Caleb Abbott
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 BY 
 
 DEXTER VINTON J lERCE 
 WILTON, NEW HAMPSHIRE 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 FARRINGTON PRINTING COMPANY 
 1904
 
 AT 
 
 C3 
 
 Copyright, 1904 
 BY DEXTER VINTON PIERCE 
 
 Rights of Translation, Public Reading and 
 Dramatization Reserved. 
 
 Electrotyped and Printed by Farrington Printing Co. 
 Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 IN offering this story I wish to impress on the minds of the read 
 ers that this is a simple country story a story of rural life 
 which may be found not alone in New Hampshire, but in most 
 of the country districts of New England. The characters are 
 taken from life, the story is founded on fact, with some exaggerations, 
 and if not sensational enough to suit some or if not of sufficient 
 length to suit others remember it began where it did and ended 
 where it has. The auction scene, the country hotel, the general 
 store, and the town meeting are all characteristic of rural life. The 
 gossip of the men around the country store is not overdrawn. The 
 author has endeavored to make the story to quote from a letter 
 from Dr. Abbott to the author "clean and sweet, mirthful and 
 pathetic, fresh and savory, and as wholesome as the New Hamp 
 shire hills amidst which its scenes are cast." If my readers can 
 agree with him after reading its pages I shall be satisfied with my 
 effort. 
 
 DEXTER VINTON PIERCE 
 
 " Maplehurst " Wilton, N. H.
 
 tfo mg Dear cbtl&ren 
 
 tbts booft 
 le
 
 Caleb Abbott 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FLOOD. 
 
 "I think it safe till daylight, Seth, don t you?" 
 Thus spoke one of two men who for six long 
 hours had been walking back and forth along the 
 banks of New Hampshire s greatest stream, the 
 Merrimack. The rain, which had been falling con 
 tinually for three days, still fell in torrents, and 
 both men were drenched to the skin. They 
 seemed to feel but little fatigue, yet anxiety was 
 written on both their faces. One, Seth Arnold, 
 was a typical New England Yankee, a slow-going, 
 hard-working farmer, tall, lean, weather-beaten, 
 withal shrewd and honest. The other, David Ab 
 bott, although himself a farmer, was a different 
 type from Seth ; he was shorter in stature, more 
 solidly built, finer skinned ; and he had laughing
 
 8 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 eyes. Both men were natives of this town of 
 Rushton, and had been friends and neighbors all 
 their lives. 
 
 "Yes, David, I think it safe till then, but it will 
 have to go. I agree with you that nothing can 
 save it; the water has risen several inches since 
 dark and is still rising rapidly. With the snow not 
 yet gone from the northern hills and with no indi 
 cation of the rain ceasing there is no hope." 
 
 "Well," remarked Seth, "here comes the relief 
 watch," as two men were dimly seen approaching. 
 
 "As we can do no good here, we may as well go 
 home, and get a cup of hot coffee and some rest. 
 We may need all our strength tomorrow." How 
 true those words ! Little did they think that be 
 fore another day should dawn one of those sturdy 
 sons of New Hampshire would be carried away 
 in the mad waters to a final rest. 
 
 No one who lived in New Hampshire at the 
 time our story begins will ever forget the spring 
 of 189--. The winter had not been unusually 
 severe, the snow-fall hardly up to the average, but 
 the spring was backward; the ground frozen hard 
 and quantities of snow still lay upon field and
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 9 
 
 roadway. It was nearly the middle of April when 
 the first sign of spring appeared. The warm sun 
 had melted some of the snow, but back among the 
 hills and mountains where the sun could hardly 
 penetrate much snow still remained. Then sud 
 denly the wind which had blown so long from the 
 north shifted to the south and the rain began to 
 fall softly at first like an ordinary April shower, 
 then faster and fiercer it came in sheets, until it 
 seemed as if the heavens had opened, and were 
 determined to weep all at once all the tears they 
 had been storing for years. For three days and 
 nights did it rain; warm, uncomfortable days for 
 this time of the year, and the snow, melting fast, 
 together with the rain falling on the frozen 
 ground, flowed down the hills on both sides of the 
 river into its natural drain, the river itself, until it 
 could hold no more. Banks were overflowed, 
 dams and bridges were swept away; stock and 
 even buildings were carried down stream, until for 
 miles up the river, but one dam remained, the one 
 we speak of. 
 
 Rushton itself was a small village situated on 
 the easterly bank of the Merrimack, though here
 
 10 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 and there was a farm on the westerly side, also 
 within the town limits. The principal business, and 
 in fact the only business except farming and lum 
 bering, was that of an extensive paper pulp mill, 
 whose owners had erected at a large expense, this 
 great dam, which had thus far held back thousands 
 of tons of water. Already a small stream was here 
 and there trickling through the structure, and it 
 seemed but a question of time before the whole 
 structure itself must give way, unless the rain 
 should cease at once. Yet up to the present time 
 it had stood with almost human doggedness the 
 mad rush of waters hurled at it. 
 
 David Abbott owned a farm on the east side of 
 the river a short way out from the main village, 
 situated on an elevation which overlooked the 
 beautiful tow r n, with its hills beyond, while away 
 to the south like a great silver serpent could be 
 seen the Merrimack as it wound along through the 
 valley. Far to the north could be seen a village 
 or two, or here and there a small settlement; 
 beyond all else the mighty mountains. 
 
 Arriving home, David was met at the door by 
 his excellent wife and only son, Caleb. The youth
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 11 
 
 was a strong, strapping boy of nineteen; nearly 
 six feet in his stockings, and built to stay; one 
 would hardly call him handsome, but his face, with 
 a downy beard just starting, a freckle here and 
 there, and dark curly hair, was honest, weather- 
 burned, and toughened by New England s severe 
 climate. He was just such a boy as you will find 
 throughout New England; the boy whose home 
 is on a farm, and who looks the soldier before the 
 hard work in the field, with the rather difficult feat 
 of plowing on a side hill, gives to him that stoop 
 or shambling gait which denotes the farmer s 
 bodily work. 
 
 "Well, father," they both asked almost in a 
 breath, "what news, good or bad ?" 
 
 "Bad, very bad," David replied, "the dam can t 
 last another day, perhaps not another hour. Mat- 
 tie, can you give me a cup of hot coffee? I ll 
 change my coat, and then, my son, we will go 
 back to see if we can help." 
 
 It was hardly daylight when father and son were 
 ready to start for the scene of trouble. Caleb 
 stooped to kiss his mother as was his habit when 
 leaving home. "Me, too," said his father and he
 
 12 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 laughingly kissed his wife. Just why, he could not 
 tell : it was many years since he had kissed his wife. 
 Honest, hard working, old fashioned couple, living 
 as many others do for years together in trouble 
 and prosperity, side by side, helping each other, 
 loving each other from year to year, yet giving no 
 signs of endearment. Is it necessary? Such 
 people understand each other, what a little thing 
 a kiss ! Yet what memories sometimes cling to 
 one, such a one as David then left on his wife s 
 toil-worn cheek. What happiness was wrought 
 by it into her sorrow in the years that followed ! 
 
 Hardly had they reached the bank when a wild 
 cry of help was heard above the storm. The water 
 spreading across both sides of the valley had com 
 pletely surrounded a small cottage below the dam. 
 Even now the water reached beyond the lower 
 windows, and in the attic window was a woman 
 with two small children frantically calling for help. 
 
 David, rushing to the water s edge where now a 
 crowd had congregated, asked, "Is no one going 
 to the rescue?" 
 
 "No, God help them, there is no hope!" said 
 Seth, who was already on the scene. "I am an old
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 13 
 
 man, yet if I was young again I would not venture 
 it. See how the house divides the water as it 
 rushes both sides of the building, a raging whirl 
 pool." 
 
 "There s an old punt we just hauled up," said 
 another. "But no man on earth could pull 
 through that current." 
 
 "No," said David, "no one man can beat those 
 waters; perhaps two can, though. Who will vol 
 unteer to go with me?" A silence fell upon the 
 crowd. Not a voice replied. 
 
 "Cowards, all of you !" angrily spoke David. 
 "Then I go alone! Would you see those children 
 and that woman perish before your eyes without 
 lifting a hand to help them? The dam is already 
 breaking up. Quick ; not a moment to lose ! A 
 hand to the boat. We will carry it up stream and 
 let it float down. Run you, Seth, for a rope and 
 grapple. I may be able to make fast to a window 
 or door." 
 
 Seth returned with the rope and grapple while 
 willing hands hastily pushed the boat into the mad 
 waters. David was about to jump in himself when 
 a voice at his side calmly said, "Wait ! I will go
 
 14 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 with you." David paused for a moment and 
 looked up to see his own son about to jump into 
 the boat. 
 
 "No, no, boy, not you!" said David. "You 
 must stay behind for your mother s sake. It s 
 more than likely that my errand will fail." 
 
 "No, you sha n t go alone," bravely replied 
 Caleb. "It needs a strong arm to battle that cur 
 rent, stronger than yours, father; and if God sees 
 fit to take us both, God will also care for mother." 
 
 A look of pride crossed his father s face. "Noble 
 boy," he murmured; and then added, "Come if 
 you insist. There s no time to lose." 
 
 In another instant the current had caught the 
 boat, carrying it directly and swiftly toward the 
 house. Caleb had grasped the oars and was doing 
 his best to retard the onward flight, while his 
 father stood ready \vith the grapple. Another 
 instant and the boat shot straight at the house. 
 Quick as a flash it was made fast ; the grapple had 
 held ! A mighty cheer went up from the crowd on 
 shore. 
 
 "You are the strongest, Caleb, and will need 
 all your strength in the battle to come. I will go
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 15 
 
 in after the woman and children." The waters 
 now reached within a few feet of the window 
 where the sufferers were clinging, and David, 
 drawing himself into the window, passed the 
 children and then the woman through the window 
 to his son below. The grapple had held against 
 the mighty force up to this time, but just as David 
 swung himself through the window with one last 
 effort, the sill gave way. The boat shot forty feet 
 down the stream and David dropped into the water 
 below. 
 
 Two cries, "Mattie!" "Caleb!" and then the cold 
 icy waters hurled him hither and thither, now up, 
 now down in the mad waters, rushing, gurgling. 
 . . . Three days later they found David Abbott s 
 body far down the valley. The waters had receded, 
 leaving it in a clump of bushes where it had been 
 caught. One of God s noblemen gone home to 
 rest. 
 
 : f * :j< * * 
 
 If you are driving with a native of New Hamp 
 shire through any small village you will be told the 
 history of such a village in a remarkably short 
 time: "J mi Johnson lives in that shanty down
 
 16 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 there; he s a no good, hot (drunk) bout all the 
 time; goes fishing in the spring, gunning in the 
 fall, and down to the County Farm in the winter. 
 Get s a five spec or barrel of flour for his vote 
 lection time, when the X Y & Z have a man run 
 ning for the legislature; that s bout all he does 
 earn." "Becky Farnsworth lives over there in that 
 white house. She s a widder, pretty well-to-do, 
 too. Her old man used to be road-agent ; got fif 
 teen hundred a year out the town to fix up the 
 highways, and spent bout five hundred of it. 
 Stole the rest, I figure. Then, that s nothing agin 
 him. They all do it if they get the chance." "See 
 that big square house up on the hill? Deacon 
 Cummings lives up there. Worth fifty thousand, 
 so they say." 
 
 So runs on the narrative throughout the whole 
 list of inhabitants. You wonder how Deacon 
 Cummings ever got fifty thousand together in this 
 out of the way place. Yet every village has its 
 Deacon Cummings; every Deacon Cummings has 
 his barrel. Let us stop a moment, perhaps we can 
 figure it out ; after all, it is very simple. The pro 
 verbial Deacon gets all the ready money there is
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 17 
 
 in town, and after getting it he keeps it. If he 
 begins business at twenty, at seventy he has accu 
 mulated all the money in circulation in the village 
 and it naturally increases in the fifty years. The 
 Deacon keeps the general store, perhaps the only 
 store for miles around, and the sign reads some 
 thing like this : "Olando W. Cummings, Dealer 
 in Dry Goods & Groceries ; Boots & Shoes ; Hay 
 & Grain; Tobacco & Cigars; Paints & Oils, Hard 
 ware, Tinware, Crockery & Glass-ware, Ready- 
 made Clothing; Gents Furnishing Goods; Hats & 
 Caps; Notions, etc., etc., etc., Fish Hooks & 
 Coffins; Stoves & Ranges a specialty: Teaming 
 done." 
 
 The farmers from Slab City, Mud Village, 
 Sketer Holler, Punkinville and other outlying dis 
 tricts, as well as the villagers in which the store is 
 situated, bring in their eggs and produce in ex 
 change for store goods. Thus Olando Cummings 
 makes a profit on both ends. Olando Cummings 
 also buys timber top ; and runs a portable mill. 
 Lumber is shipped to the market for cash. He 
 also deals in insurance, real estate, and mortgages. 
 Mortgages bring interest ; interest is cash. In fact
 
 18 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 everything that Olando Cummings touches turns 
 into cash, and that cash never gets circulated in 
 the town again, but is laid away in good securi 
 ties and investments to accumulate still farther. 
 That is how Deacon Cummings becomes the rich 
 est man of the town. 
 
 That is how Cyrus Whitney got to be the rich 
 est man in Rushton. Cyrus was a widower with 
 one child, an only daughter just budding into 
 womanhood. Handsome, bright and generous, 
 she was in direct contrast to her grasping father, 
 who was a hard-visaged man of sixty, tall, lank in 
 figure, and endowed with a squeaking voice. 
 
 Their home was situated on a hill overlooking 
 the village. The farm for the most part lay slop 
 ing to the south; with the house, itself almost a 
 mansion; large, square, colonial style; wide veran 
 das on two sides; gravelled driveways leading up 
 to it both from the north and south, lined on either 
 side with spreading, old-growth maples. It was 
 indeed an imposing place. Far from cheerless was 
 the interior. Much of the furniture had descended 
 from grandfather to father and from father to son. 
 It was old fashioned of course, and a large part of
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 19 
 
 it was massive, heavy mahogany. The walls were 
 papered with big patterns ; the studding was high ; 
 and open fireplaces in many of the rooms sug 
 gested hospitality. 
 
 Seated before a roaring open fire sat Cyrus 
 Whitney and his daughter, Hilda, for Cyrus was 
 troubled with rheumatism and the three days rain 
 had sent a chill even into this snug living room. 
 The flames lit up with a ruddy glow, falling alike 
 on the lantern jaw of father and the peach-like 
 cheek of daughter. 
 
 "But, father, I am serious; they say the dam will 
 go, and think of the poor in the valley below. 
 Then, perhaps I can be of some help. Almost 
 everyone in the village is there, watching and wait 
 ing to do what good he or she can while we sit 
 here warm and comfortable without lifting our 
 hand or even saying a word to help the unfortu 
 nate." 
 
 "Humph !" replied her father, lowering his 
 paper for a moment and glancing at his daughter 
 over his spectacles, "Let them take care of them 
 selves. What do they live down there in the damp 
 valley for? They take their chances. I stand to
 
 20 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 lose as much as they. There s hardly a farm in the 
 valley that I have not a claim upon. If they are 
 washed away don t I lose?" 
 
 "Yes, father, perhaps," rather doubtfully. "But 
 you only own a part of each farm and your claims 
 are secured. Think of the poor farmer who has 
 almost nothing, and can raise no crops this year. 
 Then again lives even may be in danger." 
 
 "Well! you have been out in rains before, I 
 guess this won t hurt you, either. Go if you want 
 to, but don t go doing anything foolish, or prom 
 ising any relief from me. I won t have it. See? 
 They have made their beds. Let them lie on 
 them. And Hilda, don t go and bring any half 
 starved, broken-limbed old man or woman here, 
 because I won t let them in." 
 
 So, as he had had his say and had yielded to his 
 daughter s wish to go out into the storm, as he 
 usually did yield to his only daughter, when he 
 was not hurting his own interests, he took up the 
 Manchester Union, chuckling to himself as he 
 thought, "If they can t raise any crops this year 
 why they can t pay their interest and the farms will 
 be mine through foreclosure," while reading at the
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 21 
 
 same time the reporters tales of what was taking 
 place at his very door. 
 
 Hilda, stopping only to put on proper garments, 
 went out into the driving storm and hastened 
 toward the dam to see if her small hands could in 
 any way help some poor unfortunate. When 
 nearly to the fated dam she heard a faint rumbling, 
 then with a mighty crash and roar the entire centre 
 of the dam gave way, releasing the vast body of 
 water which it had held back. It had been a 
 mighty battle between the science of man and the 
 unseen mysteries of nature, but nature had won at 
 last. It was indeed a scene never to be forgotten. 
 Pausing only for an instant, Hilda hurried below 
 where she could see the crowd of watchers on the 
 bank, and among them two men carrying some 
 one on a door, which had been pressed into ser 
 vice for a litter. 
 
 When Caleb saw his father disappear his first 
 thought was to save him if possible. But as the 
 boat rushed down the stream and he could see 
 nothing of David, he realized with anguish that 
 nothing could be done; that his father was lost. 
 There was no time for sorrow then. He must do
 
 22 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 his best to save the woman and children for whose 
 lives his brave father had given up his own. With 
 a strength almost superhuman, Caleb headed 
 the boat inshore, but do as he would he could 
 not gain a foot, the old flat-bottom boat, 
 square at both bow and stern, could not be 
 steered, but continually swung around and 
 around in the rapidly flowing waters. Some 
 thing had to be done, and done quickly. With 
 one last effort he headed the boat toward 
 shore, and luckily was caught in a current which 
 carried him some distance nearer the bank than 
 before. Quickly standing up and grasping the 
 rope and grapple, Caleb hurled it with all his 
 might toward the shore. Caleb was unusually 
 strong; he had been an adept on the crew at col 
 lege, and his strength and science did him good 
 service today. The grapple held. It had caught 
 in some clump of bushes in the meadow beneath 
 the waters. Though they were still far from shore, 
 the waters were here somewhat calmer, and Caleb, 
 catching the rope which was still tied to the boat, 
 pulled until they neared the grapple. Then, 
 quickly slashing the rope with his knife, he re-
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 23 
 
 turned to his oars, and again fought for victory. 
 Inch by inch he neared the shore. The crowd all 
 the time followed at the water s edge, cheering and 
 encouraging him by shouts, as the boat still drifted 
 far inland. At last the shore was reached, but even 
 before it was reached willing hands had dragged 
 the boat to safety, just as the dam gave way. 
 
 "Oh! who is it? Can you do nothing? Is he 
 dead?" Hilda cried. 
 
 "No, he ain t dead, but he s dead blowed. 
 Guess he s lost bout all his wind," some one 
 replied. 
 
 "It s Caleb Abbott," spoke another. "He just 
 saved a woman and two children ; Fred Anderson s 
 woman and kids. Fred s off on a drunk some 
 where. He went off last night and left em all 
 alone, and when they woke up this morning the 
 house was surrounded by water. Wonder it didn t 
 float off before. But it s gone now all right. The 
 boy didn t have any time to spare." 
 
 "Brave, noble Caleb!" said Hilda softly. "Are 
 they taking him home ? If so I will run ahead and 
 tell Mrs. Abbott not to be alarmed."
 
 24 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 "Yes, miss, that s where they are taking him," 
 replied one of the men. 
 
 Hilda ran on toward the house, and met Mrs. 
 Abbott in the doorway. She told her not to be 
 alarmed, even though friends were bringing Caleb 
 home. "He is not hurt; he has only fainted from 
 exhaustion." 
 
 "But David?" cried Mrs. Abbott. "What of 
 David?" 
 
 "They did not mention your husband," replied 
 Hilda. "Perhaps he is with them. I did not 
 notice, because I ran away at once to tell you 
 about Caleb." 
 
 In the meantime the men with the litter had 
 arrived, and although Caleb insisted that he was 
 himself again, they brought him in, and sat him 
 in the great armchair by the fire. Mrs. Abbott, 
 in the care and anxiety for Caleb, forgot for the 
 time being the absence of David. Hilda, however, 
 inquiring of Seth where David was, learned the 
 truth from Seth, who with tears in his eyes, told 
 her the brave story. Her kind heart wept in 
 sorrow for the widow. In fact the loss was her 
 own sorrow, too. David, and his kindly ways,
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 25 
 
 were very familiar to her. He always had a pleas 
 ant word for everybody and often stopped to talk 
 with her and in a friendly way to tell her how 
 handsome she was growing. Hilda and Caleb had 
 been schoolmates together, and she had always 
 been welcome at the Abbott farm, but since her 
 father had grown so rich he had forbidden her 
 calling at the Abbott home. But Caleb she could 
 never forget, and when they met by chance they 
 had many a pleasant chat together. 
 
 Hilda, returning into the house, saw Caleb still 
 sitting in the great armchair, while his mother had 
 just asked him of his father. With a forced smile 
 he greeted Hilda, holding out his hand, which she 
 willingly took as he asked, "How do I look as an 
 invalid?" 
 
 Hilda could she have answered as her heart 
 prompted would have said that she never had seen 
 a nobler or handsomer invalid; but she simply 
 replied that she had heard of his daring rescue and 
 hoped he would soon be better. 
 
 "Oh, I am all right now," replied Caleb. "Just 
 a little tired; that s all." 
 
 "But father!" said Mrs. Abbott. "You haven t
 
 26 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 told me of him. Is he hurt? You are keeping 
 something from me, Caleb; what is it? Tell me, 
 he can t be lost !" 
 
 "Yes, mother," said Caleb, laying his hand lov 
 ingly on her silvery hair, while her head dropped 
 on his knee. "Father has gone home to rest," and 
 Hilda stole softly out of the room, leaving them 
 alone with their great sorrow.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LOOKING THE FUTURE IN THE FACE. 
 
 A few days after the funeral, which had been 
 largely attended, for David was a favorite with old 
 and young, Caleb and his mother sat alone dis 
 cussing the future. It had been news to them and 
 sad news indeed coming as it did at this time to 
 know that Cyrus Whitney held a mortgage on 
 their home for five hundred dollars. The amount 
 alone would have caused Caleb no uneasiness had 
 it been held by some other party, or had the rate 
 of interest been the usual six per cent. But Shy- 
 lock Whitney, as he was usually called, did not 
 lend money at six per cent. His interest often 
 amounted to more than the principal in a year or 
 two, and the farmers who were so unfortunate as 
 to get into his clutches seldom got out of them, 
 taking as it did all the money they could raise to 
 meet the interest alone, without paying the prin-
 
 28 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 cipal. David Abbott, when he borrowed the 
 money, saw his way clear, or thought he did, to 
 meet both principal and interest in a short time, 
 and not wishing to worry his wife and son, kept 
 the matter to himself. It is true that his wife had 
 also signed the note; but with perfect faith in her 
 husband she gave her signature, with little 
 thought at the time. 
 
 For years there had been a tract of woodland on 
 the Abbott farm, and David, when Caleb was a 
 little boy, used to take him by the hand and point 
 ing to the trees then in their infancy would say, 
 "Those, my son, are yours ; that is your schooling, 
 your education." And Caleb, not quite under 
 standing, would say, "Yes, papa." Caleb grew 
 and the trees grew, too ; pine, hemlock and spruce, 
 until now the timber had gotten its growth, and 
 the little boy had almost reached his manhood. 
 So these trees, these sacred trees, had remained 
 untouched all these years until this past winter, 
 when David had begun to fell them ; working in all 
 sorts of weather, getting the logs ready for use, 
 some for market, some for the pulp mill. He had 
 been obliged to hire help, and he had also bought
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 29 
 
 a pair of horses in order to market the timber at 
 once. It was for this purpose that he had raised 
 the money on his farm from Cyrus Whitney. 
 
 In fact, it was only a few days before the storm 
 that the last logs were hauled from the woods to 
 the river bank to be floated down stream when the 
 rains and melting snows should flood the river. 
 How well the river was flooded we already know. 
 David, like many others in this valley, had he 
 lived, would have been ruined. The logs had been 
 held back until the dam gave way and then they, 
 with those of many others, were swept away down 
 the river. Thousands of feet of timber; a winter s 
 work ; and five hundred dollars gone in a moment ! 
 The logs were scattered no one knew where, and 
 a total loss was the result. 
 
 As the interest on the mortgage was now almost 
 due, it was this matter which was under discus 
 sion. 
 
 "Mother," said Caleb, "there is but one thing 
 to do, and that must be done at once. We must 
 dispose of some stock. I won t sell the horses 
 because I expect them to help us make a living. 
 The dam will be rebuilt; there are roads and
 
 30 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 bridges to be repaired, foundations to be relaid, 
 and many other things to be done that will require 
 lots of teaming. The rate of pay around here for 
 a man and pair of horses is three fifty a day, and I 
 don t see how I could earn more at present. 
 Luckily we have hay enough to carry us through, 
 and also some grain. I propose to turn teamster. 
 The farm work I will do before and after hours, 
 but I can t take care of ten head of cattle alone, 
 and we can t afford to hire help. There is no 
 money, I know positively, in selling milk to the 
 milk trust, although father thought there was. 
 What I propose to do with your permission is to 
 sell six cows, keeping the two Jerseys and two 
 Ayeshires for butter. Joe Frye over in Weed Vil 
 lage offered father two hundred dollars for the four 
 Holsteins a few weeks ago. I shall see him, and 
 if his offer still holds good we can pay the present 
 interest. Then with the proceeds from the other 
 two cows, which being farrow won t bring much, 
 we can pay the funeral expenses and the grocer s 
 bill. These, mother, are my suggestions; if you 
 can think of any other better way out of our diffi 
 culties please say so."
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 31 
 
 "No, Caleb," replied Mrs. Abbott, "I can see no 
 other way. In fact I think your plan is the only 
 way, although I dislike to think of your doing 
 such heavy work together with the farm duties. 
 You are fitted for something better than a day 
 laborer. Your father always wanted you to 
 become a lawyer." 
 
 "Yes, and perhaps I might have been, had he 
 lived. Poor Father! He had great hopes for me. 
 But fate has ruled otherwise. The lawyer must go. 
 For the present at least I must work at what can 
 bring the most money. I am young; perhaps in 
 the future I shall be something more than a 
 laborer," said Caleb, with emphasis. 
 
 "Well," said his mother, in reply, "we can work 
 together. There are only two of us now," sadly. 
 "You will be away all day, so that I can help quite 
 a little myself. I can make butter, and I shall raise 
 more chickens. In fact I see no reason why our 
 egg- and butter-money won t pay our living ex 
 penses, so that you can have your wages to your 
 self." 
 
 "Yes, mother; you are bound to help. With all
 
 32 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 your cares and work you are still looking for 
 more." 
 
 "Why Caleb," replied his mother, "I shall have 
 lots of time to myself. I want something to keep 
 me busy. This is light labor and will keep me 
 from getting lonely while you are away." 
 
 "Well, mother, if you insist on adding these new 
 duties to yourself I won t object; but we are keep 
 ing late hours. This won t do for a laboring man. 
 It is already ten o clock, and I have all I can do 
 tomorrow." So Caleb kissed his mother, and tak 
 ing up his lamp proceeded upstairs to bed. 
 
 Boyhood days are over. Tomorrow, Caleb, you 
 enter into a new life labor. 
 
 In the general store and at the post office the 
 flood was still the general topic of discussion. As 
 usual in the evening the "regulars" were hanging 
 around the store. The nights were still cold and a 
 brisk wood fire burned in the great stove in the 
 centre of the store. Seated around the stove were 
 Seth Arnold, Hen Gilson, Deacon Patch, Ed Bean 
 and several others of minor importance. 
 
 "Well," said Ed, "now David has gone, I guess
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 33 
 
 his boy will have to come down off his high hoss, 
 and go to work." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so," said the Deacon. "And I 
 guess he can do it too. Mark my words, he won t 
 lose any time doin it, either. He s a likely young 
 feller. Twan t all his doin s going to college. His 
 father wanted to cut him out for a lawyer." 
 
 "And you can t blame him any, either," spoke 
 up Seth. "What s farming amount to? You get 
 a living, that s all. And if things don t go right, or 
 if the weather goes wrong, a mighty poor living at 
 that you get ! Everything is Trusts now-a-days, 
 and a poor man ain t got any show. You ve got 
 to sell milk to the milk trust and let them make the 
 price. Then you ve got to buy grain of the milk 
 trust and let them make the price on that; then 
 there s your surplus; and when you settle up 
 you re mighty lucky if you don t owe the milk 
 trust something. If you ve got a little timber 
 you ve got to sell that to a trust. Even your eggs ! 
 In fact you ain t got any show at all now-a-days on 
 a farm." So saying, Seth crossed one long leg 
 over the other, and, borrowing a match from Hen,
 
 34 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 proceeded to light his corn-cob pipe, while he 
 meditated on the wrongs in this world. 
 
 Well," said Ed, "he s got a light smart team 
 of horse flesh, and he himself is as strong as an ox. 
 He can get all the work he wants, too. I heard 
 something bout his doing teaming." 
 
 "The boy ought to do well," said the Deacon, 
 in reply. "He s got the whole town back of him ; 
 tain t many would have done what he did, rescu 
 ing Jim Anderson s folks. Tain t many could 
 a done it, either." 
 
 "Speaking of Anderson," said Seth, "they say 
 old Shylock got bit there. Had a mortgage on 
 the place, and now there ain t no place left ; house 
 and building floated away, and no land left that 
 you could realize on. I wouldn t swap my year 
 ling for what s left, and they say Cyrus had six 
 hundred on it." 
 
 "Well, old Shylock can stand it, I guess," said 
 another. "He s got a mortgage on bout every 
 thing in this town." 
 
 "Well, Ned," exclaimed Seth, rising with a yawn 
 and addressing the clerk who had been an earnest 
 listener to their conversation, "put me up bout
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 35 
 
 five pounds sugar, and a cod fish, and a piece ter- 
 baca. Guess I ll be poking along." Seth s depart 
 ure broke up the meeting for that night, and soon 
 all departed for their respective homes to meet 
 again on the morrow. 
 
 Bright and early Caleb rose. The sun had not 
 yet risen, but looking out his window he saw the 
 whole east lighted up in a blaze of glory. Hastily 
 dressing he went down stairs, and after starting a 
 fire for his mother and putting on a kettle of fresh 
 water, he went to the barn to do his chores with 
 a kind word to horses and cattle alike. He fed 
 them with a generous hand, and soon the familiar 
 crunch, crunch, crunch, a sound so musical to all 
 who love stock, fell pleasantly on his ears, as the 
 critters munched their feed. 
 
 Have you ever been up before sunrise in the 
 country, and worked or walked for an hour or two 
 before breakfast? If not, try it some time, it is 
 well \vorth the effort ; and it is better medicine 
 than all the spring tonics in the world. 
 
 Breakfast was all ready and steaming hot when 
 Caleb returned to the kitchen. Hot corn bread, 
 hasty pudding, fried salt pork and eggs, fried-over
 
 36 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 potatoes, and coffee with cream. Caleb thought 
 it was a breakfast good enough for a laboring man. 
 Of course the man of wealth would have his fruit, 
 a miniature chop, or perhaps a small tenderloin; 
 or if he had eggs, bacon would be served instead of 
 salt pork. But after all there is not much differ 
 ence in the food of wealth and that of the ordinary 
 family. 
 
