The Mystery of Cleverly: A Story for Boys — Themes and Context

about him?” asked Mr. Harkins quietly.

“A great deal about him,” spluttered the banker, “he’s a young rowdy; that’s what he is. He set on my boy Arthur at school to-day and beat him in the most brutal manner.”

“A boys’ fight?” queried Herbert’s father lifting his eyebrows.

“You may call it a boys’ fight,” thundered the other; “I call it an outrage. Why that child of mine came home with his nose bleeding--do you understand sir--with his nose bleeding.”

“That child as you call him,” ventured Mr. Harkins, a note of amusement in his voice, “is, I believe, nearly seventeen years old.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” shouted the other.

“Nothing, except that he’s nearly two years older than my boy.”

“Age is not the only thing--”

“No,” interrupted Mr. Harkins, “weight should be considered. Arthur is not only older, but he is much heavier than Herbert.”

“Do you mean to say,” exclaimed the banker in amazement, “that you are taking up for that boy?”

“Oh, no,” said Mr. Harkins pleasantly, “that’s not necessary. Herbert seems to be fully capable of taking up for himself.”

“Take care, Harkins,” said the rich man, banging his cane angrily on the floor; “take care; don’t attempt to trifle with me!”

David Harkins paid no attention to this outburst, but sat silent wondering what would come next. His curiosity was soon satisfied.

John Black arose with a gesture of impatience.

“There is no need of my wasting any more time here,” he exclaimed. “I came over to give you a chance to set yourself straight.”

“To set myself straight?” queried Harkins.

“Yes; if you have that boy of yours apologize to Arthur at school to-morrow, we’ll call it quits.”

David Harkins stood looking at the banker as if he had taken leave of his senses. The silence lasted so long that it became embarrassing.

“Come, come, what do you say to my proposal?” asked John Black. “I don’t want to be too hard on your young one. Do as I say and the matter will drop. Your answer.”

“No!” shouted Harkins. “No; a hundred times no! Herbert did perfectly right in thrashing that bully of a son of yours. I’m proud of him for doing it. And if he would dare to apologize for it I’d disown him as a son.”

John Black grew almost livid with rage. He hurried to the door. When he reached it he looked back and shook his cane at Harkins.

“You will regret this insult; blast you, I’ll make you sorry for what you said.”

Mrs. Harkins entered the room just as the banker retired. She hurried over to her husband.

“I heard loud voices, David,” she said. “I am sorry you quarreled with Mr. Black.”

Her husband looked at her fondly. His face was pale, although he was smiling.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said; “but he irritated me beyond endurance. Besides I told him the truth. Between ourselves,” he added, “I’m really proud of Herbert.”

“But you must not tell that to Herbert,” she said anxiously; “it might be the means of spoiling him.”

“Oh, never fear, I won’t tell him; but I won’t be unjust to the boy either. I’ll deal fairly with him.”

Indeed, as has already been indicated, a love of justice was one of the most striking traits of David Harkins’ character, and unconsciously he was doing all in his power to plant the same virtue in the mind and heart of his only son.

“In spite of what you say, David,” remarked Mrs. Harkins, “I regret this incident. I do not believe in signs or any nonsense of that sort, but some strange voice within me says that this thing will have a fatal ending.”

“Oh, cheer up,” was the bright response of the husband. “It’s folly to look on the dark side of life. Anyhow, what will be, must be. All that we can do in this life is to try and live decently. A friend of mine used to say that it was a good thing always to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

With this bit of philosophy Mr. Harkins turned to his desk and resumed his work. As his wife closed the door, however, the cheerful look left his face, and lines of care and worry began to appear. Despite his protests to the contrary, he regretted his encounter with John Black. But his sense of right and justice was too acute to permit him to make peace at the price of truth.

While he was thinking over the events of the day, there was a ring of the door-bell, and in a moment Mrs. Harkins appeared to present Mr. Horace Coke, the lawyer of Cleverly and one of the good friends of the family. Mr. Coke was one of the old fashioned attorneys at law. He wore a suit of black broadcloth and carried a cane and a high silk hat in his hand. He had a smooth, round face, was always in a good humor, loved children and dogs, and lived in constant peace and harmony with his friends and neighbors.

Mr. Harkins hastened to give him the most comfortable chair in the room, and Mrs. Harkins, who had remained, waited expectantly to hear the occasion of the visit. The visitor stroked his chin in an absent-minded way and seemed ill at ease. He was not smiling either, which was a strange thing for Horace Coke. Presently he said abruptly:

“It’s a lovely evening Dave, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Harkins, “it is a lovely evening.”

But he knew in his heart that the lawyer had not called to make this useless comment on the weather. He knew that something more important was to come, so he sat silent and waited.

“Dave,” said the lawyer, clearing his throat, “I’m here on a very, very unpleasant errand. It was in the line of my professional duty though, and I couldn’t get out of it.”

“Indeed,” was the non-committal reply.

“No,” pursued Mr. Coke, “you see I am here representing a client.”

“Might I ask the name of your client?”

“Yes; it is John Black.”

