"I tell you I am a villain, Major Phillips," blubbered Joe.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Haven't I been on a drunk, and left my family to starve and freeze?"

groaned Joe, interlarding his speech with violent ebullitions of weeping. "Wouldn't my poor wife, and my poor children--O my G.o.d," and the poor drunkard covered his face with his hands, and sobbed like an infant.

"What is the matter? What do you mean, Joe?" asked Major Phillips, who had never seen him in this frame before.

"Wouldn't they all have died if Harry hadn't gone and fed 'em, and split up wood to warm 'em?"

As he spoke, Joe sprang up, and rushed towards Harry, and in his drunken frenzy attempted to embrace him.

"What does this mean, Harry?" said the stable keeper, turning to our hero, who, while Joe was telling his story, had been thinking of something else.

"What a fool I was to get mad!" thought he. "What would she say if she had seen me just now? Poor Julia! perhaps she is dead, even now."

"My folks would have died if it hadn't been for him," hiccoughed Joe.

"Explain it, Harry," added the major.

"The lame girl, Katy, came down here after her father early in the evening. She seemed to be in trouble and I thought I would go up and see what the matter was. I found them in rather a bad condition, without any wood or anything to eat. I did what I could for them, and came away," replied Harry.

"Give me your hand, Harry!" and the major grasped his hand like a vise. "You are a good fellow," he added, with an oath.

"Forgive me, Mr. Phillips, for saying what I did; I was mad," pleaded Harry.

"So was I, my boy; but we won't mind that. You are a good fellow, and I like your s.p.u.n.k. So you have really been taking care of Joe's family while he was off on a drunk?"

"I didn't do much, sir."

"Look here, Harry, and you, Major Phillips. When I get this rum out of me I'll never take another drop again," said Joe, throwing himself into a chair.

"Bah, Joe! You have said that twenty times before," added Major Phillips.

"You dzee!" exclaimed Joe, doubling his fist, and bringing it down with the intention of hitting the table by his side to emphasize his resolution; but, unfortunately, he missed the table--a circ.u.mstance which seemed to fore-shadow the fate of his resolve.

Joe proceeded to declare in his broken speech what a shock he had received when he went home, half an hour before--the first time for several days--and heard the reproaches of his suffering wife; how grateful he was to Harry, and what a villain he considered himself.

Either the sufferings of his family, or the rum he had drunk, melted his heart, and he was as eloquent as his half-paralyzed tongue would permit. He was a pitiable object; and having a.s.sured himself that Joe's family were comfortable for the night, Major Phillips put him to bed in his own house.

Harry was not satisfied with himself; he had permitted his temper to get the better of him. He thought of Julia on her bed of suffering, wept for her, and repented for himself. That night he heard the clock on the Boylston market strike twelve before he closed his eyes to sleep.

The next day, while he was at work in the stable, a boy of about fifteen called to see him, and desired to speak with him alone. Harry, much wondering who his visitor was, and what he wanted, conducted him to the ostlers' chamber.

"You are Harry West?" the boy began.

"That is my name, for the want of a better," replied Harry.

"Then there is a little matter to be settled between you and me. You helped my folks out last night, and I want to pay you for it."

"Your folks?"

"My name is Edward Flint."

"Then you are Joe's son."

"I am," replied Edward, who did not seem to feel much honored by the relationship.

"Your folks were in a bad condition last night."

"That's a fact; they were."

"But I didn't know Joe had a son as old as you are."

"I am the oldest; but I don't live at home, and have not for three years. How much did you pay out for them last night?"

"One dollar and twenty cents."

"As much as that?"

"Just that."

Edward Flint manifested some uneasiness at the announcement. He had evidently come with a purpose, but had found things different from what he had expected.

"I didn't think it was so much."

"What matters how much?" asked Harry.

"Why, I want to pay you."

"You needn't mind that."

"The fact is, I have only three dollars just now; and I promised to go out to ride with a fellow next Sunday. So, you see, if I pay you, I shall not have enough left to foot the bills."

Harry looked at his visitor with astonishment; he did not know what to make of him. Was he in earnest? Would a son of Joseph Flint go out to ride--on Sunday, too--while his mother and his brothers and sisters were on the very brink of starvation? Our hero had some strange, old-fashioned notions of his own. For instance, he considered it a son's duty to take care of his mother, even if he were obliged to forego the Sunday ride; that he ought to do all he could for his brothers and sisters, even if he had to go without stewed oysters, stay away from the theatre, and perhaps wear a little coa.r.s.er cloth on his back. If Harry was unreasonable in his views, my young reader will remember that he was brought up in the country, where young America is not quite so "fast" as in the city.

"I didn't ask you to pay me," continued Harry.

"I know that; but, you see, I suppose I ought to pay you. The old man don't take much care of the family."

Harry wanted to say that the young man did not appear to do much better; but he was disposed to be as civil as the circ.u.mstances would permit.

"You needn't pay me."

"Oh, yes, I shall pay you; but if you can wait till the first of next month, I should like it."

"I can wait. Do you live out?"

"Live out? What do you mean by that? I am a clerk in a store downtown," replied Edward, with offended dignity.