Jed, the Poorhouse Boy. Alger Horatio Jr.

scalding been Jed, I would have reported the matter to the authorities. Now tell me why you attempted to horsewhip the boy?"

      "Because he was impudent," replied Fogson evasively.

      "And that was all?"

      "He disobeyed me."

      "Jed, let me hear your version of the story."

      "Mr. Fogson knew that I had a dollar given me by Mrs. Redmond, and he called upon me to give it up to him. I wouldn't do it, and upon that he tried to horsewhip me."

      "You see he owns up to his disobeying me, doctor," put in Fogson triumphantly.

      "Why did you require him to give you the dollar, Mr. Fogson?"

      "Because he is a pauper, and a pauper has no right to hold money."

      "I won't discuss that point. What did you propose to do with the dollar in case you had obtained it from Jed?"

      "As you are not Overseer of the Poor, Dr. Redmond, I don't know that I have any call to tell you. When Squire Dixon asks me I will make it all straight with him."

      "Probably," answered the doctor in a significant tone, for he as well as others understood that there was some secret compact between Mr. Fogson and the town official, and he had earnestly opposed Squire Dixon at the polls.

      "Not only you, but Squire Dixon will have to give an account of your stewardship," he said. "If any outrage should be committed against the boy Jed, or any one else in this establishment, you will find that making it straight with Squire Dixon won't be sufficient."

      "I will report what you say to Squire Dixon," said Fogson defiantly.

      "I wish you would. I shouldn't object to saying the same thing to his face. Now, Mrs. Fogson, if you will lead the way I will go and see Mrs. Connolly."

      "Come along, then," said Mrs. Fogson, compressing her thin lips. "I don't believe there is anything the matter with that old woman."

      "I am a better judge of that matter than you, Mrs. Fogson."

      The poor old woman looked thin and wan, and hardly had strength to lift up her head to meet the doctor's glance.

      After a brief examination he said: "Your trouble is nervous debility. You have no strength. What you need is nourishment. Do you have tea three times a day, Mrs. Connolly?"

      "Only once a week, doctor," wailed the poor old woman, bursting into tears.

      "Only once a week!" repeated the doctor shocked. "What does this mean, Mrs. Fogson?"

      "It means, Dr. Redmond," answered the mistress of the poorhouse, "that this is not a first-class hotel."

      "I should say not," commented the doctor. "How often did you have tea, Mrs. Connolly, when Mr. and Mrs. Avery were here?"

      "At breakfast and supper, and on Sundays three times a day."

      "Precisely. What do you say to that, Mrs. Fogson?"

      "I say, as everybody says, that the Averys squandered the town's money."

      "They certainly didn't put it into their own pockets. The town, I think I am safe in saying, doesn't mean to starve the poor people whom it provides for. Do I understand that you are actuated by a desire to save the town's money?"

      "Of course I am, and Squire Dixon approves all I do," answered Mrs. Fogson defiantly.

      "If he approves your withholding the necessities of life from those under your charge he is unfit for his position. When the accounts of the poorhouse are audited at the end of the year I shall make a searching examination, and ascertain how much less they are under your administration than under that of your predecessors."

      Judging from her looks, Mrs. Fogson was aching to scratch Dr. Redmond's eyes out; but as he was not a pauper she was compelled to restrain her anger.

      "Now, Mrs. Connolly," said the doctor, "you are to have tea twice a day, and three times on Sunday. I shall see that it is given to you," he added, with a significant glance at Mrs. Fogson.

      "Oh, how glad I am!" said the poor creature. "God bless you, Dr. Redmond!"

      "Mrs. Fogson," went on the doctor, "do you limit yourself to tea once a week?"

      "I ain't a pauper, Dr. Redmond!" replied Mrs. Fogson indignantly.

      "No; you are much stronger than a pauper, and could bear the deprivation better. Let me tell you that you needn't be afraid to supply decent food to the poor people in your charge. It won't cost any more than it did under the Averys, for prices are, on the whole, cheaper."

      "Perhaps if it does cost more you'll pay it out of your own pocket."

      "I contribute already to the support of the poorhouse, being a large taxpayer, and I give my medical services without exacting payment. The town is not mean, and I will see that no fault is found with reasonable bills."

      "I wish you'd fall and break your neck, you old meddler," thought Mrs. Fogson, but she did not dare to say this.

      "One thing more, madam!" said the doctor, who had now entered the room where Jed and her husband were; "reserve your hot water for its legitimate uses. No more scalding, if you please."

      "That's well put, doctor!" growled Fogson. "If she wants to scald anybody else, she had better try herself."

      "That's all the gratitude I get for taking your part, Simeon Fogson," said the exasperated helpmeet. "The next time, Jed may beat you black and blue for all I care."

      "It strikes me," remarked the doctor dryly, "that your husband is a match for a boy of sixteen, and need be under no apprehension. No more horsewhips, Mr. Fogson, if you please, and don't trouble yourself about any small sums that Jed may receive. Jed, jump into my buggy, and I will take you home with me. I think Mrs. Redmond will give you some supper."

      "The boy hasn't done his chores," said Mrs. Fogson maliciously.

      "Very well, I will make a bargain with you. Don't object to his going, and I won't charge Mr. Fogson anything for my attendance upon him just now."

      This appeal to the selfish interests of Mr. Fogson had its effect, and Jed jumped into the doctor's buggy with eager alacrity.

      CHAPTER VI.

      MR. FOGSON MAKES UP HIS MIND

      "I don't know, Jed, whether I can make up to you for the supper you will lose at the poorhouse," observed the doctor jocosely. "Mrs. Redmond may not be as good a cook as Mrs. Fogson."

      "I will risk it," said Jed.

      "Is the fare much worse than it was when Mrs. Avery was in charge?"

      "Very much worse. I don't mind it much myself, for I often get a meal at Fred Morrison's, but the poor old people have a hard time."

      "I will make it my business to see that there is an improvement."

      "Dr. Redmond," said Jed after a pause, "do you think it would be wrong for me to run away from the poorhouse?"

      "Have you any such intention?" asked the doctor quickly.

      "Yes; I think I can earn my own living, and a better living than I have there. I am young and strong, and I am not afraid to try."

      "As to that, Jed, I don't see why there should be any objection to your making the attempt. The town of Scranton ought not to object to lessening the number it is required to support."

      "Mr. and Mrs. Fogson would object. They would miss my work."

      "Have you ever spoken to them on the subject?"

      "I did one day, and they said I would have to stay till I was twenty-one."

      "That is not true."

      "I don't think I could stay that long," said Jed soberly. "I should be dead before that time if I had to live with Mr. and Mrs. Fogson, and fared no better. Besides, you see how I am dressed. I should think you would be ashamed to have me at your table."

      Jed's clothes certainly were far from becoming. They were of unknown antiquity, and were two sizes too small for him, so that the sleeves and the legs of the trousers were so