Try and Trust | Page 3

cousin. I rather guess he would
not want to be quite so intimate with me as he is now."
If anything had been needed, this consideration would have been
sufficient to deter Mr. Stanton from sending for his nephew. He could
not permit the social standing of his family to be compromised by the
presence of a poor relation from the country, rough and unpolished as
he doubtless was.
Maria, too, who had been for some time silent, here contributed to
strengthen the effect of Tom's words.
"Yes," said she, "and Laura Brooks, my most intimate friend, who is
shocked at anything vulgar or countrified--I wouldn't have her know
that I have such a cousin--oh, not for the world!"
"There will be no occasion for it," said her father, decidedly. "I shall
write at once to this Dr. Kent, explaining to him my views and wishes,
and how impossible it is for me to do as he so inconsiderately
suggests."
"It's the wisest thing you can do, Mr. Stanton," said his wife, who was
to the full as selfish as her husband.
"What is his name, father?" asked Maria.
"Whose name?"
"The boy's."
"Herbert Mason."
"Herbert? I thought it might be Jonathan, or Zeke, or some such name.
Herbert isn't at all countrified."
"No," said Tom, slyly; "of course not. We all know why you like that
name."

"Oh, you're mighty wise, Mr. Tom!" retorted his sister.
"It's because you like Herbert Dartmouth; but it isn't any use. He's in
love with Lizzie Graves."
"You seem to know all about it," said Maria, with vexation; for Tom
was not far from right in speaking of her preference for Herbert
Dartmouth.
"Of course I do," said Tom; "I ought to, for he told me so himself."
"I don't believe it!" said Maria, who looked ready to cry.
"Well, you needn't; but it's so."
"Be quiet, children," said Mrs. Stanton. "Thomas, you mustn't plague
your sister."
"Don't take it so hard, Maria," said Tom, in rather an aggravating tone.
"There's other boys you could get. I guess you could get Jim Gorham
for a beau, if you tried hard enough."
"I wouldn't have him," said Maria. "His face is all over freckles."
"Enough of this quarreling, children," said Mrs. Stanton. "I hope," she
continued, addressing her husband, "you won't fail to write at once.
They might be sending on the boy, and then we should be in a pretty
predicament."
"I will write at once. I don't know but I ought to inclose some money."
"I don't see why you need to."
"Perhaps I had better, as this is the last I intend to do for him."
"At any rate, it won't be necessary to send much," said Mrs. Stanton.
"How much?"

"Five dollars will do, I should think. Because he happens to be your
nephew, there is no good reason why he should be thrown upon you for
support."
"Perhaps it will be best to send ten dollars," said Mr. Stanton. "People
are unreasonable, you know, and they might charge me with meanness,
if I sent less."
"Then make it ten. It's only for once. I hope that will be the last we
shall hear of him."
The room in which this conversation took place was a handsomely
furnished breakfast room, all the appointments of which spoke not only
of comfort, but of luxury. Mr. Stanton had been made rich by a series
of lucky speculations, and he was at present carrying on a large
wholesale store downtown. He had commenced with small means
twenty years before, and for some years had advanced slowly, until the
tide of fortune set in and made him rich. His present handsome
residence he had only occupied three years, having moved to it from
one of much smaller pretensions on Bleecker Street. Tom and Maria
were forbidden to speak of their former home to their present
fashionable acquaintances, and this prohibition they were likely to
observe, having inherited to the full the worldly spirit which actuated
their parents. It will be seen that Herbert Mason was little likely to be
benefited by having such prosperous relations.

CHAPTER II
INTRODUCING THE HERO
If my young readers do not find the town of Waverley on the map of
Ohio, they may conclude that it was too small to attract the notice of
the map-makers. The village is small, consisting of about a dozen
houses, a church, a schoolhouse, and, as a matter of course, one of that
well- known class of stores in which everything required for the family
is sold, from a dress-pattern to a pound of sugar. Outside of the village

there are farmhouses, surrounded by broad acres, which keep them at
respectable distances from each other, like the feudal castles of the
Middle Ages. The land