to get up I " called the farmer. " All right ! " responded Bert in a loud tone. Fortunately Silas Wilson did not think it necessary to come up. Had he done so it would have been embarrassing, for Phineas was sound asleep on the bed. Bert thought it best to rouse him before he w^nt down stairs, Five Hundred Dollars. 149 " Are you not afraid some one will come up- stairs and find jou here?" he asked. "No; mother never comes up till after she has got breakfast out of the way and the dishes washed." " I suppose you know best," said Bert doubtfully. "If necessary I shall tell her who I am." Bert went below, and sat down at the break- fast table. It was clear from the expression on Mrs. Wilson's face that she had something on her mind. " Silas," she said solemnly, " something mysterious has happened during the night." "What is it?" asked the farmer in a tojie of surprise. " We have been robbed ! " " What of? " he asked, turning pale. " Do you miss any of the spoons? " " No." " Or — or money? " and he pulled out his wallet hurriedly. " No, no, it isn't that." "What is it, then?" " I left that pitcher half full of milk when I went to bed last night. This morning there wasn't a drop in it, and the pantry door was open." " Cats are fond of m*lk," suggested Silas, 150 Five Hundred Dollars. with a glance at Tabby, who was lying near \ the fire-place. 1 "It wasn't the cat. She couldn't get her head inside the pitcher. Besides, there are three slices of bread missing." "Won't cats eat bread?" "It was a two-legged cat!" replied Mrs. Wilson significantly. Bert reddened in spite of himself, and tried to look unconscious. He saw that Mrs. Wil- son was on the point of making a discovery, and that suspicion was likely to fall upon him. This he could clear up, but it would be at the expense of the poor fellow who was asleep upstairs. " But how could anybody get into the house?" asked Silas. "The doors were locked, weren't they? " " Yes, Silas. In forty years I have never failed to lock the door before I went to bed." " Then I don't see " " Nor I — yet ! " said Mrs. Wilson signifi- cantly, and Bert thought — but he may have been mistaken — that her eyes turned for a mo- ment in his direction. " At any rate it isn't much of a loss. Was there anything else in the closet?" " There were some doughnuts and beans." "Were any of them taken?*' Five Hundred Dollars. 151 " No, not that I can see." " Cats don't care for them." " Don't be a fool, Silas! That poor cat had no more to do with the robbery than I have." " Mebbe j^on're riIrs. Wilson with em- phasis. '^'^ I'm not going to have any dog trapesing over my floors with his muddy feet." "Just as you like, Sophia. You'd better lock the pantry door in future." " I'm not sure that that will answer, unless I hide the key." " Do you seriously think a human being took the*^ things? " " Yes, I do — in the middle of the night." "By gracious! that's serious. He might have come into our room and taken my wallet and watch.'' "And maybe murdered us in our beds!" added Mrs. Wilson grimly. " Did you hear anybody walking round the house last night, Bert?" asked the farmer, who was by this time worked up into a state of agitation. " No," answered Bert. " I am glad he did not ask me whether I saw anybody," thought he. " I don't want to tell a lie." 1 52 Five Hundred Dollars. " I usually sleep pretty sound," he added, a little ashamed of liis duplicity, yet not know- ing how else to avert suspicions, " So we all do I " said the farmer's wife. " We might be all murdered in our beds with- out knowing anything about it." " I shouldn't want to know anything about it if that was going to happen/' observed Silas, not without reason. " I don't think it could have been a very desperate ruffian, if he contented himself with taking bread and milk." " He may come again to-night," suggested Mrs. Wilson. " I hope not," said Silas fervently. " I — I couldn't sleep if I thought so." " We must get to the bottom of this," went on his wife resolutely. "I am not willing to have such goings on in my house." *' How are you going to do it, Sophia? Probably the thief's miles off by this time." " He may be, or he may not be! " said Mrs. Wilson in an oracular tone. " I've heard of folks walking in their sleep," she added, after a pause. " You don't mean me? " asked Silas. " No; if you did it I'd have had a chance to find out in forty years. Do you ever walk in Five Hundred Dollars. 153 your sleep?" slie asked, turning suddenly to Bert. The question was so unexpected that he could not help changing color, and this served to increase Mrs'. Wilson's dawning suspicions. " Not that I ever heard of," Bert answered, after a pause. " I knew a boy once that did — it was a second cousin of my brother's first wife." " I am sure I never got up in my sleep." The door leading into the entry from which the back-stairs ascended was' open, and through this, just at this moment, was heard a sound that startled all three who were sit- ting at the breakfast table. It was a loud, unmistakeable sneeze, and it came from the chamber which Bert had occu- pied. The farmer and his wife started as if the house had been shaken by an exploding bomb- shell. Both turned as pale as death, looked fearfully at each other, and clutched tightly at the edges of the table. " Silas ! " said Mrs. Wilson, in a hollow voice, " the burglar is upstairs ! " 154 Five Hundred Dollars. CHAPTER XXII. A PANIC AT FARMER WILSON'S. Silas Wilson was not a brave man, and at his wife's suggestion he turned pale, and looked panic-stricken. *' Do — jou — think so? " he asked feebly. " Do I think so? I know so," returned Mrs. Wilson energetically^ " How could he get up there? " Mrs. Wilson walked to the window, and her lynx eyes detected the ladder by which Phineas had climbed to the window of Bert's room. "Do you see that?" she asked. It is rather surprising that she did not sus- pect Bert of knowing something about the matter, but she had not yet had time to put two and two together. '' It's terrible ! " murmured Silas, mopping the cold perspiration from his forehead. " What can we do? " " What can we do? Go and get your gun, Silas, and go up and confront the villain. That's what we can do." Somehow the suggestion did not seem to Stid favor with Mr. Wilson. Five Hundred Dollars. 155 " He would shoot me," he said. " He's probably waitin' for me with a loaded weepun upon the landin'," " Silas Wilson, I am ashamed of you. Are you going' to let a villainous burglar rampage round upstairs, stealin' whatever he can lay his hands on? Come now!" " I believe 3'ou care more for the few things upstairs than for your husband's life," said Silas reproachfullj'. " Do you want me to go, Silas? What'll the folks in the village say when they hear of it?" " I don't know as I know where the gun is," said Silas nervously. " It's out in the wood .^hed behind the door." " I don't know as it's loaded. Besides I wouldn't want to be took up for murder." " Not much danger, Silas Wilson ! Such men as you don't get into such scrapes as that." Mrs. Wilson went out into the woodshed, and returned, holding the gun in such a way that it pointed directly at her husband. " Don't you know no better than to p'int that gun at me, Sophia?" exclaimed Silas in no little terror. " Beats all what fools wo- men are about firearms." " They may be fools, but they ain't cow- 156 Five Hundred Dollars. ards," returned Mrs. Wilson. " Come, are you going up or not? " " Hadn't I better go to the foot of tlie stairs and fire up? " asked Silas with a bright idea. " And then he'd come down on 3'ou, when your gun was discharged, and run his bayonet into you," said Mrs. Wilson, who knew that at the battle of Bunker Hill the muskets had bayonets attached. " I"ll give him warnin'!" continued Silas. " It'll only be fair. He'll probably be fright- ened and climb down the ladder." " I never did see such a 'fraid cat in my life!" quoth Mrs. Wilson contemptuously. " Mebbe you're braver'n I be. If you are, go up yourself I" said Silas Wilson angrily. " You want to put your wife in danger, do you?" returned Mrs. Wilson, ^\iio was asi averse to facing the burglar as her husband, though she talked more courageously. " And you want to expose your husband to danger," retorted Silas, " so it's an even thing, so far as I can see." It is hardly necessary to say that Bert en- joyed the dispute between the husband and wife, though he maintained an outward gravity which helped him to conceal his secret amusement. By this time he thought it time for him to take part. Five Hundred Dollars. 