Do and Dare

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This eBook was created by Carrie Fellman .

DO AND DARE

OR

A Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune

BY

HORATIO ALGER, JR.

NEW YORK

CHAPTER I.

THE POST OFFICE AT WAYNEBORO.

"If we could only keep the post office, mother, we should be all
right," said Herbert Carr, as he and his mother sat together in the
little sitting room of the plain cottage which the two had occupied
ever since he was a boy of five.

"Yes, Herbert, but I am afraid there won't be much chance of it."

"Who would want to take it from you, mother?"

"Men are selfish, Herbert, and there is no office, however small,
that is not sought after."

"What was the income last year?" inquired Herbert.

Mrs. Carr referred to a blank book lying on the table in which the
post-office accounts were kept, and answered:

"Three hundred and ninety-eight dollars and fifty cents."

"I shouldn't think that would be much of an inducement to an
able-bodied man, who could work at any business."

"Your father was glad to have it."

"Yes, mother, but he had lost an arm in the war, and could not
engage in any business that required both hands."

"That is true, Herbert, but I am afraid there will be more than one
who will be willing to relieve me of the duties. Old Mrs. Allen
called at the office to-day, and told me she understood that there
was a movement on foot to have Ebenezer Graham appointed."

"Squire Walsingham's nephew?"

"Yes; it is understood that the squire will throw his influence into
the scale, and that will probably decide the matter."

"Then it's very mean of Squire Walsingham," said Herbert,
indignantly. "He knows that you depend on the office for a living."

"Most men are selfish, my dear Herbert."

"But he was an old schoolfellow of father's, and it was as his
substitute that father went to the war where he was wounded."

"True, Herbert, but I am afraid that consideration won't weigh much
with John Walsingham."

"I have a great mind to go and see him, mother. Have you any
objections?"

"I have no objections, but I am afraid it will do no good."

"Mr. Graham ought to be ashamed, with the profits of his store, to
want the post office also. His store alone pays him handsomely."

"Mr. Graham is fond of money. He means to be a rich man."

"That is true enough. He is about the meanest man in town."

A few words are needed in explanation, though the conversation
explains itself pretty well.

Herbert's father, returning from the war with the loss of an arm,
was fortunate enough to receive the appointment of postmaster, and
thus earn a small, but, with strict economy, adequate income, until
a fever terminated his earthly career at middle age. Mr. Graham was
a rival applicant for the office, but Mr. Carr's services in the war
were thought to give him superior claims, and he secured it. During
the month that had elapsed since his death, Mrs. Carr had carried on
the post office under a temporary appointment. She was a woman of
good business capacity, and already familiar with the duties of the
office, having assisted her husband, especially during his sickness,
when nearly the whole work devolved upon her. Most of the village
people were in favor of having her retained, but the local influence
of Squire Walsingham and his nephew was so great that a petition in
favor of the latter secured numerous signatures, and was already on
file at the department in Washington, and backed by the congressman
of the district, who was a political friend of the squire. Mrs. Carr
was not aware that the movement for her displacement had gone so
far.

It was already nine o'clock when Herbert's conversation with his
mother ended, and he resolved to defer his call upon Squire
Walsingham till the next morning.

About nine o'clock in the forenoon our young hero rang the bell of
the village magnate, and with but little delay was ushered into his
presence.

Squire Walsingham was a tall, portly man of fifty, sleek and
evidently on excellent terms with himself. Indeed, he was but five
years older than his nephew, Ebenezer Graham, and looked the younger
of the two, despite the relationship. If he had been a United States
Senator he could not have been more dignified in his deportment, or
esteemed himself of greater consequence. He was a selfish man, but
he was free from the mean traits that characterized his nephew.

"You are the Carr boy," said the squire, pompously, looking over his
spectacles at Herbert, as he entered the door.

"My name is Herbert Carr," said Herbert, shortly. "You have known me
all my life."

"Certainly," said the squire, a little ruffled at the failure of his
grand manner to impose upon his young visitor. "Did I not call you
the Carr boy?"

Herbert did not fancy being called the Carr boy, but he was there to
ask a favor, and he thought it prudent not to show his
dissatisfaction. He resolved to come to the point at once.

"I have called, Squire Walsingham," he commenced, "to ask if you
will use your influence to have my mother retained in charge of the
post office."

"Ahem!" said the squire, somewhat embarrassed. "I am not in charge
of the post-office department."

