Chapter XXVI: Bad News

“Here’s a letter for Grandpop Horner, Dick. The postman met me at the corner, and I guess he must have known I was headed for your house because he just handed it over and asked me to deliver it.”

Leslie, as he said this, held up the letter in question. He had met Dick at the gate of the little Horner cottage, as the latter was about setting out on some errand.

It was on the afternoon just before Christmas, and the winter had fully set in. There was a trace of snow on the ground, and the ice was in excellent condition for skating. Doubtless many a young person in Cliffwood, who anticipated receiving a new pair of skates on the following happy morning, was hoping that no cloud would come up to cover the fine sheet on the pond with snow before they had a chance to break in their cherished present.

Dick took the letter and looked hard at it. When he saw it was addressed on a typewriter, and that in the upper left-hand corner there was printed the name of a law firm in New York, somehow he was seized with a sense of coming trouble.

He knew that his grandfather had his little savings in a certain enterprise that heretofore had yielded fair profits. This sum of money, together with the pension that the Government paid the veteran, had barely sufficed to keep the wolf from the door of the Horner home for years.

“I hope it isn’t bad news I’ve fetched you, Dick?” ventured Leslie, uneasily, for he had seen that frown gather on the forehead of his chum, and could give a pretty fair guess as to what caused it.

“Oh! I hardly think that could be,” replied Dick, trying to smile cheerily. “With Christmas coming tomorrow it would be pretty tough for grandpop to get bad news. I was only going on a little errand, so I’ll turn back and give it to him.”

Leslie was almost as much at home in Dick’s humble dwelling as in his more spacious home; so he did not hesitate to follow at his chum’s heels when the other hurried back to the door.

“Here’s a letter for you, Grandpop,” remarked Dick, as he entered.

The old veteran was sitting by the fire, droning over his pipe, and the paper which came in the morning mail. He aroused himself at the information, for letters were few and far between at the Horner home, so that the receipt of one always caused more or less interest. Mrs. Horner came in from the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron; even little Sue ceased playing with her favorite cat, and looked up expectantly.

Grandpop turned the letter over and over. Plainly he was a bit afraid to tear it open, for his aged hands shook visibly, and he could be seen pressing his lips firmly together as though summoning all his resolution to the fore.

That imprint of a legal firm dismayed him. His dealings with lawyers had been few, and perhaps not of an altogether pleasant nature at that. Finally, he seemed to reach a point where he could wait no longer, so he managed to detach a strip of the envelope.

The enclosure was in typewriting like the address. All of the others watched grandpop earnestly as he first rubbed his glasses so as to get a little more time, and then started in to read the letter.

Uncle Silas had been lying down on the well-worn sofa. He sat up and seemed to be deeply interested. Leslie, as usual, was watching the wanderer closely; possibly the boy even allowed himself to wonder whether sly Uncle Silas’ presence there could have any connection with the coming of this mysterious missive.

Then grandpop uttered a low groan, though he tried bravely enough to crush it.

“Oh! what is it all about, Father?” exclaimed Mrs. Horner, darting forward to put her supporting arm about the old man, who seemed to waver in his seat.

The veteran drew his quivering hand caressingly over her hair several times. He had some difficulty in mastering his emotions; but the old soldier spirit in him was not yet dead, and he succeeded in regaining control over his nerves.

“Bad news, Daughter, I’m sorry to say,” he told her.

“Is it about your investment?” she asked, showing that she had been entertaining fears in that direction for some little time.

“Yes, yes, that is it,” he said, as well as his trembling lips could form the words. “This lawyer tells me the company has been in difficulties for some time, though they kept hoping to bridge over their trouble. But something happened that they had not counted on, and they went under with a smash. He says they may be able to pay thirty cents on the dollar, but it will take time even at that to realize on their properties.”