157 " I'll go up," be said. "You will?" exclaimed Silas in surprise and relief. " Yes, I am not afraid." " To be sure ! Tbe burglar wouldn't do 3'ou no barm. You're only a boj. Do you know bow to fire a gun? " " Yes, but I sban't need tbe gun. I am sure tbe burglar wouldn't barm me." " You're a brave boy, Bert," ^aUl tbe farmer. " You're doing just wbat I would bave done at your age." " You never would bave done it, Silas ! I sbould be asbamed anyway to own up I was more of a coward as a grown man tban as a boy." " Sopbia, you don't know mucb about burg- lars and tbeir ways. Don't be afraid, Bert; I'll back you up; I'll stand at tbe door of tbe kitcben witb tbe gun in my band, and belp you if you need it." Bert smiled, for be knew just bow valuable Silas Wilson's assistance would be, but be made no coniment, and started on bis perilous enterprise. " I bope be won't come to no barm," said Mrs. Wilson. " I don't know but I'd better go witb him." 158- Five Hundred Dollars. " It would be safer for you, Sophia, for burglars don't shoot women." " Much you know about it, Silas." The two moved toward the kitchen door, Silas handling the gun as if he were afraid of it. They listened with painful attention, and presently heard the sound of voices, though they could not make out what was being said. The boy's speakin' to him ! " said Silas, awe-struck. " I never see such a terrible time. I wish I'd told Bert to tell the burg- lar to go back the same way he came, and we wouldn't fire at him. I don't want to be too hard on the transgressor. Mebbe he's driven to his evil ways by destitution." Mrs. Wilson paid very little attention to ^vhat her husband was saying, being more in- tent on what was passing upstairs. After a short interval Bert came down. " Well? " said Silas eagerly. " Did you see the burglar? " " Yes." " Where is he? " [ " In my room." "What is he doin' there?" " He is lying on the bed." "Well, if I ever saw such impudence!" ejaculated Mrs. Wilson, Five Hundred Dollars. 159 " Has he got a gun with him? Did he offer to shoot you?" " No," answered Bert gravely. " The poor fellow is sick." "Poor fellow, indeed!" sniffed Mrs. Wil- son. " What does he mean by getting into a respectable house through a window? He'll end up his days in jail." " Does — does he look desperate? " inquired Silas Wilson. " Would he be likely to hurt me or Mis' Wilson?" "No; he says he would like to have you come up." " Well, of all things I " ejaculated Sophia. " I've got something to tell you," went on Bert, turning from one to the other. " He wants me to tell you before you go up. It is some one whom you both know, though you haven't seen him for a good many years.'' Silas did not understand, but a mother's in- stincts were quicker. " Is it our son — Phineas? " she asked. "Yes," answered Bert; "it is your son." " Who stole fift3' dollars from his father, and crept avray like a thief in the night! " ex- claimed the farmer indignantly. " He has suffered, and is very weak," re- joined Bert. " He hadn't had anything to eat for twenty-four hours, and I may as well i6o Five Hundred Dollars. tell you that it was I who came downstairs in the night and took up the bread and milk * to him." " You did quite right," said Mrs. Wilson, who was half-way upstairs by this time. He was her own son in spite of all, and though she was not an emotional woman, she yearned to see the face of her only child, with a mother's feelings all aroused within her. " He took fifty dollars ! " repeated Silas Wilson, still harping on a wrong which he had never forgotten nor forgiven. Bert was rather disgusted at tlie farmer's meanness, but he relieved his anxiety. " He's brought you back the money ! " he said shortly. " He has ! '' exclaimed Silas in a tone of gladness. "Did he tell you so?" "Yes; it is all the money he had, and he went without food rather than spend any of it." " Come, that's encouragin'," said the farmer. " He's turnin' from his evil ways." When they reached Bert's chamber they saw Mrs. Wilson kneeling beside the bed, her harsh features softeneri by the light of an af- fection w^hich had been absent from them for years. She looked contented and happy, now that her boy was restored to her. Five Hundred Dollars. i6i " Got back again, Phineas, bev? " said Silas Wilson. " You're lookin' kinder peaked." '' Yes, father, I've been sick, but now " " I'll soon get him well ! " interposed Mrs. Wilson. " I'll go right down and bring up some breakfast." " I can eat it, mother. I have had nothing except the bread and milk Bert brought me." On Wednesday evening Bert closed his en- gagement with the farmer, and declined to continue it, though urged strongly to do so. He went home in a whirl of excitement, for Phineas Wilson had told him something which overwhelmed him with astonishment. CHAPTER XXIII. BERT FORMS A RESOLUTION. " Mother," said Bert abruptly, as he en- tered the cottage at the close of his engage- ment with the farmer, " when did father die? " Mrs. Barton sank into a chair, and looked search ingly in her son's face. "Why — do — ^you — ask?" she said slowly. " I have been told to-day that he w^as living only a year since." "Who told you?" "Phineas Wilson, the farmer's son." i62 Five Hundred Dollars. " Did he see him a year ago? " "Yes, in some town in Canada — near To- st ron to, I believe. But, mother, you don't seem surprised." " No, Bert, for I knew your father was liv- ing." " Then why don't he come home. Why don't he live with us? Is there some mys- tery? " " Yes, Bert, and a painful one for your un- fortunate father. It is the fear of a prison that has kept him away from home," " Surely, mother," said Bert, painfully shocked, "my father was not a criminal?" " No, but circumstances made him appear such." " Tell me the story." " It is time that you heard it. Ten years ago your father and Albert Marlowe were em- ployed by Weeks Brothers, large shoe manu- facturers in a Massachusetts town. Both were skilled workmen " " Did Squire Marlowe work at the bench? " " Yes, his position was precisely the same as your father's, no worse and no better. Both received the same pay — two dollars a day," " Does Percy know this? " Five Hundred Dollars. 163 " Probably not. Albert Marlowe is not fond of speaking of his early days whbeen favorably received in Harrisburg, but be had an idea that in a larger city it would be more difficult to achieve success. The irst night undeceived him. He received a liberal share of applause, and was called before the curtain. " I congratulate you, Bert," said Mr. Pear- son. " You seem to have made yourself solid with the audience." " I am glad that I give satisfaction," re- turned Bert. "It will encourage me to do better." " You had better adopt the profession of an actor," contiuued his friend. Bert shook his head. " I prefer to enter a business of some kind," he said. " Though I have succeeded in one part, I am not sure that I should succeed in others." Bert was about leaving the theatre that night when the call boy brought him a card. " There is a gentleman at the door would like t(? see you," he said. Bert glanced at the card, and found it bore the name of HIRAM FRENCH. It was a name he had never before heard, and when he reached the door he looked in- 232 Five Hundred Dollars. quiringly at the middle-aged gentleman who stood before him. ^ " You are young Barton? " said the visitor. "Yes; that is my name." " Are you the son of John Barton, who once worked in the shoe factory of Weeks Brothers?" " Yes, sir," answered Bert, coloring, for he knew that the stranger must be aware that his father was resting under a criminal charge. " I thought I could not be mistaken. You look as your father did at your age." " Then you knew my father as a boy? " said Bert, eagerly. " I was a schoolmate of his. Later on I was employed in the same factory with him — that of Weeks Brothers." " Did you know under what circumstances he left the factory? " asked Bert, with some embarrassment. " Yes, I knew all about it. But I want you to come home and pass the night at my house, and we will talk over that and other matters." " Thank you, sir. I will give notice to a friend who rooms with me." Bert found Mr. Pearson, and informed him that he would absent himself for one night Five Hundred Dollars. 