Herbert Carters Legacy | Page 3

had," said Herbert. "I'll run, so as not to keep the others waiting. Deacon Crossleigh is always in a hurry for his paper."
"Yes, the deacon's always in a fidget to know what's going on, particularly when Congress is in session. He takes a wonderful interest in politics."
Herbert ran up the street with a quick step, pausing a minute at his humble home.
"You are out of breath, Herbert. Have you been running?"
"Yes, I've got a letter for you, and I wanted to bring it before I went round with the rest."
"A letter! Where from?" asked the widow, with curiosity, for she held very little intercourse with the world outside of Wrayburn.
"It's postmarked Randolph, as well as I can make out. While you are reading it, I'll run and leave my letters, and be back to hear the news."
In a hurry to do all his errands and get back, Herbert ran all the way. While his eyes were fixed on one of the envelopes, he ran full against James Leech, who was walking up the street with a pompous air.
In the encounter James's hat came off, and he was nearly thrown down.
"What made you run into me?" he demanded, wrath-fully.
"Excuse me, James," said Herbert, recovering himself.
"You did it on purpose," said his enemy, glaring at him angrily.
"That isn't very likely," said Herbert. "I got hit as hard as you did."
"Your hat didn't get knocked off. Pick it up," said James, imperiously, pointing to it as it lay in the path.
"I will, because it is by my fault that it fell," said Herbert, stooping over and picking it up. "You needn't have ordered me to do it."
"The next time take care how you run against a gentleman," said James, arrogantly.
"Take care the next time to speak like a gentleman." said Herbert. "Good night! I must be off."
"Insolent beggar!" muttered James. "He don't know his place. How dare he speak to me in that way?"

CHAPTER II
WHAT THE LETTER CONTAINED
Half an hour later, Herbert reentered the cottage, breathless with running.
"Well, mother, what is it?" he asked.
"Uncle Herbert is dead," she answered.
"When did he die?"
"Yesterday morning. They wrote at once. The funeral is to take place to-morrow afternoon, at three o'clock."
"Uncle Herbert was rich, wasn't he, mother?"
"Yes, he must have left nearly a hundred thousand dollars."
"What a pile of money!" said Herbert. "I wonder how a man feels when he is so rich. He ought to be happy."
"Riches don't always bring happiness. Uncle Herbert was disappointed in early life, and that seemed to spoil his career. He gave himself up to money-making, and succeeded in it; but he lived by himself and had few sources of happiness."
"Then he had no family?"
"No."
"Do you think he has left us anything, mother?" asked Herbert, with something of hope in his tone.
"I am afraid not. If he had been disposed to do that he would have done something for us before. He knew that we were poor, and that a little assistance would have been very acceptable. But he never offered it. Even when your father was sick for three months, and I wrote to him for a small loan, he refused, saying that we ought to have laid up money to fall back upon at such a time."
"I don't see how a man can be so unfeeling. If he would only leave us a thousand dollars, how much good it would do us! We could pay up the mortgage on the house, and have something left over. It wouldn't have been much for him to do."
"Well, we won't think too much about it," said Mrs. Carter. "It will be wisest, as probably we should be only preparing ourselves for disappointment. Uncle had a right to do what he pleased with his own."
"Shall you go to the funeral, mother?"
"I don't see how I can," said Mrs. Carter, slowly. "It is twenty miles off, and I am very busy just now. Still one of us ought to go, if only to show respect to so near a relation. People would talk if we didn't. I think, as you were named for your Uncle Herbert, I will let you go."
"If you think best, mother. I will walk, and that will save expense."
"It will be too much for you to take such a walk. You had better ride."
"No, mother, I am young and strong. I can walk well enough."
"But it must be twenty miles," objected his mother.
"The funeral doesn't take place till three o'clock in the afternoon. I will get up bright and early, say at five o'clock. By nine I shall be halfway there."
"I am afraid it will be too much for you, Herbert," said Mrs. Carter, irresolutely.
"You don't know how strong I am," said Herbert; "I shan't get tired so easily as you think."
"But twenty miles is a long distance."
"I know