Owen's Fortune; Or, "Durable Riches" — Text and Context

It was a lovely fresh autumn afternoon; there were still a few blossoms in the cottage gardens, and the leaves which were left on the trees were coloured rich crimson and gold and brown, causing them to look almost like flowers ere they dropped off the branches to make room for the young buds that were swelling underneath, and silently preparing for the spring.

But two boys, who were in the woods just outside the village, were far too occupied to notice the leaves. They were searching for nuts; and a basket on the ground, already more than half filled, showed that their search had not been in vain. The younger of the two, Owen Hadleigh, was a fine, strong, intelligent boy of about fourteen years of age; his bright, dark eye was full of merriment as he laughingly told his companion he intended to make his fortune.

"Over these nuts?" asked Sam, ironically.

"Now look here, Sam Netherclift, you can laugh; I don't care for that. But I intend to make my fortune one day, and be a rich man."

"Like Squire Rowland?"

"Maybe; why not? I can work and earn it all."

"A likely thing!" laughed Sam; "and your father only a village schoolmaster."

"You'd better not laugh at my father," returned Owen, hotly; "there isn't a better man in the world than he is, and I intend to share all my fortune with him."

"How are you going to make it?"

"I don't know yet;" and Owen's face rather fell, for he had talked so confidently of what he would do, that Sam naturally would expect he had some sort of a plan, and he did not wish him to think he was only building castles in the air. But he added, bravely, "There are more ways than one of making a fortune, and I 'll try something yet. Father says Squire Rowland made his money by inventing a new dye, some bright colour no one had thought of before, and now he is rolling in riches. So I shall be sure to find some way of making money, never fear."

"When you have found out what to do, let me know, and I will come and help you," said Sam, laughing. He was a thorough boy, and had no thought beyond the present, though he was older than his companion, and had already to work on his father's farm.

But the conversation was suddenly interrupted by a squirrel, who flew rapidly up a branch just before them. Owen sprang to the tree, and made a dart after the little creature, but though he could not catch it, it had done him good service, for it had led him to a tree he had not noticed before, and which was covered with clusters of nuts.

"Hurrah!" shouted Owen, "here's the beginning of the fortune!"

Sam, of course, hastened to help, and to take his share, and both boys were too much engaged for the next hour to have any more lengthened conversation. As it grew dusk they started for home, carrying the basket between them, well pleased with the result of their afternoon's work.

The schoolhouse, with the adjoining cottage for the schoolmaster, stood somewhat apart from the other houses. Both buildings were almost covered with ivy and monthly roses, some of which were even now blooming, though it was late in the year. The little garden in front of the cottage was trim and tidy, though all was still and quiet as the boys pushed the gate open and went in. Owen's mother had died before he could remember, but his father had so loved and cared for his only child, that the boy realised no loss or want. His father was everything to him, and he repaid his care with most grateful love. The two lived alone in the rose-covered cottage, and did the needful work, with the help of a woman who came in twice a-week to do the washing and set things straight in general. She was in the kitchen when the boys went in.

"Is that you, Owen?" she said, raising her voice, that he might hear her in the front parlour.

"Yes, Mrs. Mitchell, it's all right; it is only me and Sam. Where is father?" he added, going into the kitchen, where she was busily ironing.

"He's gone to Allenbury," she answered shortly.

"Gone to town! He never said anything about going!" exclaimed the boy, with surprise, for his father mostly made him his confidant in everything.

"He'll be back in good time; he said he had to go on particular business." And Mrs. Mitchell turned back to her ironing, as if she did not care to be questioned.