



Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger






DRIVEN FROM HOME

OR

CARL CRAWFORD'S EXPERIENCE


BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.


Author of "Erie Train Boy," "Young Acrobat," "Only an Irish Boy," "Bound
to Rise," "The Young Outlaw," "Hector's Inheritance," etc.





DRIVEN FROM HOME.




CHAPTER I


DRIVEN FROM HOME.


A boy of sixteen, with a small gripsack in his hand, trudged along the
country road. He was of good height for his age, strongly built, and had
a frank, attractive face. He was naturally of a cheerful temperament,
but at present his face was grave, and not without a shade of anxiety.
This can hardly be a matter of surprise when we consider that he was
thrown upon his own resources, and that his available capital consisted
of thirty-seven cents in money, in addition to a good education and a
rather unusual amount of physical strength. These last two items
were certainly valuable, but they cannot always be exchanged for the
necessaries and comforts of life.

For some time his steps had been lagging, and from time to time he had
to wipe the moisture from his brow with a fine linen handkerchief, which
latter seemed hardly compatible with his almost destitute condition.

I hasten to introduce my hero, for such he is to be, as Carl Crawford,
son of Dr. Paul Crawford, of Edgewood Center. Why he had set out to
conquer fortune single-handed will soon appear.

A few rods ahead Carl's attention was drawn to a wide-spreading oak
tree, with a carpet of verdure under its sturdy boughs.

"I will rest here for a little while," he said to himself, and suiting
the action to the word, threw down his gripsack and flung himself on the
turf.

"This is refreshing," he murmured, as, lying upon his back, he looked up
through the leafy rifts to the sky above. "I don't know when I have ever
been so tired. It's no joke walking a dozen miles under a hot sun, with
a heavy gripsack in your hand. It's a good introduction to a life of
labor, which I have reason to believe is before me. I wonder how I am
coming out--at the big or the little end of the horn?"

He paused, and his face grew grave, for he understood well that for him
life had become a serious matter. In his absorption he did not observe
the rapid approach of a boy somewhat younger than himself, mounted on a
bicycle.

The boy stopped short in surprise, and leaped from his iron steed.

"Why, Carl Crawford, is this you? Where in the world are you going with
that gripsack?"

Carl looked up quickly.

"Going to seek my fortune," he answered, soberly.

"Well, I hope you'll find it. Don't chaff, though, but tell the honest
truth."

"I have told you the truth, Gilbert."

With a puzzled look, Gilbert, first leaning his bicycle against the
tree, seated himself on the ground by Carl's side.

"Has your father lost his property?" he asked, abruptly.

"No."

"Has he disinherited you?"

"Not exactly."

"Have you left home for good?"

"I have left home--I hope for good."

"Have you quarreled with the governor?"

"I hardly know what to say to that. There is a difference between us."

"He doesn't seem like a Roman father--one who rules his family with a
rod of iron."

"No; he is quite the reverse. He hasn't backbone enough."

"So it seemed to me when I saw him at the exhibition of the academy. You
ought to be able to get along with a father like that, Carl."

"So I could but for one thing."

"What is that?"

"I have a stepmother!" said Carl, with a significant glance at his
companion.

"So have I, but she is the soul of kindness, and makes our home the
dearest place in the world."

"Are there such stepmothers? I shouldn't have judged so from my own
experience."

"I think I love her as much as if she were my own mother."

"You are lucky," said Carl, sighing.

"Tell me about yours."

"She was married to my father five years ago. Up to the time of her
marriage I thought her amiable and sweet-tempered. But soon after the
wedding she threw off the mask, and made it clear that she disliked
me. One reason is that she has a son of her own about my age, a mean,
sneaking fellow, who is the apple of her eye. She has been jealous of
me, and tried to supplant me in the affection of my father, wishing
Peter to be the favored son."

"How has she succeeded?"

"I don't think my father feels any love for Peter, but through my
stepmother's influence he generally fares better than I do."

"Why wasn't he sent to school with you?"

"Because he is lazy and doesn't like study. Besides, his mother prefers
to have him at home. During my absence she worked upon my father,
by telling all sorts of malicious stories about me, till he became
estranged from me, and little by little Peter has usurped my place as
the favorite."

"Why didn't you deny the stories?" asked Gilbert.

