“Some folks have more luck than others,” said Brackett.
“If there was any difference in luck,” said the old man, dryly, “it was in your favor. It’s labor more than luck that counts in this world, according to my thinking.”
“You didn’t have four children to support, father.”
“I had three, and while only one lived to grow up, the other two lived to be older than any of yours.”
“I don’t know how it is,” said Brackett, “but I’m always hard up. The children ought to have new clothes, but where I am to get the money I don’t know.”
Mr. Dodge did not offer to tell Mr. Brackett where it was to be got, but he could have done so.
Mrs. Brackett had five hundred dollars in a savings-bank, which, in spite of his laziness, Brackett, with her help, had been able to save.
The two had decided that Mr. Dodge was on no account to know anything of this, as it might prevent his doing anything for them; but the old man had learned it indirectly; and the knowledge helped him to remain deaf to their application for assistance. So, when they pleaded poverty, he remained politely silent.
“Father,” said Brackett, “will you lend me fifty dollars for six weeks, till I’ve had a chance to sell some of my grain?”
Mr. Dodge knew very well from repeated experience that there wasn’t one chance in ten of any such loan being repaid to him. In fact, Brackett owed him, in the aggregate, nearly a thousand dollars, borrowed on just such conditions—to be repaid in six weeks.