Part 31 (1/2)
”You would be more of a hindrance than a help to him, Walter,” said Mark Nelson.
”You are only a child, you know,” said Sarah, in an elder-sister tone.
”What do you call yourself?” retorted Walter. ”You are only two years older than I am.”
”Girls always know more than boys of the same age,” said Sarah condescendingly. ”Besides, I haven't said anything about going out to California.”
”No, I should think not. A girl that's afraid of a mouse had better stay at home.”
Walter referred to an incident of the day previous, when the sudden appearance of a mouse threw Sarah into a panic.
”Are there any mouses in California?” asked little Harry, with interest.
”If there are I could carry a cat with me,” returned Sarah good-humoredly.
Mark Nelson, though he felt Tom was a boy to be trusted, did ask himself occasionally whether he had been wise in permitting him to leave home under the circ.u.mstances. Suppose he continued in health, there were doubts of his success. His golden dreams might not be realized. The two hundred dollars which he had raised for Tom might be lost, and bring in no return; and this would prove a serious loss to Mark, hampered as he was already by a heavy mortgage on his farm. Would Squire Hudson be forbearing, if ill-luck came? This was a question he could not answer.
He only knew that such was not the squire's reputation.
”Well, Mr. Nelson, what do you hear from Tom,” asked the squire, one day about this time. ”How far is he on his way?”
”We received a letter from Cincinnati yesterday. He then was about starting for St. Joseph.”
”Does he seem to enjoy the journey?”
”He writes in excellent spirits. He says he has met with good friends.”
”Indeed! How does his money hold out?”
”He does not speak of that.”
”Oh, well, I dare say he is getting along well;” and the squire walked on.
”Does he feel interested in Tom, or not?” queried Mark Nelson, as he looked thoughtfully after the squire, as he walked on with stately steps, leaning slightly on his gold-headed cane. He might have been enlightened on this point, if he could have heard a conversation, later in the day, between Squire Hudson and his son Sinclair.
”I saw Mark Nelson this morning,” he observed at the supper table.
”Has he heard from Tom?”
”Yes; his son wrote him from Cincinnati.”
”I wish I could go to Cincinnati,” grumbled Sinclair; ”I think I have a better right to see the world than Tom Nelson.”
”All in good time, my son. Tom is not traveling for pleasure.”
”Still, he is getting the pleasure.”
”He will have to work hard when he reaches California. Probably he won't have a cent left when he gets there.”
”What will he do then?”