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Read Ebook: Carl and the Cotton Gin by Bassett Sara Ware
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Ebook has 1184 lines and 49174 words, and 24 pages
nd with a kindly smile.
"I am afraid the agreement I have made with you is the best I can do at present," said he. "I will be true to my part of it if you will be true to yours. I promise you that if the Harlings' affairs do not take an upward turn by Monday you shall come to their rescue."
"Thank you, sir."
"Mulberry Court--the top flat."
"And did you tell me these friends of yours, the Harlings, lived there too?"
"Oh, no, sir! I wish they did. The Harlings are at Number 40 Broad Street. It is the corner house. They took the tenement because there was sun, and because it entertains Grandfather and Mrs. Harling to look out the window. They can't ever go out and it cheers them up to have something to see. It costs more to live there than where we do, but Hal and Louise decided it was worth it."
"Under the circumstances I imagine it is," assented the stranger. "Well, we will wish them luck."
"I hope they have it!"
"Show this young gentleman out, Billie," said he. "Good-by, youngster! Good-by!"
The farewell was cordial and in its cadence rang so disconcerting a finality that try as he might Carl could not repress a conviction that in spite of his suave promises his new-found friend did not really expect to see him again.
"I guess there are folks like that," meditated he, as he walked dispiritedly home. "They are awful pleasant to your face and give you the feeling they are going to do wonders for you. But when it comes to the scratch they slide from under. This chap is one of that slick bunch, I'll bet a hat."
It was not a cheering reflection and with every step lower and lower ebbed his hopes. It chanced that his pathway to Mulberry Court led past the corner of Broad Street and once in the vicinity what more natural than that he should drop in at Number 40 to pass the time of day? Grandfather Harling loved to have visitors. He said they cheered him up.
But to-day neither the old gentleman nor any of the Harling family needed cheering. Carl found them in such high spirits that for a time it was difficult to get any of the group to talk coherently.
"What do you suppose has happened, Carl?" cried Louise, the instant he was inside the door. "The most wonderful thing! You never could guess if you guessed forever."
"If it is as hopeless as that I shan't try," laughed Carl.
"But it is amazing, a miracle!" put in Mrs. Harling.
"We can't understand it at all," quavered Grandfather Harling, who was quite as excited as the rest.
"You'll never believe it," laughed Louise with shining eyes. "I've had a letter. You couldn't guess who it's from!"
She held a square white envelope high above her head.
"I'm going to have it framed and hand it down to my great-great-grandchildren."
"You might let me see it," coaxed Carl, putting out his hand.
"Oh, it is far too precious to be touched. It is going to be an archive, an heirloom, you know."
"Oh, come on and tell a chap what's happened," urged Carl, his patience beginning to wane.
"Well, think of this! I've had a note from Mr. Coulter--not from the firm, understand, but from the great J. W. himself, written by his own hand. He says he hears that through some error my name has been dropped from the Davis and Coulter payroll, and he not only asks me to come back to the mill but sends me a cheek for double the sum that I have lost by being out. Can you beat that?"
"That's exactly what we don't know. It seems like magic, doesn't it? I never knew before that Mr. Coulter kept such close track of what went on at the mills. He doesn't come there often because he is always at the down-town office. When he does visit the mills he simply strolls through them as if they belonged to somebody else rather than to himself. Of course he doesn't know one of the workers and I've always fancied he didn't care much about us. But this proves how wrong I was to think so. He does care, you see, and means everybody shall have a square deal. I shall go back Monday and work harder than ever for him. You will work your fingers off for such a man as that, you know."
"It certainly is white of him!" Carl agreed.
"It is nothing but justice," asserted Mrs. Harling proudly. "Still, justice isn't a common commodity in this world."
"Evidently it isn't Mr. Coulter's fault if it isn't, Mother," Louise replied. "And isn't it nice, Carl, that I am not to go back to work under Mr. Corcoran. Oh, I forgot to tell you that. That is almost the best of all. No! I am to be in the shipping department where the work is lighter and the pay better. Won't Hal be tickled to death when he hears it? He'll be more convinced than ever that he did the right thing to lay Corcoran out."
"I think he did. Still, it was a dangerous experiment and this should be a warning to him," put in Mrs. Harling. "Hal must learn to be more careful with his temper, his tongue, and those fists of his. If he isn't he is going to get into serious trouble some day."
Carl, however, was not listening to Mrs. Harling's moralizing.
"I wish I knew how Mr. Coulter found out about Louise," murmured he, half aloud.
Well, this was certainly a most satisfactory termination to the Harlings' troubles. He was genuinely glad the affair had turned so fortunately. And yet in his heart lurked a vague regret. This would mean that probably he would never see or hear from the mysterious hero of the red racing car again. Could the stranger have had any knowledge of what was to happen and did that information account for his jaunty adieu? Of course such a thing was impossible. And yet how odd and puzzling it all was!
THE WEB WIDENS
"Wherever did you disappear to?" inquired his mother when, hungry but triumphant, Carl came home. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"I didn't know you wanted me this morning, Ma," the boy replied, an afterglow of happiness still on his face.
"I didn't really want you but I wanted to know where you were. I've asked you time and time again when you go out to tell me where you're going."
"I wanted to, Mother, but it was such a long story. Last night you were too busy to hear it; and this morning there was no chance to talk to you either."
He heard his mother sigh.
"It's a pretty kind of a life I lead if my own children can't get a minute to talk to me."
"But you are busy, Ma. You know you are."
"I certainly do. Nobody knows it better," replied the woman with a sad shake of her head.
Carl, sensing the regret in her tone, hastened to say:
"Well, at least the family is not so thick around here now as usual. Where is everybody?"
"Mary is out with James Frederick; Timmie has gone to the park to coast; and Martin and Nell are at the day nursery."
"Then we have it all to ourselves."
"For a second or two, yes."
"That's bully!"
Drawing up a kitchen chair he sat down beside his mother.
"It's nice to have them gone sometimes," remarked he. "The kids make such a racket."
"They'll not always be making it," returned Mrs. McGregor philosophically. "And anyway, the three of them put together can never equal the hullabaloo you used to make when you were their age."
"I'm quiet enough now," grinned Carl sheepishly.
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