THE COMING OF A LETTER
Perhaps Dick did not walk quite as briskly as usual while trudging homeward, for he was certainly pretty well tired out, and what with the poles and fish he had quite a burden to carry.
But he felt pleased to think that the day had been so filled with little happenings, from his unsuccessful search for work, the ride with the friendly farmer who had offered him a place, the fishing-hole industry, and last, but not far from least, the rescue of Benjy and succeeding gratitude of pretty Bessie Gibbs.
He was glad it had been her cat; he would sooner do a favor for Bessie than any girl he knew; for while her father was probably the richest man in Riverview she had never put on any airs like the Harkness girls, who passed him in the street and looked right through him without a smile.
About half way home he met a carriage coming out from town.
It contained several people, and Dick quickly recognized it as the Gibbs vehicle—yes, and that Bessie was one of those who made up the party.
He stepped out of the road to let it pass; and had it been possible Dick would have tried to conceal himself behind a tree; but he feared Bessie must have already seen him, and would laugh at his desire to avoid being thanked for his afternoon's rescue.
Just as he feared, the carriage came to a stop before reaching him, and he saw Bessie leaning forward, beckoning wildly to him.
"Dick, please come here. Mamma wants to thank you for saving our poor little Benjy. He has dried off beautifully, and looks whiter than ever. I don't believe his swim hurt him a little bit. I hope you didn't catch cold, Dick," was what he heard her saying.
There was nothing for it then but to advance to the side of the carriage.
Mrs. Gibbs was a refined lady, and perhaps a little given to believing that there are few things in this world that cannot be settled by a money consideration.
She felt grateful to the boy for saving the pet of her daughter; she knew who he was and that his father had been a carpenter, an honest man and with a reputation for respectability around Riverview, but she could not imagine for a moment that she would hurt the feelings of a boy by offering him a reward for wading into the river and taking a drowning cat out.
"Yes, I hope you will not suffer from your immersion, Richard. It was very kind, indeed, of you to go to such trouble for the sake of a poor cat. And, perhaps, something might have happened to Bessie too, she is so excitable when anything occurs. I hope you will let me reward you in some way. Won't you accept this, please? You must have quite ruined your clothes by your brave act, and perhaps this will purchase another suit," said the lady, holding out what Dick saw was a ten dollar bill.
He felt the blood fly to his face.
Then he looked down at his old garments, which he only donned for garden work or fishing, and afterwards glanced up at Bessie, to laugh aloud.
"I guess I'm like Benjy, Mrs. Gibbs, and that the ducking did my clothes more good than harm. These are my fishing duds, ma'm. And if you please I'd rather not take any reward for pulling the poor little kitten in out of the wet. It was only sport for me, and I was glad to be there to save him for Bessie. Besides, I know my mother would not like it if I took pay for doing so small a thing," he said.
"What did I tell you, mamma?" exclaimed Bessie, impulsively, as though she had begged her mother not to offer the boy money.
The lady looked at Dick seriously for a minute, as if unable to exactly understand the motives that influenced him to act as he did.
Then she smiled and remarked:
"Just as you say, Richard. I suppose you know best; but even though you will not let us recompense you in any manner, we still feel that we are under obligations to you for what you did. You seem to have had good success in fishing?" noticing the fine string he was holding at his side.
"It has not been a good day. I hope to do better to-morrow, for I have an idea of going into the business for a while, and supplying families with fresh caught fish, while waiting to secure a position. It is necessary that I do something to help out at home, since my mother has all she owns invested where it happens to be tied up just at present, ma'm."
Had he dared, Dick would have liked to have mentioned the fact that it was the secret hope of his heart some day to find an humble opening in the bank of which the lady's husband was the head; but he lacked the boldness to speak.
"I am sure the spirit you show is commendable enough, my boy. Your mother has need of feeling proud of so affectionate a son. I have often wished we had a boy to follow in the footsteps of Archibald; but Heaven saw fit to take three from us when they were babies. Perhaps in some way we can show you that we do appreciate what you did for Bessie this afternoon, Richard," the lady remarked.