233 from Mrs. Shelby's boarding-house. Then he returned to ]Mr. French. " I live on Indiana Avenue," explained the latter. " We shall find a car at the corner of State and Madison Streets." As they walked to the car, Bert's new friend asked : " How long have you been on the stage, Mr. Barton? " " Only two weeks." " You don't mean that that comprises your whole experience." " Yes. I stepped in at Harrisburg to sup- ply the place of a young actor who was taken sick." " You act as if you had been trained to it. But how came you to be at Harrisburg? That is not your home? " " No. As you were my father's friend, I will tell you what brought me out there." Bert briefly related the story that is already known to the reader. Hiram French listened with great attention. " I remember Ralph Harding," he said. " He was not popular among his shopmates, especially after his agency in throwing suspi- cion upon your father." " Was it generally thought that my father was guilty? " asked Bert. "No; while circumstances were strong 234 Five Hundred Dollars. against him, no one could believe that a man whose reputation for integrity was as high as your father's would be guilty of stealing. But the good will of his associates could not help him." " Did you know Mr. Marlowe? " "Albert Marlowe? Yes." "Was he well liked?" " Not by me. He was far from being as highly respected as your father." " Yet he has prospered. He is the owner of a factory in Lakeville, and is considered worth thirty thousand dollars." " I am surprised to hear it. When I knew him he was always in debt." " If he really took the bonds charged upon my father, that would account for his start in business." " Exactly so. Now that I think of it, two or three days after the theft, I saw him and. Ralph Harding walking together, apparently engaged in earnest conversation. They evi- dently had a good understanding with each other. I believe you are on the right track, and I heartily hope you will succeed in mak- ing your father's innocence evident to the world. John Barton was my favorite friend, and I hope some day to see him in Chicago." "Are you in business here, Mr. French?" Five Hundred Dollars. 235 "Yes; I am In the old line. Like Albert Marlowe, I am the owner of a large shoe fac- tory, and I am worth, I should say, consider- ably more money.'' Hiram French occupied a handsome house on Indiana Avenue, furnished with taste, and was, as his style of living showed, in easy cir- cumstances. He introduced Bert to his wife and daughter, who seemed at once drawn to the young actor. When he left the house the next morning after breakfast he was urgently invited to call again during his stay, and par- tially promised to do so. But he was in haste to reach Peoria, for there it was he hoped to find a witness that would vindicate his father's iQame and fame. CHAPTER XXXIII. A LATE ARRIVAL AT MRS. BARTON'S COTTAGE. One evening, about eight o'clock, Mrs. Bar- ton was sewing in her little sitting-room w^hen an unusual feeling of loneliness overcame her. Circumstances had separated her from her husband, and her only son was hundreds of miles away. "Why," she asked herself, "can I not fare 236 Five Hundred Dollars. as well as other wives and mothers? I am a ^wife, yet I cannot enjoy my husband's society. Fortunately I am not likely long to be sepa- rated from Bert. If he only succeeds in his mission, and comes home able to vindicate the fame of his father, and restore him to me, I shall be perfectly happy." She felt unusually restless, and found it difficult to keep on with her work. " I feel as if something were going to hap- pen. I hope no misfortune is impending over me." She had hardly spoken when the door bell rang. " It is some neighbor come to make a call," she thought. " I am glad of it, for I am not in the mood for work." She rose and opened the door. She started back in surprise when in her visitors she recog- nized Uncle Jacob, and leaning upon his arm the husband of whom she had just been think- ing. "May we come in?" asked Uncle Jacob, cheerily. " Surely, but — has anything happened? " " Only this ; that your husband is sick and has come here to be nurs'ed back to health by my advice." " But— is it safe? " Five Hundred Dollars. 237 " I think so. The fact is, Bert has made an important discovery, and is likely to make more. We are in a fair way to prove your husband's innocence, and put the guilt where it belongs.' " And where does' it belong? " " The man who stole the bonds, we have every reason to believe, is Albert Marlowe." " I do not wish to get him into trouble, but if it is necessary in order to vindicate my hus- band's reputation, I will not object." " Albert Marlowe has been a cruel enemy to you and your family," said Jacob Marlowe, sternly. " He is entitled to no consideration. The past ten years cannot be recalled; but I think that we shall be able to provide a brighter future for yourself and Mr. Barton. The first thing to do is to get him well." "What is the matter with you, John?" asked Mrs. Barton, now for the first time not- ing with alarm her husband's pale face. " The doctor says my system is run down, and that I need time to recuperate. I was liv- ing in a boarding-house in Montreal, and the prospect of being sick there was too much for me. I ^Aanted my wife to take care of me, and, taking the first train to New York, I con- sulted Uncle Jacob as to whether it would be safe. In the li^ht of Bert's discoveries he told 238 Five Hundred Dollars. me to take the risk. So here I am. May I stay?" '" Do you need to ask that? " said Mrs*. Bar- ton, with an affectionate glance at her hus- band. " There is no place where you have a better right to be." Then, as she thought of her scanty means, a momentary look of anxiety overspread her face lest she should not be able to provide him with the medicines and nourishing food that he required. Uncle Jacob, who was a keen ob- server, read her thoughts, and reassured her by saying: "Mr. Barton is provided with what money may be required for at least a month, and after that time I think some more can be found." " But, Uncle Jacob, I cannot consent to im- pose upon your liberality any further. You have but a small sum of money yourself. What would happen to you if you should fall sick?" " I think I should follow your husband's example, and come here to be nursed back to health," replied Uncle Jacob. " What am I to say to the neighbors, for they will be sure to inquire? " " Say that you are taking care of a sick gen- tleman from New York." ^' It will not do to give his real name? " Five Hundred Dollars. 239 " No ; call me Mr. Kobinson, as you did on my former visit/' said Mr. Barton. " Now that this matter is arranged, can you take care of us* both to-night? " asked Uncle Jacob. " Yes, there is Bert's room." " Then I will trespass upon your hospitality for one night." " Can't you stay longer, Uncle Jacob? " " No, I must get back to business. I must not run any risk of losing my situation, you know.'' " To be sure not," said Mrs. Barton, earn- estly. Do you like your employer, Uncle Jacob? " " I have no reason to complain of him," an- swered the old man, with a smile. " He lets me do about as I please," " You were very lucky in getting in with him." " As you say, I am in good luck. But I think I ought to get higker pay." " It seems to me twelve dollars a week is a very good salary," said Mrs. Barton, soberly. " You could save something out of that if you were not so generous." '' I must think seriously of that, Mary. If I get mean and close-fisted, you mustn't be 240 Five Hundred Dollars. surprised. It will be only because I follow your advice." " You can never become mean or close- fisted, Uncle Jacob. It isn't in your nature to be either. But I hope you will be reason- ably economical, and not give away so much money to others." " You are a good little woman, Mary," said Uncle Jacob, feelingly. " If you are ever blessed with means, you will do just as you advise me not to do. Don't be worried about me, Mary. God loves a cheerful giver, you know, and whatever I give to you is cheerfully given." An hour was spent in conversation, and then, as Mr. Barton showed fatigue, he and Uncle Jacob retired to bed, and Mrs. Barton mixed some flour so as to be able to give her guests warm biscuits in the morning, for she remembered that her husband had been very fond of them in former years. The next morning after breakfast Uncle Jacob took his departure. " I leave you in good hands, John," he said to Mr. Barton. " Now, get well as fast as you can." " There is one thing that will make me well," said Barton, " and that is, vindication from the false charge that has darkened my Five Hundred Dollars. 