HOW MOTHER CARES
Running away would be very popular with boys if they could be sure of finding such good friends as Glen had met. The reverse is more commonly true. Glen knew well enough that the boy on the road, trusting to chance for friends, is much more apt to fall a prey to people of the J. Jervice variety. He remembered the pitiful plight of a boy who had been returned to the school after falling into the hands of tramps, and he thanked an unknown Providence that he had tumbled into the kind arms of Jolly Bill.
Mother Spencer was just as kind and cheerful as her son, though she neither made jokes nor appreciated those offered by Will.
"This is Glen Mason, mother," said Jolly Bill, when she came out to meet them. "After he had committed assault and battery on my delicate frame, I prevailed on him to bring home the mangled remains."
"You are hurt, Willie!" she cried in alarm. "Your face is scratched and there is blood. Is it serious?"
"I shall recover," said Will. "I have been in rather worse accidents. Take a look at this other dusty, weary specimen. What do you recommend?"
"I beg your pardon," she apologized to Glen. "I was anxious about my boy. I am every time he goes out. I'll just show you up to the bathroom. There is plenty of hot water and soap and towels, and I'll bring you a clean suit that Willie used to wear."
Glen reddened with embarrassment at this goodness.
"Maybe you'd better not," he protested. "You don't know who I am."
"But I know what size you are," she insisted. "This old suit of Willie's has been lying around for years, but it's perfectly good. Now you take and put it on."
"Take it along and wear it," urged Jolly Bill. "It's been shut up in the closet so long it may turn two or three handsprings when it gets out in the sunshine, but otherwise it will fit you all right. Mother's kept the moth out of it long enough."
Soaking in a tub of clean water after his hot and dusty day, with a nice suit of clean clothing ready to put on, Glen felt that he was indeed fortunate. He actually concluded that he was getting better treatment than he deserved. He was still embarrassed by the thought, when he went downstairs and found Will and his mother at the table.
"I've told mother all about you," announced Bill. "You have her official seal of approval."
"Don't mind what he says," interrupted Mrs. Spencer. "A boy who wants to do right always has a place with me. But you get a reserved seat because you're going to help Willie."
"I hope I'll be able to. I'll surely try."
"Oh, you're just the strong young fellow he needs. He's had the plan quite a while but so many people—"
"Not so very many, mother," interrupted Will. "Very few people know of it."
"Well, the people that you've told—you know how they have all acted or spoken as if it were a wild goose chase—"
"They think so; that's their privilege."
"No it isn't. They shouldn't think so. You've studied it out and you know it's as bright a thought as ever helped any man to a fortune and I'm glad this big boy is going to help you work it."
"And then I'll be rich enough to buy you a home, and to go to that big hospital and get my old pegs fixed up so they can put artificial legs on me that I really can walk on."
"I'm mighty glad to help," said Glen. "I'd do most anything for folks as good as you."
"There, mother; that's an unsolicited testimonial to your particular brand of goodness," said Will. "He didn't talk a bit that way when he met me first. Acted quite abrupt and seemed to want to get away."
"I didn't know you then," objected Glen. "I was trying to get away from everybody."
"Pretty good horse-power you were putting into it, too," observed Will. "That reminds me, boy. It is now time for you to unroll the full history of your eventful career."
"There isn't very much that matters, until a few days ago," began Glen.
"What's that?" asked Mrs. Spencer. "Did you say not much that matters? How old are you?"
"I was fifteen last May."
"Fifteen years ago last May! Don't you know, Glen, that something happened then that mattered a wonderful lot to one person, even if it didn't then matter much to you. And it's been mattering ever since, to her."
"Yes," agreed Glen, "my mother, you mean."
"Yes, I mean your mother. And your father, too, as long as he lived. Don't you suppose it mattered to them that their boy should be so—" she hesitated, groping for a word.
"Pigheaded!" volunteered Glen.
Mrs. Spencer looked shocked, and remonstrated: "Why, Glen! I didn't say anything of the kind—wayward was the word I wanted."
But Jolly Bill clapped his hands in cheerful applause.
"Good boy, Glen!" he exclaimed. "Pigheaded is the word. Bound to have your own way. Bound to have what you want. No self restraint at all. If you want it, nothing will do but you must have it, good or bad. Believe me, boy, that's the very word."
