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. Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute by Jr. Horatio Alger (romance book recommendations TXT) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute by Jr. Horatio Alger (romance book recommendations TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
“Hector has written me, inclosing a statement signed by two of his schoolfellows, implicating your own nephew, and he charges that you made the charge against him out of partiality for the same.”
“There is considerable prejudice against my nephew,” said Socrates.
“And for very good reasons, I should judge,” said Allan Roscoe, severely. “Hector describes him as an outrageous bully and tyrant. I am surprised, Mr. Smith, that you should have taken his part.”
Now, Socrates had already had a stormy interview with his nephew. Though partial to Jim, and not caring whether or not he bullied the other boys, as soon as he came to see that Jim’s presence was endangering the school, he reprimanded him severely. He cared more for himself—for number one—than for anyone else in the universe. He had been exceedingly disturbed by receiving letters from the fathers of Wilkins and Ben Platt, and two other fathers, giving notice that they should remove their sons at the end of the term, and demanding, in the meantime, that his nephew should be sent away forthwith.
And now Allan Roscoe, whom he had hoped would side with him, had also turned against him. Then he had lost the services of a competent usher, whom he got cheaper than he could secure any suitable successor, and, altogether, things seemed all going against him.
Moreover, Jim, who had been the occasion of all the trouble, had answered him impudently, and Socrates felt that he had been badly used. As to his own agency in the matter, he did not give much thought to that.
“My nephew is going to leave the school, Mr. Roscoe,” said Socrates, half-apologetically.
“I should think it was full time, Mr. Smith.”
“Perhaps so,” said Smith; “but if I have stood by him, it has been in ignorance. I cannot think him as wrong as your ward has probably represented. Hector was jealous of him.”
“Of his scholarship, I presume?”
“Well, no,” answered the principal, reluctantly, “but of his physical superiority, and—and influence in the school. I may say, in fact, Mr. Roscoe, that till your ward entered the school it was a happy and harmonious family. His coming stirred up strife and discontent, and I consider him primarily responsible for all the trouble that has occurred.”
“I don’t defend Hector Roscoe,” said Allan, “but he writes me that your nephew was a bully, who imposed upon his schoolfellows, and that he, by taking their part and stopping this tyranny, incurred his ill-will and yours.”
“I supposed I should be misrepresented,” said Socrates, meekly. “I am devoted to my school and my pupils, Mr. Roscoe. I am wearing out my life in their service. I may make mistakes sometimes, but my heart—my heart, Mr. Roscoe,” continued Socrates, tapping his waistcoat, “is right, and acquits me of any intentional injustice.”
“I am glad to hear it, Mr. Smith,” said Allan Roscoe, stiffly. “As Hector has left you, I have only to settle your bill, and bid you good-day.”
“Will you not exert your influence to persuade the boy to return?” pleaded Socrates.
“As I don’t know where he is, I don’t see how I can,” said Allan Roscoe, dryly.
“That man is an arch hypocrite!” he said to himself, as he was returning home.
I may state here that at the end of the term half the pupils left Smith Institute, and Socrates Smith lamented too late the folly that had made him and his school unpopular.
CHAPTER XXVI. HECTOR’S ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK.
Mr. Crabb and Hector were sitting side by side in a railroad car, speeding away from Smith Institute. In the heart of each was a feeling of relief, which increased as each minute carried them farther away from the school.
“Hector,” said the usher, looking younger and happier than his pupil had ever known him, “I feel like a free man now. It is a feeling that I have not had since I first set foot in Smith Institute.”
“I think you will lead a happier life in New York, Mr. Crabb.”
“I am sure of it. Thanks to your considerate kindness, I shall for the first time earn an ample salary, and even be able to lay up money. Is my future pupil about your age?”
“He is a year younger.”
“Where did you make his acquaintance?”
“At Saratoga, My father and I spent two months at Congress Hall two summers ago, and as Walter’s family were also there, we naturally got to be friends. He is a capital fellow, and you will be sure to like him.”
“I am ready to like him after reading that letter he wrote you. Is he fond of study?”
“That is his weak point,” said Hector, laughing. “Walter was never cut out for a scholar. I don’t mean, of course, that he hasn’t fair capacity, but his taste doesn’t lie that way. However, he won’t give you any trouble, only you won’t succeed as well as you may wish in pushing him on.”
“All boys are not cut out for scholars,” said the usher. “Now you, Hector, would do excellently, and might hope to make a very successful professional man.”
Hector shook his head.
“I must look to a different career,” he said. “I am to be the architect of my own fortune, you know.”
“What are your plans, Hector?” asked the usher.
“I will consult with Mr. Boss, Walter’s father. By the way, he knows nothing of the change in my circumstances. He supposes me to be the heir to the Roscoe estate.”
“Trouble has come upon you early, Hector. Should you need help hereafter, you must remember that I am earning a good salary and—”
“Thank you, Mr. Crabb,” gratefully, “but you will need all you earn. I don’t look upon my loss of fortune as a trouble. I think it will make me more manly and self-reliant, and stimulate me to exertion. I have a fair education, and I am sure I can earn my living in some honest way.”
“If that is your spirit, Hector, I am sure you will succeed. You are young and hopeful. I am too much inclined to despond. I have always been timid about the future. It is a matter of temperament.”
It was early in the afternoon when they reached New York. As they emerged from the depot a bright-faced boy came up eagerly and greeted them.
“How are you, Hector?” he said. “You see, I came to meet you. I have been longing to have you come.”
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