"No, sir, I am aware of that; but the postmaster general will be
influenced by the recommendations of people in the village."

"Very true!" said the squire, complacently. "Very true, and very
proper. I do not pretend to say that my recommendation would not
weigh with the authorities at Washington. Indeed, the member from
our district is a personal friend of mine."

"You know how we are situated," continued Herbert, who thought it
best to state his case as briefly as possible. "Father was unable to
save anything, and we have no money ahead. If mother can keep the
post office, we shall get along nicely, but if she loses it, we
shall have a hard time."

"I am surprised that in your father's long tenure of office he did
not save something," said the squire, in a tone which indicated not
only surprise but reproof.

"There was not much chance to save on a salary of four hundred
dollars a year," said Herbert, soberly, "after supporting a family
of three."

"Ahem!" said the squire, sagely; "where there's a will there's a
way. Improvidence is the great fault of the lower classes."

"We don't belong to the lower classes," said Herbert, flushing with
indignation.

Squire Walmsgham was secretly ambitious of representing his district
some day in Congress, and he felt that he had made a mistake. It
won't do for an aspirant to office to speak of the lower classes,
and the squire hastened to repair his error.

"That was not the term I intended to imply," he condescended to
explain. "I meant to say that improvidence is the prevailing fault
of those whose income is small."

"We haven't had much chance to be improvident!" said Herbert "We
have had to spend all our income, but we are not in debt--that is,
we have no debts that we are unable to pay."

"That is well," said Squire Walsingham, "but, my young
constituent--I mean my young friend--I apprehend that you do not
take a right view of public office. It is not designed to support a
privileged class in luxury."

"Luxury, on four hundred a year!" replied Herbert.

"I am speaking in general terms," said the squire, hastily. "I mean
to say that I cannot recommend a person to office simply because he
or she needs the income."

"No, sir, I know that; but my mother understands the duties of the
office, and no complaint has been made that she does not make a good
postmaster."

"Possibly," said the squire, non-committally; "but I am opposed upon
principle to conferring offices upon women. Men are more efficient,
and better qualified to discharge responsible duties."

"Then, sir," said Herbert, his heart sinking, "I am to understand
that you do not favor the appointment of my mother?"

"I should be glad to hear that your mother was doing well," said the
squire, "but I cannot conscientiously favor the appointment of a
woman to be postmaster of Wayneboro."

"That means that he prefers the appointment should go to his
nephew," thought Herbert.

"If my mother were not competent to discharge the duties," he said,
his face showing his disappointment in spite of himself, "I would
not ask your influence, notwithstanding you were a schoolmate of
father's, and he lost his arm while acting as your substitute."

"I have already said that I wish your mother well," said the squire,
coloring, "and in any other way I am ready to help her and you.
Indeed, I may be able to secure you a situation."

"Where, sir?"

"Mr. Graham needs a boy in his store, and I think he will take you
on my recommendation."

"Is Tom Tripp going away?" asked Herbert.

"The Tripp boy is unsatisfactory, so Mr. Graham tells me."

Herbert knew something of what it would be to be employed by Mr.
Graham. Tom Tripp worked early and late for a dollar and a half per
week, without board, for a hard and suspicious taskmaster, who was
continually finding fault with him. But for sheer necessity, he
would have left Mr. Graham's store long ago. He had confided the
unpleasantness of his position to Herbert more than once, and
enlisted his sympathy and indignation. Herbert felt that he would
not like to work for Mr. Graham at any price, more especially as it
seemed likely that the storekeeper was likely to deprive his mother
of her office and income.

"I should not like to work for Mr. Graham, sir," he said.

"It appears to me that you are very particular, young man," said
Squire Walsingham.

"I would be willing to work for you, sir, but not for him."

"Ahem!" said the squire, somewhat mollified, "I will think of your
case."

Herbert left the house, feeling that his mother's removal was only a
matter of time.

CHAPTER II.

HERBERT'S CHANCE.

Herbert left the house of Squire Walsingham in a sober frame of
mind. He saw clearly that his mother would not long remain in
office, and without her official income they would find it hard to
get along. To be sure, she received a pension of eight dollars a
month, in consideration of her husband's services in the war, but
eight dollars would not go far towards supporting their family,
small as it was. There were other means of earning a living, to be
sure, but Wayneboro was an agricultural town mainly, and unless he
hired out on a farm there seemed no way open to him, while the
little sewing his mother might be able to procure would probably pay
her less than a dollar a week.

