Chapter XXV. Jefferson Pettigrew's Home.

Cast Upon the Breakers

by Horatio Alger

News spreads fast in a country village. Scarcely an hour had
passed when it was generally known that Jefferson Pettigrew had come
home from Montana with a few hundred dollars in money, bringing with
him a rich boy who could buy out all Burton. At least that is the
way the report ran.

When the two new arrivals had finished supper and come out on
the hotel veranda there were a dozen of Jefferson Pettigrew's friends
ready to welcome him.

"How are you, Jefferson, old boy?" said one and another.

"Pretty well, thank you. It seems good to be home."

"I hear you've brought back some money."

"Yes, a few hundred dollars."

"That's better than nothing. I reckon you'll stay home now."

"I can't afford it, boys."

"Are ye goin' back to Montany?"

"Yes. I know the country, and I can make a middlin' good livin'
there."

"I say, is that boy thats with you as rich as they say?"

"I don't know what they say."

"They say he's worth a million."

"Oh no, not so much as that. He's pretty well fixed."

"Hasn't he got a father livin'?"

"No, it's his father that left the money."

"How did you happen to get in with him?"

"Oh, we met promiscuous. He took a sort of fancy to me, and
that's the way of it."

"Do you expect to keep him with you?"

"He talks of goin' back to Montana with me. I'll be sort of
guardian to him."

"You're in luck, Jeff."

"Yes, I'm in luck to have pleasant company. Maybe we'll join
together and buy a mine."

"Would you mind introducin' him?"

"Not at all," and thus Rodney became acquainted with quite a
number of the Burton young men. He was amused to see with what
deference they treated him, but preserved a sober face and treated
all cordially, so that he made a favorable impression on those he
met.

Among those who made it in their way to call on the two
travelers was Lemuel Sheldon, the rich man of the village.

"How do you do, Jefferson?" he said condescendingly.

"Very well, sir."

"You have been quite a traveler."

"Yes, sir; I have been to the far West."

"And met with some success, I am told."

"Yes, sir; I raised money enough to get home."

"I hear you brought home a few hundred dollars."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, well," said the squire patronizingly, "that's good
beginning."

"It must seem very little to a rich man like you, squire."

"Oh, no!" said the squire patronizingly. "You are a young man.
I shouldn't wonder if by the time you get as old as I am you might be
worth five thousand dollars."

"I hope so," answered Mr. Pettigrew demurely.

"By the way, you have brought a young man with you, I am
told."

"Yes."

"I should like to make his acquaintance. He is rich, is he
not?"

"I wish I was as rich."

"You don't say so! About how much do you estimate he is
worth?"

"I don't think it amounts to quite as much as a quarter of a
million. Still, you know it is not always easy to tell how much a
person is worth."

"He is certainly a very fortunate young man," said the squire,
impressed. "What is his name?"

"Rodney Ropes."

"The name sounds aristocratic. I shall be glad to know him."

"Rodney," said Mr. Pettigrew. "I want to introduce you to
Squire Sheldon, our richest and most prominent citizen."

"I am glad to meet you, Squire Sheldon," said Rodney, offering
his hand.

"I quite reciprocate the feeling, Mr. Ropes, but Mr. Pettigrew
should not call me a rich man. I am worth something, to be sure."

"I should say you were, squire," said Jefferson. "Rodney, he is
as rich as you are."

"Oh no," returned the squire, modestly, "not as rich as that.
Indeed, I hardly know how much I am worth. As Mr. Pettigrew very
justly observed it is not easy to gauge a man's possessions. But
there is one difference between us. You, Mr. Ropes, I take it, are
not over eighteen."

"Only sixteen, sir."

"And yet you are wealthy. I am rising fifty. When you come to
my age you will be worth much more."

"Perhaps I may have lost all I now possess," said Rodney.
"Within a year I have lost fifty thousand dollars."

"You don't say so."

"Yes; it was through a man who had charge of my property. I
think now I shall manage my money matters myself."

"Doubtless you are right. That was certainly a heavy loss. I
shouldn't like to lose so much. I suppose, however, you had
something left?"

"Oh yes," answered Rodney in an indifferent tone.

"He must be rich to make so little account of fifty thousand
dollars," thought the squire.

"How long do you propose to stay in town, Mr. Pettigrew?" he
asked.

"I can't tell, sir, but I don't think I can spare more than
three or four days."

"May I hope that you and Mr. Ropes will take supper with me
tomorrow evening?"

"Say the next day and we'll come. Tomorrow I must go to my
uncle's."

"Oh very well!"

Squire Sheldon privately resolved to pump Rodney as to the
investment of his property. He was curious to learn first how much
the boy was worth, for if there was anything that the squire
worshiped it was wealth. He was glad to find that Mr. Pettigrew had
only brought home five hundred dollars, as it was not enough to lift
the mortgage on his uncle's farm.

After they were left alone Jefferson Pettigrew turned to Rodney
and said, "Do you mind my leaving you a short time and calling at my
uncle's?"

"Not at all, Mr. Pettigrew. I can pass my time very well."

Jefferson Pettigrew directed his steps to an old fashioned
farmhouse about half a mile from the village. In the rear the roof
sloped down so that the eaves were only five feet from the ground.
The house was large though the rooms were few in number.

In the sitting room sat an old man and his wife, who was nearly
as old. It was not a picture of cheerful old age, for each looked
sad. The sadness of old age is pathetic for there is an absence of
hope, and courage, such as younger people are apt to feel even when
they are weighed down by trouble.

Cyrus Hooper was seventy one, his wife two years younger.
During the greater part of their lives they had been well to do, if
not prosperous, but now their money was gone, and there was a
mortgage on the old home which they could not pay.

"I don't know whats goin' to become of us, Nancy," said Cyrus
Hooper. "We'll have to leave the old home, and when the farm's been
sold there won't be much left over and above the mortgage which Louis
Sheldon holds."

"Don't you think the squire will give you a little more time,
Cyrus?"

"No; I saw him yesterday, and he's sot on buyin' in the farm for
himself. He reckons it won't fetch more'n eighteen hundred
dollars."

"Thats only six hundred over the mortgage."

"It isn't that Nancy. There's about a hundred dollars due in
interest. We won't get more'n five hundred dollars."

"Surely, Cyrus, the farm is worth three thousand dollars."

"So it is, Nancy, but that won't do us any good, as long as no
one wants it more'n the squire."

"I wish Jefferson were at home."

"What good would it do? I surmise he hasn't made any money. He
never did have much enterprise, that boy."

"He was allus a good boy, Cyrus."

"That's so, Nancy, but he didn't seem cut out for makin' money.
Still it would do me good to see him. Maybe we might have a home
together, and manage to live."

Just then a neighbor entered.

"Have you heard the news?" she asked.

"No; what is it?"

"Your nephew Jefferson Pettigrew has got back."

"You don't mean so. There, Jefferson, that's one comfort."

"And they say he has brought home five hundred dollars."

"That's more'n I thought he'd bring. Where is he?"

"Over at the tavern. He's brought a young man with him,
leastways a boy, that's got a lot of money."

"The boy?"

"Yes; he's from New York, and is a friend of Jefferson's."

"Well, I'm glad he's back. Why didn't he come here?"

"It's likely he would if the boy wasn't with him."

"Perhaps he heard of my misfortune."

"I hope it'll all come right, Mr. Hooper. My, if there ain't
Jefferson comin' to see you now. I see him through the winder. I
guess I'll be goin'. You'll want to see him alone."