Read Ebook: Under Fire: A Tale of New England Village Life by Munsey Frank Andrew

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Ebook has 1334 lines and 40102 words, and 27 pages

er, for he saw that in the boy's eyes which warned him to adopt a more conciliatory policy and to do it speedily.

He consequently retreated from his position, and assured Fred that he had spoken too hastily in accusing him. He also moved cautiously backward to another part of the store, doubtless feeling that the air would circulate more freely between them if they were some distance apart; then he added:

"But the bill is gone, and as I have not paid it out, I want it accounted for."

"No doubt you do," said Fred. "I should like to know where it is myself. As long as you put it on that ground I will not object, but you shall not charge me squarely with committing a theft."

"No, I won't charge you directly with taking it, but I have my opinion as to where it has gone," rejoined Rexford, with an insinuating air.

Fred knew well what that opinion was; but it was beyond his power to challenge it while unexpressed, and he could not at that time change it by proving his innocence, so he replied:

"Very well, you can think as you like, if that gives you any satisfaction."

"Yes, yes; very good! But I will get my satisfaction, not in thinking, but in acting! You were hired as my clerk, and it was your duty to work for my interest, and look out for this store in my absence. As this bill disappeared while under your charge, I shall hold you responsible for it," said the merchant, as he rubbed his thin, bony hands together.

This made the color again change in Fred's face, which, being noticed by Rexford, influenced him to move a few paces nearer to the door, as he possibly thought it still a little warm for his comfort, while young Worthington exclaimed:

"You will never get a cent of my money for this purpose! Now you just remember that!"

"Not so fast, young man! You forget that I owe you about fifteen dollars, and I'll keep that amount in partial payment for this loss. Don't think you are going to get ahead of me quite so easy!"

"Yes, that is just what I mean," replied Fred firmly.

"I'll have you arrested at once. I won't be insulted by such a scamp!"

"Be careful whom you call a scamp!" said Fred, while Rexford again edged off. "I'd like to have you arrest me, for then I could tell things about you and your store that would make a stir in this village! What if some of the folks find out that the XXX St. Louis brand of flour, for which they pay you ten dollars a barrel, is a cheap grade that you bought in plain barrels and stamped yourself? Now do you want to arrest me? If you do there are many other things I can tell, and I wouldn't pass your accounts by either. I know something of what has been going on here--more than you think, perhaps."

These rapid and earnest utterances from young Worthington wrought a complete change in the merchant. They alarmed him, for he saw that the boy had the advantage, and out of policy he must stop matters before they became any worse. So he said, in a humble and subdued tone:

"I know it is not, and I would only do so to defend myself; but when you threaten to keep my money, and to have me arrested, then I will show what kind of a man is trying to take advantage of me."

"Very well, then, if I pay you your money, you will say nothing about the business of this store, I suppose?"

"No, I will say nothing about what I have just mentioned, unless I should be put on trial; then, of course, I should be obliged to testify."

"You will not be put on trial. I take you at your word--your word of honor," added the merchant impressively.

"Yes, my word of honor!" repeated Fred, "and that means that your secrets are safe."

The wily Rexford had now gained his point--Fred's promise--and he quickly changed front and cried:

"Well, there's your money--fifteen dollars--now consider yourself discharged from my employ!"

"'Discharged,' did you say, sir?" ejaculated Fred, utterly taken aback at this sudden turn of events.

"I said 'discharged,'" repeated the merchant, fidgeting about; "you know what the word means, I presume?"

Fred did know what it meant. It meant more than Rexford's narrow spirit could even comprehend. It meant disgrace, perhaps ruin.

Fred took the money, the few bills, the last he would earn in the old store, and stood for a moment turning them over listlessly--evidently not counting them, but as if to aid him in solving the problem that rested heavily upon his mind.

"Isn't the money all right?" asked the merchant, finally.

"Mr. Rexford," said Fred, not noticing the inquiry, "I want you to tell me if I lost my place on account of that missing bill."