 After breakfast Caleb returned to the barn, 
 cleaned the horses and hitched Jack, the off horse, 
 into the family democrat and started for Weed 
 Village to see Joe Frye about selling the cattle. 
 The blue birds had appeared and were flitting 
 about from one apple tree to another, looking for 
 the old familiar hole where they were to build their 
 nests and start housekeeping for another season. 
 The pussy willows had already burst forth. Here 
 and there a chipmunk saucily perched himself on 
 some wall top, and, on being discovered, with a 
 shrill chirp disappeared from view. The sun was 
 bright, the air balmy. The winter was over, and 
 the whole world seemed glad. Weed Village was 
 an eight miles drive up hill and down. Caleb saw
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 37 
 
 a familiar face or two and passed the time of day 
 with them. 
 
 "Pretty good doin s," greeted Seth, who was 
 topping the walls around his pasture, getting 
 ready to turn the cattle out. 
 
 "Yes," replied Caleb, "the rains have left the 
 roads good and hard where they haven t washed 
 them away." 
 
 "Frost s all out of the ground," said Seth, 
 "guess ploughing ll take hold next week." 
 
 "Yes," replied Caleb, with a laugh, "I guess 
 
 I ll have to put my hand to the plough this year." 
 
 Twon t hurt you any, boy," answered Seth, as 
 
 Caleb drove off; "only don t get in the rut and 
 
 follow it all your life." 
 
 "Good morning, Caleb," said a bright, sweet 
 voice. Caleb started. He had been busy with his 
 thoughts about the mortgage. What if he could 
 not raise the money to meet the interest? 
 What if Joe Frye would not buy the cattle? 
 Then they would be turned out of their pleasant 
 home ! For a moment Caleb hated the man in 
 whose power he was, but the hatred disappeared 
 from his face and a smile spread over his features
 
 38 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 as he saw the daughter of this very man standing 
 by the roadside to let him pass. How lovely she 
 was, with a bunch of pussy willows in one hand, 
 while with the other she daintily held up her skirts. 
 
 "Oh! good morning, Hilda," replied Caleb, to 
 her greeting. "I almost passed without seeing 
 you." 
 
 "Yes," laughingly replied Hilda, "if I had not 
 saluted you I think you would have run over me." 
 
 "I am sorry I was so stupid," he replied, "I was 
 busy with my thoughts." 
 
 "Can I buy them ?" sweetly asked Hilda. "You 
 know the old saying, a. penny for your thoughts . 
 I really think by the way you looked it would be 
 a good investment, as father would say." But 
 she quickly added, seeing his brow darken at her 
 father s name, "Never mind, I won t try to buy 
 them today. Isn t it a grand morning?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Caleb, "a perfect day. Is your 
 father at home ?" 
 
 "Yes, and he will be at home all day, for al 
 though the sky is so bright he is suffering from 
 his rheumatism badly. Did you wish to see him ?"
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 39 
 
 "No, not now. Perhaps when I come back 
 from Weed Village. I am sorry he suffers so." 
 
 "So you are going to Weed Village?" exclaimed 
 Hilda. "Well, don t let me detain you; it s a long, 
 hard drive. Good-bye." 
 
 "Good-bye," said Caleb. Looking back he saw 
 her standing there by the roadside still gazing 
 after him. And he thought how handsome and 
 womanly she had grown lately. It seemed but 
 such a short time ago since they had gone romp 
 ing through the meadows together for flowers, 
 gathered nuts together in the fall, or coasted on 
 the same sled in the winter. With a sigh he 
 thought of the difference between them now; she 
 the daughter of the richest man in Rushton, he a 
 laboring man. But he vowed to himself that some 
 day he would be rich himself; something more 
 than a laborer; and then, if she was still free 
 "But get up, Jack," ended his dreaming. 
 
 And Hilda? Her memory, too, went back to 
 those happy school days; she thought how Caleb 
 had changed. He seemed so serious, and even 
 worried. He used to be brimful of fun and
 
 40 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 laughter, but now even his smile for her seemed 
 forced. 
 
 Still thinking of Hilda, Caleb arrived at Joe 
 Frye s. Susie Frye came to the door. She had 
 seen the team coming into the yard, and in an 
 swer to Caleb s inquiry for Joe, said with a giggle 
 (Susie Frye always giggled when she spoke to a 
 man). "Yes, Joe s round somewhere; guess he s 
 down to the south pasture. He spoke of putting 
 up some barbed-wire there today. Most time to 
 turn the critters out. Drive your horse in the shed 
 and I ll holler to him." So saying, Susie walked 
 down the lane, and "hollering" as only a country 
 girl can, until Joe came "poking up" into sight. 
 
 "What is it, Sue?" 
 
 "Caleb Abbott s come to see you bout some 
 thing," Sue replied. 
 
 "Oh!" said Joe, "I guess it s about them Hoi- 
 steins." 
 
 "Got ready to sell them yet, Caleb?" he asked 
 of Caleb, who had also come down the lane and 
 joined the brother and sister. 
 
 "Yes, I ll come right down to business. I am 
 going to sell them, and as you made father a fair
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 41 
 
 offer I thought I would see you. If your offer 
 still holds good, you can have them." 
 
 "Well," drawled Joe, "I did make your father a 
 good offer some time ago. Two hundred I think 
 it was. But they were just in then, they ain t 
 worth that now." 
 
 "I don t know about that," replied Caleb. 
 "They are all new milch, and I think I could get 
 that most anywhere. I would prefer to sell them 
 to you, as you would pay cash and that s what I 
 want now. I can t take any sixty days notes." 
 
 "Perhaps if you threw in one of those farrow 
 cows we might come to terms," drawled Joe. 
 
 "No," said Caleb, "I could not think of that. 
 They are worth two hundred of anybody s money. 
 I could get that, and perhaps more, at auction." 
 
 "But there would be the commission and adver 
 tising to come out of that," shrewdly suggested 
 Joe. 
 
 "Yes, that s true, but if you want them, they re 
 cheap at two hundred. There s others who do 
 want them, but I have given you first chance." 
 
 "Throw in the brindle farrar and it s a trade,"
 
 42 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 said Joe, closing one eye and looking at Caleb 
 with the other. But Caleb was firm. 
 
 "No," he answered. "Two hundred if you want 
 them; if you don t, there s no more to be said." 
 And Caleb began to back his horse out of the shed. 
 
 Joe had now nearly whittled the stick through 
 on which he had been industriously working dur 
 ing their talk. A little pile of shavings already 
 nearly hid the toe of one great boot and had even 
 begun to cover the other. Caleb well knew that 
 by the time the stick was whittled through it 
 would be "yes" or "no." You can t come to any 
 decision on a trade with a stick half whittled, you 
 know. 
 
 "Hold on," said Joe, "it s most dinner time. 
 Stay and have a bite with us, and perhaps we can 
 come to terms." 
 
 "I m sorry," replied Caleb. "I should like to 
 stop, but I promised Mother I would be back to 
 dinner. She will keep it waiting for me." So say 
 ing Caleb jumped into his team and was about to 
 start when the stick flew in two. 
 
 "Say ! You ain t going, be you ? Just a minute. 
 You drive them cattle over tomorrow or next dav
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 43 
 
 and if they get here in good condition I ll have a 
 check for you for two hundred. But you ought to 
 throw in the brindle ; two hundred s a lot of money 
 these days." 
 
 "1 know it is," answered Caleb. "But if I did not 
 need the money I would not sell the cattle. You 
 can look for me inside forty-eight hours. Go 
 long," with a chirp to Jack, and Caleb headed for 
 home in a cheerful frame of mind. Their home 
 was safe for the present, at least.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 RENEWING OLD FRIENDSHIPS. 
 
 ! 
 
 In a house in one of the most fashionable 
 tip-town parts of New York sat a man of about 
 fifty years. Portly, and prosperous-looking, was 
 Samuel Upton. Born in Rushton, when that town 
 consisted of but few houses and those houses were 
 scattered far and near, young Upton, at the death 
 of his parents, being more than ordinarily ambi 
 tious, had sold out the old homestead for a small 
 amount, but which looked large to him, and, shak 
 ing the dust of Rushton from his feet, wended his 
 way to New York to make his fortune. 
 
 Fortune had indeed smiled upon him, and being 
 a boy of good habits and more than usual intelli 
 gence he had secured a position as messenger in 
 a bank; and he had, as the years passed on in ser 
 vice, and increasing responsibility, become Presi 
 dent of this very bank. He had married rather
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 45 
 
 late in life an excellent lady of good family who 
 had died a few years before, leaving an only 
 daughter. This daughter was now in her eigh 
 teenth year, and it was of her Mr. Upton was 
 thinking. She had not been in good health of late. 
 The old family doctor had recommended "a 
 change;" "change of scene, change of diet, change 
 of air, in fact, Upton, change of everything. Let 
 her see pine trees instead of brick houses; cows 
 instead of street cars; fanners instead of police; 
 dirt instead of pavements ; in other words, take her 
 to the country where everything is different. Let 
 her hear the birds, see the flowers, drink the pure 
 air, smell the new earth. That will put the bloom 
 in her cheek if anything will. 
 
 Samuel Upton s thought wandered back to his 
 boyhood days, and to his boyhood chum, David 
 Abbott. He wondered what had become of David. 
 It would do no harm to write and see if he was 
 still in Rushton. He thought of the school days. 
 He and David had led in all the games, while he 
 himself led in studies. He thought of Mattie, too, 
 David s wife. He and David had been rivals at 
 school. He had heard afterwards of David s mar-
 
 46 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 riage to her. "Yes, the very place for my daugh 
 ter, if they will take her to board," thought Mr. 
 Upton; "I will write at once." 
 
 The cattle had been delivered, the interest paid 
 to old Shylock ; and the load was lifted from 
 Caleb s mind. When, a few days later he was hired 
 to do part of the teaming for the new dam, his cup 
 of happiness was full ; did I say happiness ? I 
 hardly meant that. He still felt the loss of his 
 father, but he bravely tried to hide his feelings 
 from his mother. Indeed, it was only as they 
 kissed each other "good night," that they let 
 themselves feel each other s sorrow. During this 
 time Caleb had worked early and late, ploughing, 
 harrowing and planting such seeds as could be 
 planted at this season of the year. 
 
 Caleb was about to start for the post office when 
 he saw Seth coming up the hill. 
 
 "Hullo, Seth," greeted Caleb. "Anything 
 wrong?" 
 
 "No," replied Seth, "I want to borrow your 
 spring tooth harrow, if you ain t going to use it. 
 My old spike tooth s bout played out." 
 
 "Certainly," said Caleb, "I won t need it again
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 47 
 
 until 1 get ready for corn. Seth did yon ever see 
 such a sight?" pointing over and clown the hill, 
 \vhere the apple trees were laden with blossoms. 
 Each tree looked as if a heavy fall of damp snow 
 had settled on it, so full as each was with blossoms. 
 "Looks as if I should have some apples this year, 
 Seth." 
 
 "Looks that way, my boy; but blossoms ain t 
 apples. Still it s late for frosts. They ought to 
 turn out well." 
 
 "Going down to the post office, Caleb?" Seth 
 inquired later. "If you are, I ll just jog along 
 with you; looks like John Libby s coming down 
 the hill there." 
 
 "That s he all right," replied Caleb. "You 
 would know that pair of old plugs any\vhere." 
 
 John Libby was the driver of the stage that ran 
 
 between D , Rushton, Oak Valley, and Brain- 
 
 ard s Falls. Rushton was five miles from D , 
 
 which was the nearest railroad point, while Oak 
 Valley lay some three miles beyond Rushton ; and 
 Brainard s Falls four miles up the river from Oak 
 Valley; Libby had run this stage route for years. 
 It was said that in his younger days he used to
 
 48 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 make respectable time between points, but of late 
 years he had, like his horses, been getting slower 
 and slower until he consumed at least an hour and 
 often more coming from D - to Rushton. Not 
 withstanding, the villagers knew just what time to 
 expect him, and they were always on the lookout 
 for him, as mail time in Rushton was the event of 
 the day, just as it is the event of the day in any 
 small village which has no railroad connection and 
 must depend upon the stage for mail, newspapers, 
 and any stray bit of gossip from the outside world. 
 
 The mail for the three villages was all brought 
 in one bag. Rushton s post mistress took out the 
 mail for that town; then she relocked the bag 
 which was carried on to Oak Valley and from 
 there to Brainard s Falls. The post office was 
 situated in the front room of a story and a half 
 house opposite the general store. 
 
 The post mistress, Mrs. Lucinda French, was 
 the widow of a former Grand Army man. She had 
 held the position of post mistress for many years, 
 in fact from the time when the office boasted of 
 but fourteen boxes all told. Rushton had, how 
 ever, during the past twenty-five years grown
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 49 
 
 slowly but surely. Now there were thirty-eight 
 boxes to be attended to. Airs. French, whose 
 tongue, at least so the boys said, was caught in the 
 middle and wagged at both ends, kept so busy at 
 mail time that she had no leisure as in former days 
 to read the various postal cards or to gossip with 
 those who called for their mail. She had, how 
 ever, acquired the habit of scanning each and 
 every letter which passed through her hands ; and 
 she was so familiar with certain superscriptions 
 that she could almost tell the contents. 
 
 The mail had now arrived and Caleb and Seth 
 together with the other villagers were waiting for 
 the mail to be distributed. Neither one expected 
 a letter, but each took the daily paper, and it was 
 force of habit remaining until the last letter was 
 distributed before departing for home. So they 
 waited today, while Mrs. Lucinda French took 
 some twenty or twenty-five letters from the bag 
 marked Rushton, and began her usual remarks. 
 "Well, here s a letter for Cynthia McDonald. 
 Gets one every day from her feller down to Man 
 chester. Think they d get sick of writing by and 
 by. Then, it makes business for the Government.
 
 50 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Here s three for Cyrus Whitney; something bout 
 mortgages I guess. He don t get many from the 
 parson," with a chuckle. "Well, I declare! 
 Here s two for Oak Valley. I never seen em ! 
 My eye-sight s getting poor. Has Libby gone?" 
 Yes, Libby had gone. 
 
 "Well, never mind," she continued, "they ll git 
 em tomorrow." 
 
 Oh, yes ! Mrs. Post Mistress ; a matter of 
 twenty-four hours doesn t matter in New Hamp 
 shire. 
 
 Continuing to sort the mails, Mrs. French 
 remarked, "Here s one for Deacon Patch; good 
 fat one; looks as if there might be a check in it," 
 holding it up to the light. "Here s one for Jim 
 Anderson. Lawyer s name in the corner. He 
 gets lots of lawyers letters. Don t pay his bills, 
 so they say. And I swan here s one for David 
 Abbott; from New York, too! Wonder who can 
 be writing to him. Poor man, he d never get it. 
 Well I must run over and see Mattie tomorrow. I 
 ain t been over since the funeral." 
 
 "I ll take it if you don t mind," said Caleb. 
 
 And handing it over to him with a quizzical ex-
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 51 
 
 pression on her face, the genial post mistress con 
 tinued her harangue. But Caleb did not wait to 
 hear about the rest of the letters, he hurried for 
 home, wondering as much as Mrs. Lucinda French 
 herself who could have written to his father from 
 New York. He found his mother in the kitchen, 
 and Caleb handed the letter to her, but she said, 
 "You open it, Caleb, and read it to me." So Caleb 
 opened it and read as follows: 
 
 New York, May i, 19 . 
 David Abbott: 
 
 My dear old chum : I do not know that you 
 will ever receive this letter, but I write it in the 
 blind hope that you will. I do not even know if 
 you are still on the farm. But remembering your 
 domestic habits I take it for granted that you are. 
 For some time after leaving Rushton I had the 
 local paper sent me, and in one of them saw the 
 announcement of your marriage to Matilda Stand- 
 ish. Since then I have had no news from Rushton. 
 
 But to come down to business. I have a 
 daughter, Marjorie, a young lady of eighteen years, 
 whose health is not of the best. Our family physi 
 cian advises a complete change of scene, air and 
 diet, and recommends sending her into the coun 
 try. In thinking of the country naturally my 
 thoughts turned back to my boyhood home, and 
 just as naturally to my old school chum. I
 
 52 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 thought that Rushton would be just the place for 
 Marjorie, and my old friend s home just the 
 home for her, provided I can prevail upon you to 
 take my daughter as a boarder. 
 
 Now, if you are in a position to do so, and are 
 also willing to receive her I will send you a check 
 each week for eight dollars as long as she may 
 stay with you. I do not wish her at a hotel ; but I 
 do want her where she can have good, homelike 
 surroundings, such as I know would prevail in 
 your home. I do not expect nor in fact do I wish 
 you to make any change in your mode of living 
 for her. But, on the contrary, I should prefer that 
 she ate plain country food. She will be but little 
 trouble, as she wishes to take care of her own 
 room, and if she wishes to help about the house 
 in any way I shall not object, as exercise will un 
 doubtedly be a benefit to her. I am aware that 
 eight dollars a week is rather more than is gener 
 ally charged for board at a country farm house, 
 but I am well able to pay this, or even more if you 
 think it not enough, as I wish her to be comfort 
 able and happy and in good hands. If you receive 
 this letter and answer favorably I shall run on 
 myself with her and stop a day or two for the sake 
 of "Auld Lang Syne." 
 
 Truly your old friend, 
 
 Sam Upton. 
 
 "Sam Upton !" said Mrs. Abbott. "How well I 
 remember him ! He and your father were rivals 
 for me. You would hardlv think to look at me
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 53 
 
 now, Caleb, that your father ever had a rival, 
 would you? 
 
 "Now Mother!" answered Caleb, "why not? I 
 am sure for your age you are a handsome woman 
 yet, and I am sure by your earlier pictures that 
 there must have been more than one rival for your 
 hand. But how shall we answer? We don t want 
 to offend an old friend of Father s; still, of course 
 we can t take a boarder." 
 
 "And why not?" replied his mother. "Eight 
 dollars a week is a lot of money; nearly twice the 
 usual price of board at a farm house. I am sure 
 there must be quite a profit in it." 
 
 "Yes, but look at the extra work for you. Al 
 though he says in his letter that he does not expect 
 us to make any difference in our style of living, 
 there would of necessity be some difference." 
 
 "Not much," she replied. "He says she wishes 
 to take care of her own room and young ladies of 
 eighteen ain t running around upsetting the house 
 much. I always did the work for three, and I see 
 no reason why I cannot do it again. Then, be 
 sides, I get rather lonely myself sometimes when
 
 54 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 you are away all day long. She will be company 
 for me." 
 
 The last sentence settled the argument. If 
 his mother was lonely, and she must be some 
 times, and the young lady would be company for 
 her that put the matter in a new light to Caleb. 
 
 He answered, "It is for you to say, Mother, not 
 for me. If you really wish her to come I will write 
 that she may. Of course we must give her the 
 best room, the west chamber," continued Caleb. 
 "I hope she is not too much of an invalid, or a ner 
 vous crank, so that we sha n t regret it. However, 
 we are not obliged to have her stay if it is not 
 pleasant." 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Abbott, "but something tells 
 me she is pretty and agreeable ; and that we shall 
 like her. You answer the letter, Caleb, and let 
 him make the arrangements when she is to come." 
 
 So Caleb sat down and wrote the following : 
 
 Rushton, May 7, 19 . 
 Samuel Upton: 
 
 Dear Sir: It falls upon me to answer your 
 letter to my father, David Abbott, as my father 
 lost his life in the Merrimack during the recent
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 55 
 
 flood of which you have undoubtedly read. My 
 mother, however, is still living at the farm, to 
 gether with her only child, or rather her only son, 
 myself. Mother remembers you well, and she 
 would be pleased to accept your daughter as a 
 boarder in our home. We were at first adverse 
 to taking anyone into the home, but after reading 
 your letter a second time we came to the conclu 
 sion to accept the offer. I hope and trust that we 
 will get along pleasantly together, and you may 
 rest assured that we will do all in our power to 
 make your daughter s stay a pleasure to her. We 
 have few attractions here as you evidently know, 
 and I only hope your daughter will enjoy her sur 
 roundings. 
 
 If you will kindly let me know when you intend 
 to arrive here I will meet you personally with my 
 team, as a trip in the old stage is slow and tire 
 some and I think you will ride in more comfort 
 with me. 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 Caleb Abbott. 
 
 The banker and his daughter were at breakfast 
 when the morning mail was delivered. The butler 
 brought it at once to Mr. Upton, who ran over 
 the letters, glancing at the post mark on each, and 
 picking out what he thought were personal letters 
 first, leaving business matters and papers for the
 
 56 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 last. "Well, daughter," he exclaimed, "here is one 
 post marked Rushton. Rather a quick reply. It 
 must have reached David after all." 
 
 Marjorie, watching her father as he read the 
 letter saw his head droop for a moment as he mur 
 mured "poor David," and she quickly inquired, "Is 
 it favorable, Papa ? Oh, how I hope it is ! Some 
 how I am looking forward to a country life, when 
 at first I so dreaded it." 
 
 "Yes," replied her father, "it is favorable. 
 David, my old friend, is dead, but the letter is from 
 his son, a bright lad, too, I should judge from the 
 letter; good writing, well written; he certainly is 
 no greenhorn. But here, you can read it your 
 self," he added as he handed her the letter, and 
 turned to look through the rest of the mail, while 
 Marjorie read the letter which was to change her 
 whole life. 
 
 Would she still have decided to go to Rushton 
 could she have looked into the future ? Would she 
 have left the city; the city which is a world in 
 itself; the one city of the country that has life, life
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 57 
 
 for the rich, life for the poor, attractions for all. 
 Yes, we think she would. 
 
 Everyone was busy in Rushton. There was 
 something for all to do. Even the children were 
 busy before and after school. They hardly found 
 time to play. The long winter evenings were 
 over. The store looked deserted these beautiful 
 nights. Farmers were busy, ploughing, harrowing 
 and planting. Farmers wives were busy from 
 morning till night with their regular work, to 
 gether with the added spring cares in the kitchen 
 when an extra man or tw T o increase the family; 
 with the house-cleaning and butter-making they 
 found but little time to spend in the flower garden, 
 yet they did resurrect from the cellars where they 
 had lain all winter, geraniums and dahlia bulbs. 
 The hollyhocks and peonies had already been un 
 covered ; and here and there a bunch of tender, 
 green leaves close down to the ground could be 
 seen, ready to push forth and grow till later in the 
 season they would blossom in all their gorgeous 
 colors.
 
 58 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 The boys helped to do the chores, together with 
 lending a hand at the wood pile, for the far seeing 
 and thrifty farmer hardly waits for one winter to 
 be over before he begins to fill the shed and yard 
 with wood for the coming winter. Still, the boys 
 managed to find time to go brook trouting. With 
 a fresh cut alder, a line and hooks, and a tin can 
 full of worms, many were the speckled beauties 
 which they lured from their hiding places in deep 
 pool or from under the bank of some small 
 meadow or woodland stream. 
 
 Mrs. Abbott was busy with the rest, and her 
 house had been cleaned from cellar to garret. It 
 hardly seemed worth while to spend so much time 
 in cleaning house, when there was so little evi 
 dence of the need of cleaning; but Mrs. Abbott 
 was one of those women who clean house thor 
 oughly every spring, even if it did not really need 
 it. Caleb had painted the kitchen walls and ceil- 
 ing a robin s egg blue, and the wood work white ; 
 a pretty combination, while the floor was of oak, 
 in its natural grain. The dining room floor had 
 been repainted. A new straw matting, cheap, but 
 with a small, neat pattern had been laid in the west
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 59 
 
 chamber. Caleb had whitewashed the ceiling. 
 The walls had been repapered by Mrs. Abbott her 
 self, and the best lace curtains were draped at the 
 windows. On one side stood the great four-posted 
 bedstead with its feather beds and quilts, and 
 snow white sheets and pillow slips. The pillows 
 had been made by Mrs. Abbott with feathers from 
 her own fowl. In one corner stood a large, old 
 fashioned bureau and glass. There were chairs to 
 gether with a great comfortable rocker and wash- 
 stand, a picture here and there brightened the 
 walls. It was indeed a typical country chamber, 
 a chamber which is full of rest and comfort, with 
 fresh air, sunshine, and pleasant views from the 
 windows. 
 
 Caleb was up bright and early to do all he could 
 before noon. Today he was to meet Mr. Upton 
 and Marjorie, his daughter. He had borrowed a 
 pole and set of light double harnesses, not being 
 able to afford such a luxury himself; and the 
 family democrat had been washed and oiled; quite 
 an event for a country team. Caleb laughingly 
 told his mother that he had almost forgotten what 
 the color of the democrat really was, until he had
 
 60 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 gotten the spring mud off of it. The horses shone 
 like satin. Their winter coats were shed, and 
 Caleb who always found time to curry and brush 
 his favorites, Jack and Gill, had groomed them 
 into fine condition. Caleb himself, a picture of 
 health and strength, freshly shaven and in his best 
 clothes, was ready to start. "Don t get nervous, 
 mother," he said, as he was about to drive away. 
 "And have dinner ready at two. If the train is on 
 time I ll be back in an hour and a half." 
 
 Mrs. Abbott gazed after him for a moment with 
 hearty pride in the general appearance of the 
 horses, carriage and driver, her own dear boy! 
 Then she hastened into the house, for there was 
 work to be done before dinner; the chickens were 
 to be roasted, vegetables to be prepared and the 
 many little odds and ends to be done that only the 
 housekeeper knows how to do, or how much time 
 it takes to do them. 
 
 Caleb had allowed ample time for the trip. He 
 let his horses take their own time and, whistling 
 as he rode along, enjoyed to the uttermost this 
 rare holiday, finally arriving at the station a few 
 minutes before train time.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MAKING NEW FRIENDSHIPS. 
 
 The summer season had not yet opened in New 
 Hampshire, and Caleb felt that he would have little 
 difficulty in finding Mr. Upton and daughter, 
 knowing there would be few if any strangers to 
 
 alight at D . So when a portly man with a 
 
 well fed appearance and a young lady by his side 
 came toward him he raised his hat and said: "Mr. 
 Upton?" 
 
 With a smile and nod the other replied : 
 
 "Yes; Mr. Abbott I presume?" and receiving a 
 reply in the affirmative, added, "my daughter, 
 Marjorie, Mr. Abbott," and Caleb, acknowledg 
 ing the introduction, remarked that this was a 
 glorious day. 
 
 "Yes, it is," replied Mr. Upton. "It has been a 
 fine spring so far." 
 
 "Have you any trunks?" asked Caleb. "If so,
 
 62 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 you had better let me give the checks to Libby, 
 the stage driver." 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied Mr. Upton with a laugh, 
 "Marjorie has trunks. You know no young lady 
 can travel without trunks, although what she 
 expects to do with all the duds she brought here, 
 I can t see." 
 
 "Why, father ! I haven t brought anything but 
 what I need. It s true I have brought some recep 
 tion dresses, but even if I don t wear them here 
 they will be just as well here as in New York." 
 
 Caleb was little prepared for the vision of loveli 
 ness when he saw Marjorie Upton. He had pic 
 tured her as an invalid, nervous, and perhaps 
 cranky or pettish. Marjorie, it is true, was pale, 
 yet her paleness only set off her style of beauty. 
 Large, dark eyes; violet, Caleb thought, though 
 he was not quite sure. Hair of a rich golden color; 
 full red lips ; a small, well shaped nose, a little too 
 small he thought, and then again he wasn t quite 
 sure but that it was just large enough. It was 
 when she smiled that her beauty was most bewitch 
 ing. Tall and supple, she carried herself with an 
 exquisite grace. Caleb thought he had never
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 63 
 
 gazed on so beautiful a creature, and he found 
 himself comparing her beauty with that of an 
 other, Hilda. Hilda, the perfect picture of 
 health, with graceful form, though stout in build; 
 dark olive skin; hazel eyes; auburn hair; rosy 
 cheeks; what a contrast these two made! Both 
 were beautiful girls; yet such different types of 
 beauty. And Marjorie in turn thought she had 
 never seen before such a perfect type of man as 
 Caleb. Tall, broad shouldered, deep chested ; she 
 looked with wonder at Caleb while he lifted easily 
 and alone one of her large, heavy trunks high up 
 on another behind the stage. It seemed no effort 
 at all on his part. Yet when it left their home in 
 New York it took two men to handle it. 
 
 "If you don t mind, Papa, I am going to banish 
 you to the rear seat," said Marjorie when they 
 were ready to start. "I want Mr. Abbott to tell 
 me about any interesting place we pass. That is, 
 if 1 won t tire you with my questions," she added 
 to Caleb, with one of her sweetest smiles. 
 
 "Not at all," replied Caleb. "It will give me 
 pleasure to tell you of anything that may interest 
 you. But I am afraid that there won t be much of
 
 64 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 interest on this drive. There are, however, many 
 beautiful drives about Rushton." 
 
 "I am afraid my daughter won t drive much," 
 said Mr. Abbott. "The doctor recommends exer 
 cise, and if she doesn t care to walk, I wish her to 
 ride horse-back. Before I go back I hope to make 
 arrangements with you to care for a saddler for 
 her. That is, if you don t object to the care of 
 another horse." 
 
 "Certainly not," replied Caleb. "I have plenty 
 of stall room, and one more horse won t take much 
 of my time." 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Abbott, what is that bird I hear?" 
 exclaimed Marjorie excitedly. "See ! there he is 
 way up the tip top of that tree! Stop a moment, 
 please, while I hear him sing." 
 
 "That?" said Caleb. "I thought everybody, 
 even a New Yorker, was familiar with that bird. 
 That is a robin-red-breast. I am surprised to hear 
 him singing now. It is early in the morning or at 
 dusk that robins usually sing. You will hear them 
 tonight from half a dozen tree tops." 
 
 "Oh! papa, isn t he sweet?" Who that has 
 heard our robin-red-breast singing at sunset but
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 65 
 
 what will agree with Marjorie that it certainly is 
 sweet music ! So with almost childish enthusiasm 
 Marjorie kept Caleb busy answering questions, 
 describing the surrounding country, telling her 
 names of birds, pointing out different farms and 
 drives until finally they drove up to Mrs. Abbott s 
 door. 
 
 When the stage drove up to the post office with 
 three large trunks strapped on behind, and no 
 passenger with them, there was much speculation 
 as to what it could mean. Mrs. Lucinda French 
 was so frustrated that she could hardly open the 
 mail bag. When she did finally get around to dis 
 tributing the mail she was so rattled that she gave 
 Cynthia McDonald a letter of Jim Anderson s with 
 a bill in it, and to Jim a love letter of Cynthia s 
 from her beau clown in Manchester. Mrs. French 
 knew nothing about the new boarder at the 
 Abbott s. She had called, as she had intended, on 
 Mattie ; but all she could find out about that letter 
 from New York was that it was from an old friend 
 of David s. Beat around the bush as she would, 
 she could find out nothing further in regard to its 
 contents. Mrs. Abbott with a smile simply said,
 
 66 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 "Just a friendly letter," and "how is your garden 
 doing this year, Lucinda?" As Caleb himself had 
 confided in no one about a boarder coming to their 
 house nothing was known of it in the village. So 
 when, in answer to a dozen inquiries, Libby said, 
 "Going up to Abbott s. Young lady gone on 
 ahead with Caleb," and in his dry way added, 
 "Shouldn t wonder if they intended getting 
 hitched." 
 