"I did, but no credit was given to my denials. My stepmother was
continually poisoning my father's mind against me."

"Did you give her cause? Did you behave disrespectfully to her?"

"No," answered Carl, warmly. "I was prepared to give her a warm welcome,
and treat her as a friend, but my advances were so coldly received that
my heart was chilled."

"Poor Carl! How long has this been so?"

"From the beginning--ever since Mrs. Crawford came into the house."

"What are your relations with your step-brother--what's his name?"

"Peter Cook. I despise the boy, for he is mean, and tyrannical where he
dares to be."

"I don't think it would be safe for him to bully you, Carl."

"He tried it, and got a good thrashing. You can imagine what followed.
He ran, crying to his mother, and his version of the story was believed.
I was confined to my room for a week, and forced to live on bread and
water."

"I shouldn't think your father was a man to inflict such a punishment."

"It wasn't he--it was my stepmother. She insisted upon it, and he
yielded. I heard afterwards from one of the servants that he wanted me
released at the end of twenty-four hours, but she would not consent."

"How long ago was this?"

"It happened when I was twelve."

"Was it ever repeated?"

"Yes, a month later; but the punishment lasted only for two days."

"And you submitted to it?"

"I had to, but as soon as I was released I gave Peter such a flogging,
with the promise to repeat it, if I was ever punished in that manner
again, that the boy himself was panic-stricken, and objected to my being
imprisoned again."

"He must be a charming fellow!"

"You would think so if you should see him. He has small, insignificant
features, a turn-up nose, and an ugly scowl that appears whenever he is
out of humor."

"And yet your father likes him?"

"I don't think he does, though Peter, by his mother's orders, pays
all sorts of small attentions--bringing him his slippers, running on
errands, and so on, not because he likes it, but because he wants to
supplant me, as he has succeeded in doing."

"You have finally broken away, then?"

"Yes; I couldn't stand it any longer. Home had become intolerable."

"Pardon the question, but hasn't your father got considerable property?"

"I have every reason to think so."

"Won't your leaving home give your step-mother and Peter the inside
track, and lead, perhaps, to your disinheritance?"

"I suppose so," answered Carl, wearily; "but no matter what happens, I
can't bear to stay at home any longer."

"You're badly fixed--that's a fact!" said Gilbert, in a tone of
sympathy. "What are your plans?"

"I don't know. I haven't had time to think."



CHAPTER II.

A FRIEND WORTH HAVING.


Gilbert wrinkled up his forehead and set about trying to form some plans
for Carl.

"It will be hard for you to support yourself," he said, after a pause;
"that is, without help."

"There is no one to help me. I expect no help."

"I thought your father might be induced to give you an allowance, so
that with what you can earn, you may get along comfortably."

"I think father would be willing to do this, but my stepmother would
prevent him."

"Then she has a great deal of influence over him?"

"Yes, she can twist him round her little finger."

"I can't understand it."

"You see, father is an invalid, and is very nervous. If he were in
perfect health he would have more force of character and firmness. He is
under the impression that he has heart disease, and it makes him timid
and vacillating."

"Still he ought to do something for you."

"I suppose he ought. Still, Gilbert, I think I can earn my living."

"What can you do?"

"Well, I have a fair education. I could be an entry clerk, or a salesman
in some store, or, if the worst came to the worst, I could work on a
farm. I believe farmers give boys who work for them their board and
clothes."

"I don't think the clothes would suit you."

"I am pretty well supplied with clothing."

Gilbert looked significantly at the gripsack.

"Do you carry it all in there?" he asked, doubtfully.

Carl laughed.

"Well, no," he answered. "I have a trunkful of clothes at home, though."

"Why didn't you bring them with you?"

"I would if I were an elephant. Being only a boy, I would find it
burdensome carrying a trunk with me. The gripsack is all I can very well
manage."

"I tell you what," said Gilbert. "Come round to our house and stay
overnight. We live only a mile from here, you know. The folks will be
glad to see you, and while you are there I will go to your house, see
the governor, and arrange for an allowance for you that will make you
comparatively independent."

"Thank you, Gilbert; but I don't feel like asking favors from those who
have ill-treated me."

"Nor would I--of strangers; but Dr. Crawford is your father. It isn't
right that Peter, your stepbrother, should be supported in ease and
luxury, while you, the real son, should be subjected to privation and
want."

