CHAPTER XIII.
ON BIG SILVER LAKE.
The Carringtons remained at the Nelson cottage much longer than they originally intended. It was ten o'clock when Ralph lit the way to where their carriage was standing, in charge of a colored coachman. During the visit the rich folks asked Mrs. Nelson and Ralph much about themselves. Julia Carrington proved herself a very nice young lady, and when she went away Ralph and his new acquaintances were warm friends.
"They are not stuck up a bit, mother," said the young bridge tender, as he returned to the cottage after seeing them off.
"No, they are very kind-hearted as well as rich," returned Mrs. Nelson. "Would Westville had more of such."
"What a difference between such folks and the Pagets and the Steiners. Why, Mrs. Steiner and her daughter Maud wouldn't look at us if they stumbled over us on the street, and neither would Mrs. Paget when she was alive."
"Well, we must remember that we do not belong to fashionable society, Ralph. We belong to the poorer classes."
"So we do, but that doesn't make it right for some folks to look at us as if we were the dust under their feet. I shall not forget the Carringtons' kind ways, nor the beautiful present they made me," and Ralph fell to examining the gold watch and chain anew.
It was truly a valuable gift, and the boy was more than delighted. He resolved to wear it only when he needed a time-piece or when he was "dressed up." It was too good to have about his old clothes constantly.
Ralph's remaining time as bridge tender went swiftly by, and on the day set by the committee he was paid off by Squire Paget, and Dan Pickley was duly installed in his place.
"What are you going to do now?" asked the squire, as he handed over Ralph's salary.
"I don't know yet," returned the boy.
"Guess you'll find it rather hard to find work around Westville."
"I don't know. I haven't had any chance of looking around."
"Well, I'm sorry for you," went on Squire Paget, hypocritically. "I don't like to see any one out of work."
"Really! It was yourself got me out of the job!" retorted Ralph.
"No, it wasn't, Nelson; it was your own hasty temper. If you hadn't attacked Percy—but let that pass——"
"Percy was in the wrong—I shall always say so——" interrupted Ralph.
"There you go!" snarled the squire. "I was going to offer you a situation on one of my canal boats, but I shan't do it now. You don't deserve it."
"I do not want any situation from you," replied the boy, with a sudden show of spirit. "I would rather find my own employment."
"Going to be pig-headed, eh?"
"You can call it what you please. You did not treat me fairly, and I guess I can get along without your aid."
And without another word Ralph pocketed his pay, and walked off.
"A regular young tartar!" mused the squire, as he gazed after him. "He won't be easy to manage; that's certain. Too bad I couldn't get him on the canal boat. I must find some way of getting him out of Westville—and his mother, too. I can't do much while they are around."
Ralph had been paid off at the squire's office in the village, and now he made his way to Uriah Dicks' store, to settle up the family account.
"How much do we owe you, Mr. Dicks?" he asked, as he walked up to Uriah, who was poring over a very dirty ledger.
"Oh, so it's you, Ralph!" exclaimed the storekeeper. "Been up to the squire's yet?"
"Yes."
"Did you get your pay?"
"Yes."
"And now you want to settle up?"
"Yes," replied Ralph, for a third time.
"I hope you ain't a-goin' to quit tradin' with me!" cried Uriah, in some alarm.
"We are, Mr. Dicks. What can you expect, after the way you have treated me?"
"I—I couldn't help votin' in the committee with the squire and Ben Hooker," returned the storekeeper, lamely. "They said it was a clear case against you."
"And therefore you wouldn't give me a chance to clear myself," said Ralph, bitterly. "How much is the bill?"
"Three dollars and nineteen cents. I'll call it three dollars if you'll keep on buying here," went on Uriah, desperately.
It made his heart fairly ache to see trade going to one of the rival stores.
"I prefer to settle in full," rejoined the boy, coolly. "Take the three dollars and nineteen cents out of this five-dollar bill."
With an inward groan, Uriah took out the amount, handed back the change, and crossed the account from the book.
"Got anything to do?" he asked, a sudden idea flashing through his head.
"Not yet."
"I might take you on here—I need a boy."
"And what would you pay?" questioned Ralph, although he knew about what to expect from the miserly man he was addressing.
"Well, I'd be willin' to pay a big boy like you two dollars and a half a week. I wouldn't pay a small boy so much."
"Thank you, but I wouldn't work for that, even if I cared to work for you, Mr. Dicks. Two dollars and a half wouldn't run our house."
"I would let you have your groceries at cost," said Uriah, as an extra inducement.
The truth was, many of his customers had upbraided him for aiding in the discharge of Ralph as bridge tender, and he wished to set himself right with these folks.
"I do not care to work for you, sir. I think I can get work I will like better and which will pay more elsewhere."
The storekeeper's face fell, and he closed the dirty ledger with a slam.
"All right, Ralph, suit yourself. But if you starve to death, don't lay it at my door, mind that!"
"No fear of my starving," returned the boy, lightly, and he left the store.
Uriah watched him from behind the dirty windows of his place. He heaved a big sigh as he saw Ralph enter the opposition store just across the way, and groaned aloud when the youth came out with half-a-dozen packages under his arm, and started for home.
"I guess I put my foot into it when I sided with the squire," he meditated. "But it had to be done. Anyway, the squire's trade is bigger than the Nelsons', so I'm better off than I might be," and, thus consoling himself, he went back to his accounts.
To Uriah Dicks all such matters were questions of dollars and cents, not of justice.
When Ralph arrived home, he told his mother of the storekeeper's offer.
"Do you think I did wrong in refusing?" he asked.
"No, Ralph; I would have done the same."
"I fancy I can strike a job that will pay better—anyway, I am going to try."
Sunday of the week passed quietly enough, and on Monday morning Ralph brushed up his every-day clothes, took along the lunch his mother put up for him, and left the cottage to try his luck among the stores and factories in Eastport.
"Don't be alarmed if I am not home until night, mother," he said. "I may strike a situation in which they wish me at once."
"All right, Ralph," she returned. "Good luck to you."
But Ralph did not get to Eastport that day. As he was crossing the bridge a young man on a small sailboat hailed him. It was Roy Parkhurst, a fellow Ralph knew well.
"Hallo, Ralph!" he called out. "The job on the bridge and you have parted company, I am told."
"Yes, Roy."
"Doing anything to-day?"
"No, I was just bound for Eastport to look for work."
"Then you are just the fellow I am looking for," said Parkhurst.
"What for?"
"I want to sail down to Martinton and have this boat taken back here. If you'll undertake the job I'll give you a dollar."
"I'll go you," returned Ralph promptly. "I can put off looking for another situation until to-morrow."
"Then jump in."
Parkhurst ran his boat close to the bridge, and Ralph sprang down on one of the seats. Soon the two were moving down Silver Lake at all the speed the little craft commanded.
It was a splendid day, with a stiff breeze blowing, and by noon Martinton was reached. Then, giving Ralph directions as to where the boat was to be left in Westville, Roy Parkhurst quit the boat, and, having eaten the lunch, the boy started on the return, never dreaming of the excitement in store for him.