24I life and destroyed my happiness during the last ten years." " That is coming, and coming soon," said Uncle Jacob. " Only be patient a little while. Bert has already made a discovery that makes it clear who is the real criminal." " I hope he will never suffer as I have done," said the sick man. " You have a more Christian spirit than I, John. I think it only right that he should suffer for the wrong he has done you. Well, good-by. Let me hear from you, and if Bert makes any further progress in his mis'sion, I will apprise you and Mary." Uncle Jacob left the village without being seen by Albert Marlowe or Percy, who alone were likely to recognize him. But it leaked out that Mrs. Barton had a boarder, Percy be- ing the first to hear of it. "What do you think, papa?" he said one day, " Bert Barton's mother has taken a boarder from the city." " A boarder from the city?" repeated Squire Marlowe, surprised. " Yes." "What brought him to Lakeville?" " I don't know. I can tell you who brought him here." "Who, then?" 242 Five Hundred LH-)llars. " Uncle Jacob.'' " Has he been here, then? " " Yes; he came in the evening and w-ent back the next morning." " I wonder he did not call upon us/' said the squire thoughtfully. " It's no great loss if he didn't," returned Percy, pertly. " He would probably want to borrow money." " No ; he appears to be doing very well in the city; that is, for him. But what could in- duce a gentleman from the city to come here to Lakeville to board in a humble cottage? " " I hear he is in poor health," said Percy. " Have you seen him? Do you know what his appearance is?" " Yes. I saw him sitting at Mrs. Barton's window. He is of dark complexion, and has dark hair. Then he seemed to have a high forehead." Squire Marlowe started in surprise. " Dark complexion, dark hair, a high fore- head ! Is it possible that it can be " " Who, father? " asked Percy, curiously. " Never mind, my son. Some one whom I used to know answers to that description." As Percy went out, Albert Marlowe said to himself: " If it should be he, what shall I do about it? It is not for my interest that he Five Hundred Dollars. 243 should remaiu in Lakeville. I might de- nounce him to the authorities, but I would warn him first. Then, if he still lingers, he must take the consequences." CHAPTER XXXIV. BERT INTERVIEWS HARDING'S SISTER. The next week Bert found himself in Pe- oria. His heart beat with excitement, for here he hoped he would attain the object he had in view. The first day he was occupied in obtaining a boarding place, and in matters connected with the play. He understood his duty to his employers, and, eager as he was to seek out Ralph Harding, he waited till he could do so without intrenching upon their time. After considerable inquiry he found him- self standing in front of a neat-looking frame house of two stories in a quiet street. The plate on the front door bore the name CLIFTON. Bert rang the bell. The door was opened by a girl about twelve years of age. 244 I^ive Hundred Dollars. " Is Mrs. Clifton at home? " asked Bert. "Yes, sir. Won't you walk in?" She led the way into a tiny parlor, so small that the owner would have found it difficult to give a fashionable party, or indeed any; party at all. " Sit down here," said the young girl, point- ing to a rocking-chair, " and I will call-ika.." Bert took a seat, and was startled a minute later by a hoarse voice saying, with much energy, " Get out, you tramp ! -' He looked around the room in angry amaze- ment, but could see no one. Directly afterward he heard a discordant laugh, and, guided by the sound, looked up to see that it proceeded from a green parrot in a cage above his head. Bert smiled. It was impossible for him to be angry with a parrot, however impolite the bird might be. Just then a lady entered the room — a lady of middle size and middle age, plain in fea-^ ture, but not unpleasant to look upon. " Did you wish to see me, sir? " she asked. " Are you the sister of Ralph Harding? " asked Bert. The woman's face changed instantly. ^* TeSj" she aPi^wered eagerly, i' Po jou Five Hundred Dollars. 245 bring me any news of him? He is not in trou- ble, is he? " It was Bert's turn to be surprised. " I thought he was staying with you," he said. " Not now." " But he has been here. He came here from Harrisburg, didn't he? " " Yes, and he was here till three weeks ago. Then he came home from the shop where he was at work and told me he was going away." " Did he tell you where he was going? " asked Bert, eagerlj'. " He said he should go to Chicago first, but I have not heard from him since he went away." Ralph Harding then was in Chicago. If Bert had only known that, he would have re- mained there and prosecuted the search in. the Lake City. Yet what chance would he have of finding a man whom he had never seen and would not know by sight in so large and populous a place? His face showed the keenness of his disap- pointment, and Mrs. Clifton was led to in- quire: " Did you wish to see my brother on busi- ness of importance? " " Of importance to me, yes." 246 Five Hundred Dollars. " Is it," she asked with hesitation, " likely to get Ralph into trouble? " " No, madam. On the contrary, if I find him it will be of advantage to him." " Then I hope you may find him. But I am afraid it will be difficult. Ralph is very rest- less. We tried all we could to keep him here, but it was of no use. He had a good place, and, though I say it myself, a good home, where he enjoyed every comfort, but all that didn't prevent him leaving us to go among strangers," she concluded, with a sigh. " I only just came from. Chicago. I wish I had known that he was there." " Did you come to Peoria expressly to see my brother? " asked Mrs. Clifton, showing eome curiosity. " Not entirely. I am connected with the theatrical company. We play the ' Streets of Gotham.' " " Are you an actor, and so young," asked Mrs. Clifton, in surprise. " I take a small part in the play," answered Bert, modestly. " Allow me to place two ad- mission tickets at your dispos'al." "Oh ma, can I go with you?" asked the young girl who had opened the front door. " Perhaps so, Belle." " Have you any picture of your brother Five Hundred Dollars. 247 W'hioli you could show me? " asked Bert, re- turning to the object of his visit. " Fortunately, Ralph had some photographs taken while he was here. But for me he would not have done so, but I insisted, and paid for them myself. Belle, go and get one of the pictures of your Uncle Ralph." The little girl left the room, and soon re- turned with a photograph. " You can have that, if you like," said Mrs. Clifton. " I got a dozen, and Ralph did not feel enough interest to keep one for himself, so I have plenty. I suppose it isn't anything extra, but it look like Ralph." Bert was eagerly scanning the picture which Ralph Harding's sister had given him. The face was long, the nos'e aquiline, the cheeks hollow, and the expression was that of a man who was dissatisfied with life. There ■were side whiskers of scanty growth, and there "was a scrubby mustache of yellowish hue. It was a front view, and both ears were visible. They were of extraordinary size and stood out prominently from the head. " I think I shall know Ralph Harding if I S'ee him," thought Bert. " I am very much obliged to you for the pic- ture," said Bert. " With it to help me I hope I may find your brother." 248 Five Hundred Dollars. " If you do," returced Mrs. Clifton, " will you write to me and let me know, Mr. ? " " Barton. You will see my name on the playbill — Bert Barton. Yes, I will write to you in that case." " There is one question I would like to ask you, Mr. Barton. You say you have never met my brother? " " No." " Then how did you learn that he had a sis- ter in Peoria, and how did you know that that sister was myself." " I was staying at his old boarding-house in Harrisburg. He left behind a box of papers, and among those papers was a letter from you, urging him to come to Peoria." " I remember that letter." " It was that letter — excuse my reading it — that led me to come to Peoria in search of Mr. Harding." '' I am glad you came, for I have some hope through you of inducing Ralph to return. You see, Mr. Barton, there are only two of us. I had not seen him for five years, and now that he has left us, five years more may roll by before we meet again. I think Ralph would be better with us. He is not a cheerful man. Sometimes I think he is burdened with a secret which is preying upon him. I am Five Hundred Dollars. 249 sure he would be better off with us than amoDj^ fctrangers." " I agree with you, Mrs. Clifton. You may rest assured that, should I be fortunate enough to find your brother, I will do all I can to induce him to return to you when our business is concluded. This may require him to go East, but afterward he will be free to go where he pleases. The secret you refer to may relate to the business' upon which I wished to see him. As Bert rose to go Mrs. Clifton took his hand, and said, earnestly : " I wish you suc- cess, I am sure. I feel better for your visit." The information which Bert had received made him desirous of going back to Chicago as soon as possible and making every effort to find Ralph Harding. But there was one em- barrassment. He did not like to leave the company till they were able to find a substi- tute. In New York this would have been easy, but here in Peoria there would be a great difficulty. But he was unexpectedly relieved from this perplexity. On Friday morning Mr. Pearson, who had just come from the manager's room, said to him, " I have news for you, Bert.