 Hilda, who had run down to the office for her 
 father s mail, arrived just in time to hear these 
 remarks. A dull pain seized her around her heart; 
 for a moment she felt dizzy. Was it possible that 
 Caleb was to get married and she had heard noth 
 ing of it? But no, she never heard much village 
 gossip. Yet it could not be. There must be some 
 mistake. Still, she distinctly heard Libby say so. 
 She would have liked to know more, but she was 
 too well bred to ask anyone. Taking her mail she 
 started across the fields for home, not much like 
 the light hearted girl who had come over these 
 same paths a few moments before. 
 
 A partridge nesting in the edge of the wood 
 rose with a whir-u-u-u and for a moment startled
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 67 
 
 Hilda from her thoughts, then as she continued on 
 her way, her thoughts went back to the old school 
 days. Somehow Caleb always seemed to belong 
 to her and she to him. They were always together, 
 romping, laughing, with not a thought or care for 
 the future. But of late they had been drifting 
 more and more apart, until now they saw very 
 little of each other; in fact they never met now 
 except by chance. It seemed to Hilda as she 
 thought over the past few months as if Caleb had 
 tried to avoid her lately. He never attended the 
 little entertainments which were occasionally given 
 in the village, and for the last few Sundays he even 
 had not been to church. (Hilda did not know that 
 Caleb felt he could not afford to go to entertain 
 ments and that his Sunday clothes were getting 
 shabby.) Why was it? Had she done anything 
 to offend him? Had she been forward in still 
 calling him "Caleb?" She could never call Caleb, 
 her old school play-fellow, "Mr. Abbott." When 
 does childhood leave off and womanhood begin, 
 anyway? When shall we cease calling each other 
 those sweet school day names and begin the titles 
 of society?
 
 68 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Ah, Hilda ! it is hard to define the time to leave 
 the old free, happy ways, the old pleasant names, 
 the romps and laughter, to put on the serious 
 manners of man and woman. Yet time and 
 society demand it. Now that the school days are 
 over, and you and Caleb, like many others, are 
 entering that future of toil and hardship, care and 
 responsibility, worldliness and deceit, you, too, 
 must join the multitude, and lay aside your joyous 
 heartedness ; your innocent pleasures, to enter 
 with others into that world of duty and sacrifice. 
 If your heart aches for the old days, for the old 
 love, you must hide it from all. You are a young 
 woman now. 
 
 Mrs. Abbott and Mr. Upton greeted each other 
 cordially, and Mr. Upton presenting Marjorie 
 with, "This is my daughter, Mrs. Abbott. Will 
 you take good care of her?" 
 
 Mrs. Abbott took both her hands in hers and 
 drew her toward her, kissing her for an answer. 
 A tear stole softly down Marjorie s pale cheek. It 
 seemed almost like a home-coming, and yet she 
 was leaving her own home and her father, whom
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 69 
 
 she loved so well, to come amongst entire 
 strangers. 
 
 "Perhaps you wish to go to your room at once? 
 It is a long, dusty journey; you must be tired," 
 said Mrs. Abbott. "And you, Mr. Upton, you can 
 step into Caleb s room and remove the travel 
 stains. I will show you upstairs, Miss Marjorie." 
 Laughingly she added, "We have no elevator 
 here." 
 
 "No," replied Mr. Upton, "and I am glad Mar 
 jorie is leaving them behind. I honestly think 
 that all the matter with her health is want of exer 
 cise. Elevators to take her upstairs and down 
 stairs; a carriage at the door; servants to attend 
 her every want. I hope, Mrs. Abbott, that you 
 won t allow her to get indolent, but let her attend 
 to her own wants. It is my wish that she will 
 learn to help herself. I am sorry to say that I have 
 humored her in almost everything. I hope what 
 ever her faults are you will overlook them. I 
 really do not think Marjorie lazy. But after so 
 many years of idleness she may need waking up." 
 
 "Never fear," said Mrs. Abbott in reply, "there
 
 70 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 will be enough for her to do without over exerting 
 herself." 
 
 "Yes, Papa," said Marjorie, "I intend to care for 
 my own room, help to feed the chickens, learn to 
 make butter, and to cook, too, if Mrs. Abbott will 
 teach me." 
 
 "I am afraid your grocery bill will be something 
 enormous, Mrs. Abbott, if you allow her to cook. 
 She has a pocketful of rules for cake which she 
 showed me. Why! not one calls for less than a 
 dozen eggs and three cups of butter, to say noth 
 ing of sugar and other ingredients," laughingly 
 went on Mr. Upton. 
 
 "Now, Papa, aren t you absurd!" replied Mar 
 jorie with spirit. "Those recipes are from the lat 
 est cooking school, and if you think I am going to 
 ruin Mrs. Abbott on account of their grocery bills, 
 you just see the grocer before you go home and 
 start an account in my name, because I am going 
 to learn to cook, if I use all the eggs and butter in 
 Rushton." 
 
 "That s right, dear, I haven t heard you speak 
 with such spirit for years. You shall have the 
 account and cook all you want to. But," added
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 71 
 
 her father, "we are keeping Mrs. Abbott. She is 
 waiting to show you to your room." So they pro 
 ceeded upstairs, Mrs. Abbott showing Marjorie 
 her room first. 
 
 "Oh, Papa! isn t it nice?" exclaimed Marjorie, 
 enthusiastically. "So large and square, such sweet 
 paper, and see ho\v the sun shines in those two 
 windows !" pointing to the windows on the west 
 side. It was now nearly two o clock, and the sun 
 light came streaming in. 
 
 "Oh, Papa, look at this view from the window! 
 There are hills banked upon hills as far as you can 
 see, and there s a cottage nestling amongst the 
 trees, and cows and sheep too ! Oh, I shall never 
 tire looking from these windows!" 
 
 "It is indeed a fine, sunny room. I am glad you 
 are pleased with it," replied her father. "Now, 
 Mrs. Abbott, where do I go? 
 
 "Right in here," replied the hostess, showing 
 him Caleb s room. "You stop here tonight, Mr. 
 Upton." 
 
 "Oh, no !" he replied. "I won t put you to so 
 much trouble. I intend to go to the hotel to 
 night."
 
 72 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 "The hotel !" she answered. "Do you remember 
 the hotel ? Well, it hasn t changed a bit. I rather 
 think you will be more comfortable here." 
 
 Mr. Upton s thoughts wandered back to the 
 boyhood days when the butcher-cart used to come 
 down the street, and the boys would chase it, sing 
 ing out, "Here comes old Skinner with his leather 
 cart, old boots ! old boots !" You know what that 
 means, if you have ever lived in the country. The 
 butcher in these small villages used to kill a 
 "critter" on Sunday and come around with the 
 meat to sell on Monday. Some poor, old, skinny 
 cow, too old to eat, and so she must be eaten. 
 Meat so tough that you could hardly stick a fork 
 in the gravy. Then, in the winter season, when 
 the hotel was full of boarders, mostly wood chop 
 pers (big, hearty men), Hodgsdon, the fish man, 
 would come along. Mrs. Kettchum, leaning out 
 the window would sing out, "Got any oysters, 
 Hiram?" 
 
 "Yes m, good ones," Hiram would reply. 
 
 "Well, bring me in a pint." He thought of the 
 old, front room which was used for an office, with 
 its big wood stove which sat in the centre, and an
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 73 
 
 old second-hand barber chair in one corner. The 
 barber was never there if you wanted a shave. 
 One must go and find him down in the meadow, 
 where he had gone fishing. In another corner was 
 an old weather-beaten table around which usually 
 sat four or five "regulars," playing pitch, or forty- 
 fives. Along one side was the counter with 
 Kettchum himself leaning far over it, his fat, 
 greasy face wreathed in smiles, while from his lips 
 issued clouds of smoke from a rank "two fer," 
 one of his own. Back of the counter, and a little 
 to the rear, was a suspicious looking closet such 
 as all hotels claim in prohibition New Hampshire.* 
 
 Looking at the clean, white walls and the snow 
 white sheets in Mrs. Abbott s hospitable house, 
 Mr. Upton recanted. "Thank you very much for 
 your kind offer. I think I will intrude on your 
 hospitality for tonight." 
 
 Caleb had in the meantime returned from the 
 barn ; the trunks had arrived on the stage. With 
 appetites whetted by the long drive, they sat down 
 to a delectable dinner, and each did justice to it, 
 
 *At the time of writing this story New Hampshire was a prohibi 
 tion state. It is now a licensed state. Author.
 
 74 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 too. Such stories as Mr. Upton had to tell of the 
 old days in Rushton ! Mrs. Abbott joined in, re 
 minding him of this or that event long forgotten, 
 a husking bee, or a sugaring off, each in turn, 
 until all felt in a joyous mood. 
 
 After dinner while they were sitting on the 
 piazza Mr. Upton asked Caleb, "Do you smoke, 
 Mr. Abbott?" taking out a cigar case filled with 
 fine Havanas. 
 
 "Yes," replied Caleb, "occasionally. But I can t 
 say I enjoy Kettchum s cigars, and as I can hardly 
 afford good ones I seldom smoke." 
 
 "Well, I guess you will find these rather better 
 than Kettchum s. I have smoked them for years. 
 Although I switch off now and then to another 
 brand of imported goods I invariably come back 
 to the Henry Clay." 
 
 Thus, between the pleasant whiffs, Mr. Upton 
 and Caleb talked over the coming outlook for 
 Rushton. "Do you know," Mr. Upton said, "that 
 Rushton has changed very little in the past thirty 
 years ; with the exception of the pulp mill and the 
 few tenement houses which the company has 
 erected, I can really see no change at all. Yet I
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 75 
 
 think Rushton could be made into a thriving vil 
 lage, if you could get an electric line in from 
 
 D - to connect with R , going through here 
 
 to Oak Valley and Brainard s Falls. Then some 
 new industry ought to be exploited to bring 
 people here ; a woolen mill, shoe factory, or some 
 thing of the kind, that would start things going. 
 Some far-seeing young man is needed here; one 
 who is ready to see opportunities as they come 
 along and make the most of them. He added 
 laughingly, "You and I could make the old town 
 wake up." 
 
 "Yes," replied Caleb. "But in the first place, 
 an electric line is out of the question. The X, Y 
 & Z line doesn t allow electric roads in this state. 
 The only way to get a road through here is to get 
 a bill through the Legislature, which would force 
 them to build a line themselves. I really think 
 they will some day; even now there is quite a lot 
 of freight that has to be teamed for miles to the 
 nearest transportation point. There is one thing 
 which is lying around here loose that no one has 
 paid any attention to up to the present time ; that 
 is granite. It is something that I am entirely
 
 76 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 ignorant about, but it seems to me as if a quarry 
 could be started here that would pay. I am going 
 to look it up some day." 
 
 Thus the afternoon passed all too quickly. 
 Supper time came, followed by a pleasant evening, 
 then they retired to sleep ; the sleep that only those 
 in the country know how to enjoy, that perfect 
 quiet of unbroken slumber which knows no dis 
 turbance unless it be the notes of the whip-poor- 
 will across the river. In the morning Mr. Upton 
 reluctantly took his departure for home. Mar- 
 jorie, brave girl that she tried to be, nearly broke 
 down when she bade her father farewell at the 
 depot. The parting over, however, with Caleb on 
 the drive back to Rushton somehow her spirits 
 returned and she seemed happy and contented. 
 
 Caleb was again busy all day long, and every 
 day. Long days they were, too, getting up at five, 
 that he might accomplish the chores and milking 
 before breakfast, then off he went again at seven 
 with his team to work all day, except for the 
 hurried hour at noon. The evening chores fol 
 lowed even before supper. Thus it was often long 
 past eight o clock at night before Caleb could sit
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 77 
 
 down for a chat with his mother and Marjorie. He 
 hardly knew what it was to feel tired bodily, yet 
 even no\v he was looking forward with longing 
 hopes for the time when he could lay aside such 
 drudgery and have employment more congenial to 
 his nature. His father never intended that he 
 should be a farmer. He knew from experience 
 that while the life of a farmer was to a certain 
 extent a free life, still it was continuous work from 
 morning till night, and hard work, with but small 
 returns in comparison with the labor itself. David 
 Abbott had bright hopes for Caleb. It had been 
 his intention to educate him for the bar, and had 
 the father lived, the son probably would never 
 have realized the sacrifices he would have made for 
 him. Now all was changed, and he had his own 
 mark to make. Life looked serious, indeed. Still 
 Caleb was determined more than ever to succeed, 
 although having to earn his own way, success now 
 seemed a long distance ahead. He had noticed 
 some advertisements lately of a course of law 
 studies at home. He was anxious to begin the 
 study of law, but having but little time at present 
 he felt obliged to wait until the coming winter.
 
 78 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 when the evenings would be much longer and 
 there would be fewer hours to work. 
 
 Caleb came in one night a little out of sorts; 
 somehow everything had gone wrong throughout 
 the day. Throwing himself into the great arm 
 chair he sat moodily gazing into space. 
 
 "What s the matter, my boy?" kindly asked his 
 mother, who, with a mother s quick intuition saw 
 that there was something wrong. "Are you 
 tired?" 
 
 "No, mother, not tired. I never get tired, just 
 a little weary and cross; that s all," he replied. 
 "This has been an off day, I guess. To begin with, 
 the first thing this morning Stella kicked over the 
 milk, Jack stepped on my foot, and then Gill threw 
 a shoe, so I lost an hour getting him shod. Then, 
 when I got home the cows were out of the pas 
 ture, and I had to chase them for an hour. To 
 cap the climax, I forgot to order grain, and the 
 horses won t have any for breakfast." 
 
 "Why, Caleb," replied his mother, with a smile, 
 "you have had your share of troubles for today. 
 But as to the grain, I don t think I would worry 
 any about that. I am sure they get feed enough
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 79 
 
 even if they do go without grain just once. You 
 have plenty of hay. Some horses never get any 
 grain at all. Do you remember the story your 
 father used to tell about Anderson s horse? How 
 he never got any grain, until one day Jim found a 
 bag of oats by the roadside, and took them home. 
 The poor old horse did not have strength enough 
 to eat them, so Jim got his boy to blow them into 
 him with a bean blower ; and then he had to put a 
 blanket over him so they wouldn t come out 
 between his ribs." 
 
 Caleb had to laugh when he recalled the story, 
 and saw the old horse rise before his vision. The 
 boys used to call him a hat-rack, so tall and bony 
 was he. Besides being spavined, cockle-jointed, 
 knockkneed and long-haired, he was a cribber and 
 had the spring halt. One of the neighbors said 
 he also had a Canadian door knob, though what 
 that was, Caleb was still in ignorance. Poor old 
 horse, sacred is his memory ! He was twenty-five 
 years old at least when Jim bought him, though 
 Jim had been assured he was eight. (By the way, 
 a horse is never over eight when you are trading.) 
 Jim kept him for three years after that and then
 
 80 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 traded him for a choate. Jim was a Yankee for 
 trading. He "swapped even" with Jack Curry. 
 Then he had Jack bring over the choate, and after 
 nailing him up in the hog pen, he told Jack that 
 the horse was down in the pasture. That was true 
 enough, the horse was down there, and he could 
 not get up either. When Curry raved and wanted 
 his choate back Jim grinned and said, "A trade s a 
 trade; there s your hoss; take him along if he 
 won t go himself, get a drag and move him off my 
 land. He s your n now." 
 
 Curry went back without his horse. That night 
 the horse died. Jim had to bury him right there 
 in the pasture and Jim didn t hanker for work, 
 either. As he said, he didn t think he got much 
 the best of the trade. " Twas mighty hard diggin 
 down in that stony pasture, an it takes a pretty 
 big hole for a hoss of that size." Caleb laughed 
 long and heartily as he compared Anderson s poor, 
 skinny beast with his own horses, big creatures, 
 broad of flank, thick necked and sleek. He told 
 his mother that he thought they would after all 
 live over night without that one feed of grain. 
 Turning to Marjorie, Caleb asked :
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 81 
 
 "What have you been doing all day, Miss 
 Upton ?" 
 
 "Oh," smilingly answered Marjorie, "I have 
 been walking all over town. I went down across 
 the meadow, and away over to the hill that you 
 call sunset hill. Then I crossed the long bridge 
 and went through the woods to Maple street, back 
 home again. And do you know I met a young 
 lady about my own age, I should judge, of whom 
 I had to ask the way. She seemed strangely frus 
 trated at first, and I thought by her manner that I 
 should not like her. But then she laughed, and 
 she looked so lovely with her face all smiles that I 
 was completely carried away with her. She said, 
 You must be the new boarder at Mrs. Abbott s; 
 are you not ? Of course I answered yes ; and 
 then somehow we got acquainted, the way girls 
 will. I told her my name and she told me hers, 
 Hilda Whitney. I am going over to see her. I 
 think she is just charming." 
 
 "Oh, yes! Everybody likes Hilda," replied 
 Caleb. "She is a great favorite in the village. She 
 is always doing some kind act."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 FARM LIFE ON ABBOTT HILL. 
 
 The spring went. Summer came. Nearly all 
 traces of the great flood had disappeared. Roads 
 had been repaired, bridges rebuilt, and the new 
 dam was fast nearing completion. Caleb had been 
 busy during the pleasant days with his team ; rainy 
 days found him cleaning harnesses, oiling the 
 wagons, or doing an odd job or two with hammer 
 and saw, tinkering at the hundred and one little 
 things that keep a thrifty farmer busy. Speaking 
 of farmers it is strange, when you think of it, how 
 two farmers can live such different lives. One of 
 them is busy all the time; he never has a minute 
 to call his own. While the other, and I am sorry 
 to say there are many of this class in the country, 
 never seem to do anything. The latter, it is true, 
 may arise at daylight to go shambling out to the 
 barn, giving the cow a kick to wake her out of a
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 83 
 
 sound sleep, and milking her because he simply 
 must. That is, if his wife doesn t; because in a 
 great many cases the wife does. He also throws 
 feed into the manger of the old family horse, be 
 cause the old horse must eat, too. He comes in 
 and eats his breakfast of porkscraps, fried over 
 potatoes and biscuits. Returning to the barn he 
 hitches up the old mare; off he drives to the vil 
 lage, where he spends the remainder of the fore 
 noon at the general store, or post office, sitting on 
 a dry-goods box, his long legs dangling lazily over 
 the sides while he whittles away at an odd piece of 
 stick. A half dozen more of his kind sit about the 
 doorway or on the steps, swapping stories and 
 gossip. A sewing circle never equaled one of these 
 gatherings. Returning home in time for dinner, 
 he growls at his biggest boy because his wife has 
 had to cut wood with which to get dinner, in addi 
 tion to the other duties which are always many. 
 After dinner he remembers that he must drive over 
 to Ellery Holt s to borrow a plough or a cultivator. 
 It ends in his spending his afternoon there. This 
 man s farm is run out; the few potatoes he has 
 planted need hoeing; his corn has not even been
 
 84 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 planted as yet and he guesses it s too late now. 
 Probably he will not even cut all his hay; only just 
 what he thinks he will need to carry him along into 
 another season. Yet this mortal drags out an 
 existence while he envies his thrifty neighbor and 
 wonders how he can afford to repaint his buildings 
 or buy a new two-horse mower. 
 
 Caleb belonged to the thrifty class. One never 
 found him at the country store, talking of his 
 neighbors. He had even given up going to the 
 post office since Marjorie came, as she liked to run 
 over for the mail. His crops had been planted. His 
 potatoes had been taken care of, cultivated and 
 hoed. The field w r as indeed a handsome sight, a 
 solid mass of glossy green, except from every hill 
 a bunch of snow white blossoms with their yellow 
 centres. His vegetables in general were in fine 
 condition. Peas, beans, corn, alike were thrifty, 
 while Marjorie had her own little garden of let 
 tuce, radishes, parsley, and other small vegetables. 
 
 Caleb was now in the midst of haying, and was 
 busy every day, cutting with his two-horse buck 
 eye, both for himself and for the neighbors who 
 hired their cutting done. This kind of work paid
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 85 
 
 even better than teaming. What with the money 
 from Mr. Upton for Marjorie s board, and the 
 keep of her saddle horse, the eggs and butter, and 
 the returns from teaming, Caleb was actually pil 
 ing up money. Money was his great hope and 
 ambition because he was far-sighted enough to 
 know that while money might be the root of all 
 evil one cannot do anything in this world without 
 a barrel of the root. But hard work was telling 
 on him, although he tried to hide it from his 
 mother. His health was good, but he had worked 
 himself thin. There was no fat to be seen ; nothing 
 but bone and muscle. Often when he came home 
 after a hard day s work, his mother would ask him 
 if he were tired and suggest his taking a day off. 
 
 "At least go to the picnic at Silver Lake. 
 Everybody in the village is going there." 
 
 Caleb answered : "No, Mother, not yet. I 
 must do all the work I can while there is work to 
 be done. It is only for a few years at the most." 
 
 And so Caleb kept at it. Summer changed into 
 fall ; the most glorious time of the year. The fields 
 and meadows were still green from the early fall 
 rains. The hillsides, covered with maples, birch,
 
 86 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 beech, hemlock and pine, assumed manifold colors. 
 The red and gold of the maples blended with the 
 dull browns and purple of the beeches and birch. 
 Clustering among them or forming a background 
 in the rear, were the dark greens of the- hemlock 
 or the lighter greens of the pine, the trees which 
 throw out an odor of health-giving strength. 
 
 Marjorie hardly knew where the days had gone 
 to, so swiftly had they passed. She was up early 
 every morning. Not that she was "up with the 
 lark." After years of New York life one is not apt 
 to rival the birds. The habit of arising at four 
 o clock in the morning is left for country people 
 who retire when chickens go to roost. But Mar 
 jorie was up early; surely by six in the morning, 
 so as to have breakfast with Mrs. Abbott and 
 Caleb. Later she spent an hour in her room, writ 
 ing to her father. This was one of her every day 
 duties, a duty of which she never tired. Somehow 
 she always found enough to write about from this 
 new home in the country. After she had worked 
 in her garden, she joined Mrs. Abbott in the 
 kitchen where she was learning to cook. She had 
 by this time become proficient, and many a dainty
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 87 
 
 dish she prepared with her own hands for Caleb, 
 dainties which hardly belonged to a country bill- 
 of-fare. She had learned Caleb s likes and dislikes, 
 and nothing gave her more pleasure than to sur 
 prise him at supper with a pattie or omelet, or 
 some fancy cake. Caleb appreciated these little 
 tokens of friendship. 
 
 "I am only afraid," he would remark, "that you 
 will spoil me, or bring on an attack of indigestion 
 from such rich foods." He would laughingly say: 
 "Beans and biscuits, hog and taters is our general 
 diet, you know." Then after dinner Marjorie 
 would ride or walk. If she walked she would 
 gather wild flowers for the table and her own 
 room. She discovered the first Mayflowers, the 
 beautiful trailing arbutus, those dainty flowers of 
 pink and white, whose fragrance was so exquisite 
 that it would fill the whole house. Then later 
 cowslips and violets, blood root and anemones 
 found their way into the home. Or she brought 
 home in June great clusters of the pink laurel 
 which covers the hillside all the year round with 
 its beautiful shining green leaves. The later sum 
 mer flowers, daisies, lilies, red and yellow and
 
 88 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 white, each in its special beauty, one by one Mar- 
 jorie captured them for her own joyous use. 
 
 Marjorie had also made a study of birds. She 
 could now tell the song of the robin and cat bird, 
 the linnet and sparrow, or the beautiful notes of 
 the Maryland yellow throat, the golden robin. 
 The weird song of the grosbeak in the evening 
 time lured her out ; while the shrill cry of the blue 
 jay, or the notes of the meadow lark meant much 
 to her in her daily walks. Much of this knowledge 
 she obtained from Hilda. They had become fast 
 friends and confidantes, riding or walking to 
 gether nearly every day. Hilda s father, Cyrus 
 Whitney, had foreclosed a mortgage on a horse 
 which was really a good saddler, and Hilda had 
 little difficulty in gaining permission to use it. 
 She soon rode fully as fearlessly as Marjorie; and 
 many a ride did they take far out into the country. 
 
 The evenings were the best hours of the day to 
 Marjorie, when she and Caleb were sitting to 
 gether on the broad piazza, while Mrs. Abbott was 
 busy with the last household daily duties. To 
 gether they would sit chatting, Caleb with his fra 
 grant cigar, and Marjorie with some dainty needle-
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 89 
 
 work, half listening to the whip-poor-wills and 
 katy-dids. The sunsets were wonderfully beautiful 
 that summer; one night the sky lit up as if with 
 one great fire, another the heavens streaming 
 purple and gold, or perhaps again nothing but the 
 azure blue of the sky itself. Marjorie was unex- 
 plainably happy. She often wished in the solitude 
 of her room that life might continue thus forever. 
 There was one thing lacking only to fill her cup 
 of happiness to overflowing, and that was the pres 
 ence of her dearly beloved father. He had hinted 
 lately in some of his letters to her of retiring from 
 business and buying a country home in or near 
 Rushton, suggesting that he and she should go 
 south or to California for the winters. Marjorie 
 greeted this proposition with rejoicing, but the 
 thought of the winters away from Rushton, why 
 should she feel lonely at the thought of leaving 
 this little country village? Ah! Marjorie, it is not 
 the thought of leaving Rushton that makes you 
 lonely, there is something else which binds you 
 here ; there is some one who holds your heart and 
 you yourself do not yet know it. But the day of 
 awakening is near! and Marjorie, when she knelt
 
 90 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 at night by her bedside, with her head bowed in 
 her hands, added another petition to her prayer 
 which had never varied since her mother died, 
 "God bless my father, and Caleb." Yet she, with 
 a soul as pure and white as the snowy sheets of her 
 bed, knew not herself why she was so happy at 
 Rushton. 
 
 Hilda often ran over to the Abbott s in these 
 days. Her father had withdrawn his objection to 
 her calling there since Marjorie had arrived. He 
 had in fact no real reason for refusing to allow 
 Hilda to keep up the old friendship, except his 
 natural stubbornness and the fact that the Abbotts 
 were not wealthy. But now with the addition to 
 their family of a banker s daughter, and that 
 banker reported to be a millionaire, why, that put 
 things in a different light ! It would do no harm 
 for Hilda to cultivate such an acquaintance, and 
 perhaps through the daughter he himself could 
 profit; he might be able to place some money at 
 advantage with Mr. Upton. Thus it was that 
 Hilda was a frequent caller at the Abbotts.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THANKSGIVING TIME. 
 
 It was nearing Thanksgiving time. Many had 
 been the mysterious confabs between Marjorie and 
 Hilda who planned real gifts for which to be 
 thankful. There came at last a real November day, 
 when the sky was a dull lead color, and the wind 
 whistled about the house. Leaves scurried down 
 the lane, around the corners, then up and down the 
 walk, never stopping for long in any one place, but 
 hurrying here and there as if they were never satis 
 fied to rest until they should finally bring up 
 against some sheltered spot, there at last to find 
 rest in one great heap. The raindrops fell slowly 
 at first, then, as the wind increased they came 
 faster and faster until the whole outside world 
 looked dreary. The wind howled and moaned, 
 driving the rain against the windows until it 
 seemed as if even the windows could not withstand
 
 92 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 the onslaught. It was one of those days in the 
 country so suggestive of an open fireplace, apples 
 and cider. 
 
 Caleb was at home, and having nothing partic 
 ular to do, he stayed in the house. The potatoes 
 had been dug and housed long ago. The corn 
 which had stood shocked in the field so many 
 weeks was in the barn and husked. The barn and 
 house were tightened and banked for the winter, 
 the woodshed filled to the roof. Now with a barn 
 so full of hay and fodder that there was scarcely 
 room for the stock, the cellar full of apples to be 
 marketed later when prices were higher, the cellar 
 also crowded with potatoes, cabbages, beets and 
 other winter vegetables, a cask of new cider, and 
 one going to vinegar; a pork barrel filled to the 
 brim and another barrel with beef to corn, the 
 harvest season really seemed to have come to an 
 end. Caleb had fattened and killed a beef. There 
 were no bills to pay, a bank account had been 
 started, and best of all good health reigned in the 
 home. 
 
 Caleb sat before the roaring fire, contented. A 
 knock at the door and Caleb jumped up to let the
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 93 
 
 traveler in, wondering who could be out such a 
 day. In came Hilda, her garments dripping, but 
 with rosy cheeks and laughing eyes. 
 
 "I am afraid I shall spoil your nice, clean floor," 
 she remarked to Mrs. Abbott, after greeting her 
 and Caleb. 
 
 "Oh, never mind, dear," Mrs. Abbott replied, 
 "it will wash, you know." 
 
 "But what a storm!" exclaimed Caleb. "How 
 did you dare to venture out today ?" 
 
 "Oh!" replied Hilda with a laugh, "I simply 
 could not stay at home. Besides Marjorie and I 
 have lots of business to talk over, and we need 
 your assistance, too, Caleb. Because it s such a 
 stormy day I thought perhaps you might be at 
 home. You are such a busy man nowadays, you 
 know, that you can t find time to talk to old 
 friends, so old friends have to beard the lion in his 
 den when they wish particularly to see him." 
 \Yhile talking Hilda had been taking off her wraps 
 and changing her rubber boots for a pair of slip 
 pers. She had followed Caleb into the great front 
 room. 
 
 "So I am to be bothered with you two girls, am
 
 94 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 I?" said Caleb, as soon as they were all seated. 
 "Well !" with a sigh, "I am going to make the best 
 of it, and I guess I won t have a very hard time, 
 either. Now what is the business so important 
 that you need my help ?" 
 
 "Oh, not much!" answered Hilda. "Marjorie 
 and I are going to make up several baskets for 
 Thanksgiving. In the first place we want to know 
 how many poor families there are in Rushton, and 
 who they are." 
 
 "We don t wish to leave out anyone ; neither do 
 we wish to offend anyone who will feel above 
 accepting so-called charity," said Marjorie. 
 
 "Well, let s see," said Caleb, "there are not many 
 in Rushton who really need help. There s Ander 
 son s family; they would be glad to receive a 
 basket. Then there s Ed Holt s folks; and the 
 McCarthy family on the west side. Let me see, 
 Jake Merrow s people; they have never been in 
 need of help in the past, but since Jake broke his 
 leg they have had rather a hard time to get along ; 
 a turkey there would not go amiss. Then there is 
 the Widow Fleming s. She has got a large fam 
 ily of six children besides herself, and she has to
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 95 
 
 take in washing. You can put them down. Then, 
 there is the Frenchman that got blown up and lost 
 his eyesight, La Pere I think his name is. Let me 
 think, are there any more? Oh yes, old man 
 Waters; I guess these are all I can think of." 
 
