Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience. Alger Horatio Jr.

a tone of sympathy. “What are your plans?”

      “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think.”

      CHAPTER II

      A FRIEND WORTH HAVING

      Gilbert wrinkled up his forehead and set about trying to form some plans for Carl.

      “It will be hard for you to support yourself,” he said, after a pause; “that is, without help.”

      “There is no one to help me. I expect no help.”

      “I thought your father might be induced to give you an allowance, so that with what you can earn, you may get along comfortably.”

      “I think father would be willing to do this, but my stepmother would prevent him.”

      “Then she has a great deal of influence over him?”

      “Yes, she can twist him round her little finger.”

      “I can’t understand it.”

      “You see, father is an invalid, and is very nervous. If he were in perfect health he would have more force of character and firmness. He is under the impression that he has heart disease, and it makes him timid and vacillating.”

      “Still he ought to do something for you.”

      “I suppose he ought. Still, Gilbert, I think I can earn my living.”

      “What can you do?”

      “Well, I have a fair education. I could be an entry clerk, or a salesman in some store, or, if the worst came to the worst, I could work on a farm. I believe farmers give boys who work for them their board and clothes.”

      “I don’t think the clothes would suit you.”

      “I am pretty well supplied with clothing.”

      Gilbert looked significantly at the gripsack.

      “Do you carry it all in there?” he asked, doubtfully.

      Carl laughed.

      “Well, no,” he answered. “I have a trunkful of clothes at home, though.”

      “Why didn’t you bring them with you?”

      “I would if I were an elephant. Being only a boy, I would find it burdensome carrying a trunk with me. The gripsack is all I can very well manage.”

      “I tell you what,” said Gilbert. “Come round to our house and stay overnight. We live only a mile from here, you know. The folks will be glad to see you, and while you are there I will go to your house, see the governor, and arrange for an allowance for you that will make you comparatively independent.”

      “Thank you, Gilbert; but I don’t feel like asking favors from those who have ill-treated me.”

      “Nor would I—of strangers; but Dr. Crawford is your father. It isn’t right that Peter, your stepbrother, should be supported in ease and luxury, while you, the real son, should be subjected to privation and want.”

      “I don’t know but you are right,” admitted Carl, slowly.

      “Of course I am right. Now, will you make me your minister plenipotentiary, armed with full powers?”

      “Yes, I believe I will.”

      “That’s right. That shows you are a boy of sense. Now, as you are subject to my directions, just get on that bicycle and I will carry your gripsack, and we will seek Vance Villa, as we call it when we want to be high-toned, by the most direct route.”

      “No, no, Gilbert; I will carry my own gripsack. I won’t burden you with it,” said Carl, rising from his recumbent position.

      “Look here, Carl, how far have you walked with it this morning?”

      “About twelve miles.”

      “Then, of course, you’re tired, and require rest. Just jump on that bicycle, and I’ll take the gripsack. If you have carried it twelve miles, I can surely carry it one.”

      “You are very kind, Gilbert.”

      “Why shouldn’t I be?”

      “But it is imposing up on your good nature.”

      But Gilbert had turned his head in a backward direction, and nodded in a satisfied way as he saw a light, open buggy rapidly approaching.

      “There’s my sister in that carriage,” he said. “She comes in good time. I will put you and your gripsack in with her, and I’ll take to my bicycle again.”

      “Your sister may not like such an arrangement.”

      “Won’t she though! She’s very fond of beaux, and she will receive you very graciously.”

      “You make me feel bashful, Gilbert.”

      “You won’t be long. Julia will chat away to you as if she’d known you for fifty years.”

      “I was very young fifty years ago,” said Carl, smiling.

      “Hi, there, Jule!” called Gilbert, waving his hand.

      Julia Vance stopped the horse, and looked inquiringly and rather admiringly at Carl, who was a boy of fine appearance.

      “Let me introduce you to my friend and schoolmate, Carl Crawford.”

      Carl took off his hat politely.

      “I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Crawford,” said Julia, demurely; “I have often heard Gilbert speak of you.”

      “I hope he said nothing bad about me, Miss Vance.”

      “You may be sure he didn’t. If he should now—I wouldn’t believe him.”

      “You’ve made a favorable impression, Carl,” said Gilbert, smiling.

      “I am naturally prejudiced against boys—having such a brother,” said Julia; “but it is not fair to judge all boys by him.”

      “That is outrageous injustice!” said Gilbert; “but then, sisters seldom appreciate their brothers.”

      “Some other fellows’ sisters may,” said Carl.

      “They do, they do!”

      “Did you ever see such a vain, conceited boy, Mr. Crawford?”

      “Of course you know him better than I do.”

      “Come, Carl; it’s too bad for you, too, to join against me. However, I will forget and forgive. Jule, my friend, Carl, has accepted my invitation to make us a visit.”

      “I am very glad, I am sure,” said Julia, sincerely.

      “And I want you to take him in, bag and baggage, and convey him to our palace, while I speed thither on my wheel.”

      “To be sure I will, and with great pleasure.”

      “Can’t you get out and assist him into the carriage, Jule?”

      “Thank you,” said Carl; “but though I am somewhat old and quite infirm, I think I can get in without troubling your sister. Are you sure, Miss Vance, you won’t be incommoded by my gripsack?”

      “Not at all.”

      “Then I will accept your kind offer.”

      In a trice Carl was seated next to Julia, with his valise at his feet.

      “Won’t you drive, Mr. Crawford?” said the young lady.

      “Don’t let me take the reins from you.”

      “I don’t think it looks well for a lady to drive when a gentleman is sitting beside her.”

      Carl was glad to take the reins, for he liked driving.

      “Now for a race!” said Gilbert, who was mounted on his bicycle.

      “All right!” replied Carl. “Look out for us!”

      They started, and the two kept neck and neck till they entered the driveway