Joe's Luck

JOE’S WELCOME HOME

On arriving in New York both Joe and Mr. Bickford bought new suits of clothes.  Mr. Bickford purchased a blue dress suit, resplendent with brass buttons, and a gold watch and chain, which made a good deal of show for the money.  His tastes were still barbaric, and a quiet suit of black would not have come up to his idea of what was befitting a successful California miner.

He surveyed himself before the tailor’s glass with abundant satisfaction.

“I guess that’ll strike ’em at home, eh, Joe?” he said.

“You look splendid, Mr. Bickford.”

“Kinder scrumptious, don’t I?”

“Decidedly so.”

“I say, Joe, you’d better have a suit made just like this.”

Joe shuddered at the thought.  In refinement of taste he was decidedly ahead of his friend and partner.

“I’m going to buy a second-hand suit,” he said.

“What!” ejaculated Joshua.

Joe smiled.

“I knew you’d be surprised, but I’ll explain.  I want people to think at first that I have been unlucky.”

“Oh, I see,” said Joshua, nodding; “kinder take ’em in.”

“Just so, Mr. Bickford.”

“Well, there is something in that.”

“Then I shall find out who my true friends are.”

“Just so.”

* * * * *

It is not my purpose to describe Mr. Bickford’s arrival in Pumpkin Hollow, resplendent in his new suit.  Joshua wouldn’t have changed places with the President of the United States on that day.  His old friends gathered about him, and listened open-mouthed to his stories of mining life in California and his own wonderful exploits, which lost nothing in the telling.  He found his faithful Susan unmarried, and lost no time in renewing his suit.  He came, he saw, he conquered!

In four weeks Susan became Mrs. Bickford, her husband became the owner of the farm he coveted, and he at once took his place among the prominent men of Pumpkin Hollow.  In a few years he was appointed justice of the peace, and became known as Squire Bickford.  It may be as well to state here, before taking leave of him, that his real estate investments in San Francisco proved fortunate, and in ten years he found himself worth ten thousand dollars.  This to Joshua was a fortune, and he is looked upon as a solid man in the town where he resides.

We now turn to Joe.

Since his departure nothing definite had been heard of him.  Another boy had taken his place on Major Norton’s farm, but he was less reliable than Joe.

“I am out of patience with that boy.  I wish I had Joe back again.”

“Have you heard anything of Joe since he went away?” inquired Oscar.

“Not a word.”

“I don’t believe he went to California at all.”

“In that case we should have heard from him.”

“No, Joe’s proud—­poor and proud!” said Oscar.  “I guess he’s wished himself back many a time, but he’s too proud to own it.”

“Joe was good to work,” said the major.

“He was too conceited.  He didn’t know his place.  He thought himself as good as me,” said Oscar arrogantly.

“Most people seemed to like Joe,” said the major candidly.

“I didn’t,” said Oscar, tossing his head.  “If he’d kept in his place and realized that he was a hired boy, I could have got along well enough with him.”

“I wish he would come back,” said the major.  “I would take him back.”

“I dare say he’s had a hard time and would be humbler now,” said Oscar.

At this moment a knock was heard at the door, and just afterward Joe entered.

He wore a mixed suit considerably the worse for wear and patched in two or three places.  There was a rip under the arm, and his hat, a soft felt one, had become shapeless from long and apparently hard usage.  He stood in the doorway, waiting for recognition.

“How do you do, Joe?” said Major Norton cordially.  “I am glad to see you.”

Joe’s face lighted up.

“Thank you, sir,” he said.

“Shake hands, Joe.”

Major Norton was mean in money matters, but he had something of the gentleman about him.

Oscar held aloof.

“How do you do, Oscar?”

“I’m well,” said Oscar.  “Have you been to California?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t seem to have made your fortune,” said Oscar superciliously, eying Joe’s shabby clothing.

“I haven’t starved,” said Joe.

“Where did you get that suit of clothes?” asked Oscar.

“I hope you’ll excuse my appearance,” said Joe.

“Well, Joe, do you want to come back to your old place?” asked Major Norton.  “I’ve got a boy, but he doesn’t suit me.”

“How much would you be willing to pay me, Major Norton?”