 "Seven in all," exclaimed Marjorie, who had 
 been counting on her fingers. 
 
 "Then there are the baskets to be delivered," 
 said Hilda. "Can we depend on you to drive us 
 around ? It can be after your work is done for the 
 day." 
 
 "Oh, yes!" Caleb replied, "nothing would please 
 me better than to drive with you two young ladies 
 even on an errand of mercy. I can help you, too, 
 I am sure, if you will both go with me for com 
 pany. I might be afraid to go alone after dark, 
 but if you two go I won t need any lantern, your 
 eyes will light up the way." 
 
 "Now don t flatter us like that," said Marjorie. 
 "It sounds too much like New York, and I prefer 
 Rushton." 
 
 "Oh, yes! we will both go," said Hilda, "and 
 you won t need our eyes for lanterns, because if 
 pleasant there will be almost a full moon."
 
 96 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 "Is there really to be a moon?" asked Marjorie. 
 "I hope it will be pleasant, and if we can only have 
 snow enough for sleighing, won t the ride be 
 grand !" 
 
 "Well, now that part of the program is settled," 
 remarked Hilda, "where do we buv the turkeys? 
 We want nice ones, and one or two extra large 
 ones to give to the ones with the largest families." 
 
 "I guess I can supply seven turkeys; so that you 
 won t have to buy any at all, that is if mother is 
 willing. You know we are partners, and she has 
 the say about the feathered stock. There was an 
 agent here the other day who made mother an 
 offer for the lot." 
 
 "Oh, no ! Mr. Abbott, we certainly don t expect 
 you to give away your turkeys ; we intend to buy 
 them," said Marjorie. 
 
 "And why not?" answered Caleb. "You can 
 give the fruit, vegetables and groceries, I, the 
 turkeys. Isn t that fair, Hilda?" he asked. And 
 Hilda replied : 
 
 "I think this is not for me to settle. You and 
 Marjorie must decide it yourselves." 
 
 "Well," continued Caleb, "I have often thought
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 97 
 
 I should like to do something of this kind; and 
 now that you and Hilda have started it we will 
 form a company of three. I will supply the 
 turkeys, Miss Upton." 
 
 Hilda found herself comparing these sentiments 
 with those of her father. "No, I won t give any 
 turkeys to anyone!" he had answered her when 
 Hilda broached the subject to him. "Let em raise 
 turkeys or eat salt fish. If you are fool enough to 
 spend your pocket money for turkeys for some 
 lazy good-for-nothing loafer, go ahead, but don t 
 ask me. My money comes too hard to give away." 
 He, the richest man in Rushton ; the other earning 
 his daily bread by the sweat of his brow. Involun 
 tarily Hilda s thoughts wandered back to last 
 spring when the town talk was of Caleb and his 
 daring rescue at the flood. What a big heart he 
 had! Oh, if that heart was only hers! 
 
 These preliminaries having been settled satisfac 
 torily, Hilda and Marjorie talked of what else the 
 baskets should contain, with now and then a sug 
 gestion from Mrs. Abbott, who had come in to 
 announce that dinner was ready. 
 
 "Of course you will stop to dinner, Hilda," an
 
 98 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 invitation which Hilda gladly accepted. At dinner 
 Caleb spoke to his mother about the turkeys. 
 
 "Why, Caleb !" she said with a laugh, "as if you 
 had to ask me about those turkeys. I have already 
 promised one to the parson, and we shall have the 
 big gobbler for ourselves. The rest you may do 
 with as you see fit." 
 
 The dinner party was a merry one and the talk 
 was of Thanksgiving. They were very enthusi 
 astic regarding their plans to help such poor 
 deserving families who could not afford the luxury 
 of a turkey dinner without which Thanksgiving 
 day is indeed almost a mockery. 
 
 During the afternoon the weather suddenly 
 changed, as it often does in New England. When 
 Hilda started for home it was cold and freezing, 
 with now and then a feathery flake of snow, a 
 warning of the winter so soon to come. Caleb, 
 who with Marjorie was bidding Hilda adieu at 
 the door, remarked : 
 
 "It looks now as if winter would set in early. 
 You may get your sleigh-ride on Thanksgiving 
 after all." 
 
 "Oh ! how I hope we shall," exclaimed Marjorie.
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 99 
 
 "I am looking forward so to a sleigh ride in the 
 country! It must be fascinating to spin along 
 these roads. The beautiful snow around us every 
 where, with no electric plows to throw it up in 
 heaps, and no salt to make bare places every 
 where." 
 
 "Yes," answered Caleb, "to one who has never 
 had a sleigh ride far up in the country, it is indeed 
 an experience. We don t plow the snow off the 
 roads here, but use a great six-horse roller to roll 
 it down. Every fall of snow during the winter is 
 rolled until it is almost as hard as ice. You will 
 see no grimy, mealy mixture called snow here, but 
 the real article in all its glory." 
 
 "Yes," said Hilda, "although the winter is a 
 busy time in the country, there is also much to 
 enjoy. But don t stand there in the cold any 
 longer Marjorie; good bye until tomorrow." 
 
 "Good bye," replied Marjorie. 
 
 There is nothing which creates so much excite 
 ment in a small country village, next to the arrival 
 of a new parson, as the advent of a new doctor; 
 such an event had just happened in Rushton. Dr. 
 John Sherman had dropped into town from no one
 
 100 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 knew just where. He had at first stopped at the 
 hotel, but finding that hardly satisfactory, he had 
 decided to leave the hotel, and started forth to find 
 a more congenial boarding place. At the outset 
 he met with difficulty. The villagers looked 
 upon Dr. Sherman with more or less suspicion, 
 some of the old settlers even avoiding him. as if 
 he were here for questionable purposes, or to sell 
 them a gold brick same as Deacon Foss over in 
 Weed Village bought a year ago. However, he 
 at last found a home with the very people he most 
 enjoyed. Old Dr. Higgins had been the village 
 physician for thirty-five years. He had never had 
 a medical rival in town, because there was not 
 enough practice in Rushton for two physicians. 
 
 For thirty-five years he had had a monopoly of 
 the local patients, young and old. Being a man 
 of simple tastes, together with having as a help 
 mate a frugal wife, he had laid away quite a little 
 money. But now he was getting old ; rheumatism 
 was troubling him and although he had tried his 
 own skill upon himself, together with many patent 
 medicines and plasters, he had as yet found no 
 relief. He did not so much mind making his daily
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 101 
 
 rounds, he felt it his duty to call on all old 
 patients, as he had done for years, but he looked 
 upon the increase of new patients almost as an 
 affliction and he decidedly hated to get out of bed 
 for a drive at midnight of five or six miles to an 
 outlying village. He had almost decided to give 
 up his practice altogether and let some younger 
 man attend to it. Still he had patients who 
 thought no one like their own doctor and who, like 
 other patients, with other family physicians, would 
 have no one else while he lived. Many times Dr. 
 Higgins had thought that if he could only find 
 some young man willing to locate here who would 
 take charge of all the new practice and also of 
 what old practice he could relinquish, then he him 
 self might go to bed at night and rest without 
 being disturbed. So it was when Dr. Sherman 
 drifted into town, fresh from hospital work and 
 possessing a proper diploma with a letter of intro 
 duction to Dr. Higgins, the old doctor was really 
 glad to see him. He was even more glad when 
 the new doctor told him that he thought of locat 
 ing somewhere in the vicinity and thought well of 
 Rushton, adding, however, that he did not want to
 
 102 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 conflict with Dr. Higgins in any way. He asked 
 Dr. Higgins to advise him where best to locate in 
 order to build up a practice. Dr. Higgins took 
 him into his library, and after a long talk became 
 quite attracted to him and was quite surprised at 
 the knowledge the young man had already stored 
 away in his mind. He expressed wonder at the 
 advance science had made of late years, and was 
 an interested listener to details about the X-rays, 
 the baking process, and removals of entire stom 
 achs, the marvels of anti-toxine all these discov 
 eries had taken place since his college days, and 
 although he had read about them somewhat in 
 medical reports it had never been his fortune to 
 meet with a doctor before who had had experience 
 with their use. Dr. Sherman being familiar with 
 many of these cases through his hospital experi 
 ence was happy in explaining fully to the good old 
 doctor the modern processes, who was quite car 
 ried away with the new point of view. And when 
 as a final remark Dr. Sherman told him that be 
 sides, a cure for consumption would soon be found, 
 together with the fact that a cure for rheumatism 
 had been discovered, which he himself was inter-
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 103 
 
 ested in, the old doctor jumped up straight out of 
 his chair. He immediately sat down again, how 
 ever, as a twinge shot through his limbs. Grasp 
 ing the hand of Dr. Sherman he exclaimed : 
 
 "My boy, if you can cure my rheumatism you 
 shall have the whole of my practice and all I can 
 get you besides." 
 
 A week or so later Dr. Sherman again called 
 upon Dr. Higgins and told him about his trials at 
 the hotel and his vain search to find a suitable 
 boarding house. 
 
 The good old doctor in his blunt way ex 
 claimed : 
 
 "Good enough ! so you can t find a place you 
 like? Well, come here: that is, if you can put up 
 with two old fogies like Betsie and me. Then you 
 will be right at home and when some one comes 
 banging at the door in the middle of the night for 
 old Doctor Higgins, why ! young Doctor Sherman 
 can go. Perhaps, in the morning, just for old 
 friendship s sake, I ll drive over to see whether it s 
 a boy or girl." 
 
 The new doctor was soon settled with a brand 
 new r shingle over the Doctor s old one, for Dr.
 
 104 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Higgins had insisted that the new sign be on top. 
 
 Two days before Thanksgiving day, Caleb, com 
 ing in to supper, remarked to his mother: 
 
 "I guess the girls will have their sleigh ride all 
 right." And Marjorie, who had been busy in the 
 front room, hearing him, came running out to the 
 kitchen, exclaiming: 
 
 "Oh! do you think so, Mr. Abbott? Let me 
 take your lantern; I want to see for myself." Tak 
 ing the lantern from Caleb s hand she went out 
 into the cold night. The temperature seemed 
 right for snow. Not a star was visible. You could 
 even smell the snow in the air. And Marjorie, 
 looking up toward the heavens, felt on her fair face 
 the soft, feathery flakes already beginning to fall. 
 Returning to the house, with joy written on her 
 face, Marjorie said to Caleb : 
 
 "It is already snowing. Won t it be beautiful! 
 Do you think it will turn to rain ?" her face falling, 
 as she thought of such a misfortune happening. 
 
 "No, I think we are in for a genuine, old fash 
 ioned snow," Caleb answered. "The indications 
 are that way surely, even the wind is in the right 
 quarter for it."
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 105 
 
 The day before Thanksgiving dawned bright 
 and fair. The air was sharp and cold. The snow 
 storm of the day before had continued all night. 
 Upon arising Marjorie s first thought was of the 
 sleigh ride. Not waiting to dress she hastened to 
 the window and looked out with joy upon as fair 
 a scene as is possible to behold on a winter day. 
 The sun had just risen and the view as far as eye 
 could see was one of dazzling whiteness. The 
 trees were bent far down toward the ground with 
 the weight of snow piled upon them. Here and 
 there she recognized a cottage almost buried in 
 drifts; again some fence top peeped into view. 
 One forlorn blue jay perched upon the top of a 
 nearby beech, wondering probably where his next 
 meal was to come from. Even as Marjorie stood 
 there she could hear the distant jingle of sleigh 
 bells, for already the farmer was up and out upon 
 his early duties. Hastily dressing she ran down 
 stairs. Meeting Caleb just returning from the 
 barn, with a face wreathed in smiles she exclaimed : 
 
 "Well, Mr. Abbott, we are to have our sleigh 
 ride, aren t we?" 
 
 "Oh, yes !" he replied, "and I am very glad for
 
 106 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 your sake. You would have been so disappointed 
 had it been bare ground, or a disagreeable night/ 
 
 "Indeed I should!" replied Marjorie. "And I 
 shall count the hours until evening. Will you 
 have room for all the baskets? You know they 
 are large ones." 
 
 "Oh, yes, there ll be plenty of room. I shall 
 take the large milk-pung and both horses, plenty 
 of straw, and the fur robes. We shall keep com 
 fortable, I am sure." 
 
 "Yes, I think we ought to with all those com 
 forts. Then we each have our furs, too; and you 
 your great fur coat." Turning to Mrs. Abbott, 
 "Can I help you any?" 
 
 "No, I guess I sha n t need your help today," 
 answered Mrs. Abbott. "My cooking, with the 
 exception of the vegetables and turkey, is nearly 
 all done. The turkey you know is always Grand 
 ma s task." 
 
 "Caleb," Mrs. Abbott said, "I want you to look 
 into the pantry and see what we have been doing 
 the past two days." She threw open the pantry 
 door and there, spread upon the shelves, was a 
 sight fit for a king. Great snowy loaves of bread,
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 107 
 
 apple pies, pumpkin pies, mince pies, such as only 
 a real mother can make. Dainties of all kinds, and 
 the great gobbler, ready for the stuffing. In fact 
 everything in the eatable line which goes to make 
 Thanksgiving day the hospitable day it is. 
 
 "Well," said Caleb, "it looks as if we should 
 have enough to eat for a few days at least." 
 
 "I guess so," answered Mrs. Abbott. "But 
 come now, breakfast is ready." 
 
 Hilda came over after breakfast, and amid much 
 fun and laughter she and Marjorie and Caleb 
 packed the baskets which were to bring joy into so 
 many households. Each was a new bushel basket, 
 containing all that was necessary for a Thanksgiv 
 ing dinner. Several loaves of bread, a turkey of 
 course, cranberries, vegetables, sugar, tea, coffee, 
 spices, fruits and nuts for the children. Each 
 basket was filled to overflowing. 
 
 When evening came the moon rose in all its 
 glory. The horses were hitched to the big milk 
 pung, the baskets packed away in order. Caleb 
 with his great fur coat buttoned closely stood 
 ready to tuck in the robes around the girls. The 
 door opened and Mrs. Abbott stood behind them
 
 108 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 holding a light above their heads. What a vision 
 of loveliness ! Both girls were warmly clad in furs, 
 Marjorie in a sealskin coat, hat and gloves, while 
 Hilda wore simpler yet becoming furs. Now they 
 are seated. The horses, already impatient in the 
 cold night air, are off almost before they get the 
 word, going at a fine gait, the bells jingling musi 
 cally. Three comrades happy in the glow of 
 youth ! 
 
 The first stop was at the Andersons . For a 
 wonder Jim himself was at home, and sober, too. 
 There had been a rumor around the village lately 
 that Jim was doing better than he used to. They 
 were greatly surprised that a sleigh should stop at 
 their door, and when Caleb called Jim out to help 
 him in with the basket their joy knew no bounds. 
 Next they went to Jake Merrow s. Hilda apolo 
 gized for leaving them a basket, but intimated that 
 knowing of Mr. Merrow s misfortune she thought 
 perhaps a basket would be acceptable. 
 
 "It certainly is," answered Mrs. Merrow. "We 
 have had rather a hard time of it this fall." 
 
 Then to the old man, Farmer Waters , they
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 109 
 
 drove, whose last words were, "Guess I ll have 
 enough to eat all winter, by the looks !" 
 
 On again to Eben Holt s, and the McCarthys , 
 both of whom were gladly surprised at the gifts, 
 and who had many thanks and kind words for 
 their goodness. They stopped at the French 
 man s. In his broken English he said : 
 
 "You so good, I thank you so very much, we 
 eat him we think of you." 
 
 The next and last place to be visited was the 
 Widow Fleming s. Her house was located two 
 miles from the nearest neighbor, a long drive from 
 the village. Caleb, alighting, knocked at the door, 
 which was opened by Dr. Sherman. Caleb had 
 met the doctor before, liking him at once. He was 
 surprised to see him here, not knowing that there 
 was sickness in the family. 
 
 "Is the Widow Fleming at home?" asked Caleb. 
 
 "Hush!" replied the doctor, "Mary Fleming is 
 very ill and has just gone to sleep. I hope, if she 
 is not disturbed, that she will be better when she 
 awakes. But you have company, Mr. Abbott," he 
 added, as he noticed the two young ladies in the 
 pung. "Ask them to come in and warm them-
 
 110 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 selves. You can hitch the horses for a few 
 minutes." 
 
 "Won t they disturb your patient?" asked 
 Caleb. "We have been out some time;" and he 
 added: "Perhaps they had better come in before 
 we start for home." 
 
 "Oh, no !" replied the doctor, "if they come in 
 quietly she will not hear them." 
 
 So Caleb secured and blanketed the horses, 
 while Hilda and Marjorie went softly into the 
 house. Hilda had already met the doctor, so 
 turning to Marjorie she said: 
 
 "This is my very dear friend Miss Upton, 
 Doctor Sherman." 
 
 By this time Caleb had returned, bringing the 
 basket in with him. Mrs. Fleming herself had also 
 joined the party that was already gathered around 
 the kitchen stove. 
 
 "I am so sorry you have sickness again in your 
 family, Mrs. Fleming," said Hilda. "You have 
 rather more than your share of trouble." 
 
 "Yes, indade I do!" answered the widow. 
 "What wid the loss of me poor Mike, and wid Pat 
 breaking his arm, and now me darlint Mary down
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 111 
 
 wid the fever, it seems as if the gude Lord hisself 
 has forgit me. Thin wid seven mouths to feed and 
 little work a comin in, and the winter a comin 
 on, sure I don t know what ll becum of us. Lord 
 knows I hate to do it, but I m thinkin the town ll 
 have to take us over the hill." Noticing the basket 
 she continued, "And what is that, Miss Hilda? Is 
 it work you have brought? God bless you, I ll try 
 to do it. But wid me Mary so sick you ll have to 
 wait a day or two." 
 
 "No," answered Hilda, "it is not work, but 
 something for Thanksgiving. You know tomor 
 row is Thanksgiving day." 
 
 God bless you, no! I ain t a thinkin anything 
 bout Thanksgiving, one day is jest the same as 
 another wid me. But I ll put the things away 
 while I talk. My ! look at the turkey ! Ain t he 
 handsome! It s a long time sinc t I had me old 
 teeth in a turkey. An bread, an apples, an sugar 
 an tay real tay. Och ! How foine it smells! and 
 coffee, too ! Oh, Miss Hilda, I could jest sit down 
 and smell of em all night, and holler, if me Mary 
 warn t so sick, poor gal !" And so the widow 
 unpacked every article, fondly handling some,
 
 112 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 smelling of others, with now and then a snivel and 
 a wipe across the face with the sleeve of her 
 wrapper, which told only how well she appreci 
 ated their thoughtfulness. 
 
 "But," said Hilda, "you are thanking me for all 
 these things. I did not bring all myself. It was 
 Miss Upton s idea in the first place, and Mr. 
 Abbott gave the turkey. This is Miss Upton, Mrs. 
 Fleming," turning to Marjorie. 
 
 "Och, God bless you all ! We ll have plenty to 
 ate and when me Mary wakes up, the seeing of all 
 them good things will make her well. She ain t 
 very strong, Miss Hilda, an she ain t bin overfed ; 
 no more the rist of us, either." 
 
 "You spoke of work, Mrs. Fleming," said 
 Marjorie sweetly. "I can give you work if you 
 want it, and I will drive over with it soon, and also 
 to see how your daughter is getting along." 
 
 "Oh ! will ye? Thank ye, thank ye, you re all so 
 good. Perhaps the good Lord ain t forgit me 
 yet," with another snivel. 
 
 "Is Mary very sick, Doctor Sherman?" asked 
 Marjorie. 
 
 "She has been, but I think the crisis is passed,"
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 113 
 
 he replied. "But she is very weak. However, I 
 think with sleep and nourishing foods she will 
 gradually get back her strength. I am afraid the 
 Flemings, as Mrs. Fleming has said, have not had 
 enough nourishment for some time past." 
 
 "You must let me know, Doctor," said Mar- 
 jorie with one of her sweetest smiles, "what Mary 
 needs. I will see that she has it." 
 
 "Certainly," answered the doctor, "if you 
 wish." 
 
 "We must be going now, we have a long drive. 
 It is getting very late," remarked Hilda. 
 
 "Where is your team, Doctor?" asked Caleb, "I 
 did not notice it as I came in." 
 
 "Oh, I bring my horses right in with me," 
 laughingly answered the doctor. "These are my 
 horses," slapping his limbs with his hands. 
 
 "What! You don t mean to say that you 
 walked way over here in this snow, with the roads 
 hardly broken out yet and that you intend to walk 
 
 back again?" 
 
 "That s just what I did, and I shall walk back 
 again. You see I have no horse of my own as yet,
 
 114 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 and Doctor Higgins was away with his ; I am do 
 ing my rounds today on Shank s mare." 
 
 "If you can leave soon we shall be glad to wait 
 for you, and give you a ride home." 
 
 "I shall be only too glad to accept your kind 
 offer," the doctor replied. "As there is nothing 
 more I can do now I will just leave some direc 
 tions with Mrs. Fleming and join you in the yard. 
 Going into the next room where Mrs. Fleming sat 
 by the bedside of her sick child, he left the direc 
 tions and joined the others just as Caleb had un 
 hitched the horses. 
 
 Caleb turned to the young ladies with : 
 
 "Come, I will help you in," but Hilda had 
 sprung lightly into the pung and was already 
 seated. 
 
 Marjorie exclaimed, "Why, Hilda! you are not 
 on the right seat. But Hilda with a laugh replied : 
 
 "I did make a mistake, didn t 1? But I shall 
 have to make the best of it now. Caleb must tuck 
 me in, and you will have to entertain Doctor 
 Sherman." 
 
 Marjorie and the doctor thus had the rear seat
 
 CALEB ABBOTT US 
 
 and judging by their talk and laughter they enter 
 tained themselves most successfully. 
 
 Caleb, seated close beside Hilda, was happy 
 indeed. He wondered after he reached home 
 whether Hilda really did make a mistake in get 
 ting on the front seat, or whether But of course 
 it was a mistake, she never would have done it 
 intentionally. Still perplexed Caleb fell asleep, 
 dreaming of Hilda and the happy days at school. 
 
 The doctor, when he had bidden them all adieu, 
 thought he had never passed such a short but 
 happy hour as that drive home with the sweetest 
 and prettiest girl by his side it had ever been his 
 fortune to meet. 
 
 He determined to see more of Marjorie. He, 
 too, let his fancy run into the future. Perhaps he 
 might strive to win her if it was possible to do so.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 RUSHTON GROWS. 
 
 The days went by rapidly. Christmas had 
 arrived and Mr. Upton came on from New York 
 to spend the holidays. Marjorie was delighted 
 and had many a long story to tell her father of all 
 that had taken place since he was last in Rushton. 
 To be seated around the open fire these long win 
 ter evenings was delightful to all. Mrs. Abbott 
 with her household duties over for the day, her 
 bread kneaded and set to rise for the morrow; 
 Caleb, his chores done, discarding his barn clothes, 
 and exchanging his heavy, ungainly felt and rub 
 bers for slippers ; Mr. Upton, with his fragrant 
 Havana; Marjorie as fair as a lily; together they 
 made up a varied but social party. The doctor 
 came frequently, dropping in after his office hours 
 in the evening. He was here tonight and Mr. 
 Upton who had met him for the first time was
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 117 
 
 favorably impressed with his gentlemanly manners 
 and interesting conversation. Marjorie and Doc 
 tor Sherman often met ; always of course acci 
 dentally, still very frequently. In fact it seemed 
 as if the doctor knew just where she was to be, at 
 certain times. He had called so often at the 
 Widow Fleming s, knowing that Marjorie drove 
 there almost daily with some little delicacy for 
 Mary or work for the widow, that Mrs. Fleming 
 had one more worry added to her many cares and 
 that was the size of the doctor s bill. She had 
 hinted to him that as Mary was on the mend she 
 did not think he need come so often. With good 
 care and the strengthening food she was now get 
 ting, thanks to the young ladies, she thought her 
 daughter would soon be well. But the doctor did 
 not take the hint. He had continued calling, until 
 one day he told the widow himself that he would 
 not be needed any more, and so would leave his 
 bill. The poor woman who had been dreading this 
 event so long, took the paper from his hands, anx 
 iously glancing at the bottom of the paper, before 
 she should give him some of her hard earned
 
 118 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 money and make promises for other future pay 
 ments. 
 
 "But, Doctor," she tremblingly said, when she 
 could finally muster courage to speak, "you ve 
 rayceipted the bill, I can t pay ye all to onct." 
 
 "It is all paid, Mrs. Fleming," replied the 
 doctor with a laugh. "Only don t say anything 
 about it to any one. If you should be asked about 
 the new doctor just say that he is awfully smart. 
 You see I am new and need some advertising. 
 As your daughter was one of my first patients I 
 thought I would just receipt this bill. Then again 
 I have passed many pleasant hours in your home." 
 Mrs. Fleming with tears in her eyes, yet not quite 
 comprehending, thanked him again and again. 
 Long after he had gone, she sat wondering how he 
 could have passed many pleasant hours in her 
 humble home, almost devoid of furniture and 
 crowded with squalling, ragged children. 
 
 Many were the pleasant and happy times during 
 this winter. The moonlight sleigh rides, skating 
 parties, evening entertainments and best of all the 
 Sundays, when the whole family went to church, 
 Mrs. Abbott, Caleb, and Marjorie and her father.
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 119 
 
 They were usually joined at the church by Hilda 
 and later by the doctor, if possible. The church 
 itself was one of those ordinary country churches, 
 built rather more for economy than beauty. Small, 
 box-shaped, with the customary steeple, with 
 sheds at the rear, filled on Sundays with all kinds 
 of turnouts and horses. Fat horses, lean horses, 
 old horses and colts, some over-fed, many under 
 fed, some sleek and handsome, some spavined and 
 bony. In the summer time the stylish turnout of 
 the Van Coulters with their bang tailed horses 
 and negro coachman, stood side by side with the 
 patched up rig and rope-trimmed harness of Steve 
 Sheldon. 
 
 The parson of the village church was not a re 
 markable parson. If he had been he probably 
 would not have been located in Rushton, where 
 squashes and cabbages, wood and grain, were part 
 of his salary. But he was good, kind hearted and 
 beloved by all. He had several modern ideas 
 which, to some of the old-time worshipers, 
 seemed almost sacrilegious. In fact a quartet of 
 singers, consisting of Caleb, the doctor, Hilda and 
 Marjorie, had at first excited much criticism. It
 
 120 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 soon became, however, an important attraction at 
 the church. Caleb had a fine deep bass; the doc 
 tor s voice was tenor; Hilda s alto, and Marjorie s 
 soprano. There were many towns far greater in 
 size than Rushton that would have been glad to 
 boast of so good a quartet (and I might also add, 
 so handsome a one). 
 
 The advent of winter is dreaded by nearly all. 
 Yet when it is really upon one in the country 
 it seems to lose its terrors. We* read, with shivers 
 running down our backs, an item in the daily 
 papers which runs something like this : "Jan. 
 5th, Rushton, N. H., reports twenty degrees be 
 low zero." That probably means just before sun 
 rise. Yet, when the sun is well up in the heavens 
 we do not mind a sleigh ride of twenty miles. 
 There is a certain fascination after all on a cold 
 winter s day, to find one s self well wrapped and 
 seated in a sleigh behind good horses, gliding over 
 the country roads, whilst all about one are the 
 signs of winter. There is a touch of color too, as 
 some red painted cottage peeps into view from be 
 yond the drifts of snow, or a patch of pine or hem 
 lock flashes into view, with its beautiful greens
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 121 
 
 almost hidden by the weight of snow piled upon 
 the spreading limbs which reach out from the 
 woodland depths like some giant hands, as if to 
 see how much weight they can hold. 
 
 Caleb was busy every day. He had no hours 
 to spare except in the evenings when he found 
 time to read law, often studying late into the 
 night. He had determined to master the pro 
 fession both because he found it an interesting 
 study and also because he hoped to fit himself for 
 something above day labor, according to his 
 father s wish. Caleb had little time to think of 
 anything except work and study. His Sundays 
 were therefore peculiarly a recreation to him, both 
 bodily and spiritually. The Abbotts were liberal 
 in their views, but the home training had taught 
 the duty of attending church, even had Caleb dis 
 liked the services. But the services were very 
 agreeable to him and he found himself often look 
 ing forward to Sunday, and to Hilda. 
 
 The winter was going fast. Soon the "regulars" 
 would shift from their winter quarters around the 
 great stove in the general store, to the steps and 
 boxes outside. But the evening as usual found
 
 122 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 the crowd around the stove. They had gossiped 
 and gossiped until almost every one in the village 
 had been raked over or praised as the case might 
 be. There were few to be praised, alas! as al 
 most every family in town had some skeleton in 
 its closet, which was sure to be discovered, no 
 matter how small, by these mischief makers. The 
 new doctor had come in for both praise and abuse ; 
 praise for his skill in saving the life of the Widow 
 Fleming s daughter as well as his cure for Doctor 
 Higgins s rheumatism. They could not abuse him 
 definitely for if there were a skeleton in his family 
 closet they had not as yet discovered it. About all 
 they could find to criticise were his good clothes, 
 fresh linen collar, and the fact that he shaved every 
 day. 
 
 "Well, I can t see as if that s anything agin him," 
 retorted the Deacon. "He don t have to plough 
 or shovel manure. If he did he might wear over 
 alls and go without a collar." 
 
 "Yes, and they do say he treats the poor pretty 
 square," said Seth. "I heard how he didn t 
 charge the widow anything for tending her
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 123 
 
 daughter. Receipted the bill right before her and 
 said, That s all right. " 
 
 "Humph," growled another, "that s probably 
 cause he never spected to git it. He charged 
 me nough for my old woman when she was down 
 with lung fever." 
 
 "Pulled her through, didn t he?" Seth answered. 
 "And a pretty tough case, too, so you said your 
 self. He knew you were working every day so 
 why shouldn t he charge you what is right. We 
 ain t all poor folks round here. If we was where 
 would he get his living?" 
 
 "That s so," said the Deacon. "But if things go 
 right with him, looks as if he wouldn t have to 
 work long; he s pretty sweet on the banker s 
 daughter up there to Abbotts ." 
 
 "And speaking of the banker," said Seth, "they 
 say as how he s got the railroad interested in put 
 ting a line through here. Said he d buy so much 
 stock." 
 
 "Well, I heard something bout that, too," re 
 plied the Deacon. "And someone said they saw 
 two goggle-eyed fellers with some sticks and lines,
 
 124 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 treepods, I think they called em, the other day, 
 poking up and down the pastures." 
 
 "Oh ! them s surveyors. And if they ve got 
 round you can bet there s some truth in the yarn," 
 said Eb Holt. 
 
 "Well, I hope it ll go through," answered Seth. 
 "It ll wake up the old town. There ain t nothing 
 to see and if twan t for Kettchum kicking out a 
 drunk now and then, and the old mail coach 
 comin in, there wouldn t be nothing to see." 
 
