“THERE’S a letter for you, Linton,” said Henry Wagner, as he met Linton Tomkins near the hotel. “I just saw your name on the list.”
In the Groveton post-office, as in many country offices, it was the custom to post a list of those for whom letters had been received.
“It must be from Luke,” thought Linton, joyfully, and he bent his steps immediately toward the office. No one in the village, outside of Luke’s family, missed him more than Linton. Though Luke was two years and a half older, they had always been intimate friends. Linton’s family occupied a higher social position, but there was nothing snobbish about Linton, as there was about Randolph, and it made no difference to him that Luke lived in a small and humble cottage, and, till recently, had been obliged to wear old and shabby clothes. In this democratic spirit, Linton was encouraged by his parents, who, while appreciating the refinement which is apt to be connected with liberal means, were too sensible to undervalue sterling merit and good character.
Linton was right. His letter was from Luke. It read thus:
“DEAR LINNY: I was very glad to receive your letter. It made me homesick for a short time. At any rate, it made me wish that I could be back for an hour in dear old Groveton. I cannot tell you where I am, for that is a secret of my employer. I am a long way from home; I can tell you that much. When I get home, I shall be able to tell you all. You will be glad to know that I have succeeded in the mission on which I was sent, and have received a telegram of thanks from my employer.
“It will not be long now before I am back in Groveton. I wonder if my dear friend Randolph will be glad to see me? You can remember me to him when you see him. It will gratify him to know that I am well and doing well, and that my prospects for the future are excellent.
“Give my regards to your father and mother, who have always been kind to me. I shall come and see you the first thing after I return. If you only knew how hard I find it to refrain from telling you all, where I am and what adventures I have met with, how I came near being robbed twice, and many other things, you would appreciate my self-denial. But you shall know all very soon. I have had a good time — the best time in my life. Let mother read this letter, and believe me, dear Lin,
“Your affectionate friend,
“LUKE LARKIN.”
Linton’s curiosity was naturally excited by the references in Luke’s letter.
“Where can Luke be?” he asked. “I wish he were at liberty to tell.”
Linton never dreamed, however, that his friend was two thousand miles away, in the wild West. It would have seemed to him utterly improbable.
He was folding up the letter as he was walking homeward, when he met Randolph Duncan.
“What’s that, Linton?” he asked. “A love-letter?”
“Not much; I haven’t got so far along. It is a letter from Luke Larkin.”
“Oh!” sneered Randolph. “I congratulate you on your correspondent. Is he in New York?”
“The letter is postmarked in New York, but he is traveling.”
“Traveling? Where is he traveling?”
“He doesn’t say. This letter is forwarded by Mr. Reed.”
“The man who robbed the bank?”
“What makes you say that? What proof have you that he robbed the bank?”
“I can’t prove it, but my father thinks he is the robber. There was something very supicious about that tin box which he handed to Luke.”
“It was opened in court, and proved to contain private papers.”
“Oh, that’s easily seen through. He took out the bonds, and put in the papers. I suppose he has experience in that sort of thing.”
“Does your father think that?”
“Yes, he does. What does Luke say?”
“Wait a minute, and I will read you a paragraph,” said Linton, with a mischievous smile. Thereupon he read the paragraph in which Randolph was mentioned.
“What does he mean by calling me his dear friend?” exclaimed Randolph indignantly. “I never was his dear friend, and never want to be.”
“I believe you, Randolph. Shall I tell you what he means?”
“Yes.”
“He means it for a joke. He knows you don’t like him, and he isn’t breaking his heart over it.”
“It’s pretty cheeky in him! Just tell him when you write that he needn’t call me his dear friend again.”
“You might hurt his feelings,” said Linton, gravely.
“That for his feelings!” said Randolph, with a snap of his fingers. “You say he’s traveling. Shall I tell you what I think he is doing?”
“If you like.”
“I think he is traveling with a blacking-box in his hand. It’s just the business for him.”
“I don’t think you are right. He wouldn’t make enough in that way to pay traveling expenses. He says he has twice come near being robbed.”
Randolph laughed derisively.
“A thief wouldn’t make much robbing him,” he said. “If he got twenty-five cents he’d be lucky.”
“You forget that he has a nice silver watch?”
Randolph frowned. This with him was a sore reflection. Much as he was disposed to look down upon Luke, he was aware that Luke’s watch was better than his, and, though he had importuned his father more than once to buy him a gold watch, he saw no immediate prospect of his wish being granted.
“Oh, well, I’ve talked enough of Luke Larkin,” he said, snappishly. “He isn’t worth so many words. I am very much surprised that a gentleman’s son like you, Linton, should demean himself by keeping company with such a boy.”
“There is no boy in the village whom I would rather associate with,” said Linton, with sturdy friendship.
“I don’t admire your taste, then,” said Randolph. “I don’t believe your father and mother like you to keep such company.”
“There you are mistaken,” said Linton, with spirit. “They have an excellent opinion of Luke, and if he should ever need a friend, I am sure my father would be willing to help him.”
“Well, I must be going,” said Randolph, by no means pleased with this advocacy of Luke. “Come round and see me soon. You never come to our house.”
Linton answered politely, but did not mean to become intimate with Randolph, who was by no means to his taste. He knew that it was only his social position that won him the invitation, and that if his father should suddenly lose his property, Randolph’s cordiality would be sensibly diminished. Such friendship, he felt, was not to be valued.
“What are you thinking about? You seem in a brown study,” said a pleasant voice.
Looking up, Linton recognized his teacher, Mr. Hooper.
“I was thinking of Luke Larkin,” answered Linton.
“By the by, where is Luke? I have not seen him for some time.”
“He is traveling for Mr. Reed, I believe.”
“The man who committed the tin box to his care?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No, sir. I have just received a letter from him, but he says he is not at liberty to mention where he is.”
“Will he be home soon?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“I shall be glad to see him. He is one of the most promising of my pupils.”
Linton’s expressive face showed the pleasure he felt at this commendation of his friend. He felt more gratified than if Mr. Hooper had directly praised him.
“Luke can stand Randolph’s depreciation,” he reflected, “with such a friend as Mr. Hooper.”
Linton was destined to meet plenty of acquaintances. Scarcely had he parted from Mr. Hooper, when Tony Denton met him. The keeper of the billiard-room was always on the alert to ingratiate himself with the young people of the village, looking upon them as possible patrons of his rooms. He would have been glad to draw in Linton, on account of his father’s prominent position in the village.
“Good day, my young friend,” he said, with suavity.
“Good day, Mr. Denton,” responded Linton, who thought it due to himself to be polite, though he did not fancy Mr. Denton.
“I should be very glad to have you look in at my billiard-room, Mr. Linton,” continued Tony.
“Thank you sir, but I don’t think my father would like to have me visit a billiard-saloon — at any rate, till I am older.”
“Oh, I’ll see that you come to no harm. If you don’t want to play, you can look on.”
“At any rate, I am obliged to you for your polite invitation.”
“Oh, I like to have the nice boys of the village around me. Your friend Randolph Duncan often visits me.”
“So I have heard,” replied Linton.
“Well, I won’t keep you, but remember my invitation.”
“I am not very likely to accept,” thought Linton. “I have heard that Randolph visits the billiard-room too often for his good.”