Chapter Eleven.
An Explosion.
It must not be supposed that Walter was prepared to follow out his brother Amos’s moral courage at once and in everything. He was quite willing to admire this high-toned courage, and was learning to be content that his brother should enjoy the praise for it which was his due. He also fully intended to follow in the same steps some day or other; but then no real and radical change had taken place in his heart and character, nor had he any deliberate desire to give up old habits which were dear to him, and adopt new ones which would involve considerable and sustained self-denial. So he contented himself for the present with being more kind to his brother, and more careful not to wound him by rash and unfeeling remarks.
One thing, however, in Amos’s conduct sadly puzzled and annoyed him. Knowing that his brother was well provided with money of his own, he used not unfrequently to borrow from him when his own allowance ran short, which it very often did. This borrowing from Amos used to be but rarely followed by any repayment; for he had been so fully indulged by his father when younger, that he had no idea, now that he was getting more from under his father’s hand, of denying himself, or going without anything he might happen to fancy. At first he used to tell the trades-people in the neighbouring town, when he made any purchases, to put them down to his father; but to this after a while Mr Huntingdon decidedly objected—finding, as he did, that expense was no consideration to Walter in the choice of an article, provided his father had to bear the cost. So Walter was made to understand that he must make the liberal allowance which his father gave him do, and that there must be no more running up of bills in Mr Huntingdon’s name. But such an arrangement was very galling to Walter, who had lived all his early boyhood under the impression that, as being his father’s favourite son, he had only to express a wish, or to ask for or to order a thing, and he would have it as a matter of course. However, the squire stood firm in the matter. Walter, he said, was old enough now to understand something of the value of money, and he must learn to cut his coat according to his cloth. This coat, however, with Walter was usually of such exaggerated dimensions that his ordinary allowance of material would go only a small way towards completing it. Consequently he used to have recourse to Amos, who invariably helped him through with a loan—for Walter would never receive help from his brother except as a loan—Amos at the same time hinting now and then at the hope of a partial repayment. To this Walter would reply that his brother should have it all back, if he wished it, “one of these fine days;” but when such seasons of exceptionally fine monetary weather were likely to occur, Amos found it difficult to conjecture. A change, however, had now come over the elder brother, much to the annoyance and disgust of Walter. A decided refusal of a loan of money was accompanied by Amos with a remonstrance with his brother on his extravagance.
In a pet, Walter told Amos that he might keep his nasty sovereigns and shillings to buy toffee for dirty little boys and girls. He was much obliged to him for his advice, but he knew his own concerns best; and as for extravagance, it was better to put a little money into the tradesmen’s pockets than hoard it up like a stingy old miser, just to have the pleasure of saying, “See how rich I am.”
To all this Amos made no reply at the time, but afterwards sent his brother a portion of the sum he wished to borrow, with a kind note, in which he said that Walter was welcome to this and to all other sums previously lent, as a free gift, but that for the future he could not lend him money beyond a few shillings occasionally, as he had a use for his own funds which made him unable to do for his brother what he had done for him in times past.
Partly touched at Amos’s generosity, but more vexed at his present purpose respecting future loans, Walter was not disposed to look with a very favourable eye on his brother’s money arrangements. What could he be wanting with so much? What could he be doing with it? There was nothing to show for it. If he had spent it in guns, or horses, or dogs, or travelling, or sight-seeing, Walter could have better acquiesced in the expenditure. But the money seemed to be wanted for something which, as far as he could see, turned out to be nothing. So his curiosity was considerably roused, and he resolved to find out, if he could, where his brother’s spare cash went to.
Things were in this position, when one evening, as the whole family were seated on the lawn under some noble elms, enjoying the shade—for the weather had been exceedingly hot—a gentleman, well-known throughout the county for the interest he took in plans for doing good and alleviating the sorrows and sufferings of his poorer neighbours, called, and was invited by Mr Huntingdon to join his family on the lawn. “And now, my dear sir,” said the squire, “I know you are out on some errand of benevolence. You are a grand worker yourself, and a grand giver too, so tell us what is your present charitable hobby, and we must try and give you a help, so that you may ride him easily.”
“Thank you, Mr Huntingdon, with all my heart,” said the other; “you are very kind. My hobby this time is a very robust animal, and will want a good deal of feeding if he is to keep up his strength. But to come to plain language, I am collecting subscriptions for a working-men’s coffee-house in Redbury—a British Workman they call it. You know, I dare say, that two ruinous old houses of mine in the market-place are being pulled down. Now, I am going to give the ground which one of them stands on for the new coffee-house. It is a capital situation, just in the centre of the town. I shall want funds, however, for the erection of a new and suitable building, and also a few annual subscriptions to keep the establishment going and pay the expenses of management, as I don’t suppose it will be self-supporting, at any rate not at first.”
“Well,” said the squire, “let me look at your subscription list, for I see you have one with you. Ah, good! it is very generous of you to put down your own name for so large a sum to the building fund, besides giving the land. Put me down then for fifty pounds, and an annual subscription of three guineas till the concern is self-supporting.”