CHAPTER XVII
“Tall Oaks from Little Acorns Grow”
If you wish an illustration of how great events often flow from trifling causes read what follows. It is one of the many events which prove that “tall oaks from little acorns grow.”
You have not forgotten Jim, the gawky, overgrown boy who had a verbal contract with Mrs. Friestone which bound him to go to the store each weekday morning and set out on the front porch the score or more samples of the goods that were on sale within. The same agreement required him to come around at dusk each evening and carry them inside, his weekly wage for such duty being twenty-five cents. When, therefore, Mike Murphy handed him a silver quarter and assumed the job for that single night, Jim received a whole week’s pay for turning it over to the Irish lad. It is not so strange that the youngster was confused at first over his bit of luck, which he did not fully understand until he reached home and had eaten his supper.
Now by one of those curious coincidences which occur oftener in this life than most people think, that day was the anniversary of Jim’s birth. Being a good boy, as such things go, his father presented him with a fine pocketknife, than which nothing could have pleased his son better. It was really an excellent article, having four blades, one of which was a file, two of small size, and one quite large, the three being almost as keen-edged as a razor. Straightway the happy lad selected his right hand trousers pocket as the home of the knife when not in use. The miscellaneous articles, such as a jewsharp, a piece of twine, a key, three coppers, a piece of resin, several marbles, two ten-penny nails, a stub of a lead pencil and a few other things were shifted to the left side repository, where also he deposited the shining silver coin, after showing it to his parents and telling them how he fell heir to it.
The chat of the family shut out reference to the knife for most of the evening. Both parents were inclined to be gossipy, and they indulged in many guesses as to the identity of the donor and what caused him to be so liberal. The mother’s first thought was that the red-haired, freckle-faced youth was a newcomer to Beartown, and had secured Jim’s job, but that fear was removed by Jim’s declaration that the stranger distinctly said he intended to do the work only for that evening.
It was not very late when Jim went to his bedroom on the second floor to retire for the night. When ready to disrobe, he took out the wealth of treasures in his left pocket, including the bright quarter, and shoved his hand into the other for the prize that outweighed them all. Then he emitted a gasp of dismay: the pocket was empty!
For a few moments he could not believe the truth. He frantically searched his clothing over and over again, but in vain. The explanation was as clear as noonday. In the bottom of his right-hand pocket was a gaping rent, through which he pushed two fingers and disgustedly spread them apart like a fan. He turned the cloth wrong side out and the dreadful yawn seemed to grin at him.