Beadle's Dime Library No. 412 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

- —— _ _— ->_ And he’s got a dog-eart and lives in clover, while me an on has to slave away our lives in this musty old hole, making money for him to spend, the cussed young snob. Oh, curse em. curse em, curse ’em, Tom! I hope the cursed dog-cart’ll break down an’ kill ’em both! I hope— Confound it, boy, why don’t you curse the upstart? Curse him well, Tom, curse him!” Nothing loth, the boy obeyed, and for a good minute father and son b bemed with a viru- lence perfectly Satanic, till Marcellus shook his son’s hand, saying: ‘“‘Thankee, thankee, Tom. It does me good to hear ye swear like that. I’m easier now. But I tell ye, Tom, me aud you’s got to walk a straight line, we have.” ‘You bet,” responded Tom, with a shiver of disgust. ‘‘He’s got eyes in the back of his head, I b’lieve, he has.” “Never you mind that, Tommy,” said his father, encouragingly. “‘I’ve done a deal already, I have, and 1 was a fool I didn’t do it long ago afore he got set on this upstart kid of Em’s. I’ve got him to take me in again and put you in the office instead of the works, and thats a good deal. Now, Tommy, you listen to me, for I’m going to do what Isav. Me and ou has got to be humble as worms for ever so ong, till we get in with the old man. Tl work him, Tom; [ll work him; and he won’t know how I do it. Our time will come after he’s dead. Keep still, boy. We've both got our grudges, to pay, Tom, and we'll pay ’em, too, when the old man's dead—hey, Tom?” Tom chuckled at the idea, but he said rather hesitatingly: “But it will take a long time to work the racket, father.” **Never you mind that, Tom,” returned his amiable parent. ‘‘ I’ve had my fling, and now I’m going to make money. When I’ve got back what I ought to have, Tom, and see you a-riding in that Cursed dog-cart he rides in now ou shall have your fling, never fear. And now et’s shut up.” From that day father and son kept their reso- lution and became models of quiet and submis- sive deportment. Tom remained in the office, while Marcellus helped him on every possible occasion, and year by year Marcellus acquired more and more in- fluence over the old man. Meantime, Larry Locke rose from place to place in the foundry, till he had become head of the ‘‘cranemen,” who handled the huge crucibles of molten steel, and was known as the strongest man in the works. Paul Van Beaver went away on a trip to Europe, while Marcellus staid at work in the foundry, and so matters went on for several ears till one day Marcellus said to his son, rub- bin his pan with an evil smile that meant a deal: ae Tommy, our time’s coming close now. Tell me the man you hate worst in the world.” “Larry Locke,” answered Tom, without a moment’s hesitation. Marcellus slapped him on the shoulder. ‘‘ And my man’s that upstart Paul. Tommy, boy, we’ve got ’’em both. The old man’s going to make a new will,” CHAPTER VII. THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE. ears had away from the time ke entered the steel mill, when Mr. Paul Van Beaver, no longer in his handsome dog-cart, but on foot and dressed with a plain- ness that gave token of altered fortunes, was standing on the top of one of the hills that over- look the city of Holesburg, by the side of a neat little cottage, talking to a short young man with shoulders of unusual breadth. At the door of the same cottage, and to all ap- ce an interested listener to the conversa- ion, was a pretty young woman, whose bright auburn hair shone like red gold in the sun, while the baby in her arms had got hold of a strag- gling curl and was tugging at it with great elight. “Yes, Larry,” Paul was saying, rather sadly, ‘“T’'m not as badly off as I might be. Tobe sure it’s a great disappointment when I was assured so often by my grandfather that [ was to be his heir, but Mr. Skinner’s right to the property under the will as found is incontestable,” Larry Locke looked up at him as if he rather doubted it, He was the same old Larry, in the clear brown eyes and the defiant curve of the mouth, though he had grown every way since he came to the mill. He was still very short for a man—not over five feet four in his stockings— but his frame was unusually broad and com- pact, and he was one of the heaviest men in the mill, where his strength ncas gh eS ee among the * cranemen” who handled the big crucibles of molten steel. **{ don’t b’lieve but what the old gent meant to do right,” he said, slowly; ‘‘ but I kin tell vou one thing, Mr. Paul, that the men don’t like Mr. Marcellus, now he’s