Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger (best romantic novels to read TXT) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger (best romantic novels to read TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
“That's lucky,” said Abner Holden, dryly. “It's well that people shouldn't expect what they are not likely to get.”
Here a sense of the ludicrous came over Herbert as he thought of being Mr. Holden's pet, and he laughed heartily. Not understanding the reason of his sudden mirth, that gentleman demanded, in a tone of irritation, “What are you making a fool of yourself about?”
“What am I laughing at?” said Herbert, not liking the form of the question.
“Yes,” snarled Abner.
“The idea of being your pet,” explained Herbert, frankly.
Mr. Holden did not appreciate the joke, and said roughly, “You better shut up, if you know what's best for yourself.”
They rode along in silence for a few minutes. Then Abner Holden, thinking suddenly of the envelope which Dr. Kent had placed in Herbert's hand at parting, and feeling curious as to its contents, asked:
“What did the doctor give you just as you were starting?”
“It was an envelope.”
“I know that; but what was there in it?”
“I haven't looked,” said our hero.
He felt a little satisfaction in snubbing Mr. Holden, whom he saw he would never like.
“Why don't you open it?”
“I didn't think of it before.”
“I suppose there is some present inside.”
Herbert decided to open the envelope, out of respect for Dr. Kent. On opening it, he drew out a five-dollar bill, and a few penciled words, which were as follows:
“DEAR HERBERT: I would gladly give you more if I had the means. I hope you will use the inclosed money in any way that may be most serviceable to you. You must write to me often. Be a good boy, as you always have been; let your aims be noble; try to do right at all hazards, and may God bless your efforts, and make you a good and true man. Such is the prayer of your affectionate friend, GEORGE KENT.”
Herbert read these lines with emotion, and inwardly resolved that he would try to carry out the recommendations laid down. His thoughts were broken in upon by Mr. Holden, whose sharp eyes detected the bank-note.
“There's money in the letter, isn't there?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Five dollars.”
“Five dollars, hey?” he said. “You'd better give it to me to keep for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Holden; I can take care of it, myself.”
“It isn't a good plan for boys to have so large a sum of money in their possession,” said Abner Holden, who was anxious to secure it himself.
“Why not?” asked Herbert.
“Because they are likely to spend it improperly.”
“Dr. Kent didn't seem to think I was likely to do that.”
“No; he trusted you too much.”
“I hope it won't prove so.”
“You'd better keep out of the way of temptation. You might lose it, besides.”
“I don't often lose things.”
“Come, boy,” said Mr. Holden, getting impatient; “Dr. Kent, no doubt, intended that I should take care of the money for you. You'd better give it up without further trouble.”
“Why didn't he give it to you, then?” demanded Herbert.
“He supposed you would give it to me.”
Mr. Holden's motive for getting the money into his own hands was twofold. First, he knew that without money Herbert would be more helpless and more in his power. Secondly, as he had agreed to supply Herbert with clothing, he thought he might appropriate the money towards this purpose, and it would be so much of a saving to his own pocket. Perhaps Herbert suspected some such design. At any rate, he had no intention of gratifying Mr. Holden by giving up the money.
“Well, are you going to give me the money?” blustered Abner Holden, taking out his pocketbook, ready to receive it.
“No,” said Herbert.
“You'll repent this conduct, young man,” said Holden, scowling.
“I don't think I shall,” said our hero. “I don't understand why you are so anxious to get hold of the money.”
“It is for your good,” said Abner.
“I'd rather keep it,” said Herbert.
Abner Holden hardly knew what to do. The money was by this time safely stowed away in Herbert's pocket, where he could not very well get at it. However, he had a plan for getting it which he resolved to put into practice when they stopped for dinner.
CHAPTER VI ON THE WAY
By the time they had ridden twenty miles both Herbert and Mr. Holden felt hungry. The fresh air had produced a similar effect upon both. They approached a broad, low building with a swinging sign and a long piazza in front, which it was easy to see was a country tavern.
“Do you feel hungry, boy?” inquired Abner Holden.
“Yes, sir,” returned our hero.
“So do I. I think I shall get some dinner here. You can get some, too, if you like.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Oh, there's no occasion to thank me,” said Mr. Holden, dryly. “I shall pay for my dinner, and if you want any, you can pay for yours.”
Herbert looked surprised. As he had entered Mr. Holden's employ, he supposed of course that the latter would feel bound to provide for him, and it certainly seemed mean that he should be compelled to pay for his own dinner. However, he was beginning to suspect that his new employer was essentially a mean man.
“How much will it cost?” asked Herbert, at length.
“Thirty-seven cents,” was the reply.
It must be remembered that this was in the day of low prices, when gold was at par, and board could be obtained at first-class city hotels for two dollars and a half a day, and in country villages at that amount by the week.
“Thirty-seven cents!” Herbert hardly liked to break in upon his scanty hoard, but the morning air had sharpened his appetite, and he
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