 "Ma wants some sugar," shouted one of the 
 Fleming boys, who had just come in. 
 
 "Shut the door!" roared old Merrill, the store 
 keeper. 
 
 "Say, Mr. Merrill," the boy went on, after shut 
 ting the door, "what makes your sugar so wet? 
 Ma told me to tell you that it s all damp lumps." 
 
 "Oh, Merrill keeps the drinking bucket on the 
 counter over the barrel and the bucket leaks, of 
 course !" said some one sarcastically. 
 
 "Merrill don t know it leaks, but it s a handy 
 place to keep the bucket, and it makes the sugar 
 weigh heavy ; see ?" added another wag
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 125 
 
 "Oh you shut up!" angrily retorted Mr. Merrill. 
 "What do you know bout grocery trade, any 
 how?" 
 
 "Oh, well, Merrill, I m sorry I gave you away; 
 but I do know this bout your grocery biz; and 
 that is, some things weigh heavy and some weigh 
 light." Having said his say the merry fellow "lit 
 out" before a turnip hurled at his head by Old 
 Merrill should strike him. 
 
 "Speaking of weighing," said Seth, trying to 
 turn the subject and get Merrill good natured 
 again, "how much do you weigh, Ed?" 
 
 "Oh, I ain t sure," Ed replied, stepping on the 
 scales. "One hundred and eighty by these; I did 
 weigh one hundred and seventy in West Village 
 a week ago. Guess they ain t the same kind of 
 scales," with a wink to the crowd. 
 
 "Pretty near fat enough to kill," said Hen. 
 
 "Yes," answered Ed with a grin. "Guess if I 
 keep on gaining I ll be fat enough to kill by hog 
 time." But in spite of these sallies a dampness 
 seemed to have fallen upon the "regulars" almost 
 as damp as Merrill s sugar. Merrill himself was 
 still glum, probably because one of the secrets of
 
 126 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 the grocery trade had been discovered. First one 
 and then another "store guest" arose with a yawn, 
 buttoned his great coat and started for home, 
 leaving Merrill alone with his scales and water 
 
 bucket. 
 
 ***** 
 
 One day toward the latter part of winter Caleb 
 was brought home by two of the loggers with a 
 bad cut on the head. While loading his sled with 
 logs, and being as he supposed out of reach of any 
 falling trees, he had suddenly felt a blow on the 
 head, and sank in the snow beneath it. He was 
 not, however, seriously hurt as it was one of the 
 top branches which had hit him and not the trunk 
 of the tree itself, which would certainly have killed 
 him. The wound, while only a scalp wound, bled 
 freely, and it was owing to a weakness from loss 
 of blood which necessitated his being carried home. 
 One of the men had hurried ahead to inform Mrs. 
 Abbott that it was not a serious injury. But 
 Marjorie was out in the barn feeding her pet 
 pigeons. She consequently knew nothing of it 
 until she saw them bringing Caleb into the yard. 
 It was then, when she saw him lying there on the
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 127 
 
 sled so still with the blood all over his face and 
 matted in his hair, that she realized what his life 
 meant to her. It was only by a supreme effort 
 that she kept from fainting. Hurrying into the 
 house, where they had lain Caleb on the great, old- 
 fashioned lounge, Marjorie knelt by his side, and 
 taking his hand in hers piteously said : 
 
 "Oh, Caleb, are you much hurt? Have they 
 sent for the doctor? Is there anything I can do? 
 You must not die ! I, we all love you so say 
 that you are not much hurt." 
 
 Caleb, smiling weakly, asked, "Do you all love 
 me so much that you would feel sorry to see me 
 die?" 
 
 "Oh Caleb, don t joke, don t speak so, of course 
 we all love you." 
 
 "Well," he answered, "if you all love me so 
 much I don t think I will die this time. It will 
 take more than the twig of a tree to knock me out ; 
 but I do feel a little faint. That s all. I will be 
 all right tomorrow. But here is Doctor Sherman. 
 He will soon tell you that there won t be 
 any funeral to attend this time. Won t you, 
 Sherman?"
 
 128 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 "Oh, yes!" answered the doctor, partly to 
 Caleb, and partly to Marjorie who had arisen 
 blushingly, that the doctor might not see her 
 kneeling by Caleb and holding his hand. 
 
 "He will be all right in a day or two. He won t 
 even need careful nursing," he added somewhat 
 bitterly. "But it is a nasty hit, and much more 
 and I am afraid we should have had the funeral !" 
 Then, turning to his patient, "You have lost lots 
 of blood, old man, too ! As far as the cut goes, 
 I guess a stitch or two will fix that : and with your 
 fine thick hair your beauty won t be spoiled, in 
 fact it never will be noticed," rattled on the 
 doctor. Skilfully performing the operation and 
 giving Caleb a little advice as to what to do and 
 what not to do for a day or two, Dr. Sherman 
 hastily took his departure after telling Mrs. 
 Abbott to make her son keep quiet for a day or so. 
 He did not even ask for Marjorie, who had stolen 
 up to her room, there to give vent to her pent up 
 emotions 
 
 Marjorie herself had suddenly awakened to the 
 fact that Caleb was all the world to her; that she 
 loved him as only a pure, loving woman can love.
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 129 
 
 Yet she did not feel that Caleb loved her. He had 
 always treated her like a sister and he seemed to 
 treat Hilda, too, in the same way that he did her 
 self. Did he love Hilda? She could not tell. But 
 this she did feel; that Caleb was her idol, her ideal 
 of a man, and happy indeed would be the woman 
 who could claim his great heart. Poor Marjorie! 
 lying there upon her bed, first happy with the 
 recognition of her own love, then sad with uncer 
 tainty as to her right of loving Caleb. At last with 
 an effort she arose; and, removing all traces of her 
 tears, again went bravely down the stairs, vowing 
 that Caleb should never know of the anguish of 
 these last hours, nor how deep was her love of him. 
 And Doctor Sherman, who had seen at once, 
 with a lover s intuition, who held Marjorie s heart, 
 wondered if Caleb reciprocated that great gift. 
 He had thought it was Hilda whom Caleb pre 
 ferred. Was he playing with both their hearts? 
 But no! He knew Caleb too well to think that. 
 Lucky fellow, he thought, with the two dearest 
 girls in Rushton in love with him ! "Which did he 
 prefer?" he asked himself in perplexity. He 
 determined to know even if he had to be so rude
 
 130 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 as to ask Caleb himself. Were not he and Caleb 
 fast friends? Why should Caleb take offence? It 
 would not be through idle curiosity that he would 
 ask him. He only thought it fair to Marjorie to 
 find out the truth. Perhaps Caleb was ignorant 
 of Marjorie s feelings. Then, if Caleb really had 
 no intentions toward Marjorie would it not be 
 best to open Caleb s eyes? He determined to do 
 so and if it really was Marjorie that he preferred, 
 "Oh, then !" with a sigh, "I suppose I can live 
 down my sorrow. Others have lived." But then, 
 another one might not have had so deep love 
 for a girl such as Marjorie. Should he give her 
 up to Caleb without a struggle? Should he try 
 and win her for himself? At last his better nature 
 triumphed. When he had arrived home he had 
 decided that if Caleb really loved Marjorie, he 
 must simply give up his practice here; perhaps 
 apply for a surgeon s berth on a man-of-war. He 
 had often thought that he would like such a life. 
 Now he knew he would. Perhaps he could, in 
 his travels to foreign lands and among new faces, 
 forget !
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 131 
 
 It was an assured fact that the railroad was 
 about to be built through Rushton. Any one who 
 wished for work could now obtain it. Kettchum s 
 hotel was filled with boarders and Kettchum was 
 obliged much against his will, to buy every old 
 cow for miles around to be slaughtered by Skinner, 
 the butcher, to supply meat for the working 
 crowd. It was the intention of the railroad officials 
 to build a depot in Rushton which should be an 
 ornament to the place, and their plans called for 
 brick and granite. They wished if possible to find 
 suitable granite near at hand ; and their engineers 
 had been looking over the land to see if such stone 
 could be found. 
 
 One Sunday afternoon Caleb started out for his 
 usual Sunday stroll. Sunday was the only day in 
 which Caleb really had time to think. He had 
 formed the habit of going over the farm to see 
 what there was to be done through the coming 
 week, and again he walked as usual across field 
 and pasture looking over walls, fences, glancing 
 at the trees; noticing as he went along what 
 needed repairing. Here a wall needed topping; 
 the apple trees had sent up suckers and shoots dur-
 
 132 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 ing the past year that must be pruned. He 
 thought he should sow down the clover and red 
 top the piece where his corn had been planted the 
 previous year, and turn up a new piece this spring 
 for corn in the ten-acre lot. Yes, his blueberry 
 pasture ought to have some care. Part of it at 
 least should be burned over. So he wandered on, 
 picking up a stone here and there; or now and 
 then a twig which the wintry winds had dislodged. 
 For although it was Sunday, Caleb never could 
 walk over a stone in his mowing piece, as some 
 farmers can. He kept on his way until he had 
 crossed the meadow and over to the hill where his 
 father had worked so hard felling timber that his 
 son might finish his college education. Caleb s 
 thoughts went back to the time a year ago when 
 his noble father had given up his life in the mad 
 waters of the Merrimack. As he stood looking 
 over the now barren waste, he thought of the 
 many hours of hard labor his father had expended 
 for him. While gazing over the land of stump 
 and rock, he noticed some one down on all fours 
 creeping over the rocks, now picking up a piece
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 133 
 
 of stone, then again breaking off a piece with a 
 hammer which he carried with him. 
 
 "What can he be doing?" wondered Caleb, "and 
 what is he here for? Well, I suppose there is just 
 one way to find out ; and that is to go over and ask 
 him." Caleb crossed the piece of sprout land 
 which lay between the meadow and the hill be 
 yond, and started to ascend the hill just as the 
 stranger had finished his antics and had himself 
 started down the hill. 
 
 "Good afternoon, stranger," saluted Caleb. 
 
 "Good afternoon," replied the stranger. "Nice 
 day, isn t it?" 
 
 "Yes, it is," answered Caleb. "And it being 
 such a fine day I thought I would take a stroll 
 around." 
 
 "Just what I have been doing, although my 
 stroll combines business with pleasure. I was 
 looking at the stone over there. Quite likely look 
 ing granite. I am the engineer for the new rail 
 road line which is going through here. My name 
 is Stevens," continued the stranger. 
 
 "Glad to meet you, Mr. Stevens," said Caleb, 
 holding out his hand, which the other took. "My
 
 134 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 name is Abbott. So you like the looks of that 
 granite over there ?" 
 
 "Yes, I do," replied Mr. Stevens. "It s almost 
 identical with Barre granite and would make a fine 
 building stone. Twould be good for monumental 
 work, too, although it is hardly dark enough to 
 take the proper polish. It takes Quincy granite 
 for a dark, rich polish, you know." 
 
 "No," answered Caleb, "granite is something I 
 don t know much about. But I have often 
 thought this granite could be made to bring in 
 something." 
 
 "Bring in something?" replied Mr. Stevens with 
 enthusiasm, "why, if I am not mistaken, there s a 
 fortune there. Of course it s rusty and seamy on 
 top, but I have been following the seams and 
 scraping away the dirt. Yes, if I am not mistaken, 
 there s acres of solid granite over there, extending 
 down well, to China, for all I know. Wonder 
 who owns this land, anyhow?" 
 
 "I do," answered Caleb. 
 
 "You do?" exclaimed Stevens in surprise. 
 "Well, I ve just put my foot in it as usual, and let 
 my mouth run away with my head. That s my
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 135 
 
 great fault, talking and telling all I know, just 
 when I shouldn t. Now here is a junk of worth 
 less land, that I dare say I could have bought for 
 five dollars an acre and made the cost and more, 
 too, on this one job alone. Now I suppose you 
 would want, well perhaps a thousand for it?" 
 
 "Yes," Caleb replied with a smile, "I think 
 several thousands. I have thought for a long 
 while that there was something in this stone, but 
 I have never had time to look into it. Still, had 
 any one come along and offered me a fair price 
 for this land I should not have sold without inves 
 tigating on my own account. Now that I have 
 had an expert s opinion, gratis, it will take a very 
 good offer to buy it. However," seeing a disap 
 pointed expression pass across Stevens face, "I 
 like your looks, and you have given me your opin 
 ion of the land s worth. Perhaps there will be 
 something in it for you, after all. I do not know 
 anything about granite or the quarrying of it; 
 neither have I time nor funds at present to get it 
 on the market. Perhaps we can start a little 
 quarry and I can let you in somehow. And you
 
 136 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 in turn, no doubt, in your business could dispose 
 of some of the granite." 
 
 "Indeed I could," replied the engineer, "I could 
 place an order now for several hundred tons. I 
 have it, in fact," he exclaimed, his face lighting up. 
 "Why not form a stock company? You hold the 
 controlling interest, issue so much stock, and the 
 money for the stock will start the business. I ll 
 guarantee to dispose of the granite as fast as it can 
 be worked." 
 
 "I should like time to think this matter over," 
 answered Caleb. "As this is Sunday, I prefer to 
 talk about it some other day. I am at leisure every 
 evening. Why can t you run over soon, and we 
 will talk it up? That s where I live, that large, 
 square, white house right across the meadow, on 
 the opposite hill." 
 
 "Well, I will drop in; and if you don t mind I ll 
 make it tomorrow night. The sooner the better, 
 you know," replied the engineer with a laugh. 
 
 True to his agreement, Stevens called to see 
 Caleb the next evening. As he walked across the 
 meadow he overtook Marjorie with her arms full 
 of pussy willows. She, too, was on her way to the
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 137 
 
 house. Coming upon her suddenly as Mr. Stevens 
 turned the corner by a clump of alders he stood 
 still for a moment in silent admiration. "By Jove! 
 how beautiful !" he muttered to himself. "I won 
 der who she can be!" But he had not long to 
 wait, as he was now almost at the house; and, 
 Marjorie turning, said to him : 
 
 "Do you wish to see Mr. Abbott? If you do 
 I think you will find him in the barn." 
 
 "Thank you, yes," replied Stevens as he gal 
 lantly raised his hat. "I do want to see him." 
 
 He found Caleb in the barn milking. They 
 greeted each other pleasantly and Stevens re 
 marked : 
 
 "Say, Mr. Abbott, if we put that deal through 
 O. K. you won t have to milk cows much longer. 
 You ll be able to hire a man, and sit around figur 
 ing up your profits." 
 
 "Think so?" replied Caleb. "I am not quite as 
 sanguine as you about big profits; and," laugh 
 ingly, "I think I will keep the cows for a sure thing 
 until I see the money coming in." 
 
 "That s right, too, but if you don t think me 
 rude will you tell me where you get such words as
 
 138 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 sanguine/ way back here in this back woods 
 town? The majority of farmers don t use such 
 words as that ; it flavors somewhat of college, don t 
 you know." 
 
 "Well, and why not?" answered Caleb. "I did 
 go to college, still I don t know that I have more 
 than the average intelligence. My father was con 
 sidered a bright man although he never got rich, 
 and my mother had a good education. But in 
 return, if you won t get offended, Mr. Stevens, let 
 me give you a little advice." 
 
 "Fire away! I won t take any offence." 
 
 "Well, in the first place, just because you hap 
 pen to be in a wayback place, don t take every 
 one you meet for a Rube. There are some pretty 
 bright people in these small towns hereabouts and 
 Rushton boasts of quite a number. There s many 
 a man in this little town going about his farm with 
 his pants tucked into his boots, wearing an old 
 blue flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up, who can 
 write his check for thousands. I am through now. 
 If you say so, we will adjourn to the house, and 
 have a talk." 
 
 "Thanks for your advice, Mr. Abbott. Say,
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 139 
 
 what is your first name? I don t like being so 
 formal. I like you ; and you won t find me such a 
 bad lot after you know me. By the way, I have 
 got a letter from the Mayor of our city, and also 
 notes of introduction from one or two other influ 
 ential citizens. If we go into this deal together I 
 want you to write to them inquiring about me, as 
 I am an entire stranger to you, you know. But I 
 started to say my name is John Stevens, though I 
 am usually called Jack." 
 
 "My name is Caleb; very few call me Mr. 
 Abbott, " Caleb replied. "Come right in; this is 
 my mother, Mr. Stevens. She will entertain you 
 a moment while I wash up a little. Then I will 
 join you." 
 
 They were soon seated in the great front room. 
 Caleb, taking up a box of cigars, said : 
 
 "Do you smoke?" 
 
 "Oh! certainly," taking a cigar. "What! genu 
 ine Henry Clays?" in surprise. "Your words are 
 coming back to me very soon. I hardly looked 
 for my favorite brand of Cubas in a farm house." 
 
 "You see," replied Caleb, "I have a New York 
 friend who keeps me supplied in cigars."
 
 140 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 After a few more pleasantries the two men got 
 down to business, talking far into the night. 
 Their conversation resulted in the formation of a 
 stock company to be known as the "Rushton 
 Granite Company," disposing of the stock in 
 Rushton if they could get subscribers enough. 
 Caleb was to own half; the balance to be sold at so 
 much a share. Caleb was to be the treasurer; the 
 next heaviest holder of stock, the president, and 
 Stevens resident manager. As soon as the stock 
 was disposed of they were to choose a board of 
 directors and start business at once. Caleb in the 
 meantime was to see Dr. Higgins and Dr. Sher 
 man and the Deacon. He also intended writing 
 Mr. Upton, who had decided to locate in Rushton 
 and in fact was now closing out some of his busi 
 ness interests in New York. 
 
 Mrs. Abbott, who had been sitting up in the 
 dining room, came in to bid Caleb good night. 
 
 "Oh, my! Caleb," she exclaimed, "what a 
 smoke ! You can t see across the room. I don t 
 often find fault, but, my dear boy, you will ruin 
 my curtains." 
 
 "Mother," he replied, playfully putting his arm
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 141 
 
 around her and drawing her to him, "if what we 
 are thinking of is a success, we shall have new cur 
 tains; real Irish point, too." 
 
 "Well, I hope for your sake, whatever it is it will 
 be a success, but you have not told me yet what it 
 is. And as for real Irish point lace, you can get 
 them for the future Mrs. Abbott. I guess those 
 old ones will last as long as I do." 
 
 "Now, mother, I don t want to hear you talk 
 about not lasting. If you wish to see the future 
 Mrs. Abbott I am sure you will be here a long time 
 yet. But stop joking. Let me tell you all about 
 the new scheme." 
 
 Caleb recited briefly all that had been planned 
 and Mrs. Abbott replied : 
 
 "I certainly hope it will be a success. What 
 would your father say could he know about the 
 wealth supposed to be in that barren land !" 
 
 "But, mother," softly replied Caleb, "we know 
 that father does know. Else we are not true 
 Christians. Good night." 
 
 "Good night, my boy; God bless and keep you," 
 she said huskily as she kissed him good night.
 
 142 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 It was "good doings" again, as they say in the 
 country. The frost was out of the ground; the 
 roads were smooth and hard. Once again the blue 
 birds appeared, and the robins sang sweetly a 
 morning carol in the maple by Marjorie s window. 
 Marjorie and Hilda again went riding through the 
 lanes and over the highways. But Marjorie did 
 not seem as happy as a year ago. She would ride 
 by Hilda s side sometimes, mile after mile, without 
 speaking, with a sad look on her lovely face. 
 Hilda had noticed her silently for some time past ; 
 she felt that she ought to know the trouble, for 
 trouble it evidently was; and Hilda, who had never 
 had a sister, had grown to love Marjorie with a 
 sister s love. 
 
 One bright day in May, one of those rare May 
 days, when the air is soft and balmy and the birds 
 singing from every bush, when even the brook 
 itself seems glad as it ripples over the pebbles, and 
 all nature seems happy, Marjorie, after a long 
 silence, gave vent to a sigh, so deep, so sorrowful 
 that Hilda exclaimed, anxiously: 
 
 "Dear Marjorie, what is it that troubles you? 
 Let us dismount here and sit on this grassy knoll,
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 143 
 
 while you tell me what it is. I have noticed for a 
 long time that something is on your mind. I can 
 not bear to see you sad, dear Marjorie. Sit here 
 beside me. I love you so; perhaps I can help 
 you." Marjorie s fair head dropped gently in 
 Hilda s lap while the tears, so long kept back, 
 flowed as freely as if they were jealous of the rip 
 pling brook. She told Hilda her story ; the story 
 of her love for Caleb. While Hilda, stroking her 
 fair hair (with a startled look in her own eyes, that 
 luckily could not be seen), tried to comfort and 
 console Marjorie. "Thank God !" said Hilda to 
 herself, "that she has not discovered my secret. It 
 would be even harder for her to know that I loved 
 him too!" 
 
 So they sat and talked, until Marjorie, with a 
 laugh, arose, saying: 
 
 "There! you know my secret now. I have had 
 a good cry and I feel better already. I am going 
 to try and forget," she added, "and be a livelier 
 companion for you, Hilda dear. Look! what a 
 stretch for a gallop! Let us see who can get to 
 the cross-roads first." 
 
 Before summer had arrived the stock company
 
 144 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 was an assured success. The stock had been sub 
 scribed for; sheds had been built; derricks erected; 
 stonecutters and quarrymen hired; and the works 
 had a busy aspect. Jack Stevens had proved him 
 self a hustler, and the company had all the work 
 they could do with their limited facilities. Mr. 
 Upton had run on for a few days and was very 
 enthusiastic over the outlook for the new com 
 pany. 
 
 "Sell all the stock you can, Caleb," he said, "and 
 I will take the balance." So at the first meeting of 
 the directors, it was found that Caleb and Mr. 
 Upton were the heaviest owners of the stock, and 
 Mr. Upton was elected president of the new com 
 pany. 
 
 "Just to keep me from getting rusty when I 
 locate here," he laughingly said to Caleb. "I have 
 got to have some figures to go over once in a 
 while and that s a good beginning, Samuel Up 
 ton, President of the Rushton Granite Company. 
 I feel more proud of that title already, than I did 
 of the title, President of the - - Street National 
 Bank of New York. And by the way, Caleb, I saw 
 an auction bill of a place for sale, the Silas Holt
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 145 
 
 place, so-called. Do you know anything about 
 it?" 
 
 "Oh, yes !" replied Caleb. That is one of the 
 finest places in town, or rather it used to be. Since 
 Silas, the elder, died his son has let the farm run 
 out. But the buildings are in good shape, and 
 there is a fine lot of timber growth on it. There s 
 a grand view, also. You see young Silas had quite 
 a little money left him. When his father was alive 
 he found it hard to get hold of a dollar. That s 
 why, probably, when he found himself compara 
 tively rich, he could not stand prosperity, and got 
 to be a high roller, until he had spent all his 
 money. He mortgaged the place for all he could 
 to Cyrus Whitney, and there is a clause in the 
 mortgage deed, so I have heard, that denies him 
 the right to sell the timber. He can t raise any 
 more money, and the interest being due, Cyrus has 
 foreclosed ; I am sorry, too, because Silas is a kind- 
 hearted fellow and has done some good with his 
 money besides throwing it away. They say he 
 sees the folly of his ways now it is too late. But 
 the place has got to go." 
 
 "I should like to see the place," replied Mr.
 
 146 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Upton. "Will you drive me over tomorrow?" 
 
 "Certainly," replied Caleb. 
 
 The next day Caleb and Mr. Upton drove over 
 to the Holt estate. 
 
 "Grand!" exclaimed Mr. Upton. "What a 
 glorious view! Is that the timber you speak of?" 
 pointing to the north side of the hill. 
 
 "Yes," Caleb answered, "that s one lot; I believe 
 there are three lots all together." 
 
 "Caleb," said Mr. Upton, "I want that place if 
 I can get it. What do you think it will sell for at 
 auction?" 
 
 "That s rather a hard question to answer. Tak 
 ing a country valuation of it I should say it was 
 worth twenty-five hundred. It may bring a little 
 more; perhaps less. It depends on whether any 
 one wants it or not. There s close to two thou 
 sand in timber alone. I suppose there will be some 
 lumber men at the sale, who will carry the price 
 up to that figure or more, simply on account of 
 the timber." 
 
 "I want that place," replied Mr. Upton. "If 
 four thousand will buy it, I want you to buy it for 
 me. Of course I know that such a sum is more
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 147 
 
 than the place is worth, but that view is worth one 
 thousand to me, and the aroma from those pines 
 is worth another thousand on account of my 
 daughter. Now if you will attend this sale and 
 bid it in for me, for anything up to this figure, or 
 even a hundred or two more, I will give you a real 
 estate agent s commission for the favor." 
 
 "Oh ! I will do you the favor gladly for noth 
 ing/ Caleb answered, "and I could not think of 
 accepting any such commission as that." 
 
 "But I insist," said Mr. Upton. 
 
 "If you insist on paying me, you can pay me for 
 the time I lose attending the sale; perhaps half a 
 day s time." 
 
 "I shall do nothing of the kind," Mr. Upton 
 replied. "I want you to buy it for me, and I want 
 to pay you what I should pay any one else to buy 
 it for me. Now will you do it? Or shall I get 
 some stranger to do it for me, who perhaps will 
 stand in with the auctioneer and split afterward?" 
 
 "Well," said Caleb, "if you put it in that light, 
 I will buy it for you and we will settle the price 
 afterwards."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A COUNTRY AUCTION. 
 
 A few days after this conversation the auction 
 took place. Caleb was on hand bright and early, 
 accompanied by Hilda and Marjorie, both of 
 whom were in ignorance of his intention to buy 
 the place for Mr. Upton. Each wished to attend 
 the sale, Marjorie having heard of the fun to be 
 had at one of these country auctions, and Hilda 
 because she had never before attended a country 
 "vendoo." Although Caleb knew that the real 
 estate would be almost the last to be sold, he 
 thought he would make a day of it in order that 
 the young ladies should enjoy the whole event. 
 
 Silas Holt was to sell all the personal effects and 
 stock. "May as well clean up everything, as long 
 as I have got to lose the old homestead, and start 
 over again," he sadly yet bravely told Caleb. "It 
 seems a shame to sell such a place at auction,
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 149 
 
 though. It is certainly worth twenty-five hundred, 
 and I don t suppose it will bring near that figure. 
 Cyrus Whitney wants it, and nobody dares to bid 
 against him, you know." 
 
 "Yes," I know many people stand in fear of 
 him," Caleb answered. "But keep up your spirits, 
 Silas, you are young yet." 
 
 "They are about to begin the sale. Come Miss 
 Upton and Hilda; here is a good place to stand," 
 said Caleb, turning to the young ladies who were 
 waiting in eager expectancy for the sale to open. 
 
 To any one who has never attended a country 
 auction I should advise him to do so at the first 
 opportunity. There are all kinds of people there 
 from the country urchin to the be-whiskered auc 
 tioneer himself, with his hooked nose and eagle 
 eye. The celebrity of all the country towns; and 
 the sharpest man usually to be found. Also the 
 wealthy summer resident who may pick up some 
 ancient bit of furniture, a spinning wheel or per 
 haps a piece of genuine blue ware. The lunch at 
 noon under the trees gives a zest to the day; for 
 none of those all day auctions are complete with-
 
 150 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 out the crackers and cheese, doughnuts, coffee and 
 cider. 
 
 The auctioneer had now mounted his box and 
 begun his harangue. "Come, ladies and gentle 
 men, crowd around here where I can see you. 
 We ve got lots to sell today and we ve got to 
 hustle. Everything here is to be sold and your 
 price is our price." Here a wag inquired of the 
 auctioneer : 
 
 "Are you goin to be sold, Josh?" 
 
 "No, but you are, before the sale is over," 
 quickly replied the man of the hooked nose and 
 eagle eye. After the laugh was over he continued : 
 "We will begin on the household articles first, then 
 farm implements and tools, then the stock; and 
 lastly the real estate. Terms are ten dollars or 
 under for cash ; over ten dollars, sixty days note, 
 if bankable, except on the real estate, terms of 
 which will be given later. Now here we go ! The 
 first article is this beautiful rug." Holding up 
 about a square yard of old carpet. "Here s the 
 outside. Here s the inside. How much for both 
 sides? Ten cents I hear, ten ten ten fifteen,
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 151 
 
 do I hear it ? fifteen, do you say it ? Are you all 
 done at ten ? Sold then to Mrs. Brennan. 
 
 "Now here s another, a better one," holding up 
 another piece worse if anything than the piece just 
 sold. "Five cents some one says five cents six 
 seven eight eight I have, do you say ten? 
 Are you all done at eight? Well, I can t wait all 
 day. Sold to Mrs. Brennan. 
 
 "Now here s a bed, real live goose feathers. See 
 em fly?" (tossing it up). "If I didn t have a hold 
 of it twould fly out of sight. How much? Come, 
 give us a bid. It s worth ten dollars of anybody s 
 money. One dollar? Well now, ain t that too 
 bad? Should think they d want to fly out of this 
 company. One dollar, one dollar, one dollar, 
 two do you say it ? Two, do I hear it ? Come, 
 Arnold, don t sleep on the floor any longer, when 
 a bed like this is going for a dollar. Ah? one fifty 
 now two two now three? Well, say two fifty 
 then, two two two Who says a quarter? 
 Split it up ! Two twenty-five ; now two fifty two 
 fifty, now three ; three, I have ; are you all done at 
 three? Once twice third and last call Sold 
 to Jake Fernald."
 
 152 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 And so on for the entire forenoon. Just at 
 twelve, lunch was passed around. Marjorie, Hilda 
 and Caleb thoroughly enjoyed it too. 
 
 "Isn t it fun!" laughed Marjorie. "Did you see 
 that old man that gave twenty-five cents for a 
 mouse trap? You can buy one anywhere for ten 
 cents. Yet how pleased he seemed." 
 
 "And did you notice the lady that got a com 
 plete chamber set for four dollars? She really did 
 get a bargain," said Hilda. 
 
 "Yes," said Caleb, "they get strange prices at 
 auction. Some articles bring many times what 
 they are worth, and others bring nowhere near 
 their value." 
 
 "What a funny man the auctioneer is," said Mar 
 jorie. "I never heard so much wit in such a short 
 time. He outdoes Mark Twain. I honestly 
 believe he could make a fortune if he should jot 
 his sayings down." 
 
 "Oh he s funny and he s bright, too," said Caleb. 
 "He gets good prices and is in great demand all 
 through the country. They are going to sell the 
 stock now, and then the real estate. If you young
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 153 
 
 ladies are not interested in stock let us sit here in 
 the shade and talk." 
 
 "Yes, certainly," answered both in chorus. So 
 they sat and talked and laughed until finally the 
 auctioneer, followed by the crowd, came again 
 under the trees. After drinking a couple of 
 glasses of cider and wiping the perspiration from 
 his brow with a big red bandana, he began to recite 
 the story of the real estate. 
 