the owner, and if I ain’t mistook ther’ll be trouble in more’n one mill a%ore long.” “Not on my acconnt, I hope,” said Paul, earnestly. ‘* Remember, I make no claim to his heir. Srx oo anything. I’ve lived a reckless, extravagant life on other people’s money, and now I’ve got to earn my Own living. Mr. Skinner has been kind enough to offer me a place in the office at a fair salary, and I’m not too proud to accept it. Mr. Skinner is my relative, and I’m not ashamed to apply to him for help.” Larry Locke cast a glance at the black-striped chimney of the works below before he answered, slowly: ‘‘There’s goin’ to be trouble, Mr. Paul, and don’t you forget it. But it ain’t comin’ from the men, neither. This here Marcellus Skinner’s abadman. You ax Moily here what she knows about him.” Paul turned to the young woman at the door, saying: ‘‘ Well, Mrs. Locke, and what do you know about Mr. Marcellus Skinner?” It was Larry’s first Holesburg friend, the ‘Red Moll” of former days, now a handsome, bright-looking woman, who answered him: **1 don’t know much, sir, but 1 know he’s a bad man, and a deep one.” ** And how do you know that? I didn’t know you had ever seen him.” Molly seemed a little confused before she an- swered him, and kept her eyes on the baby as she said: ‘* You know, sir, I was brought up in the poor-house—” ‘* Yes, yes,” interrupted Paul, hastily. ‘‘ Never mind that. In this country any one can rise to be anything. I think none the worse of you and Larry for being foundlings. God knows it’s not every one who has a father that has cause to be proud of him.” And Paul sighed heavily. His own father had been a lazy, improvident gentleman who had lived on his relatives, on the strength of being the young Patroon, and no one had re- eretted his loss. Larry Locke lifted his head rather proudly, and drew nearer to his wife, saying: ** Yes, Moll, we was both ‘ poor-house brats,’ as they call ’em; but I reckon we hain’t done so bad, arter all.” Molly cast a fond glance at him. She was very proud of her husband, ‘You may say that, Larry, boy,” she said. ‘* We don’t owe no one a penny, except on the house.” ‘*And we'll pay that when it’s due,” said Larry, stoutly. “I ain’t afraid of no mortgage while ve got my arms. I kin take care of my- self, and you, too.” ‘** But about Skinner?’ interrupted Paul. ** Yes, sir, about Skinner,” said Molly. was in the poor-house I first seen him.” ‘**In the poor-house?” “Yes, sir, he used to come there reg’lar, at one time, to see a boy called Tommy, and the folks said as how Tommy was his son, though he never owned him. And at last he took the Oe away. And they do say, sir—” he hesitated a moment, but coutinued: ‘* They do say, sir, as Tom Trainor, that’s now in the office, is the same boy, with his mother’s name. Anyhow, it was arter that Marcellus and the old gent had a rumpus, and Marcellus went away and never come back till the other day.” Paul seemed to be struck with the story. “Tve often thought,” he said, musingly, ‘that it was curious I never knew my mother had a brother till after Marcellus came home. Grandfather must have been ashamed of it.” ‘They was all ashamed of it,” said Molly Locke. ‘‘And no wonder. The old gent was hard but he was just, and he sent Marcellus away, so I’ve heard say, and he was at sea a long time. He used to spend a good deal of money in the old days; but he’s changed now. Paul laughed rather bitterly. “Changed? Yes, I should say so. He’s close as a man can be, now, Well, it’s no use crying over spilled milk, Larry. I'll see you often enough now. Good-by.” ‘*And remember, Mr, Paul,” said Larry, as his old patron turned away, ‘“ that if ever ye want a friend, though Moll and me ain’t what’s to call millyneers, I won’t never furget the fu’st Stee ever had, who got me into the Skinner ills, ** Never mind that,” said Paul, with a slight sigh. ‘“ What I did, did carelessly, It’s your ood heart that remembers it too well. Good- y- ” ‘¢ It CHAPTER VIII. THE NEW SCALE, In the office of the Skinner Mills, the day after Paul Van Beaver took his seat as an humble clerk in the place where he had so long expected to be master, a gloomy silence pre- vailed. Mr. Marcellus Skinner, the new owner, had been in ssion for a week, and was sitting at the master’s desk, scowling as usual when ill-humored, For the matter of that, he seemed ill-humored always. At the next desk was a big, fat young man, with a sullen face, enough like that of Marcellus Skinner to favor the idea that Tom Trainor ought by rights to have been Tom Skinner. 