A Young Inventor's Pluck; or, The Mystery of the Willington Legacy — Inside the Classic

CHAPTER II. FOR THE SAKE OF HOME

CHAPTER III. A RESULT OF A FIRE

CHAPTER IV. BAD NEWS FOR DEB

CHAPTER V. FINDING BAIL

CHAPTER VI. HOME ONCE MORE

CHAPTER VII. INTO THE RIVER

CHAPTER VIII. SOMETHING ABOUT THE MODEL

CHAPTER IX. MR. BENTON MAKES TROUBLE

CHAPTER X. DRIVEN FROM HOME

CHAPTER XI. ON THE RIVER ROAD

CHAPTER XII. JACK’S DANGEROUS POSITION

CHAPTER XIII. OVER THE FALLS

CHAPTER XIV. MAX POOLER’S MEG

CHAPTER XV. THE MISER OF THE ISLAND

CHAPTER XVI. ON BOARD THE "KITTY"

CHAPTER XVII. MEG TO THE RESCUE

CHAPTER XVIII. DEB AT THE MILL

CHAPTER XIX. IN CORRIGAN’S POWER

CHAPTER XX. MONT TELLS HIS STORY

CHAPTER XXI. CORRIGAN MAKES A MOVE

CHAPTER XXII. HEAPS OF MONEY

CHAPTER XXIII. THE MISER’S TREASURE

CHAPTER XXIV. A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST

CHAPTER XXV. CHASING ANDY MOSEY

CHAPTER XXVI. PAPERS OF GREAT VALUE

CHAPTER XXVII. "LOVE YOUR ENEMIES"--CONCLUSION

"I’ll try my best," replied Jack taking up his kit of tools . . . Frontispiece

"Well, sir, what is it?" he asked, hardly looking up

Jack was soon as busy as a bee, putting the machines in running order and overhauling other farming implements

"Been tellin’ sthories about me!" he exclaimed. "Sayin’ I sthole yer match-box an’ set foire to old gray’s house! Oi’ll fix ye!"

With a quick spring he gave the young man a push that sent him spinning over backward

The body came within his reach, and leaning over, he stayed its progress

"Did you really go over them falls?" she continued, jerking her thumb in the direction

The miser of the island had lost his balance, and after vainly clutching the air to save himself, had floundered into the water and mud below

"I mean just this," replied Corrigan, catching her by the arm, "you are my prisoner and must do as I say"

With a strong push of his powerful arm, he sent the man flying into a corner

A YOUNG INVENTOR’S PLUCK

"Oh Jack! how blue you look!"

"I feel blue, Deb," answered Jack Willington, as he entered the door of his modest home and gave his sister the brotherly kiss he knew she was expecting.

"Is there something the matter up at the tool works, Jack?"

"Yes, Deb. The works are going to shut down."

"To shut down?" repeated the girl, her eyes wide open in affright, for she knew only too well what such a calamity meant. "When will they close?"

"To-morrow. In fact we have quit on the regular work already."

"And how long will the shut-down last?"

"Nobody knows. I asked Mr. Johnson--he’s the foreman, you know--and he said he thought a month or six weeks, but he wasn’t sure."

"A month! Oh, Jack, it’s an awfully long time!"

And Deb Willington’s face grew very grave.

"I know it is--longer than I care to remain idle, even if I could afford to, which I can’t. But that’s not the worst of it."

"No; they didn’t pay us for the last two weeks’ work."

"Johnson said that they wanted to pay off every man in full, and that the figuring would take several days."

"And you won’t get any money till then?"

"Not a cent. My private opinion is that the company is in some sort of a financial difficulty, and only want to gain time. Mont didn’t have a word to say about it when I asked him, and, I imagine he knows a good deal about his uncle’s affairs."

Deb cast down her eyes in a meditative way.

"To-morrow is rent day," she said, after a pause.

"I know it. I’ve been thinking of it all the way home. How much have we got toward paying the six dollars?"

"Three dollars and a half." And Deb brought forth the amount from her small purse.

"Humph! I don’t see what’s to be done," mused Jack, as he removed his hat and sat down. "Mr. Hammerby will have to wait for his money."

"I don’t see what else he can do. But, aside from that, three dollars and a half won’t keep us a month. I’ll have to look elsewhere for work."

Deborah and John Willington were orphans. Their father had died some ten years before. He had been a strong, industrious and ingenious machinist, of a quiet nature, and at his demise left his wife and two children with a small property, which, however, was subject to a mortgage of several hundred dollars.

His widow found it no easy matter to get along. Jack was but seven years of age and Deb five, and, of course, could do little or nothing, except occasionally to "help mamma."