Herbert Carter's Legacy; Or, the Inventor's Son. Alger Horatio Jr.

did not deign a reply to this rude speech. Tom Spencer, who was much more of a gentleman than James, was disgusted with his impertinence. He rose, and took Herbert by the hand.

      “You must let me introduce myself,” he said. “My name is Thomas Spencer, and I am glad to see you here.”

      “Thank you,” said Herbert, his heart opening at the frank and cordial manner of the other. “My name is Herbert Carter, and I am very glad to make your acquaintance.”

      “Are you going to finish this game, Tom?” drawled James, not relishing the idea of Herbert’s receiving any attention from his friend.

      “If you don’t mind, we’ll have it another time,” said Tom. “There goes the supper bell, and I for one am hungry.”

      At the supper table James noticed, to his secret disgust, that Herbert was treated with as much consideration as himself. Mr. and Mrs. Spencer appeared to consider them social equals, which made James very uncomfortable.

      “You boys are about of an age, I suppose,” said Mr. Spencer.

      “I really don’t know,” said James, haughtily.

      “You attend the same school?”

      “Yes,” said James, “but I expect to go to some select academy very soon. At a public school you have to associate with all classes, you know.”

      Mr. Spencer arched his brows, and steadily regarded the young aristocrat.

      “I don’t see any great distinction of classes in a country village,” said he, dryly. “Besides, we are living in a republic.”

      “You wouldn’t like to associate on equal terms with a day laborer,” said James, pertly.

      “I am a laborer myself,” said the lawyer, smiling. “I wish I could say I were a day laborer exclusively, but sometimes I have to work into the night.”

      “You are a professional man, and a gentleman,” said James. “You don’t work with your hands.”

      “I hope you boys will all grow up gentlemen,” said Mr. Spencer.

      “I shall, of course,” said James.

      “And you, Tom?”

      “I hope so.”

      “And you, Herbert?”

      “I hope so, too,” said Herbert; “but if it is necessary to be rich to be a gentleman, I am not sure about it.”

      “What is your idea of a gentleman, James?” asked the lawyer.

      “He must be of a good family, and wear good clothes, and live nicely.”

      “Is that all?”

      “He ought to be well educated.”

      “I see you name that last which I should name first. So these constitute a gentleman, in your opinion?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Not always. I have known men combining all the qualifications you have mentioned, who were very far from being gentlemen, in my opinion.”

      “How is that, sir?” asked James, puzzled.

      “They were arrogant, puffed up with an idea of their own importance, deficient in politeness.”

      “How well he has described James!” thought Herbert, but he was too much of a gentleman to say so.

      James looked disconcerted, and dropped the subject. He thought the lawyer had some queer ideas. Why need a gentleman be polite to his inferiors? he thought, but he didn’t say so.

      After supper the boys went out behind the house, and feasted on peaches, which were just ripe. Herbert found Tom very social, but James took very little notice of him. Our hero did not make himself unhappy on this account. In fact, he was in unusual good spirits, and enjoyed in anticipation the pleasure of going back to Wrayburn with the welcome news of the two legacies.

      About half past seven Mr. Spencer came out into the orchard.

      “As the stage starts early in the morning, Herbert,” he said, “we had better go over and get the trunk ready, so that you can take it home.”

      James Leech hoped to receive an invitation to accompany the two; but no invitation was given, and he was forced to content himself with staying behind.

      CHAPTER VII

      A WELCOME DISCOVERY

      Mr. Spencer entered the house so lately vacated by the old man who had occupied it for forty years.

      “The trunk is in your uncle’s room,” said the lawyer, “or ought to be. I suppose it has not been moved.”

      The two entered the chamber. It was a small, poorly furnished apartment, covered with a carpet which, cheap in the first place, was so worn with use that the bare floor showed in spots.

      “Your uncle was not very luxurious in his taste,” said Mr. Spencer. “There are plenty of day laborers in town who have as good rooms as this.”

      “I suppose he liked laying up money better than spending it,” said Herbert.

      “You are right there. This must be the trunk.”

      It was a small, black hair trunk, studded with brass nails. Mr. Spencer took a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked it. Lifting the cover he exposed to view a collection of woolen clothes-coats, vests, and pants.

      “This is your legacy, Herbert,” said the lawyer. “I am afraid you won’t find it very valuable. What is this?”

      He drew out, and held up to view, a blue cloak of ample proportions.

      “Will you try it on?” he said, smiling.

      Herbert threw it over his shoulders, and looked at himself in a small seven-by-nine looking-glass which was suspended over the washstand. It came down nearly to his feet.

      “I should hardly dare to wear this without alteration,” he said; “but there is a good deal of good cloth in it. Mother can cut a coat and vest out of it for me.”

      “Here is a blue coat with brass buttons. I remember your uncle used to wear it to church twenty years ago. Of late years he has not attended, and has had no occasion to wear it. Here is a pair of pantaloons; but they are pretty well worn.”

      So they went through the list, finding little of value. The last article was a vest.

      “It seems heavy,” said Herbert.

      The lawyer took it from him and examined it.

      “There seems to be an inside pocket,” he said. “There must be something in it.”

      The pocket was confined by a button; Mr. Spencer thrust his fingers inside, and drew out something loosely enveloped in brown paper.

      “What have we here?” he said, in a tone of curiosity.

      The secret was speedily solved. When the paper was opened, it was found to contain five gold eagles, and two dollars in silver coins.

      Herbert’s eyes glistened with delight as he viewed the treasure.

      “Fifty-two dollars!” he exclaimed. “And it is mine.”

      “Undoubtedly. The will expressly says you are to have the trunk, and all it contains.”

      “I wonder whether Uncle Herbert remembered this money?”

      “We can’t tell as to that, but it doesn’t affect your title to the money. I congratulate you, Herbert.”

      “It will do us a great deal of good. Then there are the hundred dollars for mother. Why, we shall be rich.”

      “Then you are content with your legacy?” asked Mr. Spencer.

      “Oh, yes; it was more than I expected, or mother, either.”

      “Yet it is but a mere drop of your uncle’s wealth,” said the lawyer, thoughtfully.

      “That