^' " What is it, Mr. Pearson? " 250 Five Hundred Dollars. " Bob Hazleton has just arrived, and wants to take his old place. But, of course, that would not be fair to jou." " Tell the manager to take him back," said Bert eagerly. " I have some important busi- ness calling me to Chicago, and I shall be glad to resign." " You are sure you won't be disappointed? " " Very sure. I have been wondering how I could resign without embarrassing the com- pany." " We shall be very sorry to lose you, but if that Is the way you feel. Bob is in luck." Bert played that evening in the presence of his predeces'sor in the role, and on Saturday took the morning train for Chicago. CHAPTER XXXV. SUCCESS COMES STRANGELY. L On his return to Chicago, Bert went back to Mrs. Shelby's boarding-house, and was cor- dially received. His board bill was but six dollars a week, and he took care not to spend any money unnecessarily for outside expenses. About the middle of the week he received a Five Hundred Dollars, 251 letter from Uncle Jacob, to whom he had tele- graphed his movements. This is an extract therefrom : " You will be surprised to learn that your father is sick at Lakeville, under your mother's care. I don't think his trouble is physical so much as mental. If, by your help, his repu- tation is vindicated, and he is relieved from suspicion, I am sure he will soon be himself again. " There is some risk, no doubt, in the step he has taken. He might be denounced and arrested, if information were given to the au- thorities. But a long time has elapsed since the charge was made, and no one in Lakeville was cognizant of the circumstances except Al- bert Marlowe, and, though he may learn that the city boarder at your house is your father, I cannot believe he would be so base as to give a hint to the authorities. If he should, the letter of Kalph Harding's which you for- warded will throw suspicion upon him. I am anxious*, however, to have you find the man himself, as his oral testimony will avail more than any letters. You may assure him, if found, that he will be liberally dealt with, if he helps clear your father. " I don't know how you may be situated as 252 Five Hundred Dollars. to money, and I therefore send 3'ou an order for fifty dollars. Present it to Clement Green, of No. 13i/> La Salle Street, and he will cash it. He is not a banker, but an insurance agent, with whom I am well acquainted. I am glad to hear that you have left the stage, as it will permit you to devote your entire time to hunting up Ralph Harding." On account of the income from his dramatic engagement, Bert had spent but little of his uncle's money for the la^st three weeks. How- ever, he thought it best to cash the order at once, as he might have unforeseen expenses. He accordingly made his way to the office on La Salle Street to which he had been directed, and presented his order to Mr. Green in per- son. " How is my old friend Mr. Marlowe? " asked that gentleman, courteously. " He was very well when I left New York," answered Bert. " I knew him in California. In fact, we both worked together in the same mine. Try to persuade him to come out to Chicago. I should be delighted to entertain him. Are you a relative of his? " " Yes, sir; he is my great uncle." " Shall you stay long in Chicago? " Five Hundred Dollars. 253 " I am not sure. It will depend on my busi- ness." " You are young to be intrusted with a busi- ness matter." " Yes, sir; but there was no one else to un- dertake it." " How will you have the money? " " In tens and fives." " Very well. Let me advise you to divide your money and not carry it all in your pocket-book. You know, of course, that in a city like this there are pickpockets and de- signing persons who would be glad to rob you." " Thank you for the suggestion. I will fol- low your advice." Bert borrowed an en- velope, and put all his money, except about ten dollars in small bills, in the inside pocket of his vest. This was wise, for he had fifty dollars besides the sum which he had just been paid. It proved to be a prudent precaution. Outside the office a young man of rather flashy appearance had noticed Bert, and, fol- lowing him in on some pretext that would avert suspicion, had seen that Mr. Green was paying him money. He went out quickly, and waited till Bert emerged into the street. He [hen quickened his steps, and overtook him. f^ Good-iTiorning, vouug man," he sinkh 254 Five Hundred Dollars. '^ Good-morning," returned Bert, eyeing thi stranger with some curiosity. " You must excuse the liberty I have taken in addressing you, but if you will favor me with a few minutes' conversation, I think I can make it worth your while." " Very well. I am ready to hear what you have to say." " By the way, are you staying at a hotel? " " No ; I am boarding on Monroe Street." " Is it a good boarding-house? " " Excellent." " I am looking for one, and if you will allow me, I will walk round with you, and see what it is like." Bert knew that Mrs. Shelby had a room which she was anxious to let, and he readily agreed to introduce the stranger. " I am staying at a hotel just now," ex plained his' companion, " but I prefer a board- ing-house as more home-like. Are you a stranger in the city? " " Yes, sir." ''Where from?" " From New York," " I am from San Francisco. I have only been here a week." They conversed upon indifferent topics till they reached Mrs, Shelby's, Five Hundred Dollars. 255 " I will go np and take a look at your room first, if you don't mind. That will give me an \dea of the accommodations." " Very well, sir." Bert led the way to his own room, and both entered. " Very neat, on my word ! " said the stranger. " Now I will allude to the little matter of business — and then you can intro- duce me to your landlady." " Just as you please, sir." " It is briefly this : Do you see this watch? '^ He took out a showy gold watch, and held it up before Bert. " I find myself unexpectedly short of funds, owing to the failure of a remittance to come to hand, and I am going to offer you this watch at a bargain. You have none, I see." " No, and I have no money to spare to buy one." " Wait till I offer you an inducement. This watch cost me a hundred dollars. I have had it only six months. I offer it to you for twenty-five." " I presume that is a good offer; but I have no money of my own that I can use for the purpose of buying a watch." " My young friend, it will pay you to bor- 256 Five Hundred Dollars. row, for you can double your money on the watch. Any one will give you fifty for it." " Then why do you offer it to me for twenty- five? " asked Bert shrewdly. " Because I can't wait to hunt up a custo- mer." " I cannot buy it." " Then I will make you another offer. Lend me ten dollars on it, and I will redeem it in three days, and give you five dollars for the accommodation." Bert hesitated. It seemed an easy way of earning five dollars. " If I don't redeem it, you have the watch itself for security for a ridiculously small sum. Of course I shan't give you the chance, if I can help it. I expect funds from San Francisco to-morrow." " I think I shall have to decline," Bert said, after a pause; "but your offer seems a good one, and I have no doubt you will easily get accommodated elsewhere.'' Bert was not prepared for the next move- ment. The stranger rose from his seat, drew a sponge from his pocket, and quickly applied it to Bert's nostrils. Fie felt his head swimming and consciousness departing. Five Hundred Dollars. 257 " Aha," thought the stranger. " Mj pru- dent young friend will advance money this time without security." He hastily thmst his hand into Bert's pocket, drew out his pocket-book, and, without stopping to open it or examine its contents, sprang to the door, with the intention of mak- ing his escape. But another boarder chanced to be parsing through the entry at the moment. A quick glance revealed to him Bert unconscious on a chair, and the pocket-book in the hand of the man who was leaving the room. He took in the situation at once. " Give me that pocket-book," he said sternly. The other looked undecided. " Give it to me, or I will hold you and sum- mon help. If you surrender it, I will let you go scot free." The thief muttered an execration, but did not dare to refuse. The boarder entered the room and set him- self to reviving Bert. "Where am I?" asked Bert, languidly. " You are all right now," was the reply. 258 Five Hundred Dollars. Bert looked up in the face of his visitor, and started in great excitement. " Tell me, quick," he said, " are you not Ralph Harding?" ^' Yes, answered the other in great surprise. *' Who are you that recognizes me? " CHAPTER XXXVI. RALPH HARDING IS FOUND. Bert was still partly under the iafluence of chloroform ; but the sight of Ralph Harding, whom he recognized from the photograph which had been given him, roused him from li'S' stupefaction, Harding repeated his question. "Who are you?" he asked, "and how do you know me? " " I am Bert Barton." "What? not the son of John Barton?" ex- claimed Harding, drawing back with a trou- bled look. " Yes," answered Bert, gravely ; " I am the Five Hundred Dollars. 