The major coughed.

“Well,” said he, “I gave you your board and clothes before.  That’s pretty good pay for a boy.”

“I’m older now.”

“I’ll do the same by you, Joe, and give you fifty cents a week besides.”

“Thank you for the offer, Major Norton.  I’ll take till to-morrow to think of it.”

“You’d better accept it now,” said Oscar.  “Beggars shouldn’t be choosers.”

“I am not a beggar, Oscar,” said Joe mildly.

“You look like one, anyway,” said Oscar bluntly.

“Oscar,” said Major Norton, “if Joe has been unlucky, you shouldn’t throw it in his teeth.”

“He went off expecting to make his fortune,” said Oscar, in an exulting tone.  “He looks as if he had made it.  Where are you going?”

“I am going to look about the village a little.  I will call again.”

After Joe went out Oscar said: 

“It does me good to see Joe come in rags.  Serves him right for putting on airs.”

On the main street Joe met Annie Raymond.

“Why, Joe!” she exclaimed, delighted.  “Is it really you?”

“Bad pennies always come back,” said Joe.

“Have you——­ I am afraid you have not been fortunate,” said the young lady, hesitating as she noticed Joe’s shabby clothes.

“Do you think less of me for that?”

“No,” said Annie Raymond warmly.  “It is you I like, not your clothes.  You may have been unfortunate, but I am sure you deserved success.”

“You are a true friend, Miss Annie, so I don’t mind telling you that I was successful.”

Annie Raymond looked astonished.

“And these clothes—­” she began.

“I put on for Oscar Norton’s benefit.  I wanted to see how he would receive me.  He evidently rejoiced at my bad fortune.”

“Oscar is a mean boy.  Joe, you must come to our house to supper.”

“Thank you, I will; but I will go round to the hotel and change my clothes.”

“Never mind.”

“But I do mind.  I don’t fancy a shabby suit as long as I can afford to wear a good one.”

Joe went to the hotel, took off his ragged clothes, put on a new and stylish suit which he recently had made for him, donned a gold watch and chain, and hat in the latest style, and thus dressed, his natural good looks were becomingly set off.

“How do I look now?” he asked, when he met Miss Annie Raymond at her own door.

“Splendidly, Joe.  I thought you were a young swell from the city.”

After supper Annie said, her eyes sparkling with mischief: 

“Suppose we walk over to Major Norton’s and see Oscar.”

“Just what I wanted to propose.”

Oscar was out in the front yard, when he caught sight of Joe and Annie Raymond approaching.  He did not at first recognize Joe, but thought, like the young lady, that it was some swell from the city.

“You see I’ve come again, Oscar,” said Joe, smiling.

Oscar could not utter a word.  He was speechless with astonishment.

“I thought you were poor,” he uttered, at last.

“I have had better luck than you thought.”

“I suppose you spent all your money for those clothes.”

“You are mistaken, Oscar.  I am not so foolish.  I left between two and three thousand dollars in a New York bank, and I have more than twice that in San Francisco.”

“It isn’t possible!” exclaimed Oscar, surprised and disappointed.

“Here is my bank-book; you can look at it,” and Joe pointed to a deposit of twenty-five hundred dollars.  “I don’t think, Oscar, it will pay me to accept your father’s offer and take my old place.”

“I don’t understand it.  How did you do it?” asked the bewildered Oscar.

“I suppose it was my luck,” said Joe.

“Not wholly that,” said Annie Raymond.  “It was luck and labor.”

“I accept the amendment, Miss Annie.”

Oscar’s manner changed at once.  Joe, the successful Californian, was very different from Joe, the hired boy.  He became very attentive to our hero, and before he left town condescended to borrow twenty dollars of him, which he never remembered to repay.  He wanted to go back to California with Joe, but his father would not consent.

When Joe returned to San Francisco, by advice of Mr. Morgan he sold out his restaurant to Watson and took charge of Mr. Morgan’s real estate business.  He rose with the rising city, became a very rich man, and now lives in a handsome residence on one of the hills that overlook the bay.  He has an excellent wife—­our old friend, Annie Raymond—­and a fine family of children.  His domestic happiness is by no means the smallest part of Joe’s luck.

THE END