Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 655 — page 3: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

rr i eee ete EE, eee ee pe **Take everything,” cried Simon, fiercely. ** Don’t leave astick ora rag. IJl pay you up, madam, for your insults. My house shall be cleared of your rubbish. Here goes your desk!” He snatched it up and bore it to the door him- $$ ee Plucky Paul, the Boy Speculator. ee thing about my father being a dead dog. You shall find that Iam alive boy. And now be off with you, before [ am roused to lay my hands on you, you human wolf!” Roger looked so fierce that his mother sprung self, followed by the indignant eyes of the in- | up in alarm and caught hold of her fier son. sulted woman, ‘*T pray to Heaven that this last act of out- rage may prove your own ruin, Simon Slink! May that desk, in some providential way, turn the tide of your ill-gotten fortune, and bring on you the fate which your cruel hand has brought on me and mine!” He laughed in harsh disdain. ‘¢ Tl] take the risk,” he said. ‘* My fortune has sailed past worst dangers than this bit of carved wood.” tended, on the pile of furniture heaped on the pavement. Its joints cracked at the shock, and the bottom yawned, at one corner, from the sides. Some papers showed at the rent. But without heed to this the old miser turned back into the house. He did not, in his inmost soul, dream, that in those papers lay hidden the age which the widow had denounced on his head, CHAPTER II, AN OLD FRIEND IN NEED. THE last article of furniture had been landed upon the pavement. The house was locked and the key handed to the owner. Mrs. Wilton, with her children by her side, sat in despair | amid her poor household goods. A group of | neighbors were standing by, with surprised and itying looks. The constable and his aids had harried away,as if a little ashamed of their | work. But Simon Slink still remained, with a | look on his ugly face as if he gloated over his | deed. Mrs. Wilton’s biting words had touched the | old rascal in some sore points, and he stood look- | ing at her with a glare of revenge in his cat-like eyes. fc You’ve brought it on yourself, Emily Wil- | ton,” he said, with a snarl. ‘‘ Maybe it will | learn you, another time, not to insult gentlemen | that are only asking for their Scant ‘** Get out of my sight, you ugly wretch!” she | cried, bitterly. ‘* Never let me see your despic- | able face again! And tbe curse of the widow | and the orphan go with you! To think of it! | After my poor husband served you faithfully | for ten years! He is no sooner dead than you turn his widow out into the street, without a | shelter for her head, ora fire to warm her.” ‘‘T paid Harry Wilton his wages as long as he | earned them,” replied Simon, harshly. *‘ 1 don’t owe anything to a dead man, any more than I do to,a dead dog. I will have nobody in my house that don’t pay their rent.” At this heartless response, that broke the poor | widow down into tears, one of the onlookers stepped indignantly forward. | ut at that moment a lithe and active youth- ful form sprung briskly before him with flash- ton, returned from his quest. ‘‘What is this?’ he cri fiercely. The boy from that moment was @ man, ‘'My mother ing eyes and burning cheeks. It was Roger ul turned into the street, and this old wretch in- | sulting her in her misery! Did you not tell him where I was gone, mother?” ‘“Yes. But he would not wait. He would not listen.” The boy turned on the old miser with a look that made him slink back in alarm, Roger looked double his size at that moment. His lips curled with scorn and contempt. | ‘“ You are an old man,” he said, with bitter emphasis. ‘“‘I won’t lay my hands on you, But I have some words for yourear. I tell you this, Simon Slink,and you had better remember it. I will have revenge on you for this deed, if I have to give my life toit! You are a rich man and I am a poorboy. But I will make money, and you will lose it. Honest and hard work will make me rich, and rascality will make you poor. The day will come, it is bound to come, when you will live in my house and will beg me to wait for my rent! And on that day I will turn you pitilessly into the street, as you have turned my mother and her children to- day. Remember that, Simon