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diff --git a/23108-0.txt b/23108-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..47e17c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/23108-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9916 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Chester Rand, by Horatio Alger, Jr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Chester Rand + or The New Path to Fortune + +Author: Horatio Alger, Jr + +Release Date: October 20, 2007 [eBook #23108] +[Most recently updated: March 10, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF–8 + +Produced by: Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from +scans of public domain material produced by Microsoft for their Live +Search Books site.) +Revised by Richard Tonsing. + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHESTER RAND *** + + + + +[Illustration: CHESTER RAND + + HORATIO ALGER Jr.] + + + + +CHESTER RAND + +OR + +THE NEW PATH TO FORTUNE + + + + +BY + +HORATIO ALGER, Jr. + +AUTHOR OF “ANDY GRANT’S PLUCK,” +“SINK OR SWIM,” “ADRIFT IN NEW YORK.” + + + + +NEW YORK +HURST & COMPANY +PUBLISHERS + + + + +Transcriber’s Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected +without note. Dialect spellings, contractions and discrepancies have +been retained. The Table of Contents was not contained in the book +and has been created for the convenience of the reader. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. SILAS TRIPP + II. OUT OF WORK + III. A NOTEWORTHY EVENING + IV. A DYING GIFT + V. CHESTER’S FIRST SUCCESS + VI. ROBERT RAMSAY + VII. SILAS TRIPP MAKES A DISCOVERY + VIII. A SCENE IN THE GROCERY STORE + IX. NEW PLANS FOR CHESTER + X. A RAILROAD ACQUAINTANCE + XI. CHESTER’S FIRST EXPERIENCES IN NEW YORK + XII. A REAL ESTATE OFFICE + XIII. MR. MULLINS, THE BOOKKEEPER + XIV. THE TABLES TURNED + XV. A PLOT AGAINST CHESTER + XVI. PROF. HAZLITT AT HOME + XVII. CHESTER TAKES A LESSON IN BOXING + XVIII. DICK RALSTON + XIX. MR. FAIRCHILD LEAVES THE CITY + XX. PAUL PERKINS, OF MINNEAPOLIS + XXI. MR. PERKINS MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE + XXII. DICK RALSTON’S FATHER + XXIII. CHESTER IS DISCHARGED + XXIV. INTRODUCES MR. SHARPLEIGH, THE DETECTIVE + XXV. CHESTER MEETS ANOTHER ARTIST + XXVI. A STRANGER IN NEW YORK + XXVII. MR. TRIPP IS DISAPPOINTED + XXVIII. PROF. NUGENT + XXIX. MR. FAIRCHILD’S TELEGRAM + XXX. THE ATTEMPTED ROBBERY + XXXI. A DAY OF SURPRISES + XXXII. EDWARD GRANGER + XXXIII. A FRIEND FROM OREGON + XXXIV. AFTER A YEAR + XXXV. PREPARING FOR THE JOURNEY + XXXVI. A GREAT SURPRISE + XXXVII. DAVID MULLINS AGAIN +XXXVIII. ABNER TRIMBLE’S PLOT + XXXIX. MAKING A WILL + XL. AN UNEXPECTED SURPRISE + XLI. CONCLUSION + + + + +CHESTER RAND. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +SILAS TRIPP. + + +Probably the best known citizen of Wyncombe, a small town nestling +among the Pennsylvania mountains, was Silas Tripp. He kept the village +store, occasionally entertained travelers, having three spare rooms, +was town treasurer, and conspicuous in other local offices. + +The store was in the center of the village, nearly opposite the +principal church—there were two—and here it was that the townspeople +gathered to hear and discuss the news. + +Silas Tripp had one assistant, a stout, pleasant-looking boy of +fifteen, who looked attractive, despite his well-worn suit. Chester +Rand was the son of a widow, who lived in a tiny cottage about fifty +rods west of the Presbyterian church, of which, by the way, Silas Tripp +was senior deacon, for he was a leader in religious as well as secular +affairs. + +Chester’s father had died of pneumonia about four years before the +story commences, leaving his widow the cottage and about two hundred +and fifty dollars. This sum little by little had melted, and a month +previous the last dollar had been spent for the winter’s supply of +coal. + +Mrs. Rand had earned a small income by plain sewing and binding shoes +for a shoe shop in the village, but to her dismay the announcement had +just been made that the shop would close through the winter on account +of the increased price of leather and overproduction during the year. + +“What shall we do, Chester?” she asked, in alarm, when the news came. +“We can’t live on your salary, and I get very little sewing to do.” + +“No, mother,” said Chester, his own face reflecting her anxiety; “we +can’t live on three dollars a week.” + +“I have been earning two dollars by binding shoes,” said Mrs. Rand. “It +has been hard enough to live on five dollars a week, but I don’t know +how we can manage on