Chapter XXII The Train Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger
AN UNEXPECTED CHANGE
Paul was on his way home, when, in turning a corner, he came face to face with his step-brother, Stephen. The latter was much better dressed than when Paul last saw him. He had thrown aside the shabby and soiled suit, which had seen service so long that it looked entitled to be relieved upon a pension. He wore now a new suit, which did not fit him particularly well, having evidently been purchased at a ready-made clothing store, but it was at least new, and made Stephen look as respectable as the nature of the case would admit.
"Hallo, young one!" said Stephen, with a grin; "where are you bound?"
"I'm going home," answered Paul, surveying his half-brother with a puzzled glance.
"How's the old lady?"
"Do you mean my mother?"
"Of course I do. I don't mean Grace."
"She's well," answered Paul, briefly.
"She don't like me, and she don't treat me well," said Stephen; "but I don't bear no malice. The world is big enough for both of us."
"I hope you are prospering," said Paul, again regarding the new suit.
"Yes; I'm getting along better'n I was. How do you like my clothes?"
"They are an improvement on your old ones."
"I should say so myself. Come, Paul, you're a smart boy, if you are rather cranky sometimes. Being as we are brothers, I'll stand treat. Come in and take a drink."
He made a movement to enter a saloon close at hand, but Paul held back.
"Thank you all the same, Stephen," he said, "but I don't drink."
"Don't be afraid. It'll do you good."
Paul shook his head. He knew it would do no good to argue the point, so he simply declined once more.
"Don't be offended, Stephen," he said. "I should have no objection to drinking with you if I drank at all, but I've signed the pledge."
"None but babies and simpletons sign the pledge," said Stephen, contemptuously.
"If that's the case, you will have to count me either the one or the other."
"Can you change me a ten?" asked Stephen, drawing out a wallet, and producing a ten-dollar bill.
"I haven't so much money with me," answered Paul, rather surprised at Stephen's wealth, for he saw other bills besides in the pocket-book.
"If you had a five now, I'd exchange, and let you give the balance to sister Grace as a present, so that she needn't think brother Stephen quite so bad as she thinks."
Paul did not have a five, having given the one he received from Miss Dearborn to his mother. Even if he had had it with him, he would have felt indisposed to avail himself of his half-brother's surprising generosity, having grievous doubts whether Stephen had come by his present wealth honestly.
"Thank you, Stephen," he said. "I haven't a five, but I thank you all the same for your offer. You must have found profitable employment."
This was said with a rising inflection calculated to call for Stephen's confidence, but the latter evaded the inquiry.
"Yes, I've been lucky," he answered. "I've been speculating."
Again Paul was puzzled. How could Stephen speculate without capital, for it was quite certain that he had none.
"If I only had a five," Stephen said, meditatively, "I'd hand you one for Grace."
"Some other time," said Paul.
"Well, good-night. Tell Grace I wanted to send her something. Tell your mother, too, and she may think better of me. If you won't drink with me, I shall have to drink by myself."
With a hasty nod, Stephen opened the door of the saloon and entered, while Paul resumed his journey home.
"I don't understand it at all," he said to himself. "I never saw Stephen in such a generous mood before. How can he have got hold of all that money? I hope it is honestly come by. I think I had better not tell mother about his offer, or she might relent and invite him to call. We shall do better without him."