Only an Irish Boy

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Only an Irish Boy

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Only An Irish Boy, by Horatio Alger, Jr. This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Only An Irish Boy Andy Burke's Fortunes
Author: Horatio Alger, Jr.
Release Date: February 16, 2004 [EBook #11111]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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Produced by George Smith

ONLY AN IRISH BOY Or, Andy Burke's Fortunes by Horatio Alger, Jr.
Author of "Paul the Peddler," "Phil the Fiddler," "Strive and Succeed," "Slow and Sure," "Try and Trust," etc.

CONTENTS
Chapter I.
ANDY BURKE II. A SKIRMISH III. ANDY AND HIS MOTHER IV. MRS. PRESTON V. A PROFITABLE JOB VI. THE TWO OLD MAIDS VII. ANDY OBTAINS A PLACE VIII. THE MIDNIGHT ALARM IX. WHAT FOLLOWED X. ANDY'S DEBUT AT SCHOOL XI. A GAME OF BALL XII. A LITTLE DIFFICULTY XIII. GODFREY'S REBELLION XIV. MR. STONE IS CALLED TO ACCOUNT XV. MRS. PRESTON'S DISCOMFITURE XVI. THE CHRISTMAS PRESENT XVII. INTRODUCES AN ADVENTURER XVIII. RIDING WITH A HIGHWAYMAN XIX. BAFFLED A ROBBER XX. HOW THE NEWS WAS RECEIVED XXI. A MODEL WIFE XXII. COLONEL PRESTON'S RECOVERY XXIII. MRS. BURKE HAS GOOD FORTUNE XXIV. ANDY'S JOURNEY XXV. THE MERCHANT FROM PORTLAND XXVI. SPINNING THE WEB XXVII. THE DROP GAME XXVIII. THE GUEST OF TWO HOTELS XXIX. A STARTLING EVENT XXX. COLONEL PRESTON'S WILL XXXI. MRS. PRESTON'S INTENTIONS XXXII. MRS. PRESTON'S REVENGE XXXIII. ANDY LOSES HIS PLACE XXXIV. THE WILL AT LAST XXXV. MRS. PRESTON IS UNPLEASANTLY SURPRISED XXXVI. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

ONLY AN IRISH BOY
CHAPTER I
ANDY BURKE
"John, saddle my horse, and bring him around to the door."
The speaker was a boy of fifteen, handsomely dressed, and, to judge from his air and tone, a person of considerable consequence, in his own opinion, at least. The person addressed was employed in the stable of his father, Colonel Anthony Preston, and so inferior in social condition that Master Godfrey always addressed him in imperious tones.
John looked up and answered, respectfully:
"Master Godfrey, your horse is sick of the disease, and your father left orders that he wasn't to go out on no account."
"It's my horse," said Godfrey; "I intend to take him out."
"Maybe it's yours, but your father paid for him."
"None of your impudence, John," answered Godfrey, angrily. "Am I master, or are you, I should like to know!"
"Neither, I'm thinking," said John, with a twinkle in his eye. "It's your father that's the master."
"I'm master of the horse, anyway, so saddle him at once."
"The colonel would blame me," objected John.
"If you don't, I'll report you and get you dismissed."
"I'll take the risk, Master Godfrey," said the servant, good-humoredly. "The colonel won't be so unreasonable as to send me away for obeying his own orders."
Here John was right, and Godfrey knew it, and this vexed him the more. He had an inordinate opinion of himself and his own consequence, and felt humiliated at being disobeyed by a servant, without being able to punish him for his audacity. This feeling was increased by the presence of a third party, who was standing just outside the fence.
As this third party is our hero, I must take a separate paragraph to describe him. He was about the age of Godfrey, possibly a little shorter and stouter. He had a freckled face, full of good humor, but at the same time resolute and determined. He appeared to be one who had a will of his own, but not inclined to interfere with others, though ready to stand up for his own rights. In dress he compared very unfavorably with the young aristocrat, who was biting his lips with vexation. In fact, though he is my hero, his dress was far from heroic. He had no vest, and his coat was ragged, as well as his pants. He had on a pair of shoes two or three times too large for him. They had not been made to order, but had been given him by a gentleman of nearly double his size, and fitted him too much. He wore a straw hat, for it was summer, but the brim was semi-detached, and a part of his brown hair found its way through it.
Now Godfrey was just in the mood for picking a quarrel with somebody, and as there was no excuse for quarreling any further with John, he was rather glad to pitch into the young stranger.
"Who are you?" he demanded, in his usual imperious tone, and with a contraction of the brow.
"Only an Irish boy!" answered the other, with a droll look and a slight brogue.
"Then what business have you leaning against my fence?" again demanded Godfrey, imperiously.
"Shure,