Brave and Bold The Fortunes of Robert Rushton
CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG RIVALS. The main schoolroom in the Millville Academy was brilliantly lighted, and the various desks were occupied by boys and girls of different ages from ten to eighteen, all busily writing under the general direction of Professor George W. Granville, Instructor in Plain and Ornamental Penmanship. Professor Granville, as he styled himself, was a traveling teacher, and generally had two or three evening schools in progress in different places at the same time. He was really a very good penman, and in a course of twelve lessons, for which he charged the very moderate price of a dollar, not, of course, including stationery, he contrived to impart considerable instruction, and such pupils as chose to learn were likely to profit by his instructions. His venture in Millville had been unusually successful. There were a hundred pupils on his list, and there had been no disturbance during the course of lessons.
"Well--it's final this time. Can't stand your prices. I _can't_ stand
your exorbitant prices. Now what do you have the heart to charge for
dusting off those three old shirts and two and a half collars? Hey?"
Aunt Basha, entirely serene, was enjoying the game. "What does I
charges, sir? Fo' dat wash, which you slung 'round acrost de room, sir?
Well, sir, young marse, I charges fo' dollars 'n sev'nty fo' cents, sir,
dis week. Fo' dat wash."
Lance let loose a howl and flung himself into his chair as if
prostrated, long legs out and arms hanging to the floor. Aunt Basha
shook with laughter. This was a splendid joke and she never, never tired
of it. "You see!" he threw out, between gasps. "Look at that! _Fo'_
dollars 'n sev'nty _fo'_ cents." He sat up suddenly and pointed a big
finger, "Aunt Basha," he whispered, "somebody's been kidding you.
Somebody's lied. This palatial apartment, much as it looks like it, is
not the home of John D. Rockefeller." He sprung up, drew an imaginary
mantle about him, grasped one elbow with the other hand, dropped his
head into the free palm and was Cassius or Hamlet or Faust--all one to
Aunt Basha. His left eyebrow screwed up and his right down, and he
glowered. "List to her," he began, and shot out a hand, immediately to
replace it where it was most needed, under his elbow. "But list, ye
Heavens and protect the lamb from this ravening wolf. She chargeth--oh
high Heavens above!--she expecteth me to pay"--he gulped sobs--"the
extortioner, the she-wolf--expecteth me to pay her--_fo_' dollars 'n
sev'nty _fo_' cents!"
CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG RIVALS. The main schoolroom in the Millville Academy was brilliantly lighted, and the various desks were occupied by boys and girls of different ages from ten to eighteen, all busily writing under the general direction of Professor George W. Granville, Instructor in Plain and Ornamental Penmanship. Professor Granville, as he styled himself, was a traveling teacher, and generally had two or three evening schools in progress in different places at the same time. He was really a very good penman, and in a course of twelve lessons, for which he charged the very moderate price of a dollar, not, of course, including stationery, he contrived to impart considerable instruction, and such pupils as chose to learn were likely to profit by his instructions. His venture in Millville had been unusually successful. There were a hundred pupils on his list, and there had been no disturbance during the course of lessons.