Budd Boyd's Triumph; or, The Boy-Firm of Fox Island, Page 2

  CHAPTER II.--A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING.

  It was still dark, and the rain fell in torrents as Budd opened thekitchen door and ran hastily out to the barn, where Mrs. Benton, who wasmaking preparations for breakfast, had told him he would find herhusband. He noticed the kitchen time-piece as he passed through theroom, and knew it was not yet four o'clock. Early rising was evidentlyone of the things to be expected in his new home.

  Reaching the barn quite drenched, Budd found Mr. Benton engaged infeeding a dozen or more gaunt and ill-kept cows, who seized the mustyhay thrown down to them with an avidity that suggested, on their part, ascarcity of rations. The same untidiness that marked the house was tobe seen about the barn also, which, if anything, was in a moredilapidated condition than the former.

  "Good-morning, Mr. Benton. What can I do to assist you?" asked Budd,pleasantly, as soon as he entered the barn.

  "Hum! I don't suppose ye can milk?" was the rather ungracious response.

  "No, sir; but I'm willing to learn," replied Budd, good-naturedly.

  "Well, I'll see 'bout that after awhile. I suppose ye might as wellbegin now as any time. But fust git up on that mow an' throw down morehay. These pesky critters eat more'n their necks are wuth," said Mr.Benton, kicking savagely at a cow that was reaching out for the wad ofhay he was carrying by her.

  Budd obeyed with alacrity; and when that job was finished it wasfollowed by others, including the milking, wherein the lad proved an aptscholar, until nearly six o'clock, when Mrs. Benton's shrill voicesummoned them to breakfast. That meal, possibly on account of Budd'swant of the good appetite he had had the night before, seemed to himgreatly inferior to his supper. The coffee was bitter and sweetenedwith molasses, the johnny-cakes were burnt, and the meat and vegetableswere cold. He did his best to eat heartily of the unsavory food,however--partly that he might not seem to his employer over-fastidiousin taste, and partly because the morning's work had taught him that heshould need all the strength he could obtain ere his day's task wasover. Stormy though it was, he felt sure Mr. Benton would find enoughfor him to do.

  In fact, long before the first of April came, Budd realized fully theforce of the words Mr. Wright had shouted after him the night he stoppedthere to inquire the way to Mr. Benton's. Had he really known hisemployer and family, he certainly would not have been over-anxious tohave hired out to him for the season; for the dilapidated condition ofthe buildings and the untidiness and disorder that marked everythingabout the place were not, after all, the worst features with which Buddhad to deal. He soon found that his employer was a hard, cruel, graspingtyrant, while his wife was a complete termagant, scolding andfault-finding incessantly from morning until night. There was not ananimal on the place that escaped the abuse of the master, and not eventhe master himself escaped the tirades of the mistress.

  Budd, by faithfully performing every task assigned him, and thusfrequently doing twice over what a lad of his age should have beenexpected to do, tried to win the approval of both Mr. Benton and hiswife. He soon found this impossible, and so contented himself withdoing what he felt to be right, and cheerfully bore the scoldings thatsoon became an hourly occurrence.

  It was indeed astonishing with what good nature the lad bore both thework and the abuse put upon him. Mr. Benton attributed it to the paperhe had asked the boy to sign, and chuckled to himself at the thoughtthat Budd's fear of losing his wages kept him so industrious and docile.He confidentially admitted to his wife, one day, that the lad was worthtwice what he had agreed to pay him; "only I ain't paid him nothin' asyit," he added, with a knowing look, which his wife seemed tounderstand, for she replied:

  "Now ye are up to another of yer capers, John Benton. There never was aman on the earth meaner than ye are!"

  But Mr. Wright, who knew his neighbors well, could in no way account forthe lad's willingness to endure what he knew he must be enduring, andfinally his curiosity got the better of him; for, meeting Budd one dayas he was returning from the nearest village, he drew up his horses andsaid:

  "Budd, do you know you are the profoundest example of human patience Iever saw?"

  "No; is that so?" replied Budd, with a laugh. "What makes you think so?"

