“Innocent!” flashed out Frank. “Oh, what a shame! Why, we know better than that, mother. We are sure that Purnell was his tool and partner. Anyhow, we cannot hold Dorsett to make any restitution. I hope some day, though, to run across this Purnell. If I ever do, I’ll not lose sight of him till I know the truth of the wicked plot that made us paupers. He, and he only, holds the key to the situation.”
“Mr. Dorsett is a bad man,” said the widow. “His actions show he is not just. Else, why does he care to put obstacles in your way when you seek work? I wish we could leave Greenville, Frank. That man terrifies me. He may get you into some trouble. I have seen him prowling around here often. Then, the other day, our poor, faithful dog, Christmas, disappeared. That same night I saw Dorsett crouching under the window yonder. It looks as if he fears something we may know or do, and is lurking around eavesdropping to find out what it is.”
“He will find a trap set for him the next time he comes nosing around here,” declared Frank with a grim-set lip. “Mother, don’t worry your mind any further, I am determined to get steady work and earn more money. I wish, too, we could leave Greenville. If it was any use I would stay and fight Dorsett to the last ditch. It’s no use, and I know it. Let us get out of the sight and memory of the old life. I’m going to strike out new.”
“But how, what at?” inquired Mrs. Ismond doubtfully.
“I don’t know yet, I will before another sun rises, though,” asserted Frank, staunchly. “That is, if good hard thinking can suggest the right way to go about it.”
Frank took up his cap and walked from the house. He paused to place a silver fifty cent piece on the kitchen dresser. He had earned it before breakfast, cutting a lawn and trimming hedges up at Judge Bascom’s place.
Frank had been doing such odd jobs about town for the past four months. He was courteous, accommodating and energetic. Everybody he worked for liked him, and he never shirked an honest task.
He made out fairly well as a general utility boy about the village. The worst of it was, however, that his good luck came in streaks. One very busy week Frank made over ten dollars. Then the next week all he could get to do was chopping wood at fifty cents a day.
“There is something better in me than that,” Frank resolved. “I’ve got the problem to solve what it is, and I feel that it is up to me to figure it out right now.”