Struggling Upward: Luke Larkin's Luck

LUKE’S RETURN

Mr. Armstrong was sitting in his office one morning when the door opened, and Luke entered, his face flushed with health, and his cheeks browned by exposure.

“You see I’ve got back, Mr. Armstrong,” he said, advancing with a smile.

“Welcome home, Luke!” exclaimed the merchant heartily, grasping our hero’s hand cordially.

“I hope you are satisfied with me,” said Luke.

“Satisfied!  I ought to be.  You have done yourself the greatest credit.  It is seldom a boy of your age exhibits such good judgment and discretion.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Luke gratefully.  “I was obliged to spend a good deal of money,” he added, “and I have arrived in New York with only three dollars and seventy-five cents in my pocket.”

“I have no fault to find with your expenses,” said Mr. Armstrong promptly.  “Nor would I have complained if you had spent twice as much.  The main thing was to succeed, and you have succeeded.”

“I am glad to hear you speak so,” said Luke, relieved.  “To me it seemed a great deal of money.  You gave me two hundred dollars, and I have less than five dollars left.  Here it is!” and Luke drew the sum from his pocket, and tendered it to the merchant.

“I can’t take it,” said Mr. Armstrong.  “You don’t owe me any money.  It is I who am owing you.  Take this on account,” and he drew a roll of bills from his pocketbook and handed it to Luke.  “Here are a hundred dollars on account,” he continued.

“This is too much, Mr. Armstrong,” said Luke, quite overwhelmed with the magnitude of the gift.

“Let me be the judge of that,” said Mr. Armstrong kindly.  “There is only one thing, Luke, that I should have liked to have you do.”

“What is that, sir?”

“I should like to have had you bring me a list of the numbers certified to by Mr. Harding.”

Luke’s answer was to draw from the inside pocket of his vest a paper signed by the old bookkeeper, containing a list of the numbers, regularly subscribed and certified to.

“Is that what you wished, sir?” he asked.

“You are a wonderful boy,” said the merchant admiringly.  “Was this your idea, or Mr. Harding’s?”

“I believe I suggested it to him,” said Luke modestly.

“That makes all clear sailing,” said Mr. Armstrong.  “Here are fifty dollars more.  You deserve it for your thoughtfulness.”

“You have given me enough already,” said Luke, drawing back.

“My dear boy, it is evident that you still have something to learn in the way of business.  When a rich old fellow offers you money, which he can well afford, you had better take it.”

“That removes all my objections,” said Luke.  “But I am afraid you will spoil me with your liberality, Mr. Armstrong.”

“I will take the risk of it.  But here is another of your friends.”

The door had just opened, and Roland Reed entered.  There was another cordial greeting, and Luke felt that it was pleasant, indeed, to have two such good friends.

“When are you going to Groveton, Luke?” asked Mr. Reed.

“I shall go this afternoon, if there is nothing more you wish me to do.  I am anxious to see my mother.”

“That is quite right, Luke.  Your mother is your best friend, and deserves all the attention you can give her.  I shall probably go to Groveton myself to-morrow.”

After Luke had left the office, Mr. Reed remained to consult with the merchant as to what was the best thing to do.  Both were satisfied that Prince Duncan, the president of the bank, was the real thief who had robbed the bank.  There were two courses open—­a criminal prosecution, or a private arrangement which should include the return of the stolen property.  The latter course was determined upon, but should it prove ineffective, severer measures were to be resorted to.