"I wish you wouldn't interrupt me, Willie," objected Mrs. Spencer. "I wasn't trying to preach a sermon to Glen and I don't know why you should. What I want to tell him is that every little thing about a boy matters to mother. It's always important to her what he does, and if he does wrong to-day she is sure that he certainly will do better to-morrow. Mother's going to be awfully glad when she hears about you, Glen, and I want you to tell me where I can write to her this very day. Now, go on and tell us about running away."
Glen was interrupted occasionally.
"Oh, did you say Gates?" cried Mrs. Spencer. "Was it Jonathan Gates?"
"I believe I did hear his wife call him Jonathan once or twice, though mostly they all called him 'Father.'"
"It must be they," said Mrs. Spencer. "They're just the people to take care of a boy that way. We know the Gateses very well and they're the salt of the earth. I wonder you ever had the heart to leave them."
Glen told why he had left and then related his further adventures with J. Jervice, his final escape, and his day of dread lest he should be apprehended.
"I think I can tell you why Mr. J. Jervice didn't send after you," said Will. "It's been his busy day. I just read about it in the evening paper. Excepting that it was funny I wondered what excuse they had for giving it so much space. But I now see why it is important. Look at this!"
He handed Glen the paper folded back to a column headed: "Peddler in Wrong Pew."
"Every good citizen knows of the new license ordinance but not every peddler. One came briskly to the county clerk's office this morning. He was not too rushed to stop and sell a patent tie clip to a man at the door.
"'I'm a traveling merchant,' said he to our genial county clerk.
"'Very good,' said the clerk. 'I see you are doing a little business.'
"'Pretty fair,' agreed Mr. Peddler. 'But that ain't what—'
"'Hold on a bit,' interrupted the clerk. 'First thing is a license.'
"'I've got something more important, just now,' urged the peddler. 'I want to tell you about—'
"'First things first,' persisted our efficient clerk. 'You must pay a license to peddle in this county.'
"'But I don't want to peddle now. I want to lodge—'
"'One thing at a time. You may lodge longer than you want if you break our ordinances. Get your license. Five dollars!'
"'But I don't want a license. I want to give information—'
"'No, no! You want to get information (our clerk is just bound to have his way). 'You should have information about our new license fee. Every peddler must pay it.'
"'I'll not pay it. Five dollars is more'n I could make in a whole day, and I don't aim to be in your county that long. I'll go on.'
"'Too late. You've made one sale that we know of. Five dollars or—'
"'I can't, Mister. I can't pay that. You, just forget about it an' I'll tell you how we can divide ten dollars, easy money.'
"'Trying to bribe a county officer! That's worse and worse. Here, Mr. Sheriff, you'd better look after this man.'
"The man's name was J. Jervice and he found five dollars in his clothing before the sheriff had fully clamped his grip. He went away in great wrath, taking with him not only the objectionable license but also the valuable secret which was worth ten dollars—easy money.
"The honest merchant who has a regular route does not object to the license. The objections come from these itinerant peddlers, who claim that they are just passing through. Our county officers will insist upon payment. They do not fear to discourage their visits for these fly-by-nights are the very men who cheat our citizens, sometimes stealing under guise of a sale and sometimes stealing outright. We do not say that this peddler looked suspicious, but we observed our sheriff taking a good mental picture of him."
"Good-by, Mr. J. Jervice," exulted Glen, as he laid down the paper. "I don't care if I never meet you again."
"But I'm not sure that you won't," said Jolly Bill, with a purpose to tease. "Now that Mr. Jervice has had to pay a five dollar license fee, all because he loved you so and wanted to see you safe home, he'll be apt to look for you."
"He'd better not come near this house," declared Mrs. Spencer, energetically. "I'll give him a piece of my mind if I see him, I can tell you."
"I surely hope he'll come," said Jolly Bill. "He deserves all he can get."
But neither Jolly Bill, Mrs. Spencer nor Glen were to be gratified with a sight of Mr. Jervice immediately, although they were by no means through with him.
Later in the evening after Glen had given Mrs. Spencer very efficient aid in helping her crippled son to his bed on the ground floor, she showed the boy up to a cozy little bedroom where he was to spend the night.
"Have a good night, son," she said. "I'm so glad you are going to help my boy, because you look like a boy with grit and determination, and I'll feel safe about him with you looking after him. It means a lot to us just now. It isn't so much that I care about the money, although Willie insists that I must have this home all clear of debt. But the main thing with me is to see my boy able to take care of himself. There's a place in New York where they can operate on him and then fix him up so he can walk all by himself. All we need is the money. It will be such a joy to me. Good night!"