Mrs. Horner, deeply moved, took the letter from his unresisting hand, and looked it over. The fatal news was written in a cold unfeeling fashion, for lawyers could not be expected to sympathize with unknown clients. The firm offered to act for Mr. Horner in the matter for the ordinary fee, to be paid when any money was recovered.

Dick and Leslie too could easily read all this. The former was sadly dazed, and Leslie felt shocked. The latter knew that the Horners had had little enough to live upon for some years, and if half of their meagre income were suddenly snatched away in this cruel manner, it would mean a serious matter.

It was wonderful, however, how quickly the old man managed to recover from the blow. His one thought was to shield those who were so dear to him.

“Well,” they heard him say bravely, “I have been taking my ease too long as it is, and tomorrow--no, the day after Christmas, I mean to start out and visit my friends to see if there is not some employment I may obtain. I used to be a good hand at figures, and could keep a set of books fairly well. Don’t worry too much Polly, dear; it will all come out right yet. You know they say it is always darkest before dawn.”

Leslie winked a good many times even while he smiled at the idea of that weak old gentleman, who found it so difficult even to walk in the garden, striking bravely out to try to find work. There was a suspicious moisture in the boy’s eyes, for he was deeply affected.

“That would be a nice thing, wouldn’t it, Grandpop!” declared Dick stoutly; “for a husky fellow like me to keep on going to school while you worked in an office. I reckon it’s going to be me who’ll get busy, and pay for my salt. I’ve been thinking about just that sort of thing for some time. It was bound to come, and this letter has only hurried things along a little.”

Leslie felt it his duty to slap his chum on the back when he heard this. No one knew better than he what a sacrifice it would mean to Dick to quit school; for the boy’s heart was set on securing a good education, since he had planned a career for himself that could never be attained unless he went to college.

Uncle Silas had listened to all this talk in silence. No one seemed to remember him at all just then, one way or another. Even Leslie neglected to watch him. Had he done so he might have seen all sorts of emotions chasing each other across the weather-beaten face of the wanderer.

“I can’t tell you how badly I feel to hear this sad news, Sister Polly,” he now hastened to remark, coming forward with a look of apparently deep interest on his countenance. “It compels me to say what I have been meaning to for some little time. I must be going on my way. You have been kindness itself to a poor old health-broken chap, the rolling-stone that could gather no moss. Now it is time for me to relieve you of my presence, which must not become a burden on your slender resources.”

At that Mrs. Horner looked doubly distressed; while grandpop shook his white head in the negative.

“Please don’t speak of leaving us just yet, Brother,” said Dick’s mother. “All of us I am sure would miss your cheery ways very much. Father has seemed so happy with you for company, and I began to believe he was getting younger every day of your stay. And you said you had no other home.”

“But my dear sister, every little counts now with you, and I am unable to work any longer, much as I should like to buckle to,” remonstrated Uncle Silas, just as though he meant every word he said.

“Oh! but what you eat does not matter much,” she told him, affectionately, as she laid a loving hand on the wanderer’s arm. “Stay with us a little longer, Silas, and perhaps the skies will brighten. I seem to have faith that the tide must turn soon now; and we have been a happy family together, you know.”

Uncle Silas was affected even to tears, and he turned aside as though ashamed of giving way to a weakness. Leslie saw this, but being of a skeptical turn of mind, especially in connection with everything that concerned the wanderer, he rubbed his chin in his odd way, and muttered to himself:

“His eyes looked watery, all right; but mebbe after all they were crocodile tears. Some people can make themselves cry even on the stage. But I wonder what the old fellow’s game can be? One thing sure, I bet you he doesn’t mean to skip out of the comfy nest he’s struck after all his wanderings.”

Indeed, Uncle Silas was soon exerting himself to raise the drooping spirits of the others, and even began to joke in a way he had never done before.

“Why should we allow ourselves to mope, and feel badly when tomorrow morning will be Christmas,” he told them several times. “Something may happen to make this old world look brighter to our eyes. You know what you read in the lesson, Grandpop--‘weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.’ Let’s hope so, anyway.”