Part 24 (1/2)
The road was uphill, leading directly from the lake sh.o.r.e. But soon Ralph was overtaken by a man in a farm wagon. It was some one he knew fairly well and the man asked him up on the seat.
”Thank you, Mr. Gillup, I wouldn't mind riding, as it is warm,” said Ralph.
”Going to Hopeville with them bills?” asked Mr. Gillup, a farmer.
”Yes.”
”Got into a new business since you left the bridge.”
”For a time. It won't last long.”
”It is a pity they took the bridge job from you. I jest told Ben Hooker, the postmaster, so.”
”They acted as they thought best, I presume.”
”I understand Squire Paget was at the bottom of it. He appears to be very much down on you.”
”It's on account of his son Percy. He wouldn't do the right thing, and we had a row.”
”Can't tell me nuthin' about that boy! Didn't I catch him stealin' my choicest pears last summer? If he comes around my place again, I'll fill him full of shot, see if I don't!”
”You had better not, Mr. Gillup! The squire will have you arrested. He won't let any one do the first thing against Percy.”
”I ain't afeared of him, Ralph. If he comes around, he'll get the shot, sure pop. But I ain't calkerlatin' he'll come, because I give him warnin', and he's too precious scared o' his hide.”
”I can't understand how the squire can put up with Percy's ways,” said Ralph, after a pause. ”He seems to ride right over his father.”
”Squire Paget will rue it one of these days,” returned Mr. Gillup, with a grave shake of his head. ”Boys as is allowed their own way like that never amount to much.”
The conversation helped to pa.s.s the time, and almost before they knew it, Hopeville was reached. Ralph thanked the farmer and left the wagon.
After leaving a bill in every store and house in the village, Ralph walked around to the various summer boarding-places. This took time, and ere he had finished it was dark.
”There! I imagine that is one fair day's work done,” he said, at last, as he reached his final handful of bills. ”I've covered a good many miles since I left home this morning.”
He was fortunate enough to catch a ride back with a man who was carting a load of garden truck down to the lake for s.h.i.+pment, and he entered the cottage just as the clock was striking seven.
”Done for the day, and glad of it, mother!” he cried.
”You are not used to tramping around, Ralph,” she returned, as she kissed him.
”That's a fact. I don't believe I would make a very good tramp, anyway,” he went on.
”I trust you will never be reduced to that,” she shuddered.
”No, I'm going to be something better than a tramp.”
”Where have you been?” asked Mrs. Nelson.
Sitting down, Ralph told the story of his day's work. Like the true mother she was, Mrs. Nelson was thoroughly interested in all he had to say.