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
“Some paper and envelopes.”
“Humph!” muttered Abner, discontentedly.
He proceeded to pay his own bill and in a few minutes got into the wagon and drove off rather sulkily. Herbert saw that Mr. Holden was disturbed by the failure of his little plan, and felt amused rather than otherwise. But when he reflected that he was going to live with this man, and be, to a considerable extent under his control, he felt inclined to be sad. One thing he resolved that he would not submit to tyranny. The world was wide, and he felt able to earn his own living. He would give Mr. Holden a trial, and if he treated him with reasonable fairness he would remain with him. But he was not going to be any man's slave.
Meanwhile they were getting over the road, and a few more hours brought them to their journey's end.
Abner Holden's house stood in considerable need of paint. It had no great pretensions to architectural beauty, being about as handsome for a house as Abner Holden was for a man. There was a dilapidated barn, a little to one side, and the yard was littered up with a broken wagon, a woodpile and various odds and ends, giving the whole a very untidy look.
“Is this where you live, Mr. Holden?” asked Herbert, looking about him.
“Yes, and I'm glad to get home. Do you know how to unharness a horse?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then jump out and unharness this horse. A man will come for it to-morrow.”
Herbert did as directed. Then he took his little trunk from the wagon, and went with it to the back door and knocked.
CHAPTER VII A NEW HOME
The door was opened by an elderly woman, rather stout, who acted as Abner Holden's housekeeper. Though decidedly homely, she had a pleasant look, which impressed Herbert favorably. He had feared she might turn out another edition of Mr. Holden, and with two such persons he felt that it would be difficult to get along.
“Come right in,” said Mrs. Bickford, for that was her name. “Let me help you with your trunk. You can set it down here for the present.”
“Thank you,” said Herbert.
“You must be tired,” said the housekeeper.
“No, not very,” said our hero. “We rode all the way.”
“Well, it's tiresome riding, at any rate, when it's such a long distance. You came from Waverley, Mr. Holden tells me.”
“Yes.”
“And that is more than thirty miles away, isn't it?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“So you've come to help Mr. Holden?” she added, after a pause.
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Herbert, rather seriously.
“What is your name?”
“Herbert Mason.”
“I hope, Herbert, we shall be able to make you comfortable.”
“Thank you,” said Herbert, a little more cheerful, as he perceived that he was to have one friend in Mr. Holden's household.
“Has Mr. Holden generally kept a boy?” he asked.
“Yes, he calculates to keep one most of the time.”
“Who was the last one?”
“His name was Frank Miles.”
“Was he here long?” asked Herbert, in some curiosity.
“Well, no,” said the housekeeper, “he did not stay very long.”
“How long?”
“He was here 'most a month.”
“'Most a month? Didn't he like it?”
“Well, no; he didn't seem to like Mr. Holden much.”
Herbert was not much surprised to hear this. He would have thought Frank Miles a singular sort of a boy if he had liked Abner Holden.
“Have any of the boys that have been here liked Mr. Holden?” he asked.
“I can't say as they have,” said Mrs. Bickford, frankly; “and somehow they don't seem to stay long.”
“Why didn't they like him?”
“Sh!” said the housekeeper, warningly.
Herbert looked round and saw his employer entering the room.
“Well, boy, have you put up the horse?” he asked, abruptly.
“Yes sir.”
“Did you give him some hay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And some grain?”
“No, I didn't know where it was kept. If you'll tell me, I'll do it now.”
“No, you needn't. He isn't to have any. He's only a hired horse.”
Considering that the hired horse had traveled over thirty miles, Herbert thought he was entitled to some oats; but Mr. Holden was a mean man, and decided otherwise.
“Where is Herbert to sleep, Mr. Holden?” asked the housekeeper.
“Up garret.”
“There's a small corner bedroom in the second story,” suggested Mrs. Bickford, who knew that the garret was not very desirable.
“I guess he won't be too proud to sleep in the garret,” said Mr. Holden. “Shall you?” he continued, turning to Herbert.
“Put me where you please,” said Herbert, coldly.
“Then it shall be the garret. You can take your trunk up now. Mrs. Bickford will show you the way.”
“It's too heavy for you, Herbert,” said the housekeeper; “I will help you.”
“Oh, he can carry it alone,” said Abner Holden. “He isn't a baby.”
“I'd rather help him,” said the housekeeper, taking one handle of the trunk. “You go first, Herbert, You're young and spry, and can go faster than I.”
On the second landing Herbert saw the little bedroom in which the housekeeper wanted to put him. It was plainly furnished, but it was light and cheerful, and he was sorry he was not to have it.
“You could have had that bedroom just as well as not,” said Mrs. Bickford. “It's never used. But Mr. Holden's rather contrary, and as hard to turn as a—”
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