three.” + +“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, mother. I’ll ask Mr. Tripp to raise my pay +to four dollars a week.” + +“But will he do it? He is a very close man, and always pleading +poverty.” + +“But I happen to know that he has ten thousand dollars invested in +Pennsylvania Railroad stock. I overheard him saying so to Mr. Gardner.” + +“Ten thousand dollars! It seems a fortune!” sighed Mrs. Rand. “Why do +some people have so much and others so little?” + +“It beats me, mother. But I don’t think either of us would exchange +places with Silas Tripp with all his money. By the way, mother, Mr. +Tripp is a widower. Why don’t you set your cap for him?” + +Mrs. Rand smiled, as her imagination conjured up the weazened and +wrinkled face of the village storekeeper, with his gray hair standing +up straight on his head like a natural pompadour. + +“If you want Mr. Tripp for a stepfather,” she said, “I will see what I +can do to ingratiate myself with him.” + +“No, a thousand times no!” replied Chester, with a shudder. “I’d rather +live on one meal a day than have you marry him.” + +“I agree with you, Chester. We will live for each other, and hope for +something to turn up.” + +“I hope the first thing to turn up will be an increase of salary. +To-morrow is New Year’s Day, and it will be a good time to ask.” + +Accordingly, that evening, just as the store was about to close, +Chester gathered up courage and said: “Mr. Tripp.” + +“Well, that’s my name,” said Silas, looking over his iron-bowed +spectacles. + +“To-morrow is New Year’s Day.” + +“What if ’tis? I reckon I knew that without your tellin’ me.” + +“I came here last New Year’s Day. I’ve been here a year.” + +“What if you have?” + +“And I thought perhaps you might be willing to raise my salary to four +dollars a week,” continued Chester, hurriedly. + +“Oho, that’s what you’re after, is it?” said Silas, grimly. “You think +I’m made of money, I reckon. Now, don’t you?” + +“No, I don’t; but, Mr. Tripp, mother and I find it very hard to get +along, really we do. She won’t have any more shoes to bind for three +months to come, on account of the shoe shop’s closing.” + +“It’s going to hurt me, too,” said Silas, with a frown. “When one +business suspends it affects all the rest. I’ll have mighty hard work +to make both ends meet.” + +This struck Chester as ludicrous, but he did not feel inclined to +laugh. Here was Silas Tripp gathering in trade from the entire village +and getting not a little in addition from outlying towns, complaining +that he would find it hard to make both ends meet, though everyone said +that he did not spend one-third of his income. On the whole, things did +not look very encouraging. + +“Perhaps,” he said, nervously, “you would raise me to three dollars and +a half?” + +“What is the boy thinkin’ of? You must think I’m made of money. Why, +three dollars is han’some pay for what little you do.” + +“Why, I work fourteen hours a day,” retorted Chester. + +“I’m afraid you’re gettin’ lazy. Boys shouldn’t complain of their work. +The fact is, Chester, I feel as if I was payin’ you too much.” + +“Too much! Three dollars a week too much!” + +“Too much, considerin’ the state of business, and yourself bein’ a boy. +I’ve been meanin’ to tell you that I’ve got a chance to get a cheaper +boy.” + +“Who is it?” asked Chester, in dismay. + +“It’s Abel Wood. Abel Wood is every mite as big and strong as you are, +and he come round last evenin’ and said he’d work for two dollars and a +quarter a week.” + +“I couldn’t work for that,” said Chester. + +“I don’t mind bein’ generous, considerin’ you’ve been working for me +more than a year. I’ll give you two dollars and a half. That’s +twenty-five cents more’n the Wood boy is willin’ to take.” + +“Abel Wood doesn’t know anything about store work.” + +“I’ll soon learn him. Sitooated as I am, I feel that I must look after +every penny,” and Mr. Tripp’s face looked meaner and more weazened than +ever as he fixed his small, bead-like eyes on his boy clerk. + +“Then I guess I’ll have to leave you, Mr. Tripp,” said Chester, with a +deep feeling of disgust and dismay. + +“Do just as you like,” said his employer. “You’re onreasonable to +expect to get high pay when business is dull.” + +“High pay!” repeated Chester, bitterly. “Three dollars a week!” + +“It’s what I call high pay. When I was a boy, I only earned two dollars +a week.” + +“Money would go further when you were a boy.” + +“Yes, it did. Boys wasn’t so extravagant in them days.” + +“I don’t believe you were ever extravagant, Mr. Tripp,” said Chester, +with a tinge of sarcasm which his employer didn’t detect. + +“No, I wasn’t. I don’t want