259 son of John Barton, and I have been in search of jou for several weeks." " You have been In search of me? Why did you want to see me? " " I want you to clear my father of the falsB charge which was brought against him ten years ago,'' answered Bert, firmly. " I don't understand what you mean," stam- mered Harding, who had sunk back into a chair and was eyeing Bert with a troubled look. " Oh, yes, you do, Mr. Harding. It was you who gave the information that one of the stolen bonds was in my father's overcoat pocket." " It was true," said Harding doggedly. " Where were the rest? " asked Bert, point- edly. " How should I know? Your father had them secreted somewhere, I suppose." " You know better than that. My father was innocent. He knew nothing of the bonds. An enemy plotted to get him into trouble." " Do you charge me with being that enemy?" demanded Harding. 26o Five Hundred Dollars. " You had something to do with it, but you were the instrument of another." " How do you know that? " admitted Hard- ing, incautiously. " Shall I tell you the name of that other? " " Yes." ** It is Albert Marlowe." Ralph Harding started in surprise. " Does he admit it? " he asked, after a pause. " No; he does not know that it is suspected, I want you to back me up in the demand that he clear my father from suspicion." " He will never do it. How could he, with- out criminating himself? " " Whatever be the result, my father's char- acter must be cleared." " Tell me, is your father still living? " asked Balph Harding, earnestly. " Yes, he is." " Have you seen him? " " Yes. Poor father, he has suffered much. fle has been separated from my mother and myself these many years, and has not dared to show himself at his old home, or among Five Hundred Dollars. 261 his old friends, because he was liable to be ar- rested on the old charge." Ralph was looking down upon the floor, and his features were working convulsively. Bert guessed what was passing throug'li his mind, and paused to give him time. He looked up after a while, and asked: " What would you have me do? " " Testify to what you know. It will clear my father, and he can come home once more.'' " But it will condemn Albert Marlowe." " Why not let it? He is tbe guilty man. Have you so much reason to like Albert Mar- lowe that you will not do this act of justice? " "No!" Ralph Harding burst out, and his face wore an expression of resentment. " He has used me like a dog. It was through me that he became a rich man, and in return he has treated me with contempt and indiffer- ence. If I dared " " You would expose him? " " Yes, I would. It is of no use to deny what you have said. Your father is an innocent man. The bonds were stolen by Albert Mar- lowe." 262 Five Hundred Dollars. Bert looked triumphant. He liad wrung the truth from the accomplice of Squire Mar- lowe. " How did you find me? " asked Harding, abruptly. " How did you know I was in Chicago?" " I was told so by your sister," " Have you been in Peoria, then? " asked. Harding, in great surprise. "Yes; I was there last week." " But — how did you find out that I had a sister? " " At Harrisburg. You left a letter from your sister at your boarding-house there, which gave me the clew I wanted." " And liow did you trace me to Harris- burg? " Bert explained. " And you defrayed your own expenses? I thought you and your mother were left in poverty." " So we were; but an uncle of my motfher's recently returned from California, and it is he who has supplied me with the funds needed for my journey." Five Hundred Dollars. 263 "Then he is wealthy?" " I don't think so. He is employed in New York on a small salary, but he is liberal with the little he has. He has set his heart on cleaning my father's reputation. It m he who sfent me on my present mission." " Does your father think that Albert Mar- lowe is the real thief? " " He does. In fact, he is firmly convinced of it. Now, Mr. Harding, I have told you why I wanted to find you. You have as much ag told me I am right in my suspicion. You are partly responsible for my poor father's unde served sufferings. But for you he would never have been charged with the crime. I» it not so?" " I admit it," Kalph Harding answeredo slowly. " Will you tell me who put the bond into my father's pocket?" " I did." " And who prompted you to do it? " " It was the man you suspected — Albert Marlowe." 264 Five Hundred Dollars. " It was the proceeds of his theft that en- abled him to start in business, was it not?" " You are rigM." " I have one more question to ask. Will you accompany me to New York and testify to this, if needful? " " But what will happen to me? " asked Harding, troubled. "My uncle bade me promise you that we will do our utmost to prevent your coming to harm. As to Albert Marlowe, we shall de- mand a confession from him, or we shall have him arrested, and the whole matter investi- gated." Ralph Harding paused for a brief space, and then said. : " What are your plans if I agree to help you? " " To start for New York to-niglit," answered Bert, promptly. " In New York I w ill take you to Uncle Jacob's oflSce, and we will de- cide what to do next," Harding hesitated a moment, then said : " I believe you will keep your promise, and I will put myself in your hands. I always liked your father better than Albert Marlowe, who Five Hundred Dollars. 265 is a very selfish man, and he has not kept his promise to me. I have reproached myself more than once for consenting to help Marlowe in his plot. It has never been out of my mind. I have been restless, unable to settle down any- where, and have suffered punishment myself, though not as severe as has fallen upon your father. When I have made reparation, as I now have a chance to do, I shall be more con- tented in mind." " Can you be ready to take the evening train with me? " " Yes." " Where are you living? " " In this house." " Then we can remain together. I have not thanked you yet for coming to my help, and saving my money." " I am glad to have helped the sou. It will help offset the injury I have done the father." Bert, accompanied by Ralph Harding, took the evening train for New York. Their arrival was timely, for reasons which will be shown in a later chapter. 266 Five Hundred Dollars. CHAPTER XXXVII. ALBERT MARLOWE MEETS HIS VICTIM. Like most wrong-doers, Albert Marlowe had never ceased to entertain an apprehension that his connections with the bond theft would some time be made public. Yet, as the years rolled by, and he became rich and prosperous, his fears abated somewhat, and he felt no qualms of conscience, though he knew that an innocent man was suffering exile for his sake. When he thought of John Barton it was with dislike. For nothing is truer than the saying that we dislike those whom we have injured. He did not know whether Barton was alive or dead, but hoped that he was dead, as this would make him absolutely safe. When he learned from Percy that Mrs. Bar- ton had a male boarder, his fears instantly suggested that it might be John Barton. The description given by Percy tallied with his Five Hundred Dollars. 267 recollections of the victim of his wicked plot His fears and suspicions were instantly aroused. Why was John Barton here? He was under the ban of the law, liable to be re- arrested, yet he ran that risk. What object had he in view? That he sought the care of his wife because he was ill did not seem a suf- ficient motive. Evidently it behooved him to find out, first, whether Mrs. Barton's boarder was really her husband; and, secondly, if such should be the case, to warn him to leave Lake- ville. It gave the squire an uncomfortable feeling to have his victim so near at hand. First, to find out who the boarder was. Al- bert Marlowe got into the habit of walking two or three times a day past the cottage of Mrs. Barton, in the hope of seeing the mys- terious stranger. He did this for several days, but did not succeed in his object. The reason was that Mr. Barton was confined by weakness first to the bed, and then to the lounge in the little sitting-room. But on the fifth day Squire Marlowe was in luck. The mysterious boarder was walking to and fro in the front yard attached to the 268 Five Hundred Dollars. cottage. When he saw Albert Marlowe be turned away, and w^as about to re-enter the house. The squire did not need this cor- roboration of his suspicion, for he had al- ready recognized Barton, though the two had not met for ten years. He set his face firmly; his expression be- came hard and dogged. " That man must leave Lakeville ! " he said to himself. Without hesitation he opened the gate ard entered the yard. Meanwhile John Barton, seeing that he was recognized, came to a halt, and, turning around, faced the man who had been his bitter enemy. He showed no signs of fear, for what had happened was only what he had antici- pated. Squire Marlowe came up and stood at his side. " You are John Barton," he said. " Do not attempt to deny it ! '' " I do not propose to deny it to you — Albert Marlowe," answered Barton, calmly. " You are here under an assumed name. Five Hundred Dollars. 