Try and Trust | Page 6

AND LEAVE THE WORLD BETTER FOR YOUR HAVING LIVED
IN IT."
"I hope it may be so," said Herbert, thoughtfully. "When I am tempted
to do wrong, I will think of my mother."
"It is the very best thing you can do, Herbert. And now for your plans. I
wish I were in a situation to have you remain with me. But as that
cannot be, I will do my best to get you a place."
"I ought to be at work," said Herbert, "as I have my living to get. I want
you to take that ten dollars, doctor, as part payment of the debt I owe
you."
The doctor shook his head.
"I can't do that, Herbert, not even to oblige you. You were too proud to
accept a favor from your uncle. You will not be too proud, I hope, to
accept one from me?"
"No, doctor; I am not too proud for that. You are my friend, and my
uncle cares nothing for me."
When Herbert's letter reached New York, his uncle felt a momentary
shame, for he saw that his nephew had rightfully interpreted his own
selfishness and lack of feeling, and he could not help involuntarily
admiring the independent spirit which would not allow him to accept
the proffered money, except as a loan. But mingled with his shame was
a feeling of relief, as he foresaw that Herbert's pride would not suffer
him to become a burden upon him in the future. He hardly expected
ever to see the ten dollars returned with interest; but even if he lost it,
he felt that he should be getting off cheap.

CHAPTER III
A COLLISION

It was a week later when an incident befell Herbert which is worthy of
mention, since it brought him into collision with a man who was
destined to have some influence over his future life.
A neighboring farmer, for whom, during his mother's life, he had
occasionally gone on errands, drove up in front of the doctor's house,
and asked Herbert if he could take his horse and wagon and drive over
to the mill village to get some corn ground. Herbert was rather glad to
accept this proposal, not only because he was to receive twenty-five
cents for so doing, but also because he was fond of driving a horse.
He was only about a mile from the mill village, when he saw
approaching him a man in a light open buggy. Herbert knew every
horse in Waverley, and every man, woman, and child, for that matter,
and he perceived at once that the driver was a stranger. To tell the truth,
he was not very favorably impressed by his appearance. The man was
very dark, with black hair and an unshaven beard of three days' growth,
which did not set off his irregular and repulsive features. His mouth,
partly open, revealed several yellow tusks, stained with tobacco juice.
On his head he wore a broad-brimmed straw hat, rather the worse for
wear.
It so happened that just at this point the middle of the road was much
better than the sides, which sloped considerably, terminating in gullies
which were partly full from the recent rains. The road was narrow,
being wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other, if each veered
to the side, but not otherwise.
Herbert observed that the buggy, which was now rapidly approaching,
was kept in the center of the road, and that the driver appeared to have
no intention of turning out.
"What does he mean?" thought our hero. "He cannot expect me to do
the whole of the turning out. I will turn out my half, and if he wants to
get by, he must do the same."
Accordingly, he turned partially to one side, as much as could be
reasonably expected, and quietly awaited the approach of the man in

the buggy. The latter still kept the center of the road, and did not turn
out his carriage at all. As soon as it was close at hand, the driver leaned
forward and exclaimed angrily:
"Turn out, boy!"
If he expected that Herbert would be intimidated by his tone he was
much mistaken. Our hero was bold, and not easily frightened. He
looked quietly in the man's face, and said composedly, "I have turned
out."
"Then turn out more, you young vagabond! Do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir, I hear you, and should if you didn't speak half so loud."
"Curse your impudence! I tell you, turn out more!" exclaimed the
stranger, becoming more and more angry. He had expected to get his
own way without trouble. If Herbert had been a man, he would not
have been so unreasonable; but he supposed he could browbeat a boy
into doing whatever