"That is exactly why," replied the merchant, "for I have always been satisfied with your work. Had you never got into that drunken scrape, though, I probably should not have thought so much of it, even if I could see no way in which to account for the mystery."

Fred felt it a cruel injustice that he should be discharged and disgraced simply on the suspicion of a crime of which he was, in fact, entirely innocent: still he could see that the merchant had some grounds for his distrust, for when a boy once gets a stain upon his character it is almost impossible to utterly efface it. It may be forgotten for a time, but if any untoward circumstance afterward arises, the remembrance of the old misdeed comes speedily to the surface and combines with later developments to work injury to him. Thus my readers can see the great importance of always doing what is right, thereby keeping their reputations unsullied.

Had Fred not fallen a victim to De Vere's revengeful plot, he would have been saved the shame that caused him so much misery; he would have retained the good opinion of the people of Mapleton; he would not have forfeited a certain very desirable friendship; and he would, in all probability, have held his position with Mr. Rexford, regardless of the mysterious disappearance of the bill.

Our young friend left the store where he had worked hard and faithfully, and where he was gaining an insight into a business, the knowledge of which, he hoped, would some day enable him to become an active and prosperous merchant. But now, alas! he had been discharged and sent away in disgrace.

Fred started for home with a more sorrowful heart than he had ever known before. His last chance of success seemed, for a time, to be gone. The villagers would now lose all faith in him, he would have no friends, and even his father and mother might doubt his honesty. It would be useless for him to try for a situation in another store, when it became known why he was discharged from John Rexford's.

It was not surprising that young Worthington was so cast down, while the shock was fresh upon him, for there seemed now to be no way by which he could build himself up. But in this country there is always a chance for an honest, ambitious, and determined boy to succeed by careful thought, patient endurance, and hard work. Sometimes, to be sure, one can see very little ahead to encourage him to push on and hope to come out victorious. This is the very point at which many fail. They cannot stand up "under fire," but fall back when by sufficient will force they might win a decisive victory in the battle of life.

When Fred reached home, wearing a most dejected look, Mrs. Worthington exclaimed:

"Why, my son, what brings you home so early? I hope you are not ill!"

"No, I'm well enough, mother, but I'm tired of trying to amount to anything."

"What has happened now?" exclaimed the mother, with an alarmed expression on her face.

"I have been discharged by Mr. Rexford, on suspicion of having stolen money from the store."

"Stolen money!" uttered both parents simultaneously, as they grew pale at the terrible thought.

"Yes, that is what I am charged with, though I know nothing about the missing money. That is what makes it so hard to bear."

"Tell me the particulars," said the anxious father; whereupon his son related all that had taken place between himself and the merchant--all save that which related to Rexford's sharp practices, of which he had promised to say nothing.

After the story was finished, all were silent for a time. Both mother and boy looked heart sick, and gazed wistfully into the blaze that burned brightly in the open grate, as if they might discover there the secret of the mystery, while the father sat with knitted brows, studying carefully the statements which Fred had made.

At length he broke the silence, and said:

"My son, you have never deceived me. You came to your mother and me with true manhood, and told us of your first disgrace, while many boys would have tried hard to keep it from their parents. Though I never had reason to suspect you of wrong doing, yet that voluntary act upon your part proved to me that you had the courage to do right and own the truth. Now something has taken place that seems worse than the other; but as you say you are innocent, I believe it, and think that some great mistake has been made. I don't know where it can be, but we must try to clear it up."

Though these were welcome words to Fred, he was much cast down notwithstanding.

"But, father," he replied, "the people will all believe me guilty when they see I am out of the store, and learn the circumstances."

"It is far better for you, my boy, that they should suppose you guilty, when you are conscious of your innocence, than that the whole world should believe you innocent, if you were really guilty."

"Well, I don't see how we can show that I did not take the money."

"Neither do I, at present; but time will straighten this matter, as it does almost everything. Don't expect that we can accomplish much while we are sitting here and talking about it."

"What shall we do, then, father?"

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