Chapter V The Train Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger
PAUL TO THE RESCUE
Of course a contest between a burly ruffian of twenty-five and a little girl of ten could only terminate in one way. Stephen Palmer forcibly opened the closed hand of his little step-sister, and snatched from it the coveted coin, which he exultingly held aloft, crying:
"I told you I would have it, you little minx."
Grace began to cry, and Mrs. Palmer exclaimed, in justifiable indignation:
"Are you not ashamed, Stephen Palmer, to rob a little girl like Grace?"
"Who talks of robbery?" retorted Stephen. "I've only borrowed it from her."
He laughed tauntingly, for he understood, while he spoke, what little chance Grace would have of recovering her money through his voluntary restitution.
"Borrowed it!" repeated Mrs. Palmer, with bitter emphasis. "It is theft, and nothing else."
"Do you call me a thief?" blustered Stephen, scowling.
"You are nothing better, Stephen Palmer!" returned his step-mother, now thoroughly aroused.
"Take care what you say, Mrs. Palmer!" said Stephen, advancing a step toward her. "I'm a bad man when I get mad."
"You never said a truer word," said Mrs. Palmer, more courageous in defense of Grace than she would have been for herself.
"Look here! You just drop that," said Stephen, doggedly, "or I may do you harm."
"That would not be surprising," retorted the widow, undaunted. "A man who will rob a little girl won't hesitate to strike a woman."
The intoxicated young man was thoroughly incensed by his step-mother's sarcasm, and forgot the little manliness he ever possessed.
"If you think so, I'll make your words come true," he said, savagely, and advanced toward Mrs. Palmer with uplifted arm.
Mrs. Palmer turned pale, and Grace uttered a shriek of terror.
"Don't strike my mother, you bad man!" she called out.
This diverted the current of Stephen's wrath, and he turned upon the little girl.
"I'll whip you if you prefer it, Miss Saucebox," he said, and grasped Grace by the shoulder.
Mrs. Palmer sprang forward to rescue her child, but the struggle was by no means equal. The ruffian would probably have injured both but for an opportune arrival.
Paul was at the foot of the outside staircase when he heard his little sister's scream. He had a tender love for the little girl, and the thought that she was in some peril gave wings to his feet. He fairly flew up stairs, and burst into the room like a tornado.
One glance enabled him to understand the situation. He seized Stephen, and forcibly wrenched him from Grace.
"What does all this mean?" he demanded, turning to his mother.
"It means that Stephen has stolen your sister's gold piece, and when I remonstrated was on the point of assaulting us both."
"You contemptible coward!" exclaimed Paul, turning upon his step-brother with flashing eyes, his manner full of disdainful contempt.
Even Stephen cowered a little before the boy's scorn.
"I borrowed the money, that's all," he said. "It's a great thing to make such a fuss about. And what's more," he continued, resuming his swaggering tone, "I won't stand any impudence from a young whelp like you. Do you hear?"
"Grace," said Paul, not noticing the young man's words, "has he got your gold piece now?"
"Yes," answered Grace, half crying.
"Give me back that money!" said Paul, sternly.
"Not much!" sneered Stephen. "I'll keep it if it's only to spite you. Do you hear that?"
"Give me back that money!" persisted Paul, resolutely.
"No, thank you," answered Stephen, mockingly. "This time next year you may call for it, and if it's convenient I may give it up."
Paul opened wide the outer door, and looked out into the street. As he looked, a policeman was just passing.
"Shall I hand you over to the police?" he asked, significantly, pointing at the guardian of the city's peace.
For the first time Stephen looked uneasy.
"Don't try to frighten me with such nonsense," he said. "You wouldn't dare to call him in."
"You'll see whether I will," said Paul, coolly.
Stephen looked his young step-brother full in the face, and saw that Paul was in earnest. His bullying had failed of its effect, and he had a decided aversion to an encounter with the police.
"Take your money!" he said, flinging the gold piece on the floor. "I only wanted to scare you a little."
"Grace, you can pick up your money," said Paul.
"As for you, you young rascal," continued Stephen, scowling fiercely at Paul, "I won't forget your impertinence of to-night. I'll get even with you some day, see if I don't."
"Your threats won't prevent my defending my mother and sister against your brutal violence," said Paul, calmly.
Stephen staggered out of the room, nearly tumbling down the staircase in his drunken unsteadiness.
All felt relieved when he had gone.
"I should have lost my nice present but for you, Paul," said Grace.
"I came home just in time," said Paul. "I hope Stephen will keep away now. I never want to see him."
"I never knew him to act so disgracefully before," said Mrs. Palmer. "He has fallen into bad habits, and keeps disreputable company, I fear."
"There isn't much doubt about that, mother," said Paul. "I have more than once seen him walking with thieves and gamblers. Now I know where I have seen that pickpocket before," he exclaimed, with sudden energy.
"What do you mean, Paul?"
"I told you about the man who jumped from the train to-day after picking Miss Dearborn's pocket. Well, there was something in his face that looked familiar, but I couldn't think where I had met him, though I was sure I had seen him before. Now I remember meeting him walking in Randolph street with Stephen one day last week."
"You don't think Stephen is a pickpocket?" asked Mrs. Palmer.
"No; it takes training to make a pickpocket. Stephen isn't light-fingered enough to succeed in any such business; but a man that keeps company with pickpockets isn't likely to be much better than they."
"I am afraid, Paul," said Mrs. Palmer, anxiously, "that Stephen with some of his bad companions may lie in wait for you and do you some injury."
"I will try to take care of myself, mother," said Paul.
"Why should there be so many wicked people in the world?" sighed the widow. "I can't see how Stephen turned out so badly. His father was a good man, and I have heard that he had a good mother; but Mr. Palmer always had a great deal of trouble with him from a boy."
"He is lazy, and wants to get a living without work," answered Paul. "Then again, he drinks."
"That alone is enough. Oh, Paul, I hope you will never fall into intemperate habits."
"You need not fear for me, mother," said Paul, firmly. "I despise drunkenness as much as anybody can."
"Yes, you are very different from Stephen, Heaven be thanked! How could I get along without you, Paul?"
"I hope you won't have to get along without me, mother. But I have been thinking that Stephen may possibly come round here again to annoy you and steal Grace's money. Grace, you had better let me put the money into a savings-bank for you."
"That is well thought of, Paul. Then it will be safe, even if we do have a second visit from Stephen. What do you say, Grace?"
"Here it is, Paul," said the little girl. "You take care of it for me."
"I will put it into a bank Saturday evening, when some of the savings-banks are open. I don't think Stephen will be able to get it away from me."
"If Stephen has any sense of shame he will not come here again very soon," said the widow.
Paul went to bed early, for he must take the 7:30 train for Milwaukee in the morning. He slept soundly, for his day's work had fatigued him.