269 I was told that Mrs. Barton's boarder was named Robinson." " I am passing under that name. You know why." " Yes, I do know why. You are under the ban of the law. You are afraid of being ar- rested and brought to trial a second time." " I know there is danger of it, and of course I shrink from it." " Then why do you come here? Are you mad?" " After ten years I wished to see my wife once more. I am a sick man. I came to her to be nursed back to health." " Take care, or when you leave here it will be for a less desirable boarding-place I " said the squire, in a menacing tone. "You mean the prison?" " Yes ; that is what I mean." " No one in Lakeville knows who I am. Why should I fear? " " I know." " Surely you would not betray me — you, the man who worked for years at my side? " " I cannot compromise with crime. It is 270 Five Hundred Dollars. my duty as a good, law-abiding citizen, to de- nounce you to the authorities." " You — a good, law-abiding citizen ! " re- peated John Barton, with scornful emphasis. Squire Marlowe started back in astonish- ment. The worm had turned. " Do you mean to quesition it? '^ he de- manded, sharply. " Yes, I do." " On what grounds? " " Albert Marlowe," said John Barton, sternly, " one of us two is a thief, but I am not the one." " Do you mean to insult me? " exclaimed the squire, white with anger, not unmingled with uneasy fear. " Come in ! I have something to say to you. It is better said in-doors, where no passer-by can hear it." Mechanically Squire Marlowe followed John Barton into the little sitting-room. Mrs. Barton looked up from her rocking-chair in surprise and apprehension, and half rose. " Stay where you are, Mary," said her hus- band. " I wish you to hear what I am about to mj tq Albert Marlowe," Five Hundred Dollars. 271 CHAPTER XXXVIII. MR. BARTON DEFIES THE SQUIRE. Squire Marlowe sat down, while Jolip Barton, instead of quailing in his presence, eyed him with cool indifference. " What is the meaning of this tomfoolery?" asked Albert Marlowe, uneasily. " You may call it what you like, but the time has come for aii explanation. Albert Marlowe, you have done me a cruel wrong. It is through you that I have had my name blackened and have been forced to fly from my country." " So you went to Canada, did you? " sneered the squire. " It's a popular resort for gentle- men of your class." " Your words do not trouble rae, for T never committed the crime with which I was charged." " Of course not. It is wonderful how in- 272 Five Hundred Dollars. Docent you all are. But you say that I am ^responsyible for the consequences of your crime. What do you mean by that? " " I mean/' answered Barton, with a pene- trating glance, " that the bonds were stolen by you, and that you schemed to throw the blame upon me. Is this plain?" "Are you mad?" isaid the squire, angrily, " do you expect the world to believe this, or are you in a conspiracy to blackmail me? " " The last question you can ask when I de- mand money from you as the price of my si- lence." " Take care, John Barton ! Your silly tale is the last desperate expedient of a criminal. You ought to see the folly of attacking a man in my position. For years I have been the most prominent man in Lakeville, owner of the large shoe factory that gives employment to fifty hands. It is no idle boast — ^and your wife will confirm my words — that I am the most influential and respected citizen of this town," " And on what are your position and pros- perity based, Albert Marlowe? Where did you Five Hundred Dollars. 273 obtain the capital that enabled you to start in business? " Squire Marlowe looked confused for a mo- ment, but his audacity did not desert him. " I started," he answered, " on borrowed money." "Of whom did you borrow? " " That is my affair," returned Marlowe, dog- gedly. " You would find it hard to answer. Let me answer for you." The squire did not speak, but waited, not without uneasiness, for Barton to answer his own question. He didn't have long to wait. " You started your factory on the money realized from the stolen bonds." " You will have to prove this," said Mar- lowe, furiously. " Do you w'sh me to do so? " asked John Barton, significantly. " This is all a scheme to clear yourself from the charge," exclaimed the squire, " Don't think I am so dull that I don't see through it. How happens it that you have waited ten years before it occurred to you to implicate me? " 274 Five Hundred Dollars. " It did not immediately occur to me ; but =^ when you started in business on a large scale, though you were no better off than myself at the time of the theft, it set me to thinking." " I have already told you that I used bor- rowed money." " You won't tell me where you borrowed it." " Because it is my private business. John Barton, I warn you that you are making a powerful enemy. If you keep quiet and let me alone, I will not call attention to your presence in Lakeville, and for safety's sake I will not appear to know anything about you. Do you make that promise? " " Albert Marlowe, I am an innocent man, but I am under a ban. I want to prove my innocence, and regain the right to live with my family, and hold up my head before my fellow- men. If, in doing this, attention should be ■ drawn to you as the real criminal I cannot help it." " So you defy me, do you ? " demanded the squire. " If what I have said is a defiance, then I defy you," answered John Barton, calmly. Five Hundred Dollars. 275 Squire Marlowe rose from liis seat, his face flushed with anger. " Be it so," he said. " You will hear from me again." " Oh, John," exclaimed Mrs. Barton as the squire left the room, " I am afraid Albert will do jou some harm." " Then, Mary, to relieve you, let me say that I have heard through Uncle Jacob that Bert has found the missing witness, Ralph Harding, and that both are probably in New York at this moment." On his return Squire Marlowe telegraphed from a neighboring town as follows : "To Robert Manning, No. 711-2 Fulton St., Brooklyn : " John Barton, who ten years since stole your bonds, and escaped trial, is at Lakeville, at his wife's house. " Albert Marlowe." The last act in the drama was a]>out to be played, and Squire Marlowe went about with a gleam in his eye as he anticipated the final downfall of the man who had dared to defy him. 276 Five Hundred Dollars. CHAPTER XXXIX. CONCLUSION. Bert arrived in New York in due time, ac- companied by Ralph Harding. They received a cordial welcome from Uncle Jacob. " You shall not regret your testimony in be- half of John Barton," he said to Harding. " I W'ill see that you are protected." " Uncle Jacob," said Bert, " I have twenty dollars left of the amount you gave me for ex- penses. Here it is." " Keep it, Bert. You will need it." " But, Uncle Jacob, I have already put you to too great expense. If you were a rich man " Jacob Marlowe smiled. " I can spare the money," he said. " Don't trouble yourself on that score. You have done yourself great credit, Bert, and shown great shrewdness in your expedition in search of Mr. Five Hundred Dollars. 277 Harding. I am not sure that you would not make a good detective." " I have no ambition in that direction, Uncle Jacob. I hope to get a little better education, and then to devote myself to business." " I think you will have an opportunity to do both, Bert." " Do you think you can get me a place of some kind in New York? I know, of course, that I must work before I can afford to study." " We will speak of that later. Now I have to propose that we all go down to Lakeville to meet your father and mother, and incidentally to have an interview with Albert Marlowe." " Do you wish me to go, too? " asked Kalph Harding. " By all means ! You are the most import- ant member of the party." Toward noon of the next day the three reached Lakeville. Uncle Jacob and Ralph Harding secured rooms at the hotel, and then repaired to the little cottage. We will precede them. It was in the spirit of revenge that the equire had telegraphed to Brooklyn, and after 278 Five Hundred Dollars. he had done so he half regretted it. If John Barton were re-arrested, he would undoubtedly try to incriminate the squire himself, and the mere accusation would do him harm. It would be best if Barton could be frightened into making his escape, and this very act would seem like a confession of guilt. " Yes, that will be best," thought the squire. *' Barton will never dare to come back, and we shall be spared the scandal of a trial." He took his hat and cane, and set out for the Barton cottage. Mrs. Barton opened the door. " Is your husband in? " asked the squire. " Yes." " I would like to see him on very important business." " I will see you," said John Barton, who had overheard the squire's words. " Well? " he said, as Marlowe entered the sitting-room. " I have come to urge you to leave Lake- ville," began the squire, abruptly. " There is no time to be lost." " Why should I leave Lakeville? " Five Hundred Dollars. 