Mr. Harkins started as he heard this name. It was not altogether unexpected, yet the sound gave him an uncomfortable feeling. Mrs. Harkins, too, was very much depressed by the announcement. Herbert had entered the room quietly during the conversation; but when he heard what Mr. Coke had said, he paused at the threshold.

“Well,” said Mr. Harkins finally, “what about Mr. Black?”

“It seems,” replied the lawyer, “that you have had a financial transaction with Mr. Black.”

“That he has your note for one thousand dollars.”

“Well, Mr. Black sends me here to collect it.”

“Mr. Coke, isn’t this a rather unusual method of doing business? I borrowed this money from Mr. Black at the bank to pay off the mortgage on my house. I understood that it was to run for several years, although we had no written agreement regarding the time. But I never heard of a banker sending a lawyer to collect a note.”

“It is unusual,” confessed the lawyer, “but Mr. Black has the legal right to do it if he sees fit. He says the endorsers of the note are no good and he instructs me, if payment is not made within twenty-four hours, to proceed against you.”

He arose to go. As he reached the door he turned and said:

“Dave, I don’t think this is a square deal; but I’m only acting as a lawyer for a client. If I had the money to spare, I’d give it to you myself.”

He said good-night and departed. Mrs. Harkins turned to her husband.

“Can you meet this demand, Dave?”

He looked at her in a strained sort of way. It was a half minute before he spoke. He said simply:

“I haven’t the faintest idea where I am going to get the money.”

CHAPTER III PROVING THAT BIRDS OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER

Herbert was deeply impressed with the scene that had taken place between his father and Mr. Coke. It was quite early in the evening, and putting on his hat and coat, he quietly left the house for the purpose of taking a walk around the town and thinking over the meaning of the events which were following each other so quickly. He was filled with remorse at the thought of having been the innocent cause of bringing disaster on their modest household; but deep down in his heart he felt that he had done the right thing in spite of the unexpected results that had followed. Herbert had always been a sturdy and resolute boy.

He had regard for the feelings and rights of others, but was always quick to resent any attempt to impose upon his own good nature. When he first entered the school at Cleverly he did not give promise of being a very bright pupil. In fact there were times when the teacher was disposed to consider him a very dull boy; but little by little the ability that slumbered with him was awakened, and by degrees he began to show evidences of more than ordinary talent. He was not quick to learn; but was always numbered among the plodders at the school. In spite of his apparent slowness, he began to advance in his classes, and when he had reached his sixteenth year was near the head of the boys in his grade. For one thing he retained the knowledge that he acquired with so much labor. He had what the teacher called bull-dog tenacity. In other words, when he started out to accomplish a certain task he never rested till it was entirely completed.

Mr. Harkins, who was a man of very unusual ability, was extremely anxious to give his son the very best education in his power. His ambition was to develop Herbert both morally and mentally, and he looked forward with great hope to the time when he would finish his tuition at the Cleverly district school. After that it was his wish that he should enter St. Joseph’s College in the adjoining city, in order to obtain a higher education. The Jesuits who were in charge of that institution, had offered four free scholarships to the boys who obtained the highest average in a competitive examination that was to be held in the spring of the year. The father and son had frequently discussed this subject.

“Herbert,” said Mr. Harkins, “this is no child’s play. If you make up your mind to go into this thing, it will mean hard work. There will be very little time for sports.”

“I appreciate that, father,” Herbert would say soberly. “And when the time comes I intend to pin myself down to the hardest kind of work. I know what it means, and I have no fear of the result.”

So it was that the boy trudged along in his somewhat heavy way, doing the routine that fell to all the pupils of the Cleverly School. While he did not display any special flashes of brilliancy, his averages were always good, and sometimes unusually large.

Arthur Black was the opposite of Herbert in almost every way. For years he had been one of the favored pupils at the Cleverly School. The fact that his father was rich and influential made all those connected with the school disposed to treat him with more than ordinary consideration. He was a bright boy, but extremely indolent; and as a consequence was a source of constant trouble to his teachers. Arthur had the faculty of being able to recite his lessons without having given much time to their study; but as the weeks and months went by he became more and more indifferent and finally drifted down near the rear of his class where he bid fair to remain until the end of his school days. Arthur was very much annoyed at the progress made by Herbert Harkins, and publicly said that it was due to the fact that Herbert was one of the teacher’s favorites. No charge could be more unfair than this, but it was circulated through the town, much to the annoyance of Herbert and his parents.