to brag, but I never spent a cent +foolishly. Do you know how much money I spent the first three months I +was at work?” + +“A dollar?” guessed Chester. + +“A dollar!” repeated Mr. Tripp, in a tone of disapproval. “No, I only +spent thirty-seven cents.” + +“Then I don’t wonder you got rich,” said Chester, with a curl of the +lip. + +“I ain’t rich,” said Silas Tripp, cautiously. “Who told you I was?” + +“Everybody says so.” + +“Then everybody is wrong. I’m a leetle ’forehanded, that’s all.” + +“I’ve heard people say you could afford to give up work and live on the +interest of your money.” + +Silas Tripp held up his hands as if astounded. + +“’Tain’t so,” he said, sharply. “If I gave up business, I’d soon be in +the poorhouse. Well, what do you say? Will you stay along and work for +two dollars and a half a week?” + +“I couldn’t do it,” said Chester, troubled. + +“All right! It’s jest as you say. Your week ends to-morrow night. If +you see Abel Wood, you can tell him I want to see him.” + +“I will,” answered Chester, bitterly. + +As he walked home he felt very despondent. Wouldn’t it have been +better, he asked himself, to accept reduced wages than to give up his +job? It would have been hard enough to attempt living on two dollars +and a half a week, but that was better than no income at all. And yet, +it looked so mean in Silas Tripp to present such an alternative, when +he was abundantly able to give him the increase he asked for. + +“I must tell mother and see what she thinks about it,” he said to +himself. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +OUT OF WORK. + + +Chester had a talk with his mother that evening. She felt indignant at +Silas Tripp’s meanness, but advised Chester to remain in the store for +the present. + +“I’d rather work anywhere else for two dollars,” said Chester, +bitterly. + +It would be humiliating enough to accept the reduction, but he felt +that duty to his mother required the sacrifice. He started on his way +to the store in the morning, prepared to notify Mr. Tripp that he would +remain, but he found that it was too late. Just before he reached the +store, he met Abel Wood, a loose-jointed, towheaded boy, with a stout +body and extraordinarily long legs, who greeted him with a grin. + +“I’m goin’ to work in your place Monday mornin’,” he said. + +“Has Mr. Tripp spoken to you?” asked Chester, his heart sinking. + +“Yes, he said you was goin’ to leave. What’s up?” + +“Mr. Tripp cut down my wages,” said Chester. “I couldn’t work for two +dollars and a half.” + +“He’s only goin’ to give me two and a quarter.” + +“You can afford to work for that. Your father’s got steady work.” + +“Yes, but all the same I’ll ask for more in a few weeks. Where are you +goin’ to work?” + +“I don’t know yet,” answered Chester, sadly. + +“It’s awful hard to get a place in Wyncombe.” + +“I suppose it is. I hope something will turn up.” + +He tried to speak hopefully, but there was very little hope in his +heart. + +He went about his work in a mechanical way, but neglected nothing. When +the time came for the store to close, Silas Tripp took three dollars +from the drawer and handed it to him, saying: “There’s your wages, +Chester. I expect it’s the last I’ll pay you.” + +“Yes, sir, I suppose so.” + +“I don’t know how I’ll like the Wood boy. He hain’t no experience.” + +“He’ll get it, sir.” + +“If you want to stay for two and a quarter—the same I’m going to give +him—I’ll tell him I’ve changed my mind.” + +“No, sir; it wouldn’t be right to put him off now. I guess I’ll get +something else to do.” + +He turned and left the store, walking with a slower step than usual. +His heart was heavy, for he felt that, poorly as they lived hitherto, +they must live more poorly still in the days to come. He reached home +at last, and put the three dollars in his mother’s hands. + +“I don’t know when I shall have any more money to give you, mother,” he +said. + +“It looks dark, Chester, but the Lord reigns. He will still be our +friend.” + +There was something in these simple words that cheered Chester, and a +weight seemed lifted from his heart. He felt that they were not quite +friendless, and that there was still One, kinder and more powerful than +any earthly friend, to whom they could look for help. + +When Monday morning came he rose at the usual hour and breakfasted. + +“I’ll go out and take a walk, mother,” he said. “Perhaps I may find +some work somewhere.” + +Almost unconsciously, he took the familiar way to the store, and paused +at a little distance from it. He saw Abel come out with some packages +to carry to a customer. It pained him to see another boy in