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Hardhand insisted that she should pay the interest on the sixty dollars for one day, as it was then the second day of July; but when Bobby reckoned it up, and found it was less than one cent, even the wretched miser seemed ashamed of himself, and changed the subject of conversation. He did not dare to say any thing saucy to the widow this time.
He had fish enough in his basket for dinner, and for breakfast the next morning, and money enough in his pocket to make his mother as happy as a queen, if queens are always happy. The widow Bright, though she had worried and fretted night and day about the money which was to be paid to Mr. Hardhand on the first of July, had not told her son any thing about it.
He did not speak contemptuously of the anticipated perils, as many boys would have done, because he knew that his mother would not make bugbears out of things which she knew had no real existence. The next day, Mr. Hardhand came; and my young readers can judge how astonished and chagrined he was, when the widow Bright offered him the sixty dollars.
Bright, bursting into tears. "Yes, marm, let the law take its course." "O Bobby! Stop a moment, Mr. Hardhand; do stop a moment." "Not a moment, marm. We'll see;" and Mr. Hardhand placed his hand upon the latch string. Bobby felt very uneasy, and very unhappy at that moment. His passion had subsided, and he realized that he had done a great deal of mischief by his impetuous conduct.
Hardhand was aware of all the circumstances of his mother's position, and the more he considered the case the more brutal and inhuman was his course. As our hero entered the family room with the basket of fish on his arm, the little crusty old man fixed the glance of his evil eye upon him.
He could live on a crust of bread and a cup of water from the spring; he could sleep in a barn; he could wear coarse and even ragged clothes; but he could not submit to have his mother insulted, and by such a mean and contemptible person as Mr. Hardhand. Yet what could he do? He was but a boy, and the great world would look with contempt upon his puny form.
He felt as grand as a lord; and as soon as the forty-nine dollars had become fifty, he waited upon Mr. Hardhand, a little crusty old man, who owned the little black house, and proposed to purchase it. The landlord was a hard man. Every body in Riverdale said he was mean and stingy.
Hardhand accepted the offer, agreeing to take fifty dollars down and the rest in semi-annual payments of twenty-five dollars each, until the whole was paid. I am thus particular in telling my readers about the bargain, because this debt which his father contracted was the means of making a man of Bobby, as will be seen in his subsequent history.
Hardhand's covetous soul had already grasped the glittering gold; and removing his hand from the latch string, he approached the widow. "I shall be able to pay you forty dollars now," said Mrs. Bright, taking the five dollars she had saved from her pocket. "Yes, marm." Mr. Hardhand took the money, and seating himself at the table, indorsed the amount on the back of the note.
"I would rather see my mother kicked out of the house than insulted by such a dried-up old curmudgeon as you are. Go along!" "Now, don't, Bobby," pleaded his mother. "I am going; and if the money is not paid by twelve o'clock to-morrow, the law shall lake its course;" and Mr. Hardhand rushed out of the house, slamming the door violently after him. "O Bobby, what have you done?" exclaimed Mrs.
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