279 " You don't want to be arrested, I take it? " " Is there any danger of it? " "Yes; I telegraphed yesterday to Robert Manning that you were here. Officers of the law may arrive at any time." "Why did you betray me?" asked Barton, quietly. " Because I thought it my duty. I had no right to shield a criminal." " Then why have you put me on my guard? " " For your wife's sake." " I am surprised at your consideration. You showed very little when you discharged my boy from your factory." " That was a matter of business. But there is no time to waste in discussion. I advise you to go to the station at once. A train will leave for New York in half an hour, and you may be able to escape before the arrival of the offi- cers." " But I don't want to escape." "Are you mad?" demanded the squire, im- patiently. " Do you want to spend a term of years in prison? " " Heaven forbid I " 28o Five Hundred Dollars. " Then profit by my warning, and escape while there is time." " No. If I am arrested I will stand trial." " Have you taken leave of your senses? " " No ; I wish to prove my innocence." " What chance have you of that? " " The testimony of Ralph Harding " " What ! " exclaimed Squire Marlowe, rising in great agitation. " Where is Ealph Hard- ing? " " Here ! " was the unexpected reply, and Uncle Jacob entered the room, accompanied by Bert and Mr. Harding. Albert Marlowe turned his gaze from one to another in ill-concealed dismay. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked, hoarsely. " Have you been hatching up a plot against me?" " No," answered Uncle Jacob with dignity, " It is our object to relieve John Barton from the stigma upon his fair name. In doing so it may be necessary to fasten the crime upon the guilty party. Who that is, you know as well as I do." "No one will credit the testimony of that Five Hundred Dollars. 281 man ! " said the .squir«, pointing scornfully at Ralph Harding. " Don't be too sure of that ! His story is plain and straightforward, and I think it will impress the court that way." " Albert ha? been urging me to escape," said John BartoTi. " He has set the officers on my track." "Has be done this?" asked Uncle Jacob, sharply. " So he says." At this moment a knock was heard at the door, and there was a new and unexpected ar- rival, which produced a sensation. It was Robert Manning, of Brooklyn. " You telegraphed to me, Mr. Marlowe," he said. " This man, I believe, is John Barton." " You are right, sir," responded Barton, calmly. " I might have brought with me an officer and an order of arrest, but I have chosen in- stead to offer to drop all action against you if you will restore the bonds or their equival- ent. I have no wish to be revenged, but I want reparation." ^^2 Five Hundred Dollars. " As I never took jour bonds, I am not the person to apply to," replied Barton. " Then perhaps you will have the kindness to tell me who did take the bonds," said Man- ning, incredulously. " I will do that," responded Ralph Harding, coming forAvard. " There he stands ! " " It is a lie !" interposed the squire, hoarsely. " It is true. You hired me to put a five-hun- dred dollar bond into John Barton's pocket while you appropriated the remainder. It was this that enabled you to go into business for yourself in Lakeville. It was in this way that you got together your wealth." Albert Marlowe was overwhelmed, and did not immediately reply. " I think I remember you," said Robert Manning. " It was your testimony that weighed so heavily against Mr. Barton." " And it has weighed heavily upon, my con- science ever since. I have at last determined to tell the truth." " What have you to say to this, Mr. Mar- lowe? " asked Manning pointedly. " It is a lie," answered the squire, feebly. Five Hundred Dollars. 283 " You are willing to have the matter go to trial?" " Albert," put in Uncle Jacob, " it appears to me that you are in a bad box. Ralph Hard- ing's testimony is sure to convict you. Will you take my advice? " " What is it? " asked the squire, sullenly. " Accept the offer made to John Barton un- der a misapprehension. Repay to Mr. Man- ning the value of the stolen bonds " "With interest attached," interposed Man- ning. " And he will drop the matter. Am I right, Mr. Manning? " " Yes, sir." " It will amount to about double the origi- nal sum — say twelve thousand dollars." " I can't raise so large an amount in cash." " You are worth more? " " Yes; but not in ready money." " I will advance it to you, and take a bill of sale of the factory and your house," said Uncle Jacob. All eyes were turned upon the old man in amazement. 284 Five Hundred Dollars. " But where will you get the money? " gasped the squire. " I can raise ten times that sum, if neces- sary." " But I thought you were a poor man? " " I never told you so. I said I had five hun- dred dollars; but I didn't add that I am worth at least two hundred thousand dollars more. That was my secret ! " " You said that you invested all your money in some mining shares that depreciated to nothing." " I foresaw the decline, and sold out at a small loss." " Why did you deceive us? " asked the squire, irritably." " I wanted to test you all. When you thought me poor, you gave me my walking ticket; but Mary here," and Uncle Jacob glanced affectionately at Mrs. Barton, " gave me a warm welcome, though she thought me nearly as poor as herself. I shall not forget it. Bert also did not look down upon his old uncle, even though he had little to expect from him." Five Hundred Dollars. 2S5 "But, Uncle Jacob," said Bert, "why, if you are so rich, do you work for twelve dollars a week? " " It was a harmless deception, Bert," he re- plied. " I am at the head of the office where you think me employed, and president of one of the richest mines on the Pacific Coast." " Mr. Marlowe," said the squire, not ventur- ing upon the familiar name of Uncle Jacob, " instead of advancing money on my house, factory, and stock, are you willing to buy them outright? " "At what sum do you value them?" " Fifteen thousand dollars." " It is a bargain," said Uncle Jacob promptly. " You may feel disposed to run the business yourself." " It is out of my line. I shall make a free gift of the whole to John Barton, who, I sup- pose, is quite capable of taking your place." " How can I thank you?" said Mr. Barton, much moved. " By making Mary happy. Now, Mr. Man- ping, if you and Albert Marlowe will call to- 286 Five Hundred Dollars. morrow at my office in New York we will com- plete the business. John, I shall not need you ; but Bert will go with me and bring jou back the deeds of the property I propose to transfer to you." That evening was' a happy one in the Bar- ton cottage, but there was vain regret and dis- satisfaction at the home of Albert Marlowe. Too late they all regretted that they had re- ceived Uncle Jacob so coldly, and so forfeited, in all probability, their chances of sharing his wealth. Percy's great regret was that that Barton boy should be lifted above him. A month later, and the changes had taken place. The Bartons moved to Squire Mar- lowe's handsome house, and John Barton was installed as owner and head of the shoe fac- torj^ Bert was placed at an academy, where he will remain till he has acquired a good edu- cation, and then will enter Uncle Jacob's of- fice in the cit}^ He bids fair to redeem the promise of his boyhood, and become an up- right and manly man. Ralph Harding has been made superintendent of the factory, and enjoys the confidence of John Barton^ wt^o is Five Hundred Dollars. 287 liappy in the society of his wife, of which he was deprived for so many years. Albert Marlowe, with the remainder of his money, went to Illinois, and has established a small shoe factory out there. He is a discon- tented and unhappy man, and his wife is peev* ish and discontented also. They can no longer afford the expensive establishment they main- tained in Lakeville. Percy has not lost all hopes of being remembered in the will of his wealthy relative, but whether he will or not is Jacob Marlowe's Secret. THE END.