The blow fell sooner than he expected. In the course of the next
week Mrs. Carr was notified that Ebenezer Graham had been appointed
her successor, and she was directed to turn over the papers and
property of the office to him.

She received the official notification by the afternoon mail, and in
the evening she was favored by a call from her successor.

Ebenezer Graham was a small man, with insignificant, mean-looking
features, including a pair of weazel-like eyes and a turn-up nose.
It did not require a skillful physiognomist to read his character in
his face. Meanness was stamped upon it in unmistakable characters.

"Good-evening, Mr. Graham," said the widow, gravely.

"Good-evening, ma'am," said the storekeeper. "I've called to see
you, Mrs. Carr, about the post office, I presume you have heard--"

"I have heard that you are to be my successor."

"Just so. As long as your husband was alive, I didn't want to step
into his shoes."

"But you are willing to step into mine," said Mrs. Carr, smiling
faintly.

"Just so--that is, the gov'ment appear to think a man ought to be in
charge of so responsible a position."

"I shall be glad if you manage the office better than I have done."

"You see, ma'am, it stands to reason that a man is better fitted for
business than a woman," said Ebenezer Graham, in a smooth tone for
he wanted to get over this rather awkward business as easily as
possible. "Women, you know, was made to adorn the domestic circles,
et cetery."

"Adorning the domestic circle won't give me a living," said Mrs.
Carr, with some bitterness, for she knew that but for the grasping
spirit of the man before her she would have been allowed to retain
her office.

"I was comin' to that," said the new postmaster. "Of course, I
appreciate your position as a widder, without much means, and I'm
going to make you an offer; that is, your boy, Herbert."

Herbert looked up from a book he was reading, and listened with
interest to hear the benevolent intentions of the new postmaster."

"I am ready to give him a place in my store," proceeded Ebenezer. "I
always keep a boy, and thinks I to myself, the wages I give will
help along the widder Carr. You see, I like to combine business with
consideration for my feller creeters."

Mrs. Carr smiled faintly, for in spite of her serious strait she
could not help being amused at the notion of Ebenezer Graham's
philanthropy.

"What's going to become of Tom Tripp?" asked Herbert, abruptly.

"Thomas Tripp isn't exactly the kind of boy I want in my store,"
said Mr. Graham. "He's a harum-scarum sort of boy, and likes to
shirk his work. Then I suspect he stops to play on the way when I
send him on errands. Yesterday he was five minutes longer than he
need to have been in goin' to Sam Dunning's to carry some groceries.
Thomas doesn't seem to appreciate his privileges in bein' connected
with a business like mine."

Tom Tripp was hardly to blame for not recognizing his good luck in
occupying a position where he received a dollar and a half a week
for fourteen hours daily work, with half a dozen scoldings thrown
in.

"How do you know I will suit you any better than Tom?" asked
Herbert, who did not think it necessary to thank Mr. Graham for the
proffered engagement until he learned just what was expected of him,
and what his pay was to be.

"You're a different sort of a boy," said Ebenezer, with an attempt
at a pleasant smile. "You've been brought up different. I've heard
you're a smart, capable boy, that isn't afraid of work."

"No, sir, I am not, if I am fairly paid for my work."

The new postmaster's jaw fell, and he looked uneasy, for he always
grudged the money he paid out, even the paltry dollar and a half
which went to poor Tom.

"I always calkerlate to pay fair wages," he said; "but I ain't rich,
and I can't afford to fling away money."

"How much do you pay Tom Tripp?" asked Herbert.

He knew, but he wanted to draw Mr. Graham out.

"I pay Thomas a dollar and fifty cents a week," answered the
storekeeper, in a tone which indicated that he regarded this, on the
whole, as rather a munificent sum.

"And he works from seven in the morning till nine o'clock at night,"
proceeded Herbert.

"Them are the hours," said Ebenezer, who knew better how to make
money than to speak grammatically.

"It makes a pretty long day," observed Mrs. Carr.

"So it does, ma'am, but it's no longer than I work myself."

"You get paid rather better, I presume."

"Of course, ma'am, as I am the proprietor."

"I couldn't think of working for any such sum," said Herbert,
decidedly.

Mr. Graham looked disturbed, for he had reasons for desiring to
secure Herbert, who was familiar with the routine of post-office
work.

"Well," he said, "I might be able to offer you a leetle more, as you
know how to tend the post office. That's worth somethin'! I'll give
you--lemme see--twenty-five cents more; that is, a dollar and
seventy-five cents a week."