 "Now, ladies and gentlemen, here is one of the 
 finest estates in the state of New Hampshire. To 
 the residents hereabouts, there is nothing to say. 
 You all know this property. But for the benefit 
 of any stranger, should there be any here who 
 desire to bid, I will state that there are two hun 
 dred acres, more or less; about one hundred tillage 
 and pasture, the balance wood and timber. It is 
 estimated that there is nearly a million feet of 
 timber alone. The buildings, as you can see, are 
 in good repair, well built, high and sightly. The 
 terms are one hundred down at time of sale; bal 
 ance, cash within thirty days, excepting for the 
 mortgage of fifteen hundred, which can remain if
 
 154 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 desired. Property is subject to unpaid taxes if 
 any. I am now open for bids." 
 
 For several moments not a sound was heard. 
 There is something depressing about a mort 
 gagee s sale of an old homestead. There is almost 
 always a hush for a while before a bid is heard. 
 Cyrus Whitney stood on the veranda at a distance 
 from Caleb. In fact he could not see him. He 
 had no idea that any one would bid against himself 
 beyond the price of the timber alone; knowing 
 that the timber was worth at least two thousand 
 dollars he felt perfectly safe in starting the bid. 
 
 "Eighteen hundred," he finally squeaked from 
 his perch on the piazza.. 
 
 "Two thousand," came from under the trees. A 
 two hundred bid is quite a jump. Caleb had 
 spoken, and both Hilda and Marjorie turned to 
 him in amazement. He, bidding on this property, 
 thought Hilda, and against her father, too? How 
 did he dare? What will he do with it? 
 
 "How can he pay for it?" thought Marjorie, 
 who knew something about Caleb s finances. 
 
 The bid hung at two thousand for some time. 
 The auctioneer had again to go over the value of
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 155 
 
 the place. After dwelling for some time on two 
 thousand and threatening to throw up the stick, 
 the squeaking voice of Cyrus Whitney once more 
 raised the offer twenty-one hundred. 
 
 "Twenty-three hundred," from under the trees. 
 Everybody was looking now to see who the bidder 
 might be, yet only a few could locate who he was. 
 Cyrus Whitney himself was determined to own 
 this property up to its real value, but he had hoped 
 to get it much less. He was thoroughly angry, 
 and knowing something of the auctioneer and his 
 sharp methods of doing business, cried out shrilly : 
 
 "Say, are you carrying those bids along against 
 me?" But the auctioneer paid no attention to 
 him, only repeating again and again : 
 
 "Twenty-three hundred, twenty-three hundred ; 
 four, do you say it? Once, twice, third and last 
 call." But no: Cyrus wouldn t give up yet. 
 
 "Twenty-three fifty," he again squeaked. 
 
 "Twenty-five hundred," from under the trees. 
 Everybody was now in a high state of excitement. 
 Soon the word was passed around the crowd that 
 Caleb Abbott was bidding against Rushton s Shy- 
 lock, and old Shylock s own daughter was by his
 
 156 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 side. What kind of a game was this, anyhow? 
 After dwelling on "twenty-five hundred" a long 
 time, again the auctioneer threatened to throw up 
 his stick. 
 
 "Twenty-five fifty," again came from the piazza. 
 
 "Twenty-seven hundred." The excitement 
 waxed greater. That s above the real value, ac 
 cording to country values ! Silas Holt himself was 
 all smiles. Who could be forcing the price up to 
 this figure, he wondered? Why! he would have 
 plenty of money after all. After another long 
 wait : 
 
 "Twenty-seven fifty," came from the piazza. 
 
 "Twenty-eight hundred," followed from the 
 trees. The auctioneer himself thought that now 
 the limit had surely been reached. He was sur 
 prised to hear almost as quickly : 
 
 "Twenty-eight hundred fifty," from the piazza.. 
 Shylock s blood was up. What if he did give a 
 few hundred more than the place was worth. He 
 had never yet been beaten. People should not 
 have the chance to say he was beaten now. 
 
 "Twenty-nine hundred," came from under the 
 trees.
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 157 
 
 "Twenty-nine fifty," from the piazza.. Caleb 
 stood like a gladiator. His arms were folded, head 
 erect. All eyes were turned in his direction. He 
 knew who was bidding against him, yet he could 
 not understand why Cyrus should bid so persist 
 ently. Still he had a thousand yet to offer, and he 
 felt sure Cyrus would quit before that figure was 
 reached. 
 
 "Three thousand," from Caleb. Would old 
 Shylock keep it up ? No, his limit had been 
 reached. After a long wait up went the fatal stick. 
 
 "Sold! What s the name?" 
 
 "Caleb Abbott," answered Caleb, in a clear 
 voice. 
 
 A few nights after the sale the usual crowd col 
 lected at the store. The weather made a difference 
 in the choice of seats. Instead of squatting around 
 the stove they were all outside in the mid-summer 
 twilight, some sitting on the steps whittling; some 
 on the empty cases outside. Most of the "regu 
 lars" had been over to inspect the new depot, 
 which was fast nearing completion, and all talk 
 tonight was concentrated on two subjects, the new 
 depot and Caleb Abbott. They had discussed Sam
 
 158 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Young and Mrs. Bean for days past. It had hap 
 pened that Sam Young and Mrs. Bean had packed 
 up and gone away one night in the early summer ; 
 vamosed ; eloped so they said. Such a scandal had 
 been unknown in Rushton for years. But they 
 had gone, that was sure. Young left behind him 
 numerous unpaid bills, and Mrs. Bean a houseful 
 of little Beans. "Pea beans," so Ed remarked. 
 But that subject had been worn threadbare. 
 
 The auction had taken place. Caleb Abbott had 
 bought the Silas Holt place for three thousand 
 dollars. 
 
 "Can t understand it," said Hen. " Tain t but 
 a little over a year ago that Old Shylock had a 
 mortgage on Caleb s place for five hundred. Now 
 he s gone into the granite business, bought the 
 finest place in town, and is studying law, too, so I 
 hearn." 
 
 "How did you know his place was mortgaged?" 
 retorted Seth. "Seems as if some folks knows 
 everybody s business." 
 
 "Well, you needn t get your dander up, Seth," 
 replied Hen. "Father saw it recorded down to the
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 159 
 
 County building, when he was down there a year 
 ago. That s how I know." 
 
 "What did I tell ye, over a year ago?" said the 
 Deacon, "when you fellers was talking bout his 
 comin down off his high hoss and going to work? 
 Didn t I tell ye then that I guessed he knew how? 
 And while you fellers have been sitting around 
 talking about him, he s made money; in less than 
 two years, too." 
 
 "How the devil did he get money nough in that 
 time to buy a three thousand dollar place and pay 
 up a mortgage besides?" asked Hen. 
 
 "How?" almost yelled Seth, "how? In the first 
 place by selling cows that warn t bringing him in 
 a dollar, then by working day and night and saving 
 his money. Didn t I ask you last winter when 
 grain was so high how much you was making on 
 milk?" 
 
 "Yes, you did," retorted Hen, "and I told you I 
 sold forty dollars in milk in December." 
 
 "Yes, that s so," answered Seth. "Then I asked 
 you what you paid for grain to the milk trust, and 
 you said your grain bill for December was thirty- 
 two dollars. Ever take thirty-two from forty when
 
 160 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 you went to skule, Hen, and see what s left? If 
 you didn t I ll tell you; it s eight. And you don t 
 say nothing of the hay and fodder you feed, be 
 sides your time." 
 
 "Yes, that may be all right s ; but you ain t 
 showed me yet where he got his money," replied 
 Hen with a sneer. 
 
 "Well, I can guess where he got some of it," 
 answered Seth, who was always Caleb s champion. 
 "He kept his best cows, butter cows. What with 
 his egg and butter money, a high-priced boarder, 
 and selling wood at four dollars a cord delivered; 
 working for three fifty a day; doing mowing at 
 fifty cents an hour; and doing his own work before 
 and after his day s labor; besides tradin and other 
 ways we don t know anything about ; and piling it 
 all away. I guess you ll find the money accumu 
 lated easy." 
 
 "That s so," chuckled the deacon. "And you 
 mark my words ; that young man will be the rich 
 est man in Rushton inside ten years, barring the 
 banker." 
 
 "Yes," Seth answered, "you fellers just sit 
 around and see him grow ! But you re all so curi-
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 161 
 
 ous bout the Silas Holt place. I ll just give you 
 a piece of news to chaw over. Tain t no secret; if 
 twas I d keep it to myself. Caleb didn t buy that 
 place at all. He just bid it in for Mr. Upton, the 
 banker, and he got five per cent., or one hundred 
 and fifty dollars for doing it. That s one way he 
 gets his money. Makes more in one day than you 
 fellers do a-raisin milk in a year." 
 
 Now the secret was out, everyone felt relieved. 
 Strange, is it not, how certain people worry about 
 other people s business? Some one starts a store. 
 Everybody looks dubious. " Twill never pay in 
 this town !" They begin to feel sorry for the poor 
 fool who has made the venture. But it does pay, 
 and the other store? that still pays, too. Susie 
 Smith comes out Easter Sunday in a new hat. "It 
 must have cost as much as three dollars. Her 
 father better pay Jim Jones the two dollars he s 
 owed him for over a year, stead of his daughter 
 buying new three-dollar hats." But Susie earns 
 her own money, she doesn t know anything about 
 her father s "owing two dollars." Strange she 
 doesn t know it; everybody else in the village does. 
 But there are a few things that these gossiping
 
 162 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 villagers do not get hold of, and among the few 
 are Caleb s affairs. He knows how to keep his 
 affairs to himself, a characteristic which few of us 
 have.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FALLEN FORTUNES. 
 
 Mr. Upton had come on from New York to 
 make his home in Rushton, and tonight he was 
 sitting on the piazza together with Marjorie, Mrs. 
 Abbott, and Caleb. 
 
 "Do you know, Caleb, I can realize tonight how 
 a man feels who has been serving a long sentence 
 in prison, and has just obtained his liberty. Mar 
 jorie, my dear child, do you realize that I am 
 through work, and that I am to be with you for 
 all time?" 
 
 "Yes, Papa, I do, and I am so happy. Won t it 
 be nice to go to our own new home on the hill? 
 Not but what I have enjoyed myself very much 
 here, dear Mrs. Abbott," she quickly added, "but 
 there is something so different about your own
 
 164 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 home, no matter how nice and homelike some 
 other place may be." 
 
 "Indeed you are right, Marjorie," Mrs. Abbott 
 replied. "I don t think I could possibly leave my 
 own home." 
 
 "I hope you will never have to, Mother," said 
 Caleb. Then turning to Mr. Upton he continued, 
 "I suppose you intend remodeling right away, do 
 you not?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," Mr. Upton replied, "and I want you 
 to take general charge if you will. Of course there 
 will be a boss carpenter and a boss plumber. I 
 intend putting up a windmill and shall have both 
 the house and barn piped. And also a landscape 
 gardener. But I want you to overlook it all, if 
 you will." 
 
 "I have no other engagements that will prevent 
 me. Haying is over, and it will be a little slack 
 from now until sledding again. Still, it is rather 
 out of my line. Do you think me capable of the 
 duties?" 
 
 "I certainly do, else I should not have asked you 
 to take the position. I don t expect you to do
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 165 
 
 much of the work, but to use your brains while 
 the workmen use their hands." 
 
 "What improvements do you intend to make, 
 Papa?" asked Marjorie. 
 
 "Well," her father replied, "I have my plans 
 pretty well laid out. Let me give you a rough idea 
 of what I intend to do. Of course I want to agree 
 with you in regard to the house. Beginning with 
 the barn, I can t see as I can improve it any on the 
 outside at all. It s a fine large barn, and needs 
 nothing on the outside but paint. Of course I 
 shall repaint all the buildings. But I shall remodel 
 the lower part of the barn entirely. I intend to put 
 in a new floor, and finish the interior in Norway 
 pine or cypress. I shall have box stalls and a 
 harness room, also a room for the coachman. I 
 intend ploughing up and leveling down that un 
 gainly hump in front of the house, grading the 
 lawn properly. Then I shall build on a large 
 veranda, having for an underpinning our rusty 
 granite from the Rushton Granite Company. I 
 don t know of anything else to speak of on the 
 exterior of the house. It is a grand old colonial 
 mansion now, and I don t want to spoil its lines.
 
 166 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Inside, however, I shall make many changes. 
 That is," laughingly he added, "with your permis 
 sion, my dear Marjorie, as you will be mistress. 
 Here are some of the possible changes. In the 
 first place we must have a bath room. Do you 
 remember that great, unused closet near the 
 central chimney upstairs? Well, that will make a 
 fine bath room, it is so conveniently situated. 
 Then, downstairs I shall take away the partition 
 which divides the hallway from the large front 
 room, open the whole into one great living room. 
 I shall also change the front stairway ; and face the 
 old fireplace with tile or fancy brick. I shall take 
 out those two closets which are each side the fire 
 place and make cozy corners in their places. We ll 
 put hard wood floors in the dining room and also 
 in the south room, which I shall convert into a 
 library and den for my own use. I shall use the 
 large shed which connects with the house and 
 which has been used for a wood shed in which to 
 put in either steam or hot water for heating pur 
 poses. The windmill which I shall erect, and in 
 fact have already placed an order for, will furnish 
 both the house and barn with water. We ll also
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 167 
 
 refurnish the entire house; repainting or staining 
 all the wood work and repapering every room. 
 The papering and furnishing I shall leave entirely 
 to you, my daughter. Now do you think I have 
 given you a clear idea of my plans?" 
 
 "Indeed I do," replied Marjorie, "and I shall 
 just enjoy my share of the responsibility." 
 
 "I think," said Caleb, "that your ideas are all 
 right. But it will cost a lot of money, and it will 
 be quite an innovation for Rushton." 
 
 "Well," smilingly answered Mr. Upton, "I 
 guess I can pay for it and still have a few dollars 
 left. I want everything up to date, even if it is in 
 the country." 
 
 Cyrus Whitney was going wrong. He was not 
 making money fast enough, at least so he thought. 
 His greed was not satisfied with eight and ten per 
 cent, per month. He wanted to double his money 
 in a week s time if possible, and he thought he had 
 found a way to do it. He had been advised to go 
 into stocks. He had made quite a study of stocks 
 and stock methods, and was thoroughly posted, he 
 thought. So others have thought; trusted bank 
 clerks, town treasurers, and others. But Cyrus
 
 168 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 had some grounds for his confidence. He had 
 been told to buy Coppers, and Coppers he had 
 bought. Not much, but they paid. In fact they 
 flew, and when Cyrus began to get his big returns 
 in such a short time, he regretted that he had been 
 all these years lending money for a paltry twenty 
 or thirty per cent. Why it was just like finding 
 money, this stock business! He hastened to con 
 vert his loans into cash, whenever he could; fore 
 closing some, selling others, in order to invest still 
 further in stocks. In fact he was now a confirmed 
 stock gambler with the gambler s craze. He could 
 not let go. The more he lost the more anxious he 
 was to place more where he had already invested 
 with vain hopes for returns. It doesn t take long 
 to spend a hundred thousand or so, when you are 
 always on the wrong side of the market. He woke 
 up every morning in anxious suspense as to what 
 the day would bring forth, and it was pretty sure 
 to bring forth something like this : "C B & Q off 
 two points, send two thousand to cover." Or, 
 "Copper down one and a half; must send fifteen 
 hundred." And off would go the money never to 
 return. One day he received a circular from a new
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 169 
 
 firm, "Pitcher & Vetts," stating that a firm was to 
 be formed to control certain stocks. His pride 
 knew no bounds. How did they know about him, 
 Cyrus Whitney, way up here in Rushton? Ah, 
 Cyrus ! the hawk flies many miles for the little jay, 
 and jays are thick in the country. He shifted his 
 investments and while the circular only suggested 
 a contribution of from one hundred to one thou 
 sand, Cyrus Whitney showed them that he was 
 liberal, and sent them the last two thousand dollars 
 he possessed. A few days later, the fatal yellow 
 paper came, stating that because of an extra heavy 
 shipment of gold to England, stocks are off two 
 points, and demanding that he send four thousand 
 at once. But Cyrus! The money-lender! He 
 had not four thousand to send. So while Pitcher, 
 who, a few years ago, was a dry goods clerk at nine 
 dollars per week, was off on a cruise in his new 
 ten thousand dollar yacht, and Vetts, who never 
 had been anything but a gambler, was driving a 
 four-in-hand somewhere through the country, 
 poor Cyrus Whitney saw ruin staring him in the 
 face. The fortune which it had taken a lifetime to 
 accumulate was swept away in a few short months.
 
 170 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 But he must not delay. His home would have to 
 be mortgaged. He must have the money to meet 
 the broker s demands, or lose everything. Ah! 
 Cyrus, you are not alone, and here in Free America 
 they won t even bury you after getting your all. 
 They will do this at Monte Carlo or send you 
 home after you are broke. 
 
 Rushton was booming. Many of the old, 
 unused buildings were now being occupied by 
 families who had found work and located in town. 
 Many of these places had been owned or partly 
 owned by Cyrus Whitney, who in his anxiety to 
 get ready money had sold them for anything they 
 would bring. Caleb, who had by this time quite 
 a sum of ready money, invested in several of these 
 places and immediately found tenants to occupy 
 them at a good rental. He had also bought the 
 saw and grist mill, and hired Edmund Taylor to 
 superintend the running of it. He was doing a big 
 business at the mill at the present time owing 
 principally to the building and repairing going on 
 in the village. Mr. Upton was installed in his new 
 home. The new depot was long since finished, and 
 many cottages had been newly built. Rushton
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 171 
 
 had a board of trade and also a real estate syndi 
 cate formed of Mr. Upton, Jack Stevens, Doctors 
 Sherman and Higgins, Deacon Patch, Caleb and a 
 few others. They had bought all the land and 
 buildings on both sides the main street, intending 
 to tear down or remove the weather-beaten 
 wooden buildings, and were to erect two fine 
 blocks of two stories each for stores and offices. 
 Merrill s grocery store was situated in one of these 
 old buildings and it looked as if his days of busi 
 ness in Rushton were short. 
 
 Tonight around the old store the usual crowd 
 were carrying on a brisk conversation. 
 
 "What yer going to do, Merrill, when the new 
 Boston Branch Store opens up?" asked Ed. 
 
 Don t know," sullenly replied Merrill. "Guess 
 I can do business just the same." 
 
 "I don t know bout that," said Seth. "You ll 
 have to meet their prices. If they sell coffee for 
 twenty-five cents a pound, you can t get thirty- 
 eight ; and if they sell terbacca three for twenty- 
 five you can t get ten cents a plug." 
 
 "I shall keep my prices just the same," retorted 
 Merrill, "and I suppose you fellers that has been
 
 172 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 grubbing on me an using my heat all winter an* 
 spitting terbacca juice all over the store will be the 
 first ones to desert me." 
 
 "Got to keep up to the times, Merrill. If Rush- 
 ton s going ahead we ve got to go ahead with it," 
 said the Deacon. 
 
 "Yes," angrily retorted Merrill, "an you re one 
 of em. You warn t satisfied with our nice little 
 town, but you ve got to help em out, with their 
 new fangled notions. The new railroad, that s 
 drove old John Libby out of business already. 
 Now you re talking of a man for a post master 
 that ll drive the widow post mistress out of busi 
 ness. Then you talk bout a new grocery store to 
 drive me out of business, an I suppose the next 
 thing will be a new hotel and drive Kettchum out 
 of town. Skinner is nearly broke now. Can t sell 
 off the cart any more, with your western beef 
 a-comin in. Pretty soon there won t be an old 
 inhabitant left." 
 
 "Well," answered Seth, "Libby s got money 
 enough to live on; the widow gets her pension; 
 there ain t many of us would be sorry to see 
 Kettchum s joint break up, and if Skinner wants
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 173 
 
 to buy western beef stead of old cows he can still 
 sell off the cart. These are movin days, Merrill, 
 an we ve got to move with em." 
 
 That s so," said the Deacon with a chuckle. 
 "And what did I tell yer bout Caleb Abbott mov 
 ing along. Comin most fast nough to suit yer, 
 ain t he? Half owner of the Rushton Granite 
 Company, director in the real estate syndicate, 
 president of the board of trade, owner of a saw and 
 grist mill and several pieces of real estate, just 
 admitted to the bar as a practicin lawyer, an 
 going to be selectman next town meetin , too. 
 How does that sound for a self-made man that 
 ain t twenty-five yet?" 
 
 "He s a pretty lucky man," said Ed with a sigh. 
 
 "Lucky," retorted Seth. "You all had the same 
 chance. Tain t luck ; it s work. It s seein things 
 as they come along. How many hours has he 
 killed setting round this old stove a-talkin of his 
 neighbors? How many hours has he put in 
 squattin around old Kettchum s dirty table playin 
 forty-fives? I tell you it s work and brains. An 
 while ye fellers has been setting round here 
 a-talkin about him an everybody else yer can
 
 174 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 find to talk bout, he s been studyin law to home 
 evenings for over two years. That s how he s done 
 it. Smart; you all know that. He ain t raised a 
 tater or a onion without fust figuring out if there 
 was any money in it." 
 
 "He ll be one of our next selectmen, by gosh!" 
 "Right you are, Seth," said Ed. "I admire him 
 for his pluck. Some of you fellers think he s stuck 
 up; he ain t. I know that. He ain t got time to 
 stop and talk nothing with everybody he meets. 
 That s all. He s square, and he ll get my vote, you 
 can bet on that." 
 
 >)c * HC ^c j|c 
 
 One morning after a slight fall of snow Mr. 
 Upton drove over to Caleb s bright and early. He 
 had his gun and hound with him. Meeting Caleb 
 in the yard he asked : 
 
 "Have you been to breakfast yet, Caleb?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," answered Caleb, "some time ago. 
 You see I don t have to get up and milk now. My 
 man does all the chores, so I find it hard to kill 
 time ; I eat breakfast early." 
 
 "Well," replied Mr. Upton, "I am glad of that. 
 Go get your gun and we will give the foxes a try.
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 175 
 
 This is a grand morning for them and they ought 
 to run well. This dog is one I have on trial and I 
 am anxious to use him. He is recommended 
 highly and if he doesn t start a fox or two today I 
 shall be greatly mistaken." 
 
 "1 don t know/ hesitated Caleb, "I don t want 
 to disappoint you, but I have so much to do. I 
 don t really think I ought to spare the time. Still, 
 I should enjoy a fox hunt on such a day as this." 
 
 "Now what have you got to do today that can t 
 wait until tomorrow?" asked Mr. Upton. 
 
 "Let me see; I ve got to go to the mill with 
 some orders for Taylor. Then there are some 
 repairs to be made on the Cummings cottage. I 
 have a tenant waiting to go in just as soon as I can 
 fix it up." 
 
 "Look here, Caleb," said Mr. Upton. "How 
 long is it since you had a holiday?" 
 
 Caleb laughed. "Since you speak of it, with one 
 exception it s just three years; and that exception 
 was the Holt auction. Thanks to your liberality 
 it was the best paid day s work I have ever done." 
 
 "If that auction is the only holiday you have had 
 in three years it s about time you had another. I
 
 176 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 insist on your coming with me. You have a man 
 here to look after things. We pass the mill on our 
 way, and you can let the repairs go one more day." 
 
 ".You have settled it," answered Caleb. "The 
 morning is so fine and the conditions are so good 
 for starting a fox that I guess I will go. I am 
 just longing for a shot at a fox. I sha n t be but a 
 minute getting ready. Come in while I get my 
 gun and shells; and put on my boots." 
 
 Off they went. What is more exhilarating than 
 a genuine fox hunt on some crisp winter morning, 
 over hill and meadow, through woods and pas 
 tures, with the sound of the deep baying of the 
 hounds always in your ears? The expectancy 
 every moment of seeing the sly old fellow pop into 
 view adds the final zest. 
 
 They went down the road, Caleb stopping at the 
 mill to leave his orders. Then, with all care ban 
 ished for the day, they started for the hunt. They 
 crossed the brook and the meadow beyond which 
 led to Cyrus Whitney s land. They had scarcely 
 ascended the first knoll, a likely place for a fox 
 with its wild, rocky surface, clumps of beech or oak 
 here and there, or again an open, beyond which
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 177 
 
 lay the deep forest of pine and hemlock, when the 
 hound with his nose to the ground caught the 
 scent. He dashed off, keeping up a prolonged, 
 deep baying, a sound dismal and weird to ^he 
 uninitiated, but most musical to the thorough 
 sportsman. 
 
 The track was fresh. Caleb and Mr. Upton 
 divided, Mr. Upton going to the left while Caleb 
 started to the right. Just beyond the second 
 growth of beeches Caleb caught a glimpse of the 
 fox, apparently making for a cover in the dense 
 woods behind Cyrus Whitney s home. He fol 
 lowed quickly. When just in the rear of the barn 
 he heard or thought he heard a shriek. He 
 stopped a moment to locate the sound to see if it 
 would be repeated. Again he heard it. It was an 
 agonized cry. He hastened toward the barn, 
 thinking it was from there that the sound had 
 come. As he neared the barn he heard the cry, 
 "Oh, Father!" then a sob. It sounded like Hilda s 
 voice. Could Hilda be in trouble? Quick as a 
 flash Caleb burst in the door. There he saw a sight 
 which nearly froze the blood in his veins. On a 
 beam above the central loft Cyrus Whitney hung
 
 178 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 suspended by a rope around his neck. His long, 
 lank figure stretched its full length. His eyes were 
 almost bulging from their sockets. Hilda, who 
 had climbed to the loft, was trying with all her 
 strength to lift her father, that his weight should 
 be off the rope. Taking in the situation at a 
 glance Caleb hastily ascended the ladder and with 
 out a word to Hilda, climbed to the upright cross 
 beam above, over which Cyrus had thrown the 
 rope. Lying flat upon the beam, he placed one 
 arm under the arms of Cyrus, while with his other 
 hand he cut the rope. Then hanging head down 
 ward, he easily and gently lowered Cyrus down to 
 the loft beneath, dropping down himself beside 
 him. He loosened the rope and Cyrus lay as one 
 dead at his feet. Then for the first time Hilda 
 spoke. 
 
 "Oh Caleb !" she cried in her anguish, "is it too 
 late is he dead?" 
 
 "No, I think not. But run you, Hilda, for 
 Doctor Sherman. Jump on your horse and bring 
 him here at once. I will do what I can while you 
 are gone. See ! he is alive !" as Cyrus gave a gasp. 
 "Go; don t fall!" Hilda needed no second bid-
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 179 
 
 ding. While Hilda s father had been close and 
 hard with others, he had always been gentle, and 
 for his hard nature, liberal with her. Hilda loved 
 her father, loved him even more perhaps because 
 she knew he had no other friend in the world. 
 While Hilda hurried to Dr. Sherman s, Caleb 
 worked his best over Mr. Whitney. He knew 
 nothing about such cases. But his natural good 
 sense told him he must do his best to get back the 
 circulation which had almost if not entirely 
 stopped, and when the doctor arrived, which he 
 did very soon, as he happened to be at home, 
 Cyrus had already shown signs of returning life. 
 Soon after the doctor s skilful work he was able to 
 walk to the house. 
 
 As they approached the house, Dr. Sherman 
 
 remarked : 
 
 "There is no necessity of this getting about. 
 We four are the only ones who know about it. 
 Mr. Whitney himself will scarcely speak of it, and 
 certainly Hilda will not. A doctor always has his 
 secrets, and you, Caleb, I know we can depend 
 upon you. But if inquiries are made, remember, 
 Mr. Whitney had a shock. It will be no falsehood.
 
 180 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 It certainly is a shock; to all of us in fact." Mr. 
 Whitney was put to bed, and the doctor shortly 
 joined Caleb in the sitting room. 
 
 "How is he now?" inquired Caleb. 
 
 "Oh, he will soon be asleep, and he will come 
 out of this right enough. But he is a physical 
 wreck; nerves all shattered, a weak heart and, if 
 he lives long, a weak intellect, too, I fear. He 
 can t live very long, however, naturally; and he 
 must be watched that he doesn t attempt anything 
 of the kind again. I am afraid his troubles have 
 unbalanced his brain. But he must not die by his 
 own hand, for his daughter s sake if for no other 
 reason. His days are numbered, poor man. It 
 must have been a terrible blow to him to see the 
 fortune which he had been a life-time accumulat 
 ing dwindle away to nothing in less than a year s 
 time." 
 
 "Yes," answered Caleb. "It is a fearful lesson, 
 yet he is not alone ; and no matter how many les 
 sons there are, there are still others left who think 
 they can beat a man at his own game, and find out 
 their folly only too late. I am glad he is improv-
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 181 
 
 ing; it would have been a terrible blow to Hilda to 
 have him die this way." 
 
 "That is true," replied Dr. Sherman. "He laid 
 his plans all right to have made a success of it. 
 The only reason it was a failure was because he 
 did not have the strength in his body to kick the 
 plank from under him, and so was slowly stran 
 gling to death. However, I must be off. If you 
 are going along I will give you a lift." 
 
 "No," answered Caleb, "I don t think I will go 
 yet. I will wait and see Hilda. Perhaps I can do 
 something for her, or give her some advice in 
 regard to her father." 
 
 "Very well. But I would not talk too long 
 today, old man ; some other day." 
 
 So the doctor took his departure. Shortly after 
 Hilda entered the room, her eyes red with weep 
 ing. 
 
 "You still here, Caleb?" she exclaimed. "How 
 kind of you to stop, and what a blessing that you 
 happened along! You have saved Father s life, 
 and I don t know how to thank you. Oh! he feels 
 so bad ! He cried like a baby and said he had not 
 a friend in the world. He said that he never knew
 
 182 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 until today that even I, his own daughter, loved 
 him. You see, we have never been very affection 
 ate, and he really thought I had no love for him. 
 But he knows now, and he is better for it. I told 
 him that you were his friend, too. He could 
 hardly believe it, but he wants to see you to 
 morrow, if you can spare the time." 
 
 "Certainly, I can run over tomorrow; in fact, I 
 intended to, anyway." 
 
 "Do," said Hilda. "I am afraid," with hesita 
 tion, "that his affairs are badly mixed up. I think 
 he wants your advice. Perhaps you have heard, 
 as others have, that our home is heavily mort 
 gaged?" Hilda added bravely, "and as you are a 
 lawyer now you can help him in his affairs." 
 
 "I am a lawyer, that s a fact ! I had forgotten all 
 about it. You see I have not put my shingle out 
 yet. I am waiting for the new block to be finished 
 and shall then open an office in it. You tell your 
 Father, Hilda, that this will be my first case, and 
 for advertising purposes I won t charge anything. 
 I believe that s the way the doctor did with one of 
 his first cases, and I guess the advertisement paid, 
 judging by the business he is doing now."
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 183 
 
 "You are very kind," said Hilda. "We don t 
 want to impose on you, but I am afraid," falter- 
 ingly, "there will not be much to pay any one with 
 anyway. I don t believe Father has a dollar left." 
 
 Shortly after, Caleb arose to go and Hilda 
 accompanied him to the door. Caleb reached in 
 his pocket and drew out a roll of bills. 
 