  "Well," remarked Mr. Wright, leaning on his wagon-seat and looking downinto the smiling countenance before him, "I have lived here beside JohnBenton and his wife ten years, and know them well enough to be sure thatan angel direct from Heaven couldn't long stand their abuse; and yet youhave actually been there four weeks, and are still as cheerful as a larkon one of these beautiful spring mornings. Will you just explain to mehow you manage to stand it?"

  While he was speaking a far-away look had come into the lad's eyes, anda shudder shook his robust frame as though he saw something verydisagreeable to himself; but he answered, quietly enough:

  "Mr. Wright, there are some things in this world harder to bear thaneither work or abuse, and I prefer even to live with John Benton'sfamily than to go back to the life I have left behind me."

  With these words Budd started up his oxen and went on, leaving Mr.Wright to resume his journey more mystified than ever.

  On the first day of May Budd asked Mr. Benton for the previous month'spay.

  They were at work putting in corn, and the lad's request took hisemployer so by surprise that his hoe-handle dropped from his grasp.

  "Me pay ye now!" he exclaimed. "What are ye thinkin' of?"

  Then, as though another idea had come to his mind, he said,persuasively:

  "Ye don't need no money, an' 'twill be better to have yer pay all in abunch. Jes' think how much 'twill be--sixty dollers, an' all yer own."

  "But I have a special use for the money," persisted Budd; "and as I haveearned it, I should think you might give it to me."

  He spoke all the more emphatically because he knew that Mr. Benton hadquite a sum of money by him, and that he could easily pay him if hechose to do so.

  For reply, Mr. Benton put his hand into his pocket, and taking out hiswallet, opened it. From it he then took the paper of agreement thatBudd and he had signed. This he slowly spelled out, and when he hadfinished, asked:

  "Does this here paper say anythin' 'bout my payin' ye every munth?"

  "No, sir," Budd reluctantly admitted.

  "But it does say, if ye quit yer work 'fore yer time is up ye are tohave no pay, doesn't it?" inquired the man, significantly.

  "Yes, sir," the lad replied, now realizing how mean and contemptible hisemployer was, and what had been his real object in drawing up thatpaper.

  "Well, how can I know ye are goin' to stay with me yer whole time tillit's up?" he asked, with a show of triumph in his tones.

  "Do you mean to say you don't intend to pay me anything until October?"asked Budd, indignantly.

  "That's the agreement," replied Mr. Benton, coolly, returning the paperto his wallet and placing it in his pocket. "If ye'll keep yer part,I'll keep mine."

  He now picked up his hoe and resumed his work.

  For the first time since he came to the farm Budd felt an impulse toleave his employer. It was with great difficulty indeed that herefrained from throwing down his hoe, going to the house after his feweffects, and quitting the place forever. But he did, and wentresolutely on with his work. Fortunate for him was it, though he didnot know it then, that he did so. Later on, he could see that theruling of his spirit that day won for him, if not a city, certainly thehappiest results, though severe trials stood between him and theirconsummation.

  That night, at as early an hour as possible, Budd sought his littleroom. Closing the door carefully after him, he walked over to the ruderack on the wall and took down his light overcoat. From an insidepocket he took a long wallet, and from the wallet a postal card.Addressing it with a pencil to "N. B. Johnson, Esq., No. 127 SumnerStreet, Boston, Mass.," he wrote rapidly and in tiniest characters, onthe reverse side, without giving place or date, the following words:

  DEAR SIR:--I promised you last March to send you som
e money each monthuntil the total amount remaining due to you was paid. I have securedwork at a small compensation, but find, through a misunderstanding withmy employer, that I am not to have my pay until the six months for whichI have hired out are ended. At that time you may expect a remittancefrom me. I am very sorry to make this change in my original plans, butcannot help it, and trust you will be satisfied with this arrangement.Truly yours,

  BUDD BOYD.

  It was several days later, however, before Budd had an opportunity to goup to the neighboring village. When he did go, he took care not to dropthe postal into the post-office, but handed it directly to a mail agentupon a passing train. His reason for this act could not be easilymisunderstood. Evidently he did not care that the Mr. Johnson to whom hehad written should know his exact whereabouts. But his precaution wasunnecessary, for before the summer months had fairly come he was to seeMr. Johnson under circumstances most trying to himself.