Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's First Job; Or, At the Foot of the Ladder - Burt L. Standish - Страница 10

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It was all over at last. The funeral had been held, and Horace Scotch was buried in the little village cemetery.

Frank returned to the old mansion, which seemed so lonely and deserted now. From room to room he strayed, and the memories that hung about the old place crowded thick upon him.

In one of the rooms was an old melodeon that had not been opened for years. He opened it and sat down to it, letting his fingers stray over the keys. It was marvelous how well it was in tune, considering the fact that it had not been played upon for so long.

Frank played many of the old tunes that he remembered. Toots crept up and listened at the door, not making a sound to disturb the young master he loved so well.

At last Frank sang, and the song was one that thrills every heart, “Home; Sweet Home.”

“An exile from home splendor dazzles in vain;

Oh! give me my lowly thatched cottage again;

The birds singing gayly, that come at my call;

Give me them, sweet peace of mind, dearer than all.

Home, home, sweet, sweet home,

Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.

“Farewell, peaceful cottage! farewell, happy home!

Forever I’m doomed a poor exile to roam;

This poor aching heart must be laid in the tomb,

Ere it cease to regret the endearments of home.

Home, home, sweet, sweet home,

Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”

As Frank stopped singing, he was surprised to hear a sobbing sound behind him, and he turned to see Toots kneeling in the doorway, his face buried in his hands.

“Why, what is the matter with you, Toots?” asked Merry, rising and going toward the colored boy.

It was some moments before Toots could answer. Frank lifted him to his feet.

“Oh, Mistah Frank,” sobbed the colored lad, “I feel so bad!”

“Everything will come out all right in the end, my boy.”

“Dat song neah broke me all up, sah. Dis ole place hab been mah home so long, an’ now—an’ now——”

“And now we must bid it farewell. It is hard, but it is life.”

“I dunno what’s gwan teh become ob me, sah.”

“I will look out for you, Toots. I’ll see that you have a good position somewhere. You are faithful and reliable. You love horses, and you would make a first-class jockey. Don’t worry. I must go out and hustle myself. It needs a stout heart to face the world.”

“Dat’s right, sah, but when I think ob leabin’ dis ole place it clean breaks mah heart.”

Frank succeeded in comforting the colored boy after a time. He spoke to Toots as gently as if the lad’s skin had been white, and the face of the boy showed his love and admiration for his young master.

It was not easy for Frank to throw off the cloud of sadness that bore down upon him, but he made an effort to do so. There was work before him ere he could leave Bloomfield. All the tangled affairs must be straightened, and every account must be settled.

It was some time before Frank could learn just how matters stood, but he succeeded at last, and then he found, as he had feared, that the old place must be sold. It was necessary, too, to dispose of it immediately.

Thus it came about that soon the whole of Bloomfield knew the Merriwell mansion was for sale. Darius Conrad had his eye on the place. Believing it must be disposed of at a great sacrifice, he was eager to get possession of it, and so, with small loss of time, he set out to look the property over.

Toots answered the ring at the door when Darius and his son Dyke called. Young Conrad had been eager to accompany his father, thinking he would find an opportunity to sneer at Frank and be quite safe with his father near.

Toots knew Darius Conrad, and he would have shut the door in the man’s face, but Conrad forced his way in, followed by his worthy son.

“I wish to see Frank Merriwell,” said the man.

“Well, sah,” answered the colored boy, frankly, “I don’ believe he wants teh see yo’, sah.”

“None of your insolence!” growled Darius, shaking his cane. “This is a matter of business.”

“Then I am suah Mistah Frank don’ care teh see yo’. He don’ do business in yoah style, sah.”

“Haw!” snorted the man, growing red in the face. “Why, you black rascal! I will——”

“Bettah be careful how yo’ call names, sah! It don’ set well fo’ a man ob youah class to call anybody a rascal.”

“Shall I thump him, governor?” asked Dyke, aggressively.

“Huah! Jes’ yo’ try hit!” shouted Toots, putting up his hands. “I’d jes’ lak teh see yo’ try hit! Why, I’d smash yeh quicker dan a cat could wink! Yes, sah—yes, indeed!”

“Don’t get into a quarrel with a nigger, Dyke,” cautioned the father.

“Niggah!” exploded Toots. “I’s a cullad gemman, sah, an’ yeh wants teh ’dress me wif respec’.”

“Call your master immediately.”

“Tell yeh he don’ want teh see yeh.”

“I have come to look this place over in view of purchasing it. I understand it is for sale.”

“Mistah Frank won’t sell hit teh yo’, sah.”

“I am not here to waste my breath with you.”

“There is the doah. I guess yo’ hab beat Mistah Frank enough, an’ he’d be silly if he let yo’ beat him some moah.”

“If you do not call him at once, I’ll make you sorry for it! Such insolence I never met before!”

“What is the matter down there, Toots?” called the voice of Frank Merriwell from the head of the stairs.

“Sah, Mistah Conrad insists on seein’ yo’, sah.”

“Mr. Conrad?”

“Yes, sah.”

“I do not care to see the man.”

“I tole him so, sah.”

“Tell him to go away.”

“I tole him dat, sah.”

“What then?”

“He won’t go, sah. He forced his way into the house, an’ I can’t mek him go out.”

There was a sharp exclamation, and Frank came swiftly downstairs in dressing gown and slippers. He halted near the foot of the stairs and gave the two Conrads a withering look.

“I must say that you have considerable crust to come here and force yourselves into this house!” he exclaimed, scornfully.

“Now, don’t talk like that—don’t talk like that, young man!” spluttered Darius. “We didn’t come here to be insulted. We came here on a matter of business.”

“I do not care to transact any business with you.”

“Dar!” shouted Toots, exultantly. “Didn’t I tole yeh! Dat am jes’ what I said!”

“I understand that this place is for sale,” said Conrad, ignoring Frank’s words. “If the terms are satisfactory, and if it suits me, I will buy it.”

“No, you will not.”

“Eh? what do you mean?”

“I will not sell it to you.”

“I knowed it!” nodded Toots, grinning triumphantly.

“But I am ready to pay spot cash, young man—spot cash. Do you understand? I have the money.”

“I know you have it, and I know how you obtained it. No, Darius Conrad, not one dollar of money will I accept from you. This place is for sale, but you can’t buy it.”

“I guess dat will hole yeh fo’ a while!” muttered Toots.

“Well, I must say you are ridiculous!” stormed Conrad—“perfectly ridiculous! If you will be reasonable——”

“There is the door, sir,” said Frank, stepping from the stairs and pointing to the door, which Toots held open. “This is still my house. Will you leave it? or do you choose to be put out?”

“He’s actually threatening us, governor!” cried Dyke.

“Don’t dare threaten me, young man!” snarled Darius, shaking his cane at Frank. “If you do, I’ll give you a good caning, and that is what you deserve!”

“Go!”

“I will not be driven out in——”

Frank grasped the man by the collar and marched him out in a hurry, despite his endeavors to break away.

“Here! here!” cried Dyke, springing on Frank. “Stop that!”

Merry turned and grappled with the younger rascal. He laughed as he swung Dyke off his feet, having grasped him by the collar and the seat of the trousers.

Wildly flourishing his cane, Darius Conrad was hurrying in at the door just as his son came sailing out, having been hurled by the muscular arms of Frank Merriwell.

The young man struck his father fairly amidships, and over they went together, rolling down the steps to the ground.

For the first time in a week, Toots doubled up and shouted with laughter.

“Good-day, gentlemen,” said Frank, gently, as he closed the door.