 "Here, Hilda," he said, "take this for present 
 uses." Seeing a look in Hilda s face of refusal he 
 added before she could refuse, "You will need 
 some money. You don t understand what it is to 
 be without it, with no credit." 
 
 "No, no !" said Hilda, "not from you, don t ask 
 me. I thank you just the same, but I cannot." 
 
 "But I insist," said Caleb. "You will need 
 money. It is only a loan." 
 
 "A loan," replied Hilda, sadly. "And how can 
 that loan be repaid, pray tell me?" 
 
 "I am your attorney now. It is no matter how 
 bad shape a client s affairs are in, trust a lawyer 
 for getting his share. You must take it. In fact 
 you shall take it," and Caleb pressed the bills into 
 her hand. He felt her fingers close upon the
 
 184 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 money, and he knew that he felt, too, a pressure 
 upon his own hand from hers. 
 
 Caleb was just descending the hill when he 
 heard a loud "Hello !" Looking back he saw Mr. 
 Upton approaching. He looked more closely and 
 saw him holding up to view a fox. 
 
 "Isn t he a beauty?" he shouted. 
 
 "Yes," Caleb replied as the two came together. 
 "Did he give you much of a run?" 
 
 "Indeed he did; a half dozen miles or more. 
 Say, this dog is a great hunter. He started an 
 other one, but I confess I was too fagged out by 
 the time I landed this one to follow the trail of a 
 second. I heard the discharge of a gun shortly 
 after and as the dog soon came back, I decided 
 that you had shot it. But as I see you have no 
 fox and in fact no gun," for Caleb in the recent 
 excitement had forgotten even the start of the 
 morning, "probably some other hunter shot it 
 ahead of the dog, for I am satisfied he would never 
 leave a scent after once starting. But where in 
 the world have you been?" So Caleb told him 
 that Mr. Whitney had had a shock in the barn, and 
 that as he happened to be passing the barn when
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 185 
 
 Hilda discovered her father, he had helped him 
 into the house, and had stayed throughout the day 
 with the doctor and Hilda. 
 
 "Poor Whitney!" Mr. Upton ejaculated. "I 
 am very sorry for Hilda, dear girl. I am glad you 
 happened along to assist them. But your day s 
 sport has been spoiled, nevertheless. We must go 
 again. I haven t enjoyed anything so for years. 
 I m so hungry, I could eat a bear."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN WHICH MANY THINGS HAPPEN. 
 
 The next day Caleb called at Mr. Whitney s and 
 was met at the door by Hilda, who took him to 
 her father, and then left them alone. Caleb was 
 suprised at the change in Cyrus. He had always 
 been tall, lank and lantern jawed. But now he 
 seemed almost a living skeleton as he sat in the 
 great armchair by the open fire, his eyes deep- 
 sunken, and his voice, that shrill squeaky voice, 
 dreaded in the past by many, was now so faint 
 that he spoke with an effort, almost in a whisper. 
 "The doctor was right," thought Caleb. "No 
 need of this man taking his own life. God will do 
 that very soon." 
 
 "How do you feel today, Mr. Whitney?" asked 
 Caleb in a cheerful voice. 
 
 "Feeble, very feeble, Caleb. I have got some 
 business to attend to and I guess I can t do it any
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 187 
 
 too soon. Be kind enough to bring me that large 
 iron box over there, please. Looks prosperous 
 don t it?" he added. "Well," with a sigh, "it has 
 been. How much do you suppose I was worth, 
 Caleb, twelve months ago?" 
 
 "I couldn t tell, sir," replied Caleb. "I have 
 heard your wealth estimated anywhere from fifty 
 to a hundred thousand." 
 
 "Oh! I don t like to think of it now," moaned 
 Cyrus. "Twelve months ago I could have cleaned 
 up a hundred and fifty thousand, today I have 
 nothing. I don t care much for myself," he added, 
 "it never did me much good. But Hilda, my 
 daughter, she could have used it well, and now. 
 But you won t let her come to want, Caleb, will 
 you. after I am gone? Say that you won t," he 
 moaned pitifully while the tears rolled down his 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Don t dwell on the past, Mr. Whitney, it s the 
 future you want to look into. As for dear Hilda, 
 she shall never want while I live. But let us see 
 what we can save out of this wreck. It may not 
 be as bad as you fear." Caleb opened the box 
 which was full of papers neatly tied into separate
 
 188 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 packages. Caleb looked through bundle after 
 bundle: Rushton bills; receipted stocks; bonds, 
 loans and notes ; in fact the papers of years. Lay 
 ing aside those which were paid or cancelled, he 
 put together in one heap those he was to look 
 over. 
 
 "There are a few stocks," said Cyrus, taking up 
 a package, "most of my dealings were on margins. 
 But I did buy a few cheap stocks outright. Now 
 here s some oil stock. There is quite a block of 
 it. It was only a few cents a share when I bought 
 it. It s non-assessable; and non-sellable, too," 
 he added with a sickly smile. "I have tried to sell 
 it several times, but could never find another fool 
 as big a fool as myself. It may be worth some 
 thing some day. Keep it, anyhow, and once in a 
 while look it up. Then here is some Klondike 
 Gold Company. Sounds good, don t it?" taking 
 up the papers. "I am supposed to be part owner 
 in several acres of land somewhere in Alaska, if 
 the company is still alive. You might possibly 
 hear from that some day. Put that aside too, and 
 keep track of it. Though the two together ain t 
 worth the paper they are written on in all proba-
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 189 
 
 bility." So they went on through the papers; 
 there was indeed little left of apparent value. 
 They talked over the mortgage and the several 
 attachments against the estate, Caleb giving Cyrus 
 such encouragement as he could, leaving him at 
 last, with a load lifted from his poor distracted 
 brain. 
 
 Hilda was sitting by the window in the sitting 
 room, when Caleb entered the room, engaged with 
 some kind of fancy work. The work had fallen in 
 her lap and she sat with her elbow on the window 
 sill gazing out at the beautiful view beyond. The 
 setting sun threw a few parting rays across her 
 beautiful hair. The snow which covered the hills 
 beyond, formed a background of virgin purity. 
 Hilda herself with a sad look on her face, but with 
 the roses still in her cheeks formed a picture never 
 to be forgotten. Caleb never realized before how 
 beautiful she really was. Her laughter had ever 
 been a pleasant sound to Caleb s ears. Now she 
 was in trouble, and he had never seen her sorrow 
 ful before. There was a new look in her face, and 
 he thought if anything it enhanced her beauty.
 
 190 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 He stood gazing in silent admiration; and Hilda, 
 as if she felt his gaze, turned and said, 
 
 "Oh! is it you, Caleb? And are you through 
 with business?" 
 
 "Yes," Caleb replied. "I think so, for today. 
 Now, Hilda, I will tell you what we have decided 
 to do. I think you ought to know because I do 
 not think your father will be with you long." 
 
 "Oh, do you think it must come so soon?" she 
 asked in alarm. 
 
 "Yes, I do. I thought it best to tell you. Now, 
 in a word, I will be as brief as possible. There are 
 a few things that must be attended to at once. In 
 the first place the interest on the mortgage is due 
 and must be paid. Then there are several attach 
 ments upon the property which tie up everything. 
 You can t dispose of anything if you wish to. 
 Moreover, these claims, your father says, are just, 
 and should be paid. We think it best to pay them 
 at once, thus to stop further costs. That is the 
 first thing to be done. The amount is not large." 
 Caleb did not tell Hilda that it would take several 
 hundred dollars to accomplish this. "And I have 
 offered the necessary amount to your father. I
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 191 
 
 was willing to take his note for the amount." 
 (Caleb knew that the note would be worth noth 
 ing.) "But he insists on my taking a second mort 
 gage as security. I dislike to do this, but as he will 
 not allow me to advance it on any other terms, I 
 have agreed to do it with your permission." 
 
 "But Caleb," answered Hilda, "I don t know 
 much about business and mortgages, but I have 
 heard that our place was mortgaged for all it is 
 worth, how then can your money be secured? I 
 cannot let you take chances of losing your hard 
 earned money to save our disgrace." 
 
 "Oh, I shall not be taking any chances," he re 
 plied, although he knew the great risk full well. 
 "You see the second mortgagee is like the lawyer, 
 he doesn t get left. Often times in order to protect 
 himself if he sees that he is really to stand a loss 
 on a forced sale, he buys in the first mortgage." 
 Caleb did not, however, tell her that he could not 
 protect himself in this way; that he did not have 
 ready money enough to buy in the first mortgage. 
 
 "If you are sure, Caleb, that you are taking no 
 chances and if you think this the best way out of
 
 192 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 our difficulties, I will do as you say. I put perfect 
 trust in you, Caleb." 
 
 "Thank you, Hilda, it is good of you to say 
 so. I hope I can prove faithful to the trust." 
 
 "I am sure you can," she replied. "How good 
 you are to Father." 
 
 "Your father, Hilda?" said Caleb, coming over 
 to where she stood by the mantel, "not your 
 father, Hilda, but to you ! Could I see this beau 
 tiful home taken from you? Could I see all these 
 tokens and knickknacks sold at public auction to 
 strangers? Could I see you cast adrift? You, 
 who were brought up in wealth and abundance? 
 No, no, Hilda, every article in this house is dear 
 to you, and being dear to you it is dear to me. 
 Hilda, dear, I have not got to tell you how I love 
 you ! You know it already ; you must have known 
 it all these years." 
 
 "Oh! don t Caleb!" she cried. "Don t! not 
 now ; wait, wait until " 
 
 "Until when, Hilda dear? Have I not been 
 waiting all these years? Have I not been waiting 
 ever since we were school children together for 
 this day? For the day when I could ask you to
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 193 
 
 be my wife. Why wait longer? You will never 
 need a protector as you do now. Let me be your 
 protector; your husband! Tell me, Hilda," he 
 pleaded, "do you love another?" 
 
 "No, I love no one," she answered. "No one" 
 and in a low voice, "but you." 
 
 "Hilda!" He had taken her in his arms now, 
 into his great strong arms, and she nestled there, 
 trembling like a frightened bird. Caleb had 
 waited for years for this day, hoping always that 
 no one could steal her heart until he would make 
 his way in the world : he was already fairly started 
 on the road to position and wealth. He knew she 
 loved him ; he knew she had loved him all these 
 years; she, the dearest, most beautiful girl in the 
 whole country. Long he held her in his embrace 
 while he rained kisses upon her lips, her cheek, her 
 hair. At last Hilda sobbed, "Not now, Caleb. 
 No, not yet. You have my love: let that be 
 enough. I can t marry you while in our present 
 position. I can t blast all your hopes for the 
 future. Caleb, I love you too well for that. In 
 the future ; in the years to come if you still love 
 me, come to me again." She was crying now.
 
 194 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Caleb drew her head down on his broad shoulder, 
 while he stroked her hair and told her over again, 
 the old, old story. That he had hoped and prayed, 
 too, aye, prayed that one day she should be his, 
 that he had worked and struggled for her alone, 
 and now that she was in trouble and distress should 
 he wait? "No, no! Hilda! Give me your answer 
 now. It must be yes. It shall be yes !" And 
 Hilda? Did she say "yes?" Could she help say 
 ing it? 
 
 When Caleb at last bade her good night the sun 
 had long since gone down in a blaze of glory leav 
 ing a soft and mellow twilight. Caleb strolled 
 home with a gladness in his heart, whistling mer 
 rily for companion s sake, to tell the dearest 
 mother in the world that he had won the sweetest 
 and most beautiful woman in all Rushton for his 
 wife. 
 
 $ $ * 
 
 Town meeting day had arrived, the greatest day 
 of the year in a country village; the one day in 
 the year when the entire male population turns 
 out. This is the day when the thrifty farmer takes 
 a day off for a holiday. He feels that he is entitled
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 195 
 
 to this day, no matter how much there is to be 
 done at home. The town needs him there; per 
 haps to save the town ! They can t get along with 
 out him. Silas, and Peleg, Reuben and Zeke, 
 Deacon and Parson, in fact all the citizens of the 
 township meet together; and gossip, too. The 
 meeting begins. Some one jumps up and shouts, 
 "Mr. Moderator!" and then he sits down again 
 feeling that he has saved the day. When Peleg 
 arrives at home he tells his good wife, Dorcus, 
 that if it hadn t been for him the town would have 
 appropriated a hundred dollars toward forming a 
 Board of Health. Silas boasts how he made the 
 best speech of the day when he "shut em off on 
 raisin the road agent s pay." Each thinks he does 
 his duty. Town meeting is the beginning of many 
 a political career. 
 
 Caleb himself was just starting on his career, 
 and he felt it his duty to be on hand early with the 
 rest to stay all day. Not that he was afraid of the 
 outcome of the election. He had been nominated 
 for selectman without opposition. He was practi 
 cally assured of being elected a member of the 
 Honorable Board. But there were many articles
 
 196 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 in the town warrant in which he was interested. 
 Caleb spoke well ; he possessed one of those clear, 
 deep penetrating voices which carries weight with 
 an audience, and he knew there would be much 
 opposition to some of the articles. One of these 
 articles read as follows : "Article Four : To see 
 if the town will build a concrete sidewalk, on the 
 westerly side of main street, beginning at the new 
 depot and running northerly, six hundred feet 
 more or less to the junction of main street and the 
 village centre and to appropriate money for the 
 same." Caleb himself had this article inserted in 
 the warrant. In a bright and snappy speech he 
 hoped the town would see fit to build the side 
 walk. He told them that this, the proposed side 
 walk, was much needed ; that it would be used in 
 fact by every inhabitant in town ; that it passed by 
 the two new blocks recently erected, in which were 
 located the principal stores and offices of the town, 
 as well as by the post office ; and that it was also 
 the direct and travelled way to the depot. No 
 sooner had Caleb sat down, then half a dozen 
 arose with a shout of "Mr. Moderator!" The
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 197 
 
 moderator, however, announced that Silas Hobbs 
 had the floor; and Silas Hobbs had his say. 
 
 "Mr. Moderator!" he began, "I m agin city im 
 provements. I m agin spending money for city 
 improvements! I want to know, Mr. Moderator, 
 what we farmers want of concrete sidewalks? 
 Our fathers, an our grandfathers afore us, warn t 
 afraid to walk on ploughed ground, an I ain t 
 nuther. I d sooner the town would propriate the 
 money to stamp out hog cholera." 
 
 "Mr. Moderator," replied Caleb, "I am sorry 
 Mr. Hobbs objects to concrete sidewalks, and pre 
 fers ploughed ground. I think myself that his feet 
 might get sore treading concrete sidewalks ; they 
 are not as soft as ploughed ground. But then he 
 would get used to it in time. If he missed the 
 rocks and stubble when on the sidewalk, he could 
 carry a few stones in his pockets and drop them 
 ahead of himself to stub his toe upon and remind 
 him of old times." 
 
 The laugh was on Silas. "And I was not aware, 
 Mr. Moderator, that Mr. Hobbs was afflicted with 
 hog cholera." The laugh was again on Silas. 
 "Pardon me, Mr. Moderator, perhaps I should 
 have said that I was not aware that Mr. Hobbs
 
 198 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 hogs were afflicted with hog cholera." Up jumped 
 Peleg Bronsdon; Silas Hobbs was thoroughly 
 quashed. 
 
 "Mr. Moderator, I don t think anyone s got any 
 right to come here and accuse Silas Hobbs of hav 
 ing hog cholera. We all know Brother Hobbs; 
 an we all know his hogs. The question is, shall 
 the town build this sidewalk? I say no!" he thun 
 dered, "a hundred times, no! As Silas says, our 
 fathers an our grandfathers have walked through 
 mud an slush over this same sidewalk for a hun 
 dred years, and if twas good nough for them, it s 
 good nough for me. We re getting a lot of new 
 fangled notions in town ; an the next thing they ll 
 want will be lectric lights or some other city 
 improvement." 
 
 Caleb answered Peleg s argument and several 
 others. When the question was at last put and the 
 hands counted, Caleb had won. The town of 
 Rushton entered a new career with its first public 
 improvement. Caleb was also elected selectman, 
 and not only was he elected, but elected by the 
 highest vote of the three, which according to rules 
 previously established, made him chairman of the 
 board.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE PASSING OF SHYLOCK WHITNEY. 
 
 During the past winter Doctor Sherman had 
 been very busy. There was a great deal of sick 
 ness in town, as there usually is around hog-kill 
 ing time, when the under-fed farmers gorge them 
 selves on pork as long as it lasts and then wonder 
 what s the matter with them. Dr. Sherman s skill 
 was well known and his fame fast spreading; he 
 was frequently called away on some difficult case, 
 or in consultation with some other physician. 
 
 Old Dr. Higgins had given up his practice 
 entirely. "I suppose I have money enough to last 
 Betsie and me as long as we live, and have a little 
 left over," he told Dr. Sherman. "I am getting 
 lazy, too, and I don t see any reason why I should 
 be going out, when I have to call you in, anyhow. 
 You seem to have got the confidence of all the 
 people hereabouts, and so I guess I will retire and
 
 200 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 enjoy life for the rest of my time. I never thought 
 I could enjoy life with that confounded rheuma 
 tism working all over me, but now that you have 
 cured me of it, Sherman, I think I can take some 
 pleasure, poking around the garden and calling on 
 old friends." 
 
 "I heard a joke once," replied Dr. Sherman, "in 
 regard to rheumatism, that I thought pretty good. 
 It seems there was an old man who had suffered 
 for years with rheumatism and had tried every 
 known remedy without obtaining any relief. One 
 day he was sitting by the window suffering from 
 pain more than usual, when a sudden twinge 
 caused him to jump. He kicked his leg clear 
 through the window, and the pane was gone." 
 
 "That s good!" roared the old doctor. "No 
 wonder your patients get well, with your bright, 
 sunny ways and always a pleasant word. I believe 
 these count for more cures than your medicine." 
 
 "Perhaps so," replied Dr. Sherman, "but there 
 is one subject I am serious about, and that is con 
 sumption. There must be a cure for it, if it could 
 only be found ; and I mean to discover it if there is 
 such a cure. Strange that, with all our science and
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 201 
 
 new discoveries, someone has not yet found a cure 
 for this dread disease." 
 
 "Yes, it is strange," answered Dr. Higgins. "I 
 think myself that it will be discovered some time, 
 but it won t be in my day, and I am afraid not in 
 yours, Sherman." 
 
 Dr. Sherman, though busy, found time to call 
 frequently at Mr. Upton s new home, where he 
 was always welcome. Mr. Upton had taken a 
 great fancy to him and Marjorie herself seemed 
 pleased to see him. He knew that he was making 
 little if any progress in his love affair. But he 
 hoped against hope that the day would come when 
 she would forget Caleb and turn to him. It had 
 been a terrible blow to Marjorie when she heard 
 of Caleb s engagement to Hilda. She was glad for 
 Hilda s sake that she had found such a true and 
 noble love; she had tried, moreover, to make her 
 self think that she was fast forgetting her own love 
 for Caleb. But now that she knew he was lost to 
 her, she felt that she still loved him, although she 
 tried bravely to hide her feelings from her father 
 and the world. She succeeded in deceiving all, 
 except Dr. Sherman. He knew that way down
 
 202 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 deep in her heart she still loved Caleb, and it 
 caused him great pain. Why could he not have 
 the love of this beautiful girl? He would have it 
 he vowed. In time she must forget. He would 
 wait. Yes, he would wait for years for the love of 
 such a girl as Marjorie. But would Marjorie live 
 for years? There were the seeds of that dread 
 disease in her system. He knew it, although he 
 tried hard to deceive himself into believing other 
 wise. But her listless ways, her pale cheeks, and 
 those blue veins ! Occasionally he had noticed the 
 flush on her cheek, which was not the flush of 
 health, and lately she had a dry cough that every 
 time he heard it caused a pain in himself like a 
 knife wound. Dr. Sherman had advised Mr. Upton 
 to take a trip to the south or west the past winter, 
 but Marjorie did not wish to leave her beautiful 
 home and they had remained in Rushton. 
 
 One day in early spring, after the doctor had 
 called at Mr. Upton s, Marjorie herself accom 
 panied him to the door. It was one of those cold, 
 raw days of easterly winds and drizzling rain that 
 cut like a knife and seem to penetrate everywhere. 
 The doctor was just bidding her goodbye and ad-
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 203 
 
 vising her to stay indoors today, when she started 
 to reply, but a coughing fit, more violent than he 
 had ever heard her have, seized her. Hastily rais 
 ing her handkerchief to her lips, a fine gauzy affair, 
 the doctor s quick eye discerned a small dark red 
 stain. 
 
 "Goodbye, Miss Upton," he said abruptly, and 
 strode down the driveway. "Oh, God!" he cried 
 to himself, "she must not die ! She must not die ! 
 Oh ! this fearful, deadly, lingering disease, that 
 baffles all the medical fraternity! There must be 
 some cure: there shall be some cure for it, and I 
 will find it. I will devote all my time to it. It 
 must be found quickly, too. Oh, Marjorie!" he 
 wailed, "wait! Give me time, my darling. I will 
 find it, only give me time." On he strode down 
 the drive, through the lane, and along the high 
 way, the rain beating on his face, the winds howl 
 ing about him, thinking, dreading, praying. He 
 was like a mad man. He observed nothing, 
 thought of nothing, except Marjorie and the awful 
 disease which was sapping her beautiful young life 
 
 away. 
 
 *****
 
 204 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Rushton was indeed booming. The new blocks 
 were finished, and were an immediate addition to 
 an attractive town. In one of the blocks were 
 located the new Boston Branch Grocery store and 
 the new market. Cow meat was now a relic of 
 by-gone days in Rushton. A millinery store was 
 on the second floor with the offices of various busi 
 ness concerns. The Rushton Board of Trade 
 occupied one; the Real Estate syndicate another; 
 the Rushton Granite Company still another, with 
 Jack Stevens for manager. The large front office 
 was occupied by Caleb, who had now his shingle 
 out, a new handsome sign reading as follows: 
 "Caleb Abbott, Attorney at Law, Justice of the 
 Peace. Notary Public, Real Estate, Insurance and 
 Mortgages." In the other block was a new dry 
 goods store, and the post office. The greater part 
 of the second floor was taken up with a fine large 
 hall, with its dressing rooms, which was soon to be 
 occupied by a new lodge of Odd Fellows. Old 
 Skinner s leather cart was a thing of the past in 
 Rushton. He had located now in Weed Village, 
 where they still hankered for tuberculosis cows 
 and bob veal. Poor Lucinda French had retired
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 205 
 
 on her pension. No more would she comment on 
 Cynthia McDonald s love letters. By the way, 
 Cynthia was long since married to her "best feller 
 down to Manchester." She had gone down there 
 to work in the mills, to support him. Old 
 Kettchum still "hung out," but the days of his 
 hotel were numbered. A fine, new, modern build 
 ing was now in the process of construction for a 
 hotel. Poor Kettchum had been soaked fifty 
 dollars twice within a year by the L. P. O. G. T. 
 League, who were getting poor and being in need 
 of money saw a good opportunity of getting it. 
 Hiram still came around with fish. Rushton could 
 not yet get along without Hiram, his genial smile, 
 and pleasant word for all. Libby, the stage driver, 
 was driving the depot carriage, and had bought a 
 new horse which he said was fast. "Could go in 
 side a mile in three minutes." The concrete side 
 walk had been built, with edgestone from the 
 Rushton Granite Company. In fact the sidewalk 
 was used by everyone in town except by Silas 
 Hobbs, who still walked in the middle of the street 
 on his way to and from the post office. "I ve 
 never had a corn or bunion yet ; and by gosh ! I
 
 206 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 ain t agoin to, if I can help it. So, I ll keep off 
 the darned, old, concrete sidewalk," he remarked. 
 Through Caleb, Rushton boasted of an ice plant, 
 perhaps the only one of its kind in New Hamp 
 shire. One night during a meeting of the Board 
 of Trade Caleb proposed starting an ice plant for 
 the benefit of all. He would allow a house to be 
 built upon his land on the shore of the little pond 
 which was made by the dams at the mill ; he would 
 furnish lumber at cost to build the same. He 
 promised the sawdust, and allowed the use of his 
 horses free. Then he proposed forming a com 
 pany to cover the cost, which would be in the 
 neighborhood of three hundred dollars, by issuing 
 shares, twenty shares at ten dollars each, to be 
 preferred stock, and twenty shares at five dollars 
 each as common stock. The preferred stock was 
 to be issued to those who did not care to or were 
 not able to work getting in the ice, and they were 
 to be paid for in cash. The twenty shares at five 
 dollars a share were to be issued to the middle and 
 poorer classes, who were allowed to work out the 
 price, at the rate of one dollar and fifty cents a day ; 
 or two and a half days work for their five-dollar
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 207 
 
 share. They could do this work either in the con 
 struction of the house or in the cutting or getting 
 in of the ice. Each holder of stock could obtain 
 ice free for their own family use. To those who 
 wished ice, and had no shares in the company, ice 
 was to be sold at the rate of fifteen cents a hun 
 dred and this money was to be the dividend each 
 year. As there would be no cost after the house 
 was built there must be a dividend each year. 
 Caleb s plan met with instant approval and the 
 plant was established. A good plan for some 
 other small village to adopt. 
 
 Other buildings were being erected all over the 
 village. The Granite Company was doing a big 
 business, employing several hands. The pulp mill 
 was running overtime. The directors had put in a 
 dynamo and were supplied with electric lights. 
 Next year there would probably be an article in 
 the town warrant to raise the money for electric 
 lights. Caleb s saw-mill was pushed to its utmost 
 capacity. A new woolen mill had been built just 
 below Rushton, whose employees lived mostly in 
 the town. Rushton was indeed fast putting on the 
 ways of a country city. The town was growing
 
 208 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 fast, and Caleb was growing with it, and helping 
 it grow. 
 
 Cyrus Whitney had lingered all winter, growing 
 weaker and weaker. He seemed to hang on to 
 life as he had hung on to everything else he had 
 gotten hold of. One afternoon when it seemed as 
 if he could not live through the day Hilda came in 
 and sat by his side. Poor Cyrus! the hard, cold 
 man of the world at last realized that there was 
 something else to live for besides money. Strok 
 ing his daughter s hair he said : 
 
 "Hilda, I think you had better send for the 
 parson tomorrow. I never believed much in 
 church, but I guess there is something in it after 
 all. Anyway, I know you will feel better to have 
 him come. Not that it would do me much good," 
 he added, as if ashamed to give in. "But perhaps 
 it s better so. I have been called a hard man, 
 Hilda, but your poor old Father never did a crime. 
 I guess I ve lived pretty near the ten command 
 ments even if I didn t go to church. I have always 
 been honest, Hilda. I have never cheated. I ve 
 always lived within the law, and if I have charged 
 some a pretty high rate of interest that s their
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 209 
 
 fault. They never would have come to Old Shy- 
 lock for money if they could have got it anywhere 
 else." 
 
 "No, Father, I don t think you have broken any 
 laws. Perhaps it would be better to have the 
 parson come over. I hope you will be with us a 
 long time yet. But it can do no harm to have him 
 come." 
 
 "Hilda, after he has been here you might send 
 over a barrel of potatoes to the parsonage; taters 
 are high now, and I guess he can use them all 
 right. We ve got enough to carry us through." 
 
 "Yes, Father, I think he would appreciate 
 them." 
 
 "And, Hilda, I m rather glad now that you and 
 Caleb and the Upton girl and the doctor have kept 
 up that Thanksgiving business. I suppose there 
 are some people that find it hard to get along. By 
 the way, Hilda, I haven t seen Caleb lately. He 
 ain t away, is he?" 
 
 "Oh, no! Father," answered Hilda. "There is 
 nothing for him to come for now. Besides he is 
 very busy. If you want him I will send for him to 
 come."
 
 210 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 "Well, I wish you would. Tell him to drop in 
 in a day or two, I would like to see him. I like 
 that boy. He s a wonder, and already a selectman. 
 He makes me think of myself in my younger day. 
 They used to call me a hustler then, though I 
 guess the boy ain t quite as close as I used to be." 
 
 "No," replied Hilda, "I have heard it said that 
 he is very liberal." 
 
 "I often thought," continued her father, "that 
 he liked this little girl of mine pretty well and that 
 this little girl used to like him. I rather hoped 
 lately that, well that there might be something 
 in it." 
 
 "Would you be pleased if there was, Father?" 
 asked Hilda sweetly. 
 
 "My dear girl, nothing would please me more. 
 I could die happy then if I knew my daughter 
 would be taken care of by such a big, strong and 
 honest fellow as Caleb." 
 
 "Father," Hilda spoke gently, "Caleb has asked 
 me to be his wife." 
 
 "And you, Hilda? You haven t refused him?" 
 anxiously asked her father. 
 
 "No, but neither have I really promised. But
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 211 
 
 there is an understanding between us," replied 
 Hilda, blushing. 
 
 "Thank God, I can die happy now. Hilda, I 
 want some singing when I am being laid away, 
 and a plain funeral. If there is anything left after 
 I am gone, or if those stocks should ever pay, I 
 shouldn t mind if you should give something to 
 the poor." 
 
 "Yes, father, but you are getting tired. Let me 
 fix your pillow, then you must go to sleep." So 
 Hilda, having deftly arranged the pillows, and 
 kissed her father goodnight, stole softly out of the 
 room. 
 
 The next day the parson came over. He came 
 none too soon. A few days later when Hilda 
 went in to see her father, he lay asleep with a smile 
 on his face and her picture in his hand. She stole 
 softly to the bed to draw the clothes closer around 
 him, accidentally touching his hand. It was so 
 cold that she started with a little cry, and leaning 
 over him she whispered, "Father!" She could not 
 hear him breathe. Could it be possible; was he 
 dead?
 
 212 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Yes, Cyrus Whitney would breathe no more. 
 His weak heart had refused to work longer, and he 
 had gone to his God. In the world beyond he 
 would be judged. Hilda drew the sheet over his 
 face, and hurried out to tell Mary to go to Mrs. 
 Abbott s at once for Caleb. She then went to her 
 own room, there to be alone with her grief.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MR. UPTON BECOMES YOUNG AGAIN. 
 
 The day after the funeral Mr. Upton had driven 
 over after Hilda. "Marjorie wants you to come 
 and visit her," he had said. "She is not feeling 
 very bright, and she wishes to see you. It must be 
 lonely here for you now." Hilda went back with 
 him, where amidst new scenes and with Marjorie, 
 her dear friend, she could forget her new, keen 
 sorrow. 
 
 Mr. Upton had been a frequent caller at the 
 Abbott s and although he pretended to run over 
 to see Caleb he usually called when he knew Caleb 
 would be away. As Marjorie had Hilda for com 
 pany now he thought he would run in for a 
 moment. Caleb was not at home. Still he did not 
 seem to feel disappointed, neither was he in a 
 hurry to go. It was about nine o clock on that 
 bright June day, and the Widow Abbott had just
 
 214 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 finished her morning s work. She was busily 
 engaged in putting the milk pans in their rack 
 outside the door, when Mr. Upton came into the 
 yard. 
 
