“Now, Mr. Howard, I think it excellent,” said Miss Jones, who was delighted at the praise of her own production. “I cannot expect all to be so contemplative as I am. My muse loves to dwell alone in primeval solitude. Yours seeks the woodland glade.”
“You have expressed the difference admirably, Miss Jones,” said Barclay, gravely. “Mr. Jones and myself unluckily cannot soar with you and Mr. Howard. We can only look on in silent admiration.”
“Do you often indite verses, Mr. Howard?” asked Melinda. “I hope you will show me all your productions.”
“I seldom write, Miss Jones. Whenever I do, I shall be sure to ask your critical opinion of my verses.”
But it is unnecessary to detail the rest of the conversation. Later in the evening some nuts, apples and raisins were passed around, to which Melinda did full justice, notwithstanding her unsatisfied longings and the solitude of her soul.
CHAPTER XII
LED BY A BOOTBLACK.
While Walter is anticipating commencing his duties as teacher on Monday morning, we leave him awhile to chronicle the adventures of Joshua Drummond, his distant relative. Readers of “Strong and Steady” will call to mind that he was the son of Jacob Drummond, of Stapleton, a country shopkeeper, with whom Walter passed a few weeks shortly after his father’s death. Mr. Drummond was thoroughly a mean man, and, though his son was now eighteen years of age, allowed him only twenty-five cents a week for spending-money. When Joshua asked for more, he told him he might go to work in a shoeshop, or in his own store, though in the latter case he only agreed to pay him fifty cents. But work was not what Joshua wanted. He thought that, as a rich man’s son, he was entitled to a liberal allowance without working at all. He was willing, nevertheless, to take a situation in the city, being anxious to see life, as he termed it.
Finally, seeing no other way to compass his desire, Joshua opened his father’s strong box with a key which he had found, and abstracted from it fifty dollars in gold, and a five-twenty government bond for five hundred dollars, excusing himself for the theft by the specious reasoning that it was only taking in advance what would be his some day.
Thus provided, he secretly left the house, and took the train for New York, saying to himself, in exultation, as he took his seat at the car window, “Now I am going to see life.”