Slink. The world turns round.” At these prophetic words, delivered in a tone of belief and determination, the old fellow turned visibly pale. But the next moment he burst into a scornful laugh. ‘‘ How the young cock does crow,” he ejacu- lated. ‘‘Do your worst, boy. I'll have my rights.” ef And V’'ll bave my revenge. You said some- Ile flung the desk, more rudely than he in- | ? | to go to? ‘Don’t, my son! Don’t touch him! He will have the law of you.” ‘* But J will!” exclaimed one of the women who was standing by. ‘‘The insulting old hound! Toturn a poor widow into the street, and then stand and pick at her! I'll tear his ugly eyes from his face!” She came forward so threateningly, support- ed by the lowering looks of her companions, that old Slink drew fearfully back and shuffled away from theangry termagant. ‘*He is running away, the ugly dog! Shall we let him go without a drubbing?” ‘*No,’’ came the answer from several of her companions. Fierce with indignation they rushed at the old miser, who was backing off in alarm, He had not women like Mrs. Wilton to deal with now, but rough-mannered though honest ma- trons, who were not likely to handle him gently if he once fell into their hands, As they came near he turned andran. But he was too late. Ere he-made many'steps the woman in advance grasped him by the collar. Ina minute more a half-dozen pairs of hands had hold of him, and he was being pulled and hustled about, scratched and buffeted, until he roared like a calf for help. ‘‘ Let us roll him in the mud,” cried the lead- er of the assailants. ‘‘ Here is a wet spot. Let us spoil his broadcloth for him,” It was no sooner said than done. The howl- ing old wretch was jerked down ina particu- larly muddy spot in the wet street, and rolled backward and forward, until he was covered from head to foot with a thick plaster of sticky and loud-smelling street mud, which had been softened by a recent rain, The lea ing termagant ended her work b plastering a double handful of the sticky stu on his head and eyes, and then clapping his hat down tightly on it. ‘*That’s the widow’s mite!” she said, with a shrilllaugh. ‘*‘ Now lethim go. I don’t think he will come here to gloat over his dirty work again. "Raloaaed from his tormentors old Simon picked himself slowly up. He was a sorry spectacle as he stood there exposed to their jeering laughter. ** I'll have the law of you all!” he cried, with a wolfish snarl. ‘‘I’ll teach you, you foul- mouthed wenches—’’ ‘* Give him another roll!” exclaimed the fore- most. ‘* He is insulting a decent woman.” They sprung forward again. At this threat- ening move the plastered rogue turned and ran like a deer with a pack of wolves at his heels, still yelling for the police at every step. This time he distanced them. They were too full ot laughter to follow him closely, They re- turned, after a few steps, to where the poor widow and her family were observing them with looks of satisfaction. ‘* We've given him a lesson,” said the stal- wart matron who had been the leader in this proceeding. ‘‘He won’t show his ugly mug round here again soon. If he does we'll give him another roll., And now, my poor woman, what are you going todo¢ Have you no place It looks like rain.” No place,” bemoaned the despairing widow. ‘*T have no, shelter for my head, I and my children must be left to the cold skies.” ‘*You shall not!” cried the woman, impetu- ously. ‘‘We are all poor enough, the Lord knows, but we have hearts, I'll give you shel- ter myself, for to-night. And we'll see that your furniture is taken in off the street.” ‘That we will,” exclaimed the others, hearti- ly. ‘* Don’t look so troubled, Mrs, Wilton.” ‘““T cannot helpit,” she rejoined, breaking into tears. ‘‘ You areallsokind, I cannot bear to Prapose on you.” ring this conversation Roger had stood im- passive, his eyes fixed on the spot where his enemy had been so justly dealt with, while a resolute look marked his flushed face. He was making a silent vow to carry to the end his stern prophecy of revenge. He now turned, and his set face softened. ‘Don’t be worried, mother,” he said. ‘“I have seen Mr, Burnaud, and it will be all right. He is escage here rightaway.” - A flush of joy came into Mrs, Wilton’s face. It was followed by a look that od ow y at was almost “Coming? He coming?’ she muttered. “ey thought he would have forgotten me.” 3 —$<< = — _ — -_—» ** What are we to do?” asked one of the neigh- bors. ‘' We are willing to help you.”’ ‘You are ever so kind,” answered Mrs. Wil- ton. ‘‘ But I know you can illafford to care for any but yourown. And I have sent for an old friend, who has promised to help me.” Further words were prevented by the ap- proach of a stout-built, well-dressed person with a very kindly face. He paused and look with surprise on the scene before him. “<a Heaven!” he exclaimed. ‘‘Has he turned you into the street? This is worse than le ted. The boy did not tell me this.” ‘* it was done after I left,” answered Roger. By this time the gentleman and Mrs. Wilton were face to face. Her looks were downcast, as if she could not bear to raise her eyes to those that looked on her so strangely. ‘“‘T am glad you remembered and sent for me,” he said, in a low yoice. ‘‘Why did you not send socner? I did not dream you were te- duced to such straits.” ‘* These kind women have offered to take care of me,” murmured Mrs, Wilton. ‘That is very good in them,” he replied, with a graceful bow to the group of neighbors. ‘‘ But you shall not impose on their kindness, I know Simon Slink, and don’t owe him any good-will. It will do me good to countermine the old ras- cal, Look around,somebody. Cannot we get a wagon to carry these goods?” ‘‘T will bring you one,” answered one of the men. ‘‘ But what are you going to do, Mr. Bur- naud?” asked the widow, plaintively. ‘* First of all to get you under a roof,” he an- swered. ‘‘ Then to find you fire and food.” ‘* But thatis toomuch. Iam poor, I cannot repay you.” ‘Oh, never mind that. We'll talk about that afterward.” The widow said nothing, but a look of pain came into her face. She could not bear to ac- cept Seo by PF see particularly from this man. He noticed her look, and quickly spoke. ‘** You poor?” he said. *‘ Why, you have this brisk boy, and that’s as good asa fortune. He looks able to pay me for all I do. It will be only a loan, Mrs. Wilton.” ‘* Pll pay you all,” answered Roger, proudly. ‘*Tam going to make money, Mr. Burnaud. I have just sworn that I am going to get rich, and pay out Simon Slink for what he has done to-day. And I mean it!” The gentleman looked at him with a doubtful smile. ** Tt is not so easy to get rich, ‘‘ Not for everybody, I know, tobe forme. You shall see.” ‘* Well, well, you’ve got pluck, anyhow.” He slapped Roger heartily on the back. At this moment the wagon for which he had sent arrived. By his directions the furniture was loaded into it, and the two frightened chil- dren, who had been clinging to their mother’s gown, were safely lifted onto a bed that lay in the front of the wagon. ‘*There. Now drive to this place. I will be there before you.” He gave written directions tothe driver. ‘*‘ You can jump into the wagon, Roger, and take care of the children. I will bring your mother by the cars.” Mrs. Wilton looked flurried and frightened when the wagon, with her goods and kuac. had ama off, and she wees alone with her pro- tector. To hide her feelings she turned to the kindly neighbors, and thanked them again with a warm gratitude that showed her full appreciation of their generosity. In a few minutesafterward she was in a street car with Mr. Burnaud. Few words passed between them on their jour- ney. Mrs. Wilton was moved too deeply for words, while Mr. Burnand seemed full of some earnest feeling. An old lover of the faded wo- man by his side, rejected for another years ago, it is not strange that he felt deeply. _ They were not long in reaching their destina- tion. The wagon had stopped in a narrow street, before a small, but neat house, superior to that they had left. The wagoner, assisted by Roger, was already engaged in carrying the fur- niture into the house. Mrs. Wilton looked at her conductor with eyes that were full of a gratitude. ‘‘This is too much, Mr. Burnaud,” she said plaintively. ‘“‘I feared to send to you at all, after—after the past. But I was desperate. Ithought—I thought—” “You thought that John Burnand still had a heart,” he earnestly rejoined. ‘‘1 once loved Emily Allen,” he continued ina low tone, ‘TI am one to whom old thoughts cling. Yeu shall m2 boy.” . ut it is going