"I don't know but you are right," admitted Carl, slowly.

"Of course I am right. Now, will you make me your minister
plenipotentiary, armed with full powers?"

"Yes, I believe I will."

"That's right. That shows you are a boy of sense. Now, as you are
subject to my directions, just get on that bicycle and I will carry your
gripsack, and we will seek Vance Villa, as we call it when we want to be
high-toned, by the most direct route."

"No, no, Gilbert; I will carry my own gripsack. I won't burden you with
it," said Carl, rising from his recumbent position.

"Look here, Carl, how far have you walked with it this morning?"

"About twelve miles."

"Then, of course, you're tired, and require rest. Just jump on that
bicycle, and I'll take the gripsack. If you have carried it twelve
miles, I can surely carry it one."

"You are very kind, Gilbert."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"But it is imposing up on your good nature."

But Gilbert had turned his head in a backward direction, and nodded in a
satisfied way as he saw a light, open buggy rapidly approaching.

"There's my sister in that carriage," he said. "She comes in good
time. I will put you and your gripsack in with her, and I'll take to my
bicycle again."

"Your sister may not like such an arrangement."

"Won't she though! She's very fond of beaux, and she will receive you
very graciously."

"You make me feel bashful, Gilbert."

"You won't be long. Julia will chat away to you as if she'd known you
for fifty years."

"I was very young fifty years ago," said Carl, smiling.

"Hi, there, Jule!" called Gilbert, waving his hand.

Julia Vance stopped the horse, and looked inquiringly and rather
admiringly at Carl, who was a boy of fine appearance.

"Let me introduce you to my friend and schoolmate, Carl Crawford."

Carl took off his hat politely.

"I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Crawford," said Julia,
demurely; "I have often heard Gilbert speak of you."

"I hope he said nothing bad about me, Miss Vance."

"You may be sure he didn't. If he should now--I wouldn't believe him."

"You've made a favorable impression, Carl," said Gilbert, smiling.

"I am naturally prejudiced against boys--having such a brother," said
Julia; "but it is not fair to judge all boys by him."

"That is outrageous injustice!" said Gilbert; "but then, sisters seldom
appreciate their brothers."

"Some other fellows' sisters may," said Carl.

"They do, they do!"

"Did you ever see such a vain, conceited boy, Mr. Crawford?"

"Of course you know him better than I do."

"Come, Carl; it's too bad for you, too, to join against me. However,
I will forget and forgive. Jule, my friend, Carl, has accepted my
invitation to make us a visit."

"I am very glad, I am sure," said Julia, sincerely.

"And I want you to take him in, bag and baggage, and convey him to our
palace, while I speed thither on my wheel."

"To be sure I will, and with great pleasure."

"Can't you get out and assist him into the carriage, Jule?"

"Thank you," said Carl; "but though I am somewhat old and quite infirm,
I think I can get in without troubling your sister. Are you sure, Miss
Vance, you won't be incommoded by my gripsack?"

"Not at all."

"Then I will accept your kind offer."

In a trice Carl was seated next to Julia, with his valise at his feet.

"Won't you drive, Mr. Crawford?" said the young lady.

"Don't let me take the reins from you."

"I don't think it looks well for a lady to drive when a gentleman is
sitting beside her."

Carl was glad to take the reins, for he liked driving.

"Now for a race!" said Gilbert, who was mounted on his bicycle.

"All right!" replied Carl. "Look out for us!"

They started, and the two kept neck and neck till they entered the
driveway leading up to a handsome country mansion.

Carl followed them into the house, and was cordially received by Mr.
and Mrs. Vance, who were very kind and hospitable, and were favorably
impressed by the gentlemanly appearance of their son's friend.

Half an hour later dinner was announced, and Carl, having removed the
stains of travel in his schoolmate's room, descended to the dining-room,
and, it must be confessed, did ample justice to the bounteous repast
spread before him.

In the afternoon Julia, Gilbert and he played tennis, and had a trial at
archery. The hours glided away very rapidly, and six o'clock came before
they were aware.

"Gilbert," said Carl, as they were preparing for tea, "you have a
charming home."

"You have a nice house, too, Carl."

"True; but it isn't a home--to me. There is no love there."

"That makes a great difference."

"If I had a father