his place, +and he turned away with a sigh. + +During the night four or five inches of snow had fallen. This gave him +an idea. As he came to the house of the Misses Cleveland, two maiden +sisters who lived in a small cottage set back fifty feet from the road, +he opened the gate and went up to the front door. + +Miss Jane Cleveland opened it for him. + +“Good-morning, Chester,” she said. + +“Good-morning, Miss Cleveland. I thought you might want to get a path +shoveled to the gate.” + +“So I would; Hannah tried to do it last time it snowed, but she caught +an awful cold. But ain’t you working up at the store?” + +“Not now. Mr. Tripp cut down my wages, and I left.” + +“Do tell. Have you got another place?” + +“Not just yet. I thought I’d do any little jobs that came along till I +got one.” + +“That’s right. What’ll you charge to shovel a path?” + +Chester hesitated. + +“Fifteen cents,” he answered, at last. + +“I’ll give you ten. Money’s skerce.” + +Chester reflected that he could probably do the job in half an hour, +and he accepted. It cheered him to think he was earning something, +however small. + +He worked with a will, and in twenty-five minutes the work was done. + +“You’re spry,” said Jane Cleveland, when he brought the shovel to the +door. “It took Hannah twice as long, and she didn’t do it as well.” + +“It isn’t the kind of work for ladies,” replied Chester. + +“Wait till I fetch the money.” + +Miss Cleveland went into the house, and returned with a nickel and four +pennies. + +“I’m reely ashamed,” she said. “I’ll have to owe you a cent. But here’s +a mince pie I’ve just baked. Take it home to your ma. Maybe it’ll come +handy. I’ll try to think of the other cent next time you come along.” + +“Don’t trouble yourself about it, Miss Cleveland. The pie is worth a +good deal more than the cent. Mother’ll be very much obliged to you.” + +“She’s very welcome, I’m sure,” said the kindly spinster. “I hope +you’ll get work soon, Chester.” + +“Thank you.” + +Chester made his way homeward, as he did not care to carry the pie +about with him. His mother looked at him in surprise as he entered the +house. + +“What have you there, Chester?” she asked. + +“A pie from Miss Cleveland.” + +“But how came she to give you a pie?” + +“I shoveled a path for her, and she gave me a pie and ten cents—no, +nine. So you see, mother, I’ve earned something this week.” + +“I take it as a good omen. A willing hand will generally find work to +do.” + +“How are you off for wood, mother?” + +“There is some left, Chester.” + +“I’ll go out in the yard and work at the wood pile till dinner time. +Then this afternoon I will go out again and see if I can find some more +paths to shovel.” + +But Chester was not destined to earn any more money that day. As a +general thing, the village people shoveled their own paths, and would +regard hiring such work done as sinful extravagance. Chester did, +however, find some work to do. About half-past three he met Abel Wood +tugging a large basket, filled with groceries, to the minister’s house. +He had set it down, and was resting his tired arms when Chester came +along. + +“Give me a lift with this basket, Chester, that’s a good fellow,” said +Abel. + +Chester lifted it. + +“Yes, it is heavy,” he said. + +“The minister’s got some company,” went on Abel, “and he’s given an +extra large order.” + +“How do you like working in the store, Abel?” + +“It’s hard work, harder than I thought.” + +“But remember what a magnificent salary you will get,” said Chester, +with a smile. + +“It ain’t half enough. Say, Chester, old Tripp is rich, ain’t he?” + +“I should call myself rich if I had his money.” + +“He’s a miserly old hunks, then, to give me such small pay.” + +“Don’t let him hear you say so.” + +“I’ll take care of that. Come, you’ll help me, won’t you?” + +“Yes,” answered Chester, good-naturedly; “I might as well, as I have +nothing else to do.” + +Between the two the basket was easily carried. In a short time they had +reached the minister’s house. They took the basket around to the side +door, just as Mr. Morris, the minister, came out, accompanied by a +young man, who was evidently a stranger in the village, as Chester did +not remember having seen him before. + +“Chester,” said the minister, kindly, “how does it happen that you have +an assistant to-day?” + +“I am the assistant, Mr. Morris. Abel is Mr. Tripp’s new boy.” + +“Indeed, I am surprised to hear that. When did you leave the store?” + +“Last Saturday night.” + +“Have you another place?” + +“Not yet.” + +“Are you at leisure this afternoon?