Helping Himself | Page 2

very modest."
"I suppose that is not the only bill that we owe," said Grant.
"No; our unpaid bills must amount to at least two hundred dollars more," answered his mother.
Grant whistled.
Two hundred and sixty-seven dollars seemed to him an immense sum, and so it was, to a poor minister with a family of three children and a salary of only six hundred dollars. Where to obtain so large a sum neither Grant nor his mother could possibly imagine. Even if there were anyone to borrow it from, there seemed no chance to pay back so considerable a sum.
Mother and son looked at each other in perplexity. Finally, Grant broke the silence.
"Mother," he said, "one thing seems pretty clear. I must go to work. I am fifteen, well and strong, and I ought to be earning my own living."
"But your father has set his heart upon your going to college, Grant."
"And I should like to go, too; but if I did it would be years before I could be anything but an expense and a burden, and that would make me unhappy."
"You are almost ready for college, Grant, are you not?"
"Very nearly. I could get ready for the September examination. I have only to review Homer, and brush up my Latin."
"And your uncle Godfrey is ready to help you through."
"That gives me an idea, mother. It would cost Uncle Godfrey as much as nine hundred dollars a year over and above all the help I could get from the college funds, and perhaps from teaching school this winter. Now, if he would allow me that sum for a single year and let me go to work, I could pay up all father's debts, and give him a new start. It would save Uncle Godfrey nine hundred dollars."
"He has set his heart on your going to college. I don't think he would agree to help you at all if you disappoint him."
"At any rate, I could try the experiment. Something has got to be done, mother."
"Yes, Grant, there is no doubt of that. Mr. Tudor is evidently in earnest. If we don't pay him, I think it very likely he will refuse to let us have anything more on credit. And you know there is no other grocery store in the village."
"Have you any money to pay him on account, mother?"
"I have eight dollars."
"Let me have that, and go over and see what I can do with him. We can't get along without groceries. By the way, mother, doesn't the parish owe father anything?"
"They are about sixty dollars in arrears on the salary."
"And the treasurer is Deacon Gridley?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll tell you what I will do. I'll first go over to the deacon's and try to collect something. Afterward I will call on Mr. Tudor."
"It is your father's place to do it, but he has no business faculty, and could not accomplish anything. Go, then, Grant, but remember one thing."
"What is that, mother?"
"You have a quick temper, my son. Don't allow yourself to speak hastily, or disrespectfully, even if you are disappointed. Mr. Tudor's bill is a just one, and he ought to have his money."
"I'll do the best I can, mother."

CHAPTER II
GRANT MAKES TWO BUSINESS CALLS

Deacon Gridley had a small farm, and farming was his chief occupation, but he had a few thousand dollars laid away in stocks and bonds, and, being a thrifty man, not to say mean, he managed to save up nearly all the interest, which he added to his original accumulation. He always coveted financial trusts, and so it came about that he was parish treasurer. It was often convenient for him to keep in his hands, for a month at a time, money thus collected which ought to have been paid over at once to the minister, but the deacon was a thoroughly selfish man, and cared little how pressed for money Mr. Thornton might be, as long as he himself derived some benefit from holding on to the parish funds.
The deacon was mowing the front yard of his house when Grant came up to his front gate.
"Good-morning, Deacon Gridley," said the minister's son.
"Mornin', Grant," answered the deacon. "How's your folks?"
"Pretty well in health," returned Grant, coming to business at once, "but rather short of money."
"Ministers most gen'ally are," said Deacon Gridley, dryly.
"I should think they might be, with the small salaries they get," said Grant, indignantly.
"Some of 'em do get poorly paid," replied the deacon; "but I call six hundred dollars a pooty fair income."
"It might be for a single man; but when a minister has a wife and three children, like my father, it's pretty hard scratching."
"Some folks ain't got faculty," said the deacon, adding, complacently, "it never cost me nigh on to six hundred dollars a year to live."
The deacon had the reputation of living