Herbert and his mother exchanged glances. They hardly knew whether
to feel more amused or disgusted at their visitor's meanness.

"Mr. Graham," said Herbert, "if you wish to secure my services, you
will have to pay me three dollars a week."

The storekeeper held up both hands in dismay.

"Three dollars a week for a boy!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, sir; I will come for a short time for that sum, till you get
used to the management of the post office, but I shall feel
justified in leaving you when I can do better."

"You must think I am made of money," said Ebenezer hastily.

"I think you can afford to pay me that salary."

For twenty minutes the new postmaster tried to beat down his
prospective clerk, but Herbert was obstinate, and Ebenezer rather
ruefully promised to give him his price, chiefly because it was
absolutely necessary that he should engage some one who was more
familiar with the post-office work than he was. Herbert agreed to go
to work the next morning.

CHAPTER III.

A PRODIGAL SON.

Herbert did not look forward with very joyful anticipations to the
new engagement he had formed. He knew very well that he should not
like Ebenezer Graham as an employer, but it was necessary that he
should earn something, for the income was now but two dollars a
week. He was sorry, too, to displace Tom Tripp, but upon this point
his uneasiness was soon removed, for Tom dropped in just after Mr.
Graham had left the house, and informed Herbert that he was to go to
work the next day for a farmer in the neighborhood, at a dollar and
a half per week, and board besides.

"I am glad to hear it, Tom," said Herbert, heartily. "I didn't want
to feel that I was depriving you of employment."

"You are welcome to my place in the store," said Tom. "I'm glad to
give it up. Mr. Graham seemed to think I was made of iron, and I
could work like a machine, without getting tired. I hope he pays you
more than a dollar and a half a week."

"He has agreed to pay me three dollars," said Herbert.

Tom whistled in genuine amazement.

"What! has the old man lost his senses?" he exclaimed. "He must be
crazy to offer such wages as that."

"He didn't offer them. I told him I wouldn't come for less."

"I don't see how he came to pay such a price."

"Because he wanted me to take care of the post office. I know all
about it, and he doesn't."

"As soon as he learns, he will reduce your wages."

"Then I shall leave him."

"Well, I hope you'll like store work better than I do."

The next two or three days were spent in removing the post office to
one corner of Eben-ezer Graham's store. The removal was
superintended by Herbert, who was not interfered with to any extent
by his employer, nor required to do much work in the store. Our hero
was agreeably surprised, and began to think he should get along
better than he anticipated.

At the end of the first week the storekeeper, while they were
closing the shutters, said: "I expect, Herbert, you'd just as lieves
take your pay in groceries and goods from the store?"

"No, sir," answered Herbert, "I prefer to be paid in money, and to
pay for such goods as we buy."

"I don't see what odds it makes to you," said Ebenezer. "It comes to
the same thing, doesn't it?"

"Then if it comes to the same thing," retorted Herbert, "why do you
want to pay me in goods?"

"Ahem! It saves trouble. I'll just charge everything you buy, and
give you the balance Saturday night."

"I should prefer the money, Mr. Graham," said Herbert, firmly.

So the storekeeper, considerably against his will, drew three
dollars in bills from the drawer and handed them to his young clerk.

"It's a good deal of money, Herbert," he said, "for a boy. There
ain't many men would pay you such a good salary."

"I earn every cent of it, Mr. Graham," said Herbert, whose views on
the salary question differed essentially from those of his employer.

The next morning Mr. Graham received a letter which evidently
disturbed him. Before referring to its contents, it is necessary to
explain that he had one son, nineteen years of age, who had gone to
Boston two years previous, to take a place in a dry-goods store on
Washington Street. Ebenezer Graham, Jr., or Eben, as he was
generally called, was, in some respects, like his father. He had the
same features, and was quite as mean, so far as others were
concerned, but willing to spend money for his own selfish pleasures.
He was fond of playing pool, and cards, and had contracted a
dangerous fondness for whisky, which consumed all the money he could
spare from necessary expenses, and even more, so that, as will
presently appear, he failed to meet his board bills regularly. Eben
had served an apprenticeship in his father's store, having been, in
fact, Tom Tripp's predecessor; he tired of his father's strict
discipline, and the small pay out of which he was required to
purchase his clothes, and went to Boston to seek a wider sphere.