Herbert thought of all these things as he made his way along the main street of the town. He was filled with an intense desire to assist his father, and in a vague sort of way wondered whether it would not be a good thing to leave school and go to work for that purpose. The thought was worth considering anyhow, and he made up his mind to speak to his father before he left home the next morning. Just as he reached the post office pavement, he noticed a small group of men and boys standing there engaged in an animated discussion. As he approached nearer, he saw Arthur Black and a friend of his named Harry Adler talking for the benefit of the crowd. Adler was many years the senior of both Herbert and Arthur. He had the reputation of being a very worthless boy, and although he was rapidly approaching manhood he gave no indication of changing his habits. He was a type of many other boys who can be described in a single sentence as cigarette smoking youths who will not work. He said on one occasion that he was too proud to do menial labor, but in spite of this he was not ashamed to live off the small earnings of a poor mother who was compelled to take in sewing in order to feed and clothe the members of her family. Adler had persistently refused to go to school, and only two years before had run away from home and made his way by degrees to New York City. He remained there for several weeks, and then wrote begging letters home asking for sufficient money to pay his carfare back to Cleverly. He did not even have the manliness to be ashamed of this incident, but looked upon it as one of the big achievements in his life. Ever after that he stood on the street corners and talked in a loud way about his adventures in the big city, much to the amazement and interest of the small boys who stood with open mouths and eagerly listened to all that he had to say.

As Herbert reached the group he heard Arthur Black detailing the story of the fight at the schoolhouse. He informed his hearers that Herbert was a sneaking busybody, and that after school was over he had given him the punishment he so richly deserved.

“But when my back was turned,” he said, “that rascal of a Herbert Harkins gave me a blow in the face that made my nose bleed. He wouldn’t dare to have done it if we had been standing face to face.”

This was too much for Herbert to stand, and turning toward the crowd with flashing eyes, he cried out:

“The story that Arthur Black has told you isn’t true. He was the one at fault, and as far as the fight was concerned I think his nose and the color of his eyes tell the story of the battle better than I can.”

Adler interrupted Herbert at this point to say in a sneering tone:

“See here, young man, if it comes to a question of truth between you and Arthur Black, the people of this town will believe Arthur.”

“I don’t know about that,” retorted Herbert angrily. “Anyhow I would be willing to leave it to the people that know us both.”

The minute Herbert had spoken he was sorry that his impulsive nature had led him into the conversation. In order to avoid any further trouble he hurried away; but Arthur Black and Harry Adler did not propose to let him off so easily.

“Hello there, little boy,” cried Adler in a taunting voice. “Are you going to run away again, just as you did this afternoon?”

Herbert made no reply, but kept on his way. Then Arthur Black joined in the conversation.

“He’d better run away,” he said, “if he knows which side his bread is buttered on. I want to tell you, Herbert Harkins, that you are going to suffer for daring to insult me. You say you won the fight this afternoon. Well, if you did, it will be the dearest victory you ever bought. Before another day goes by you will find that your whole family is likely to be thrown out into the street, and that you will be on your way to the poorhouse, where you belong. Perhaps you won’t be so ready to meddle next time.”

Herbert halted instantly. He hurried back to where the others were standing and made towards Arthur Black. Just as he passed by, Adler quietly slipped his right foot out on the sidewalk, and Herbert tripping over it, fell at full length on the pavement. He jumped up smarting with anger and the shock of the fall. He rushed toward Adler, but in the twinkling of an eye, before a blow had been struck, his mind reverted to the scene that had taken place at his home only a short while before. Instantly he was filled with remorse. He realized that it would be most unfortunate for him to get into a street brawl at a time like this. He felt confident of his ability to chastise both Arthur Black and Harry Adler; but he realized the scene that it would cause and the possibility of one or all of them being taken up by the town constable; so without any explanation whatever he lowered his arms and walked down the street again.

Adler turned to Arthur Black with a sneer on his lips.

“I guess you’ve got that fellow sized up all right,” he said. “He’s a coward; he’s afraid to fight.”

Herbert heard this with burning cheeks. He hurried on his way home, stopping to look neither to the right nor to the left. His mind was filled with conflicting emotions. He thought of the threat that hung over his father, and of the reflection that had been made upon his own personal courage; but try as he would he could not get the sound of that word “coward” out of his ears.

When he reached home the sense of shame had grown so strong that he could not stand the strain any longer. He halted on the doorstep irresolute. The next moment he turned on his heel and walked back to the corner where he had met Arthur Black and Harry Adler. Black had left, but Adler was still there entertaining some of the smaller boys with stories of his own greatness. Herbert walked up to him with flashing eyes:

“Adler, I’ve got a crow to pick with you.”

“Go ahead with the picking,” sneered the older boy, and Herbert flushed hotly at the contemptuous tone.

“A few minutes ago you referred to me as a coward.”

“I want you to take that word back; I won’t stand for it.”

Adler broke out into a coarse laugh.

“Why, the little fellow is feeling his oats,” he cried; “he looks like a bantam rooster.”

“Never mind what I look like,” retorted Herbert hotly. “I want to know whether you’ll take that word back.”

“Don’t get excited, little chap.”

“Will you take it back? Say yes or no!” demanded Herbert.

“I say no,” drawled Adler.

“Then I say take that!”

As he spoke, Herbert reached up and gave the fellow a resounding slap on the cheek. Adler was so dazed at the unexpected assault that he stood still gazing stupidly at his assailant. The small boys in the group were secretly delighted at the indignity put upon their worthless companion, but were discreetly silent. Herbert walked off tingling with delight at having satisfied his outraged feelings.

CHAPTER IV IN WHICH FORTUNE UNEXPECTEDLY FAVORS DAVID HARKINS