“That is not strange,” said Phoebe, thoughtfully. “Toby Clark was not a relative of the Fergusons, you know; he was just a clerk in the judge’s law office.”
“But he’s a cripple,” retorted Becky, “and he was made a cripple by saving Judge Ferguson’s life.”
“That is true,” admitted Phoebe. “Judge Ferguson went into grandfather’s vault, where he suspected all the Daring money had been hidden by old Elaine, our crazy housekeeper, and while he was in there, in company with Toby and the constable, old Elaine tried to shut the heavy door and lock them all up. Had she succeeded they would soon have suffocated; but Toby stopped the door from closing, with his foot, which was badly crushed, and so by his quick wit and bravery saved three lives—including his own. The judge was grateful to him, of course, and had he lived Toby would have remained in his law office until in time he became a partner. That his friend and patron suddenly died and so deprived Toby of further employment, was due to the accident of circumstances. I do not think anyone can be blamed.”
They were silent a moment and then Sue asked: “What’s going to become of Toby now, Phoebe?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t any father or mother; they both died years ago, long before Judge Ferguson took the boy to work for him. The Clarks owned a little cabin down by the river—a poor place it is—and there Toby has lived and cooked his own meals while he studied law in the judge’s office. He lives there yet, and since the judge died, a week ago, he has done nothing but mourn for his friend and benefactor. But Toby will find some other work to do, I’m sure, as soon as he applies for it, for everyone in the village likes him.”
“Can’t we do something?” asked Becky earnestly. “We owe Toby a lot, too, for he helped the judge to save grandfather’s fortune for us.”
“We will do all we can,” replied Phoebe, positively, “but we can’t offer Toby charity, you understand. He is very proud and it would hurt him dreadfully to think we were offering him alms. I’ll ask the Little Mother about it and see what she thinks.”
That ended the conversation, for the time, and the younger Darings all ran out into the crisp October air while Phoebe went about her household duties with a thoughtful face. She and her twin, Phil, were the real heads of the Daring family, although the orphans had a “Little Mother” in Cousin Judith Eliot, a sweet-faced, gentle young woman who had come to live with them and see that they were not allowed to run wild. But Phil was now in college, paving the way for mighty deeds in the future, and Phoebe knew her twin would be deeply grieved over the sudden death of their father’s old friend, Judge Ferguson. The judge had also been their guardian and, with Cousin Judith, a trustee of the Daring estate—a competence inherited from their grandfather, Jonas Eliot, who had been one of the big men of the county. The fine old colonial mansion in which the Darings lived was also an inheritance from Grandpa Eliot, and although it was not so showy as some of the modern residences of Riverdale—the handsome Randolph house across the way, for instance—it possessed a dignity and beauty that compelled respect.
The loss of their guardian did not worry the young Darings so much as the loss of their friend, for the shrewd old lawyer had been very kind to them, skillfully advising them in every affair, big or little, that might in any way affect their interests. Mr. Ferguson—called “Judge” merely by courtesy, for he had always been a practicing lawyer—had doubtless been the most highly esteemed member of the community. For a score of years he had been the confidential adviser of many of the wealthiest families in that part of the state, counseling with them not only in business but in family affairs. In his dingy offices, which were located over the post office in Riverdale, many important transactions and transfers of property had been consummated, and the tall wooden cupboard in the lawyer’s private room contained numerous metal boxes marked with the names of important clients and containing documents of considerable value. Yet, in spite of his large and varied practice, Mr. Ferguson attended to all his clients personally and only a young boy, Toby Clark, had been employed as a clerk during the past few years.
At first Toby swept out the office and ran errands. Then he developed an eagerness to study law, and the judge, finding the young fellow bright and capable, assisted his ambition by promoting Toby to copying deeds and law papers and laying out for him a course of practical study. In many ways Toby proved of value to his employer and Mr. Ferguson grew very fond of the boy, especially after that adventure when Toby Clark heroically sacrificed his foot to prevent them both from being hermetically sealed up in old Mr. Eliot’s mausoleum, where they would soon have perished from lack of air.