6 hee Larry Locke, the Man of Iron. SSS. eee He was making a pretense of writing lette which, as his education had been of the euicat limited kind, was a mere pretense and a painful one, Ata high desk, in the poorest lighted part of the office, stood Paul Van Beaver, at work on a lot of bills, which he was entering in a book, quietly and rapidly. Presently Tom uttered an impatient oath, and grumblingly said: ‘*T ain’t well, Mr. Skinner. I don’t seem to be able to write today. Can't I have a bit of a holiday for once in a way?” Marcellus Skinner looked up at him, and the scowl vanished from his face. It was a hard, brutal face enough, weather-beaten and heavy- jowled, with a bristling gray mustache, but it softened as he said: ‘Yes, Tommy, boy—certainly. Go to the stable and get the dog-cart. You've got as good aright to it as any one ever had that used to live on other folks’s money, with all their airs end graces. Don’t drive’em toohard, boy. I got ’em a bargain, but that’s no reason they should be killed.” Paul Van Beaver heard all, but never pre- tended to notice. It was part of the system of petty taunts by which his uncle had striven to make his place miserable since he entered the office. The dog-cart had been his, nominally, but on his grandfather’s death, and the sudden dis- covery of a will leaving all his property to ‘‘my heloved son, Marcellus Skinner, for the term of his natural life, with a reversion to the legal heirs of my daughter Emmeline,” Paul had been reduced to penury at once, the more so as his other grandfather, Marcus Van Beaver, at his death a year before, had left his estate of Beaverwyck mortgaged for its full value to no less a person than Elisha Skinner himself; and the mortgage, which Paul had thought to be an empty formality as long as his grandfather lived, became a grim reality as soon as Marcellus Skinner took possession. He made no remark, but went on with his books till Tom Trainor had gone, when Marcel- lus Skinner said, roughly: ‘** Paul, ye lazy good-for-nothing, what are ye doing there?” ‘* Copying bills, sir,” said Paul, calmly. *“‘Hem! Copying bills, are ye?” returned his uncle, witha sneer. ‘* Well, come over to Mr, Trainor’s desk and write. Il want to dictate a letter.” Paul came over obediently and took a fresh sheet of paper, when Marcellus began with his usual scowl. ““['m going for those friends of yours in the shop, Mr. Paul. ‘I’ve seen their ways to you and your betters, and I’m going to make them hump. Do you hear me?” “Yes, sir. What shall I write?’ said Paul, as frigidly as ever. | “Write to Stone & Grynde,” was the reply. ‘* Gents:—I think the combination you propose is a good one. Iam willing to enter it, beginning to- morrow. It’s time we taught our hands who is mas- tr. If it had been done ten years ago, we should have been richer men. Yours.”’ Paul handed him over the letter, and the new master signed it, and then said, with a sneer: “We're going tor get now?” ‘*Ten dollars a week,” answered Paul, not without a certain sinking of the heart. ‘Well, we’re going to cut down twenty-five per cent,” retorted Marcellus, ‘‘ beginning the oing to scale down wages, and I’m uce everywhere. How much do you next pay-day. You'll only get seven-fifty here-- after. If you don’t like it, you can quit as soon as you like.” Paul listened silently, and his only reply was the query: ‘‘ Any more letters, sir?” “No. Go back to your bills,” said his uncle, sullenly. ‘“‘ TU bring your cursed pride down et, with all your Van Beaver airs and graces. an Beaver, indeed! A lot of paupers, that. ot hold of my father in his dotage, and would nave sucked him dry if he hadn’t died in the: way he did!” Paul colored high for the first time. His tem- per was naturally quick, and he had had a great struggle for some time to keep it in bounds, **T hope you'll remember, sir,” he said, “ that my mother was your sister, and that a sneer at my father’s family is a reflection on her and your own family.” Marcellus chuckled, and scowled while he chuckled. ‘‘ Ho, ho! So the Van Beaver pride’s getting up, is it? Well, we'll bring that down. Ain’t you a pauper, depending on my bounty? Ain’t you?’—say!” _ “No, sir!” returned Paul, with a great swell- ing at his throat. ‘In times past I was depend- ent on my poor grandfather. Now ['m earn- ing an honest living by hard work.” ; ‘Hard work!” growled Marcellus, bitterly. ‘Yes, curse you! and it will be harder before we've done, young fellow. Oh! I'm going to make you earn what you get, you can depend on that. Here. go the works and tell a foremen I want them,” GOMmUGe JOO “S the- tp | | | | |