"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 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 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." 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. "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?" "Wait until we can see how to proceed." "Well, I don't see any way; and, besides, I am about discouraged, now this is added to the other disgrace; and to think that I am not responsible for either!" exclaimed Fred, with deep emotion. "I think you were responsible, to a certain extent, for the first," said his father. "How was I responsible when De Vere led me into it, and had my drink adulterated?" "You were to be blamed for going to the bar at all. You should not have been influenced by such a fellow as that scamp." "One hardly ever does when he is being led on to do some wrong act by a crafty villain." "Matthew probably would have had his revenge in some other way, if he had not succeeded in his first trial." "Very true; but had it been in some other form, it might have been shown that he was the guilty party; whereas now it would seem that you were the author of your own misfortune, while the real agent of the occurrence goes unsuspected, and exults in your downfall." "I thought he wanted to be friends with me, so I tried not to displease him." "Well, I hope that affair will be a valuable lesson to you. It has certainly proved itself a costly one. You should learn to look at the motives of people, and not trust them too far, simply because they smile upon you once and seem friendly. I don't think that your judgment was very keen, or you would have seen through De Vere's sudden change of manner when you had reason to suppose he would maintain a more hostile attitude than ever." "Don't be too hard upon him, Samuel," interrupted Mrs. Worthington, who saw that Fred was growing restive under his father's rebukes. "Why, how is that, father?" inquired Fred, in a half frightened voice. "It is simply this: your mother and I always intended that you should become a merchant. We instilled that idea into you from a child, and as you grew older, to our satisfaction you showed a decided taste for such a life. At last I got you a place in a store where I thought you could build yourself up, and, in course of time, go into business for yourself. You showed an aptitude for the work, and Mr. Rexford assured me that you were one of the very best clerks that ever worked for him. This, however, was before he was led to suspect you because of the De Vere affair. Now you have been discharged by him on the suspicion of having stolen money from his drawer. Under these circumstances, no one in town would take you into his store as clerk; so you may as well give up, first as last, the idea of becoming a trader." "I think not; and if you could, I should not be willing to have you go away from home." "Why not, father? Wouldn't it be better than for me to stay here, where I can get nothing to do?" "No, my son; you are too young to go away from home, where you would have no one to look after you, and where you would be subject to many evil influences." "Here every one will think I am a thief, and probably my friends will not speak to me," added Fred, in a more sorrowful tone than ever. "So much the more reason why you should remain here. Were you to go away now, the people would surely think you guilty. No, no, my son! You must stay here, where circumstances have conspired against you, and show by your life that you are innocent. Then, too, by living here, you can gather evidence that may be of value to you." "Where can I get any evidence?" "You can give it, if you can't get it," replied his father, "by going to work tomorrow morning, and thus showing your good intentions." "There is nothing to do in this dull town that I know of." "There is always something to be done. But "Can't I be with you in the shop, father?" "No, I don't want you to learn a shoemaker's trade. If I had been in some other business, I might, perhaps, have been rich now. Shoemaking doesn't afford one much chance to rise, however hard he works. You will have to give up the idea of being a merchant, for the present, at least, and perhaps forever; so I want you to engage in something where your opportunities for advancement will not be limited as mine have been. No matter if you have to commence at the very bottom of the ladder; you can build yourself up by hard and intelligent work." Fred now began to brighten up a little, and after some further conversation with his father and mother, in which they tried to encourage him as much as possible, he said: "Father, you know I have always had an ambition to be somebody. When I saw that De Vere was trying to turn my friends against me, because I was a poor man's son, I made up my mind that I would push ahead harder than ever; but now"—he spoke with a good deal of determination and force for a boy—"I will succeed if I have to work day and night to accomplish it." |