To do Eben justice, it must be admitted that he had good business
capacity, and if he had been able, like his father, to exercise
self-denial, and make money-getting his chief enjoyment, he would no
doubt have become a rich man in time. As it was, whenever he could
make his companions pay for his pleasures, he did so.

I now come to the letter which had brought disquietude to the
storekeeper.

It ran thus:

"DEAR SIR: I understand that you are the father of Mr. Eben Graham,
who has been a boarder at my house for the last six months. I regret
to trouble you, but he is now owing me six weeks board, and I cannot
get a cent out of him, though he knows I am a poor widow, dependent
on my board money for my rent and house expenses. As he is a minor,
the law makes you responsible for his bills, and, though I dislike
to trouble you, I am obliged, in justice to myself, to ask you to
settle his board bill, which I inclose.

"You will do me a great favor if you will send me the amount--thirty
dollars--within a week, as my rent is coming due.

"Yours respectfully, SUSAN JONES."

The feelings of a man like Ebenezer Graham can be imagined when he
read this unpleasant missive.

"Thirty dollars!" he groaned. "What can the graceless boy be
thinking of, to fool away his money, and leave his bills to be
settled by me. If this keeps on, I shall be ruined! It's too bad,
when I am slaving here, for Eben to waste my substance on riotous
living. I've a great mind to disown him. Let him go his own way, and
fetch up in the poorhouse, if he chooses."

But it is not easy for a man to cast off an only son, even though he
is as poorly supplied with natural affections as Ebenezer Graham.
Besides, Eben's mother interceded for him, and the father, in
bitterness of spirit, was about to mail a registered letter to Mrs.
Jones, when the cause of his anguish suddenly made his appearance in
the store.

"How are you, father?" he said, nonchalantly, taking a cigar from
his mouth. "Didn't expect to see me, did you?"

"What brings you here, Eben?" asked Mr. Graham, uneasily.

"Well, the cars brought me to Stockton, and I've walked the rest of
the way."

"I've heard of you," said his father, frowning. "I got a letter last
night from Mrs. Jones."

"She said she was going to write," said Eben, shrugging his
shoulders.

"How came it," said his father, his voice trembling with anger,
"that you haven't paid your board bill for six weeks?"

"I didn't have the money," said Eben, with a composure which was
positively aggravating to his father.

"And why didn't you have the money? Your wages are ample to pay all
your expenses."

"It costs more money to live in Boston than you think for, father."

"Don't you get ten dollars a week, sir? At your age I got only
seven, and saved two dollars a week."

"You didn't live in Boston, father."

"I didn't smoke cigars," said his father, angrily, as he fixed his
eye on the one his son was smoking. "How much did you pay for that
miserable weed?"

"You're mistaken, father. It's a very good article. I paid eight
dollars a hundred."

"Eight dollars a hundred!" gasped Mr. Graham. "No wonder you can't
pay your board bill--I can't afford to spend my money on cigars."

"Oh, yes, you can, father, if you choose. Why, you're a rich man."

"A rich man!" repeated Mr. Graham, nervously. "It would take a rich
man to pay your bills. But you haven't told me why you have come
home."

"I lost my situation, father--some meddlesome fellow told my
employer that I occasionally played a game of pool, and my tailor
came to the store and dunned me; so old Boggs gave me a long lecture
and my walking papers, and here I am."

Ebenezer Graham was sorely troubled, and, though he isn't a favorite
of mine, I confess, that in this matter he has my sincere sympathy.

CHAPTER IV.

HERBERT LOSES HIS PLACE.

Ebenezer Graham with some difficulty ascertained from Eben that he
had other bills, amounting in the aggregate to forty-seven dollars.
This added to the board bill, made a total of seventy-seven dollars.
Mr. Graham's face elongated perceptibly.

"That is bad enough," he said; "but you have lost your income also,
and that makes matters worse. Isn't there a chance of the firm
taking you back?"

"No, sir," replied the prodigal. "You see, we had a flare up, and I
expressed my opinion of them pretty plainly. They wouldn't take me
back if I'd come for nothing."

"And they won't give you a recommendation, either?" said Ebenezer,
with a half groan.

"No, sir; I should say not."

"So you have ruined your prospects so far as Boston is concerned,"
said his father, bitterly. "May I ask how you expect to get along?"

"I have a plan," said Eben, with cheerful confidence.

"What is it?"

"I would like to go to California. If I can't get any situation in
San Francisco, I can go to the mines."

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