"She thanked me, Mrs. Gibbs; that was enough for me," he replied, and somehow Bessie blushed as she met his laughing eyes.
Then the carriage drove on, and Dick stood there looking after it with a queer feeling in his heart; he was wondering what the uncertain future had in store for him, and if his dear little mother would ever see the day when she could ride in her own vehicle.
He heaved a long sigh, and once more plodded along the road; but somehow he did not seem quite so tired as before meeting the carriage that contained Bessie Gibbs and her mother.
He found supper ready, and the usual warm welcome from his waiting mother.
And over the meal he described in detail all that had happened during that rather eventful day.
She hung upon his every word, for like most fond mothers she believed there could be no boy like her own; and when Dick told in as dramatic a manner as possible how he had chased across the point upon hearing those shrill screams, she waited in real suspense until he described what really met his view upon bursting forth, and the change from impending tragedy to a farce was so great that Mrs. Morrison sank back in her chair, smiling, but looking a little pale.
"I remember Bessie very well. Last winter she sang in the church choir with a number of your school companions; and I think I recollect that you saw her home one night when some accident happened to the horse, and no vehicle came after her," she mused, looking roguishly at Dick, who blushed as he turned the subject.
Before going to bed Dick spent half an hour digging more bait, and then even enlarged the little homely seine made of mosquito netting; if the fish must be tempted with minnows it was up to him to give them what they wanted, and in order to make a decent haul of live bait he knew that a larger net was necessary.
He was up before dawn, and gone before his mother came downstairs to get breakfast; but this did not surprise the good woman, for she knew Dick's ways, and that if his heart was set on anything he never let the grass grow under his feet.
So shortly after sunrise the boy was settled at his old stamping ground alongside the favorite hole, and had his lines out ready for an early prize; while he worked his little seine and scooped up many fine minnows to be transplanted into the shallow pond made ready for their occupancy.
And his prediction seemed in a fair way of being fulfilled, for he was kept busy baiting his lines, so fast and furious became the rush on the part of the finny denizens of the pool behind the big eddy for a breakfast.
He seemed to have come at just the right time, and offered them the very bait they were eager for.
His string increased at a surprising rate, and after the sun had been up a couple of hours Dick saw that he had a mighty fine lot of beauties to dispose of.
Later on as the bites grew fewer, and he found he had some time on his hands, he proceeded to dress his fish, and cover them with cool leaves in the basket he had brought along for this very purpose.
Before noon he started back to town, resolved to dispose of his catch.
He could not expect to do as well as this every day, but there was certainly twenty pounds of fine fresh fish in his basket, and he believed he could readily sell them for a couple of dollars.
He had already picked out certain houses where he meant to offer his wares; and it can be readily guessed that the Gibbs mansion was not one of the number, although it stood not far away from his starting point; just why this should be so the reader must be left to imagine—perhaps it was because he was afraid he would be thanked again by Mrs. Gibbs for saving the life of the pet Angora; perhaps he somehow did not fancy appearing again in his old clothes before Bessie; perhaps,—but surely every boy must understand how Dick felt about it.
Just as he expected, he met with flattering success in disposing of the contents of his basket; for while Riverview was situated on a stream that seemed bountifully supplied with fish few persons made it a business to secure enough of them to offer any for sale; and what could be found on the stands in the markets had come from Boston, and were packed in ice, so that their delicate flavor had been much impaired.
At about three, then Dick headed toward home, quite satisfied with his day's work.
He jingled a handful of change in his pocket with the cheerful air of one who has earned every penny of it—just two dollars and twenty cents, surely enough to pay him for his early rising.
His mother was out when he got home, probably having just stepped over to see a sick neighbor; and Dick, entering the house, dropped into a chair to rest a little before going out to dig more worms for the morning.
It was while he was stretching himself out that his eyes chanced to fall upon a letter on the table, and to his surprise it was addressed to "Richard Morrison."
He snatched it up filled with wonder, for he could hardly remember ever having received a letter before, though once a former boy friend had written him from Florida where his father had gone for his health.
And his eyes distended still more when he saw up in the corner of the envelope the printed words: "First National Bank of Riverview."
With trembling fingers Dick tore the envelope open.