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. The Errand Boy; Or, How Phil Brent Won Success by Jr. Horatio Alger (i like reading books .TXT) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «The Errand Boy; Or, How Phil Brent Won Success by Jr. Horatio Alger (i like reading books .TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
“You'd better, if you know what's best for both of us,” said Jonas.
Mrs. Brent was far from being a kind-hearted woman. Indeed she was very cold, but Jonas was her only son, and to him she was as much attached as it was possible for her to be to any one. Formerly he had returned her affection in a slight degree, but since he had figured as a rich man's son and heir he had begun, incredible as it may appear, to look down upon his own mother. She was not wholly ignorant of this change in his feelings, and it made her unhappy. He was all she had to live for. But for him she would not have stooped to take part in the conspiracy in which she was now a participant. It seemed hard that her only son, for whom she had sinned, should prove so ungrateful.
“My boy,” she said, “I would not on any account harm you or injure your prospects, but when we are alone there can be no harm in my treating you as my son.”
“It can't do any good,” grumbled Jonas, “and we might be overheard.”
“I will be cautious. You may be sure of that. But why do you look so annoyed?”
“Why? Reason enough. That boy Dan, the under-gardener, has been impudent to me.”
“He has?” said Mrs. Brent quickly. “What has he done?”
Jonas rehearsed the story. He found in his mother a sympathetic listener.
“He is bold!” she said, compressing her lips.
“Yes, he is. When I told him I would have him turned off, he coolly turned round and said that my father was a gentleman, and wouldn't send him away. Ma, will you do me a favor?”
“What is it, Jonas?”
“Send him off before the governor gets home. You can make it all right with him.”
Mrs. Brent hesitated.
“Mr. Granville might think I was taking a liberty.”
“Oh, you can make it all right with him. Say that he was very impudent to me. After what has happened, if he stays he'll think he can treat me just as he pleases.”
Again Mrs. Brent hesitated, but her own inclination prompted her to do as her son desired.
“You may tell Dan to come here. I wish to speak to him,” she said.
Jonas went out and did the errand.
“Mrs. Brent wants to see me?” said Dan. “I have nothing to do with her.”
“You'd better come in if you know what's best for yourself.” said Jonas, with an exultation he did not attempt to conceal.
“Oh, well, I have no objection to meeting Mrs. Brent,” said Dan. “I'll go in.”
Mrs. Brent eyed the young gardener with cold animosity.
“You have been impudent to Master Philip,” she said. “Of course you cannot remain any longer in his father's employment. Here are five dollars—more than is due you. Take it, and leave the estate.”
“I won't take your money, Mrs. Brent,” said Dan independently, “and I won't take my dismissal from any one but Mr. Granville himself.”
“Do you defy me, then?” said Mrs. Brent, with a firmer compression of her lips.
“No, Mrs. Brent, I don't defy you, but you have nothing to do with me, and I shall not take any orders or any dismissal from you.”
“Don't be impertinent to my——” burst forth from Jonas, and then he stopped in confusion.
“To your—what?” asked Dan quickly.
“To my—nurse,” faltered Jonas.
Dan looked suspiciously from one to the other.
“There's something between those two,” he said to himself. “Something we don't know of.”
CHAPTER XXXVII. MRS. BRENT'S PANIC.
The chambermaid in the Granville household was a cousin of Dan, older by three years. She took a warm interest in Dan's welfare, though there was nothing but cousinly affection between them.
Fresh from his interview with Mrs. Brent, Dan made his way to the kitchen.
“Well, Aggie,” he said, “I may have to say good-by soon.”
“What, Dan! You're not for lavin', are you?” asked Aggie, in surprise.
“Mrs. Brent has just given me notice,” answered Dan.
“Mrs. Brent! What business is it of her's, and how did it happen, anyway?”
“She thinks it's her business, and it's all on account of that stuck-up Philip.”
“Tell me about it, Cousin Dan.”
Dan did so, and wound up by repeating his young master's unfinished sentence.
“It's my belief,” he said, “that there's something between those two. If there wasn't, why is Mrs. Brent here?”
“Why, indeed, Dan?” chimed in Aggie. “Perhaps I can guess something.”
“What is it?”
“Never you mind. I'll only say I overheard Mrs. Brent one day speaking to Master Philip, but she didn't call him Philip.”
“What then?”
“JONAS! I'm ready to take my oath she called him Jonas.”
“Perhaps that is his real name. He may have it for his middle name.”
“I don't believe it. Dan, I've an idea. I'm going to see Mrs. Brent and make her think I know something. You see?”
“Do as you think best, Aggie. I told her I wouldn't take a dismissal from her.”
Mrs. Brent was in her own room. She was not a woman who easily forgave, and she was provoked with Dan, who had defied her authority. She knew very well that in dismissing him she had wholly exceeded her authority, but this, as may readily be supposed, did not make her feel any more friendly to the young gardener. Jonas artfully led her indignation.
“Dan doesn't have much respect for you, mother,” he said. “He doesn't mind you any more than he does a kitchen-girl.”
“He may find he has made a mistake,” said Mrs. Brent, a bright red spot in each cheek, indicating her anger. “He may find he has made a mistake in defying my authority.”
“I wouldn't stand it if I was you, ma.”
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