Herbert Carters Legacy | Page 4

too much for you to take such a walk. You had better ride."
"No, mother, I am young and strong. I can walk well enough."
"But it must be twenty miles," objected his mother.
"The funeral doesn't take place till three o'clock in the afternoon. I will
get up bright and early, say at five o'clock. By nine I shall be halfway
there."
"I am afraid it will be too much for you, Herbert," said Mrs. Carter,

irresolutely.
"You don't know how strong I am," said Herbert; "I shan't get tired so
easily as you think."
"But twenty miles is a long distance."
"I know that, but I shall take it easy. The stage fare is seventy-five cents,
and it's a good way to save it. I wish somebody would offer me
seventy-five cents for every twenty miles I would walk. I'd take it up as
a profession."
"I am afraid I could earn little that way. I never was a good walker."
"You're a woman," said Herbert, patronizingly. "Women are not
expected to be good walkers."
"Some are. I remember my Aunt Jane would take walks of five and six
miles, and think nothing of it."
"I guess I could match her in walking," said Herbert, confidently. "Is
she alive?"
"No, she died three years since."
"Perhaps I take after her, then."
"You don't take after me, I am sure of that. I think, Herbert, you had
better take seventy-five cents with you, so that if you get very tired
with your walk over, you can come back by stage."
"All right, mother; I'll take the money, but I shall be sure not to need
it."
"It is best to be prepared for emergencies, Herbert."
"If I am going to-morrow morning, I must split up enough wood to last
you while I am gone."
"I am afraid you will tire yourself. I think I can get along with what

wood there is already split."
"Oh, don't be afraid for me. You'll see I'll come back as fresh as when I
set out. I expect to have a stunning appetite, though."
"I'll try to cook up enough for you," said his mother, smiling.
Herbert went out into the wood shed, and went to work with great
energy at the wood pile. In the course of an hour he had sawed and split
several large baskets full, which he brought in and piled up behind the
kitchen stove.
Mrs. Carter could not be expected to feel very deep grief for the death
of her uncle. It was now more than six years since they had met. He
was a selfish man, wholly wrapped up in the pursuit of wealth. Had he
possessed benevolent instincts, he would have offered to do something
out of his abundance for his niece, who he knew found it very hard to
make both ends meet. But he was a man who was very much averse to
parting with his money while he lived. He lived on a tenth of his
income, and saved up the rest, though for what end he could not well
have told. Since the death of Mr. Carter, whose funeral he had not
taken the trouble to attend, though invited, he had not even written to
his niece, and she had abstained from making any advances, lest it
might be thought that she was seeking assistance. Under these
circumstances she had little hope of a legacy, though she could not help
admitting the thought of how much a few hundred dollars would help
her, bridging over the time till Herbert should be old enough to earn
fair wages in some employment. If he could study two or three years
longer, she would have been very glad, for her son had already shown
abilities of no common order; but that was hardly to be thought of.
"There, mother, I guess I've sawed wood enough to last you, unless you
are very extravagant," said Herbert, reentering the kitchen, and taking
off his cap. "Now is there anything else I can do? You know I shall be
gone two days, or a day and a half at any rate."
"I think of nothing, Herbert. You had better go to bed early, and get a
good night's rest, for you will have a hard day before you."

"So I will, but eight o'clock will be soon enough. Just suppose we
should get a legacy, after all, mother. Wouldn't it be jolly?"
"I wouldn't think too much of it, Herbert. There isn't much chance of it.
Besides, it doesn't seem right to be speculating about our own personal
advantage when Uncle Herbert lies dead in his house."
There was justice in this suggestion, but Herbert could hardly be
expected to take a mournful view of the death of a relative