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 Store Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger (best sales books of all time .TXT) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «The Store Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger (best sales books of all time .TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
He had already spoken to Mrs. Hamilton about having this week as a vacation.
CHAPTER XXXVII — BEN'S VISIT TO PENTONVILLE
On the eighteenth of December Ben arrived in Pentonville. It was his first visit since he went up to New York for good. He reached home without observation, and found his mother overjoyed to see him.
"It has seemed a long, long time that you have been away, Ben," she said.
"Yes, mother; but I did a good thing in going to New York."
"You are looking well, Ben, and you have grown."
"Yes, mother; and best of all, I have prospered. Squire Davenport can't have the house!"
"You don't mean to say, Ben, that you have the money to pay it off?" asked his mother, with eager hope.
"Yes, mother; and, better still, the money is my own."
"This can't be true, Ben!" she said incredulously.
"Yes, but it is, though! You are to ask me no questions until after the twentieth. Then I will tell you all."
"I am afraid I shall have to send you to the store, for I am out of groceries."
A list was given, and Ben started for the store.
Mr. Kirk looked up in surprise as he entered.
"You're the Barclay boy, ain't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"I thought you were in New York."
"I was, but I have just got home."
"Couldn't make it, go, hey?"
Ben smiled, but did not answer.
"I may give you something to do," said Kirk, in a patronizing tone. "You've been employed in this store, I believe."
"Yes, I was here some months."
"I'll give you two dollars a week."
"Thank you," said Ben meekly, "but I shall have to take a little time to decide—say the rest of the week."
"I suppose you want to help your mother move?"
"She couldn't move alone."
"Very well; you can begin next Monday."
When Ben was going home, he met his old enemy, Tom Davenport. Tom's eyes lighted up when he saw Ben, and he crossed the street to speak to him. It may be mentioned that, though Ben had a new and stylish suit of clothes, he came home in the old suit he had worn away, and his appearance, therefore, by no means betokened prosperity.
"So you're back again!" said Tom abruptly.
"Yes."
"I always said you'd come back."
"Are you going to look for something to do?" Tom asked.
"Mr. Kirk has offered me a place in the store."
"How much pay?"
"Two dollars a week."
"You'd better take it."
"I hardly think I can work at that figure," said Ben, mildly.
"Kirk won't pay you any more."
"I'll think of it. By the way, Tom, call around and see me some time."
"I hardly think I shall have time," said Tom haughtily. "He talks as if I were his equal!" he said to himself.
"Well, good afternoon. Remember me to your father."
Tom stared at Ben in surprise. Really the store boy was getting very presumptuous he thought.
CHAPTER XXXVIII — CONCLUSION
On the evening of the nineteenth of December, Ben stood on the piazza of the village hotel when the stage returned from the depot. He examined anxiously the passengers who got out. His eyes lighted up joyfully as he recognized in one the man he was looking for.
"Mr. Dinsmore," he said, coming forward hastily.
"You see I have kept my word," said Harvey Dinsmore, with a smile.
"I feared you would not come."
"I wished to see the discomfiture of our friend Squire Davenport. So to-morrow is the day?"
"Yes."
"I should like to be on hand when the squire calls."
"That will be at twelve o'clock. My mother has received a note from him fixing that hour."
"Then I will come over at half-past eleven if you will allow me."
"Come; we will expect you."
"And how have you fared since I saw you, my young friend?"
"I have been wonderfully fortunate, but I have kept my good fortune a secret from all, even my mother. It will come out to-morrow."
"Your mother can feel quite at ease about the mortgage."
"Yes, even if you had not come I am able to pay it."
"Whew! then you have indeed been fortunate for a boy. I suppose you borrowed the money?"
"No; I earned it."
"Evidently you were born to succeed. Will you take supper with me?"
"Thank you. Mother will expect me at home."
At half-past eleven the next forenoon the stranger called at door of Mrs. Barclay. He was admitted by Ben.
"Mother," said Ben, "this is Mr. Harvey Dinsmore."
"I believe we have met before," said Dinsmore, smiling. "I fear my first visit was not welcome. To-day I come in more respectable guise and as a friend."
"You are welcome, sir," said the widow courteously. "I am glad to see you. I should hardly have known you."
"I
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