 "Good morning, Mrs. Abbott," he said. "Is 
 Caleb at home?" 
 
 "No," she answered with a smile. "Don t you 
 remember he told you yesterday that he was 
 obliged to run down to the county building today 
 on a legal matter?" 
 
 "Oh! so he did. I am getting very forgetful," 
 he said, as he seated himself on the bench near the 
 door. "You are always working, Mrs. Abbott," 
 he added. "Don t you ever get tired of work?" 
 
 "Oh, no ! Why should I ? I have always 
 worked. I don t have any too much to do now, 
 just enough to keep me busy." She had just set 
 another pan in the rack, which was so bright and 
 shiny that it reflected her face almost as well as a 
 looking glass. Mr. Upton sat with one leg care 
 lessly dangling over the bench, sitting in such a 
 way that he could see Mrs. Abbott without her 
 knowing that he was looking at her. He sat 
 studying her as if she were a young girl of eigh-
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 215 
 
 teen, commenting to himself, "She s plump, and 
 her arm is clear and pretty yet." He thought, 
 "There are not many lines of care on her face, her 
 hair, though nearly white, is very becoming 
 around such a healthy face. I can still see the 
 roguish twinkle in her eye, too ! I ll bet if I chal 
 lenged her for a race now she d do it the same as 
 she used to at school ; and she d beat me, too ! I 
 wonder if she d take the stump for a teedle-bend- 
 os, if there were any ice," and he laughed aloud. 
 
 "Will you tell me, Mr. Upton," she asked, "what 
 you find to laugh about?" 
 
 "Yes, I will, Mattie, excuse me, Mrs. Abbott, I 
 was thinking of that day at school when you 
 stumped me to go across the pond, teedle-bend-os, 
 and how you got across all right, and how I went 
 through up to my waist, and was wondering if 
 you would stump me now." 
 
 Mrs. Abbott was laughing herself now. "So 
 you remember that, do you, Sa Mr. Upton? I 
 am afraid the ice would have to be pretty thick to 
 hold you up. But I often think of those days and 
 wish I could live them over."
 
 216 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 "Do you think of me," he asked, "when think 
 ing of those days?" 
 
 "Of course I do," she replied. "Were you not 
 always there? How could I think of those days 
 without thinking of you, too ?" The conversation 
 was drifting dangerously near something like 
 sentiment. Mr. Upton felt bashful. How could 
 he ask her to marry him? He had made up his 
 mind to ask her to be his wife some time ago, yet 
 he always went home saying to himself, "Well, I ll 
 have it over with, tomorrow." 
 
 "What are you going to do, Mrs. Abbott," he 
 inquired, "if I am not too personal, when Caleb 
 gets married?" 
 
 "Oh," she replied with a sigh, "I suppose I shall 
 run the farm just the same; our man, John, is a 
 good worker, and I guess we can get along. Caleb 
 wants me to live with him, and insists that I do. 
 But I believe in letting the young folks have their 
 own way when they get married. I don t believe 
 in mothers-in-law ! 
 
 "The idea of your being in the way !" said Mr. 
 Upton. "They would be glad to have you with 
 them."
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 217 
 
 "Yes, I really think they would, but I have set 
 opinions on the mother-in-law business. No mat 
 ter how pleasant and well liked you are before, 
 after marriage the mother-in-law is always in the 
 way." 
 
 "Sit down, Mattie," he said, "I have a proposi 
 tion to make to you." Mrs. Abbott came and sat 
 down beside him. "How would you like to be my 
 housekeeper?" he blurted out. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Upton, I could not be that; Caleb 
 would not let me work for pay, even if I wanted 
 to, and there is no necessity for it, either." 
 
 "I don t mean that. I didn t mean to pay you." 
 Still that wasn t just the way he meant to put it, 
 either. 
 
 "Didn t mean to pay me !" she exclaimed indig 
 nantly. "What did you think, Samuel Upton? 
 That I was homeless, and you simply meant to 
 offer me a home?" 
 
 "Yes, that s what I meant," he answered. "I 
 simply offered you a home." 
 
 "Well, I am surprised," she said rising. "I 
 really I feel it an insult, Mr. Upton. I don t 
 know what to say to you, but Caleb would be very
 
 218 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 much provoked if he knew that you offered me a 
 home." 
 
 "You don t understand, Mattie, I mean I 
 mean " 
 
 "Well, what do you mean ?" 
 
 "I want to give you a home. I want you to be 
 my wife." There ! it was over, and he felt relieved. 
 
 "Your wife ? You mean that an old woman like 
 me, a hard-working country woman like me, mis 
 tress in your grand house? Samuel Upton, you 
 are crazy!" Still she felt flattered and came and 
 sat beside him again. 
 
 "No, Mattie," he exclaimed, "I m not crazy. I 
 love you as well as a man of my years can love. 
 You are not an old woman. You are not as old 
 as I, and I feel young yet. I can give you all there 
 is to want for in this world, and can make you 
 happy, I know. You won t have to work: only 
 to superintend the servants. And Marjorie loves 
 you as she would her own mother. She is not very 
 well," he added sadly. "She needs a mother s care. 
 Perhaps I am selfish in asking you, but I want you 
 not only for my sake but partly for Marjorie s, 
 too."
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 219 
 
 "I don t know what to say," she answered. "I 
 love Marjorie, and I would like to be with her and 
 help her back to health. But this is so sudden. I 
 would like to think it over." 
 
 "Why think it over, Mattie?" he said, taking 
 one of her hands in his. "You usually think 
 quickly. Why not give me an answer now?" 
 
 "I don t know I I" 
 
 "There now," he said, "don t cry," and reaching 
 down he kissed her. 
 
 "Don t, Sam," she exclaimed, "don t! There 
 comes John ; he must have seen you !" In fact 
 John, who was just coming around the barn, did 
 see them, but John was wise and he was human, 
 too, so he sneaked back again out of sight. 
 
 "Did John see me, do you think?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, he did. I know he did. How could he 
 have helped it?" 
 
 "Well, I am glad he did, because you will have 
 to say yes now. How would you feel when John 
 tells somebody that he saw Mr. Upton kissing Mrs. 
 Abbott out in the back yard? That will never do 
 to get around the village, will it?" 
 
 "Now you are taking a mean advantage of me,"
 
 220 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 answered Mrs. Abbott. "I ll have to give in, I 
 suppose ; that is, after I see what Caleb says. But 
 I must go in now. You d better go home, Sam. 
 Come over in a day or two, and see Caleb." 
 "Give me a kiss before I go, Mattie." 
 "No, I won t either. Suppose John is looking." 
 "Well, I won t press you now, Mattie. But say, 
 I really think you are getting your second youth. 
 When you blushed that time you looked like a 
 young girl." 
 
 "There ! you run along home, Sam !" she replied. 
 "You act just as you used to at school." So he 
 went. He always used to go when Mattie told 
 him to, at school, and he supposed he would have 
 to do as she said now. 
 
 "Won t Marjorie be pleased!" he thought, as 
 he crossed the meadow.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DR. SHERMAN S QUEST. 
 
 Dr. Sherman, since the day he had left Marjorie 
 in the rain, had been working incessantly to dis 
 cover if possible a cure for lung troubles. He had 
 fitted up a little laboratory off of his office. Night 
 after night he worked over the problem without 
 any satisfactory results. He would breakfast in 
 the morning, make his daily calls, then hurry home 
 again, and if there were no urgent cases, throw 
 himself on his bed and snatch a few hours sleep. 
 
 "You will wear yourself out, Sherman," Dr. 
 Higgins would say. "You are too young a man 
 to throw your life away. Let it alone; let some 
 one who has more time on his hands make this dis 
 covery." 
 
 "No, I can t wait," he would reply. "I must 
 find it, and find it soon. I think I am making 
 some progress; but it is slow work, and there is
 
 222 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 nothing sure. I must have some animals to try 
 it on." 
 
 "I don t like it," his good wife, Betsie, would 
 say. "It don t seem right to torture the poor little 
 creatures." 
 
 "I don t torture them, Mrs. Higgins," the doc 
 tor would reply. "I haven t tried it on them yet, 
 and when I do, it will only make them sick. Then 
 I shall try and cure them. If I fail I will put them 
 painlessly out of their sickness. But even if I 
 should torture one hundred or two hundred pigs 
 and rabbits, and save one human life, don t you 
 think the end justifies the means?" 
 
 "Yes, perhaps you are right," replied the good 
 woman. "But you are ruining your health, sitting 
 up nights." 
 
 "No, I don t think so," he said. "It takes a 
 good deal to break down a strong, healthy young 
 man like me. I know that to you who have the 
 simple, country habits, to bed at eight and up at 
 five, it seems as if we could not stand it. But I 
 could tell you of cases in my college days, of young 
 men, some of them of not over strong constitutions 
 either, who would be out night after night and
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 223 
 
 all night long dissipating, playing poker, perhaps, 
 in a close, smoky room. Yet they studied all day 
 and seldom broke down. It s the excitement that 
 keeps them up. I ll admit it s bad for the nerves, 
 however." 
 
 "Well, you are of age and you re your own boss, 
 so we can t interfere," replied Dr. Higgins. "But 
 do try and get some sleep." 
 
 Toward winter he had made progress enough to 
 try the remedy upon animals. He had offered the 
 boys of the village twenty-five cents apiece for 
 every live rabbit they would bring him. The boys 
 were doing a big business and you could go no 
 where in the woods or through the swamps with 
 out coming across box traps of every description. 
 Many a fight there was that winter when some Bill 
 would discover his traps empty and accuse a Jim 
 of swiping his rabbits. 
 
 Marjorie did not improve. Mr. Upton decided 
 to take her to New Mexico for a change during 
 the winter. The doctor had insisted that she must 
 go. The New England winters were too severe 
 for her constitution, and so, at last, much against 
 her own inclination, Marjorie promised to go.
 
 224 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Mr. Upton had talked with Caleb, who was pleased 
 that his mother s future was so well provided for. 
 "It is just as she says," said Caleb. "We shall be 
 quite a happy family here in Rushton." 
 
 As Mr. Upton and Marjorie were going West it 
 was arranged to have the wedding before they 
 went. It was just a quiet home wedding. Mrs. 
 Abbott was dressed in a tailor made traveling suit 
 of soft color. No one except the parson was 
 nervous in the least. He, poor man, had never 
 even attended a wedding amidst such elegant sur 
 roundings, and he was so busy gazing at the beau 
 tiful bric-a-brac with which the house was rilled 
 that he almost forgot where he was in the service. 
 When the ceremony was over and Mr. Upton, 
 receiving his congratulations, took the parson s 
 hand and left shining in it a hundred dollars in 
 gold, the good parson nearly fainted. 
 
 "I think you have made a mistake, Mr. Upton," 
 he at last managed to say. "We don t get but two 
 dollars here in the country." 
 
 "My good man," answered Mr. Upton, "if I had 
 been married in New York the flowers alone 
 would have cost more than that, and here I have
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 225 
 
 had no cost at all. Take it, it is not too much, and 
 in the future, when I return, we shall see what we 
 can do to fix up the parsonage a little." 
 
 A day or two before they left for New Mexico 
 Dr. Sherman called professionally on Marjorie. 
 He told her that no matter how homesick she felt 
 she must stay until the winter was over at the 
 north. "Don t return before April," he said, "and 
 if you can stay until June it will be better for you. 
 I am more interested than you think, Miss Upton, 
 in your health," he added. "I love you, Marjorie. 
 I have loved you ever since that Thanksgiving 
 night." 
 
 "Please don t, Doctor Sherman." 
 
 "Wait, Marjorie, let me finish. Ever since that 
 sleigh ride which was the beginning of happiness 
 in my life, I have known that your heart was given 
 to another. No," he went on, as she looked at 
 him in astonishment, "no one told me. I saw it 
 myself. I want you to get well. I want you to 
 forget that love, which is lost to you now. I want 
 you to get well and strong, and learn to love me, 
 if you can. I will wait. Only tell me that I may 
 hope."
 
 226 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 "Doctor," she answered, "you surprise me very 
 much. I did not know. I never even guessed that 
 you loved me; that you thought of me more than 
 a friend." 
 
 "But I do, Marjorie dear. You are all the world 
 to me. I don t ask for your hand now. I am will 
 ing to wait, to wait until the old wound is healed. 
 Yes, wait for years, if I can call you mine. Prom 
 ise me that you will think of me when you are 
 gone. Think of me, working day and night that I 
 may effect a cure for you ; that I may see you well 
 and strong." 
 
 "Oh, doctor, you are so good! You hurt me. 
 Don t say any more, please. I will think of you. I 
 do like you very much. If I get well again who 
 knows. I will try, try to forget." 
 
 "Then there is some hope for me, Marjorie?" he 
 exclaimed, his face lighting up. "May I ?" he 
 asked, taking up her delicate, small, white hand; 
 and, before she could refuse him he kissed it. He 
 knew he had no right to expect more, yet the 
 remembrance of that day lasted as long as he lived. 
 Marjorie, with a sad smile, said, "Go now, please. 
 Come and see us off, won t you?"
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 227 
 
 "Certainly, Marjorie. Goodbye, for the pres 
 ent." 
 
 The first week in November Mr. and Mrs. 
 Upton and Marjorie left for New Mexico. The 
 day they started was one of those rare Indian 
 Summer days. The grass was as green as in early 
 spring, and the cattle, still in the pasture, looked 
 up as if in sympathy as they saw the little party 
 drive by. The fields were full of Indian corn 
 shocked but not yet housed. Each shock looked 
 like an Indian wigwam in the bright sunlight. 
 Here and there were crows hurrying back and 
 forth to form in one great colony for their journey 
 south. It was summer to all appearances, yet by 
 the calendar the winter was almost here. Mar 
 jorie looked at the familiar scenes as they drove 
 along. She was much attached to Rushton and all 
 its nature. Even now she felt homesick, but with 
 a brave heart she joined in the conversation. 
 Hilda drove to the station with Caleb to see them 
 off. The doctor also came to the depot for a fare 
 well. Mary Fleming came also to bid her good 
 bye, as the doctor had mentioned to her that Mar 
 jorie was going away. In her hand she carried a
 
 228 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 bunch of wild purple asters which she had dis 
 covered in a corner of the field and Marjorie wore 
 them at her belt as she started out upon her long 
 journey. 
 
 The Uptons took a southern route, and Mar 
 jorie in the new scenes enjoyed everything. In 
 such comfort did they travel that the journey did 
 not weary her much. For Mrs. Upton, who had 
 never been away from Rushton in her life, the trip 
 was a revelation. Mr. Upton, giving so much 
 pleasure to others, was as happy as a school boy. 
 After arriving in New Mexico they decided to 
 stop at Las Vegas. There, amid new scenes and 
 surroundings, together with the clear, pure air, 
 they hoped to see an improvement in Marjorie. 
 She had a small Indian pony to ride, but the rides 
 tired her so that she would sit for a large part of 
 the time out doors or wander around the town, 
 looking with curiosity at the mud houses or 
 laughing at the antics of the Indian boys, or per 
 haps studying the gay colors worn by the Mexi 
 cans and cowboys. Still she wished she was back 
 in Rushton. Why was it that when she thought 
 of Rushton she always seemed to see Dr. Sher-
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 229 
 
 man ? And as she saw him it was as if in a vision. 
 It did not seem to be the doctor; but some one 
 more serious. He seemed tired, overworked, sad ; 
 not the bright, happy, active man she had known. 
 As the winter wore away, she thought of him more 
 and more, and longed to see him. She did not 
 seem to improve; the cough had disappeared, but 
 with that exception she felt the same constant 
 tiredness. Toward spring Marjorie began to 
 count the days until she could go home. One day 
 when she felt more than usually tired and had not 
 left her room, her father and her mother had come 
 to cheer her up. 
 
 "Oh, Papa," Marjorie exclaimed, "take me 
 home. I don t want to stay here. I am going to 
 die. Don t cry, Papa. But you can t hide it from 
 me. I have seen the look on your face so often 
 I know how you love me, and you too, Mother," 
 she went on in a wild way. "But it is God s will. 
 I don t want to die here. It is almost spring. 
 Take me home. I want to smell the Mayflowers 
 once again. I want to hear the robins sing. Oh, 
 Papa, I am so lonesome. I want to see Hilda and
 
 230 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Caleb, and the doctor, and all our friends. Every 
 thing is so strange here." 
 
 "Yes, Marjorie, dear, we will go home," her 
 father replied, chokingly. The tears would come, 
 though manlike he tried hard to keep them back. 
 "Spring is almost here. I will write to Sherman 
 and find out what the weather is in Rushton. You 
 are not going to die. Don t talk so, Marjorie. 
 We will be at home soon." 
 
 During all this winter Dr. Sherman had been 
 working in his laboratory. He had tried his 
 remedy on rabbit and guinea pig alike; they 
 all sickened, but do as he would he could not cure 
 them. Still he would not give up. He was mak 
 ing some progress; he felt sure of that. He was 
 not much like the gay, young doctor of a year 
 ago; poor Mrs. Higgins was very much worried. 
 He would throw himself into an easy chair and 
 doze off perhaps for a few minutes, but then jump 
 up again and go to work. Sleepless nights and 
 sleepless days were telling on him, yet he would 
 not give up. Was he not fighting for a life, fight 
 ing as if he were rescuing some one from drown 
 ing? Would he give up and lose his hold on a
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 231 
 
 drowning man simply because he was tired? No. 
 So he kept at it, until one day towards April, when 
 into the room where Mrs. Higgins and the old 
 doctor sat, he rushed like a mad man, his shirt 
 sleeves rolled up, his hair dishevelled, wild-eyed, 
 and screaming: 
 
 "I have found it! I have found it! My pigs 
 are getting better." 
 
 "Good Lord ! Sherman, sit down. Betsie, run 
 and get a cup of coffee for him." And Betsie 
 who had been reading the Christian Herald, 
 dropped it and her glasses as well, to hasten to the 
 kitchen. 
 
 "Now, Sherman, if you have recovered your 
 better senses, sit down and compose yourself. But 
 first you better take a little valerian for your 
 nerves." 
 
 "No, doctor, I don t want anything for my 
 nerves. I am all right now. My pigs are getting 
 well." 
 
 "Suppose they are getting well. What the 
 devil do I care about your pigs?" 
 
 "But I do," said Dr. Sherman. "It makes all 
 the difference in the world to me whether my pigs
 
 232 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 get well or not. It means the most beautiful girl 
 in this world for my wife." 
 
 "Well, by thunder! you are crazy, and no mis 
 take. I knew what this might bring you to. Stop 
 it, drop it, before it is too late." But Dr. Sherman 
 had calmed down now, and when Betsie returned 
 with the coffee, he related all that he had done. 
 He also told the dear old couple of his love for 
 Marjorie. Taking up his hat finally he arose with : 
 
 "But I must be off now. I have a case. The 
 Daly girl, you remember. She is very sick with 
 lung trouble. I shall try my remedy upon her. 
 It can do her no harm, and if she improves, if it 
 cures her, it will cure all such cases." 
 
 "I wish you success, Sherman," replied Dr. 
 Higgins as he departed. "If it is a go, you will 
 be the most famous man of the age, and your for 
 tune is made." 
 
 The Daly girl did improve, and rapidly. In fact 
 she improved so rapidly that Dr. Sherman was sure 
 he had at last discovered the secret that medical 
 men for a hundred years had been trying to solve. 
 A few days before Mr. Upton had decided to write 
 him Dr. Sherman dispatched a telegram which
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 233 
 
 read like this: "Samuel Upton, Hotel, Las 
 
 Vegas, New Mexico. Have discovered a cure. 
 Shall I come to you, or will you come to me?" 
 Mr. Upton, not wishing to give Marjorie false 
 hope, said nothing about the telegram to her, but 
 he sent the following answer to Dr. Sherman: 
 "Dr. Sherman, Rushton, N. H. Congratulations 
 on your success. Will leave Las Vegas for Rush- 
 ton at once. Will telegraph later time of our 
 expected arrival."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SQUIRE CALEB. 
 
 Caleb had now all the law business he could 
 conveniently attend to. He had been counsel on a 
 very important and hard fought case, and he had 
 won. His name was already familiar all over the 
 state and he was often called Squire by his neigh 
 bors. They were even talking of running him for 
 the legislature next year. He had called fre 
 quently on Hilda and had suggested her selling the 
 standing timber on her place in order to pay off 
 the mortgage on the property, as he knew it was 
 worrying her to have the place mortgaged. She 
 was loth, however, to have the beautiful trees and 
 groves destroyed and had not as yet decided. One 
 day Caleb, after arriving at his office, opened his 
 morning mail and was surprised at receiving a 
 letter from a New York firm of lawyers. The 
 letter read like this :
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 235 
 
 New York, N. Y. 
 Caleb Abbott, Attorney at Law, Rushton, N. H. 
 
 Dear Sir: Several years ago a company was 
 formed for the purpose of buying land and claims 
 in the Klondike region. It was known as the 
 Klondike Gold and Land Company. The com 
 pany has, however, with the exception of purchas 
 ing some claims, done no business whatever, ow 
 ing to their lack of enterprise. A new board of 
 directors is to be formed, who propose to go ahead 
 and develop some of the claims. To do this will 
 take money, and the new board propose to buy in 
 the old shares now outstanding and to reorganize. 
 There are a few shares of this company held in 
 your town, by a party of the name of Cyrus Whit 
 ney. We desire that you see him and find out for 
 us what price he sets upon his shares. If you can 
 buy them cheap we will make it an object to you. 
 Please let us hear from you soon. 
 Respectfully, 
 
 Fleecer, Grabbal & Company. 
 
 Caleb reread the letter. Then a broad smile 
 overspread his face. "It is evident," he said to 
 himself, "those shares are worth something." "If 
 you can buy them cheap we will make it an object 
 to you," he read again. "Well, I think I can get 
 them cheap enough, but I am afraid, Messrs. 
 Fleecer, Grabbal & Company, you will not get
 
 236 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 them very cheap. I think I shall have to run over 
 to New York myself," he said to himself. "That 
 is," laughing, "if I can remove the country airs. 
 Let s see," he humorously thought, "I must re 
 member not to blow out the gas!" Ah, Messrs. 
 Fleecer, Grabbal & Company, you little thought 
 when you wrote to the country lawyer that he was 
 one of the most interested parties in those stocks, 
 and that the hay seed had already blown out of his 
 hair. 
 
 That night Caleb called on Hilda and explained 
 the contents of the letter. He also told her that he 
 thought there was something back of it, that he 
 believed it was best to go to New York to look 
 into the matter personally. "That is, if you decide 
 to sell the shares." 
 
 "You know, Caleb," she replied, "I know noth 
 ing of business, but I do know that father gave 
 very little for those shares. Now I do not care to 
 keep them, and should prefer to sell them, at the 
 best figure I can get honestly." 
 
 "Yes," replied Caleb, "I don t know much about 
 stock business myself, but I can inquire, and if
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 237 
 
 these stocks are listed, then I can find out the 
 present market value." 
 
 "I will leave it entirely to your judgment, 
 Caleb," she replied. "You have the stocks now in 
 your safe, and you can fix it so that you can legally 
 sell them." 
 
 "Suppose, Hilda dear," he said, "that I can get 
 a good price for them, and that with them and 
 some of the timber you can clear your home, will 
 you set the day then, Hilda?" 
 
 "Yes, Caleb," she replied sweetly, "then I will 
 tell you when " 
 
 "When I am to be the happiest man in the 
 world," he said, before she had finished. 
 
 Caleb went to New York the next week. After 
 making a tour of Wall street, and also making a 
 few inquiries, he dropped into the office of Fleecer, 
 Grabbal & Company. Making known his errand 
 he was ushered into the private office of Mr. 
 Fleecer. 
 
 "Take a chair, Mr. Abbott; Abbott I believe is 
 the name," he said. "Will you pardon me a mo 
 ment? I have a little matter here I wish to finish." 
 
 "Certainly," said Caleb. "I am not pressed for
 
 238 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 time," and taking up the morning Herald ran 
 through the headlines. Mr. Fleecer sat at his desk 
 apparently very busy with his pen. But he was 
 in reality making a study of Caleb. "Not at all 
 like the Mr. Abbott I pictured," he said mentally, 
 "I am afraid it will be hard getting hold of those 
 shares. Now, Mr. Abbott," he said, wheeling 
 around, "about those shares of which we wrote 
 you. I presume you have seen Mr. Whitney and 
 obtained them?" 
 
 "No," Caleb replied, "Mr. Whitney is dead. I 
 have, however, the shares in my possession." 
 
 "Ah!" said Mr. Fleecer, "and the figure?" 
 
 "Well, I have not quite decided as yet whether 
 to sell or not," replied Caleb. 
 
 "Oh, I see," exclaimed Mr. Fleecer. "You 
 bought them yourself. Do you think, Mr. Abbott, 
 that was quite square considering our confidential 
 letter to yourself?" 
 
 "I did not say I had bought them," replied 
 Caleb. "But in regard to being square ; is the 
 stock business always conducted on the square 
 here in New York and elsewhere? However, I 
 have the right to dispose of the stocks if I see fit."
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 239 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Fleecer, who saw he had a 
 hard subject to deal with, "and the price?" 
 
 "Well," answered Caleb, slowly, "I should like 
 an offer. Then I might say whether I would sell 
 or not." 
 
 "Ahem," began Mr. Fleecer, "they are worth 
 five hundred to us." 
 
 "A share, Mr. Fleecer?" asked Caleb with a 
 twinkle in his eye. 
 
 "A share?" replied Fleecer. "Are you crazy, 
 man? Five hundred for the lot!" Caleb had 
 arisen and taken a step toward the door. "Wait, 
 you are not going?" asked Mr. Fleecer. 
 
 "You have made me an offer which I cannot 
 consider. I suppose the matter rests there." 
 
 "Perhaps not; I have made you an offer; now 
 suppose you state your price." 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Fleecer, you may have our 
 shares for just five thousand dollars cash, or a cer 
 tified check," said Caleb. 
 
 "Five thousand dollars!" screamed Mr. Fleecer, 
 almost jumping from his chair. "Is that your low 
 est figure?" 
 
 "The very lowest," answered Caleb, "unless you
 
 240 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 wish Messrs. Skinflint, Doem & Company to have 
 them for four thousand five hundred." 
 
 "Have you seen Messrs. Skinflint, Doem & 
 Company?" asked Fleecer. 
 
 "I have," answered Caleb, "and their offer is 
 four thousand five hundred." 
 
 "Is it your intention to return to Skinflint, 
 Doem & Company, and ask more, quoting our 
 offer?" 
 
 "No," said Caleb. "I have given you our fig 
 ures. I will close the deal at once if you are 
 ready." 
 
 "I will give you a certified check, Mr. Abbott, 
 but it is really more than the shares are worth. 
 Still we wish to control the board of directors and 
 with the addition of those shares we can just beat 
 out Skinflint, Doem & Company." 
 
 Caleb left New York five thousand richer than 
 when he arrived, and he did not blow out the gas 
 either. 
 
 "Won t Hilda be pleased?" he thought, as, sit 
 ting in the smoking-compartment on his way 
 back with a fine Havana between his teeth, he fig 
 ured out that five thousand would much more than
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 241 
 
 clear her home, and that her beautiful trees would 
 not have to be felled. 
 
 Marjorie, together with her father and mother, 
 had returned; and Marjorie was again under Dr. 
 Sherman s care. She was improving, moreover, 
 she was able to take short walks and drives, and 
 rejoice with her favorites again, the birds and the 
 flowers. A pair of robins had built their nest in 
 the apple tree almost beneath her chamber win 
 dow. Marjorie took great delight in dropping 
 crumbs to them from her window above; while 
 they in return would sing their sweetest. 
 
 Jack Stevens had leased the Abbott place; he 
 had married a sweet little lady from Boston and 
 they had started upon their housekeeping. 
 
 Hilda had set the day which was to mean so 
 much for Caleb and her, in October. She often 
 ran over to see Marjorie. The engagement be 
 tween herself and Caleb she never mentioned to 
 Marjorie, fearing to cause her sorrow, as Hilda 
 knew Marjorie s secret. Great was her surprise 
 when one day Marjorie mentioned it herself, and 
 also expressed a wish to stand up with her at the 
 wedding.
 
 242 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 "Oh, Marjorie," Hilda exclaimed, "if you only 
 would ! Could you do it?" 
 
 "And why not?" replied Marjorie. "Am I not 
 getting well and strong again?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Hilda, "and we are all so 
 glad ; but " 
 
 "Oh, I know what you would say, Hilda," Mar 
 jorie interrupted, "but you need not fear. I have 
 almost forgotten that. You know," with a blush, 
 "there is another who is noble, too. I will give 
 you just one guess, Hilda, dear," said Marjorie, 
 "so put on your thinking cap." 
 
 "Let s see," said Hilda. "There s your cousin, 
 in New York, that you have often spoken of, but 
 you haven t mentioned him lately, so it cannot be 
 he. There s Mr. Stevens, but he is already mar 
 ried. And the doctor, Why! that s my guess, 
 Marjorie, Doctor Sherman !" and she could tell by 
 the color in Marjorie s cheeks that she had guessed 
 aright. "Oh, Marjorie, I am so pleased!" Then, 
 
 girl-like, they fell into each other s arm and cried. 
 
 ***** 
 If you are driving with a native through New 
 Hampshire today and happen to pass through
 
 CALEB ABBOTT 243 
 
 Rushton that native will have a very busy time 
 describing this hustling town. He will tell you 
 that eight years ago at the time of the flood Rush- 
 ton was a small way-back town ; with one store and 
 a small front room in a cottage house for a post 
 office. He will tell you that today the population 
 has more than doubled ; that the town has concrete 
 sidewalks, electric lights, new buildings ; and fame ! 
 "See that big brick building way off there on the 
 hill ? That s the Sherman Hospital for the cure of 
 consumptives ! They are establishing hospitals for 
 the cure all over the country, but that is the first 
 one. You know this Doctor Sherman practiced 
 in this town and discovered the cure here. Later, 
 he sold out his practice, and now he gives his 
 whole time to the hospital work. He s making 
 lots of money, but then he doesn t need it. He 
 married Samuel Upton s daughter. He was a 
 New York banker, retired, who bought a place 
 here. He s worth a million, so they say. He is 
 the richest man in town. That house there we 
 just passed was where Caleb Abbott was born and 
 lived. You ve heard of him of course. He s been 
 to the legislature and they talk of sending him to
 
 244 CALEB ABBOTT 
 
 Washington to Congress next year. He married 
 old Shylock Whitney s daughter. You remember 
 old Shylock, the money lender. He was worth 
 over a hundred thousand at one time, and then 
 lost it all in stocks. That s where he used to live; 
 that big house up there; we ll go by it in a minute. 
 Squire Abbott lives there now. He and his wife, 
 Shylock s daughter. This Squire Abbott? He s a 
 wonder, a self-made man. Made his mark inside 
 eight years, and ain t thirty yet, and he s the 
 second richest man in town today." 
 
 THE END.
 
 Date Due
 
 55)604448 3