“You measly skinflint!” Mr. Paddock said. “Not if I know it, you won’t. Not in my place! A good, honest, decent little chap, and you— For a cent I’ll— No! You hand him a hundred of that money, and do it quick! No, two hundred! Two hundred dollars, I say, or take the consequences!”
Mr. Thompson tried to say something, and so did Almanzo. But Mr. Paddock’s fists clenched and the muscles of his arms bulged. “Two hundred!” he shouted. “Hand it over, quick! Or I’ll see you do!”
Mr. Thompson shrank down small, watching Mr. Paddock, and he licked his thumb and hurriedly counted off some bills. He held them out to Almanzo. Almanzo said, “Mr. Paddock—”
“Now get out of here, if you know what’s healthy! Get out!” Mr. Paddock said, and before Almanzo could blink he was standing there with the bills in his hand, and Mr. Thompson slammed the door behind himself.
Almanzo was so excited he stammered. He said he didn’t think Father would like it. Almanzo felt queer about taking all that money, and yet he did want to keep it. Mr. Paddock said he would talk to Father; he rolled down his shirt sleeves and put on his coat and asked:
“Where is he?”
Almanzo almost ran, to keep up with Mr. Paddock’s long strides. The bills were clutched tight in his hand. Father was putting packages into the wagon, and Mr. Paddock told him what had happened.
“For a cent I’d have smashed his sneering face,” Mr. Paddock said. “But it struck me that giving up cash is what hurts him most. And I figure the boy’s entitled to it.”
“I don’t know as anyone’s entitled to anything for common honesty,” Father objected. “Though I must say I appreciate the spirit you showed, Paddock.”
“I don’t say he deserved more than decent gratitude for giving Thompson his own money,” Mr. Paddock said. “But it’s too much to ask him to stand and take insults, on top of that. I say Almanzo’s entitled to that two hundred.”
“Well, there’s something in what you say,” said Father. Finally he decided, “All right, son, you can keep that money.”
Almanzo smoothed out the bills and looked at them; two hundred dollars. That was as much as the horse-buyer paid for one of Father’s four-year-olds.
“And I’m much obliged to you, Paddock, standing up for the boy the way you did,” Father said. “Well, I can afford to lose a customer now and then, in a good cause,” said Mr. Paddock. He asked Almanzo, “What are you going to do with all that money?”
Almanzo looked at Father. “Could I put it in the bank?” he asked.
“That’s the place to put money,” said Father. “Well, well, well, two hundred dollars! I was twice your age before I had so much.”
“So was I. Yes, and older than that,” Mr. Paddock said.
Father and Almanzo went to the bank. Almanzo could just look over the ledge at the cashier sitting on his high stool with a pen behind his ear. The cashier craned to look down at Almanzo and asked Father: “Hadn’t I better put this down to your account, sir?”
“No,” said Father. “It’s the boy’s money; let him handle it himself. He won’t learn any younger.”
“Yes, sir,” the cashier said. Almanzo had to write his name twice. Then the cashier carefully counted the bills, and wrote Almanzo’s name in a little book. He wrote the figures, $200, in the book, and he gave the book to Almanzo.
Almanzo went out of the bank with Father, and asked him:
“How do I get the money out again?”
“You ask for it, and they’ll give it to you. But remember this, son; as long as that money’s in the bank, it’s working for you. Every dollar in the bank is making you four cents a year. That’s a sight easier than you can earn money any other way. Any time you want to spend a nickel, you stop and think how much work it takes to earn a dollar.”
“Yes, Father,” Almanzo said. He was thinking that he had more than enough money to buy a little colt. He could break a little colt of his own; he could teach it everything. Father would never let him break one of his colts.
But this was not the end of that exciting day.
Chapter 29
Farmer Boy
Mr. Paddock met Almanzo and Father outside the bank. He told Father that he had something in mind.
“I’ve been meaning to speak about it for some little time,” he said. “About this boy of yours.”
Almanzo was surprised.
“You ever think of making a wheelwright out of him?” Mr. Paddock asked.