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Then perhaps you will walk around with my friend, Mr. Conrad, and show +him the village. I was going with him, but I have some writing to do, +and you will do just as well.” + +“I shall be very happy to go with Mr. Conrad,” said Chester, politely. + +“And I shall be very glad to have you,” said the young man, with a +pleasant smile. + +“Come back to supper, Chester,” said the minister; “that is, if your +mother can spare you.” + +“Thank you, sir. I suppose you will be able to carry back the empty +basket, Abel,” added Chester, as his successor emerged from the side +door, relieved of his burden. + +“I guess so,” answered Abel, with a grin. + +“I was never in Wyncombe before,” began Mr. Conrad, “though I am a +second cousin of your minister, Mr. Morris. I have to go away to-morrow +morning, and wish to see a little of the town while I am here.” + +“Where do you live, Mr. Conrad?” + +“In the city of New York.” + +“Are you a minister, too?” + +“Oh, no!” laughed the young man. “I am in a very different business. I +am an artist—in a small way. I make sketches for books and magazines.” + +“And does that pay?” + +“Fairly well. I earn a comfortable living.” + +“I didn’t know one could get money for making pictures. I like to draw, +myself.” + +“I will see what you can do this evening; that is, if you accept my +cousin’s invitation.” + +Before the walk was over Chester had become much interested in his new +friend. He listened eagerly to his stories of the great city, and felt +that life must be much better worth living there than in Wyncombe. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A NOTEWORTHY EVENING. + + +Chester enjoyed his supper. Mr. Morris, though a minister, had none of +the starched dignity that many of his profession think it necessary to +assume. He was kindly and genial, with a pleasant humor that made him +agreeable company for the young as well as the old. Mr. Conrad spoke +much of New York and his experiences there, and Chester listened to him +eagerly. + +“You have never been to New York, Chester?” said the young artist. + +“No, sir, but I have read about it—and dreamed about it. Sometime I +hope to go there.” + +“I think that is the dream of every country boy. Well, it is the +country boys that make the most successful men.” + +“How do you account for that, Herbert?” asked the minister. + +“Generally they have been brought up to work, and work more earnestly +than the city boys.” + +When the supper table was cleared, Mr. Conrad took from his valise two +or three of the latest issues of _Puck_, _Judge_ and _Life_. He handed +them to Chester, who looked over them eagerly. + +“Do you ever contribute to these papers, Mr. Conrad?” he asked. + +“Yes; here is a sketch in _Judge_, and another in _Life_, which I +furnished.” + +“And do you get good pay for them?” + +“I received ten dollars for each.” + +Chester’s eyes opened with surprise. + +“Why,” he said, “they are small. It couldn’t have taken you long to +draw them.” + +“Probably half an hour for each one.” + +“And you received ten dollars each?” + +“Yes, but don’t gauge such work by the time it takes. It is the idea +that is of value. The execution is a minor matter.” + +Chester looked thoughtful. + +“I should like to be an artist,” he said, after a pause. + +“Won’t you give me a specimen of your work? You have seen mine.” + +“I have not done any comic work, but I think I could.” + +“Here is a piece of drawing paper. Now, let me see what you can do.” + +Chester leaned his head on his hand and began to think. He was in +search of an idea. The young artist watched him with interest. At last +his face brightened up. He seized the pencil, and began to draw +rapidly. In twenty minutes he handed the paper to Mr. Conrad. + +The latter looked at it in amazement. + +“Why, you are an artist,” he said. “I had no idea you were capable of +such work.” + +“I am glad you like it,” said Chester, much pleased. + +“How long have you been drawing?” + +“Ever since I can remember. I used to make pictures in school on my +slate. Some of them got me into trouble with the teacher.” + +“I can imagine it, if you caricatured him. Did you ever take lessons?” + +“No; there was no one in Wyncombe to teach me. But I got hold of a +drawing book once, and that helped me.” + +“Do you know what I am going to do with this sketch of yours?” + +Chester looked an inquiry. + +“I will take it to New York with me, and see if I can dispose of it.” + +“I am afraid it won’t be of much use, Mr. Conrad. I am only a boy.” + +“If a sketch is good, it doesn’t matter how old or young an artist is.” + +“I should like very much to get something for it. Even fifty cents +would be acceptable.” + +“You hold your talent cheap, Chester,” said Mr. Conrad, with a smile. +“I shall certainly ask more than that for it, as I don’t approve of +cheapening artistic labor.” + +The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. + +When Chester rose to go, Mr. Conrad said: + +“Take these papers, Chester. You can study them at your leisure, and if +any happy thoughts or brilliant ideas come to you, dash them off and +send them to me. I might do something with them.” + +“Thank you, sir. What is your address?” + +“Number one ninety-nine West Thirty-fourth Street. Well, good-by. I am +glad to have met you. Sometime you may be an artist.” + +Chester flushed with pride, and a new hope rose in his breast. He had +always enjoyed drawing, but no one had ever encouraged him in it. Even +his mother thought of it only as a pleasant diversion for him. As to +its bringing him in money, the idea had never occurred to him. + +It seemed wonderful, indeed, that a little sketch, the work of half an +hour, should bring ten dollars. Why compare with this the hours of toil +in a grocery store—seventy, at least—which had been necessary to earn +the small sum of three dollars. For the first time Chester began to +understand the difference between manual and intelligent labor. + +It was ten o’clock when Chester left the minister’s house—a late hour +in Wyncombe—and he had nearly reached his own modest home before he +met anyone. Then he overtook a man of perhaps thirty, thinly clad and +shivering in the bitter, wintry wind. He was a stranger, evidently, for +Chester knew everyone in the village, and he was tempted to look back. +The young man, encouraged perhaps by this evidence of interest, spoke, +hurriedly: + +“Do you know,” he asked, “where I can get a bed for the night?” + +“Mr. Tripp has a few rooms that he lets to strangers. He is the +storekeeper.” + +The young man laughed, but there was no merriment in the laugh. + +“Oh, yes. I know Silas Tripp,” he said. + +“Then you have been in Wyncombe before?” + +“I never lived here, but I know Silas Tripp better than I want to. He +is my uncle.” + +“Your uncle!” exclaimed Chester, in surprise. + +“Yes, I am his sister’s son. My name is Walter Bruce.” + +“Then I should think your uncle’s house was the place for you.” + +“I have no money to pay for a bed.” + +“But, if you are a relation——” + +“That makes no difference to Silas Tripp. He has no love for poor +relations. You don’t know him very well.” + +“I ought to, for I have worked for him in the store for a year.” + +“I didn’t see you in there this evening.” + +“I left him last Saturday evening. There is another boy there now.” + +“Why did you leave him?” + +“Because he wanted to cut down my wages from three dollars to two +dollars and a quarter.” + +“Just like uncle Silas. I see you know him.” + +“Have you seen him since you came to Wyncombe?” + +“I was in the store this evening.” + +“Did you make yourself known to him?” + +“Yes.” + +“Didn’t he invite you to spend the night in the house?” + +“Not he. He saw by my dress that I was poor, and gave me a lecture on +my shiftless ways.” + +“Still he might have taken care of you for one night.” + +“He wouldn’t. He told me he washed his hands of me.” + +Chester looked sober. He was shocked by Silas Tripp’s want of humanity. + +“You asked me where you could find a bed,” he said. “Come home with me, +and I can promise you shelter for one night, at least.” + +“Thank you, boy,” said Bruce, grasping Chester’s hand. “You have a +heart. But—perhaps your parents might object.” + +“I have no father. My mother is always ready to do a kind act.” + +“Then I will accept your kind offer. I feared I should have to stay out +all night.” + +“And without an overcoat,” said Chester, compassionately. + +“Yes, I had to part with my overcoat long since. I could not afford +such a luxury. I suppose you understand!” + +“You sold it?” + +“No, I pawned it. I didn’t get much for it—only three dollars, but it +would be as easy for me to take the church and move it across the +street as to redeem it.” + +“You appear to have been unfortunate.” + +“Yes. Fortune and I are at odds. Yet I ought to have some money.” + +“How’s that?” + +“When my mother died uncle Silas acted as executor of her estate. It +was always supposed that she had some money—probably from two to three +thousand dollars—but when uncle Silas rendered in his account it had +dwindled to one hundred and twenty-five dollars. Of course that didn’t +last me long.” + +“Do you think that he acted wrongfully?” asked Chester, startled. + +“Do I think so? I have no doubt of it. You know money is his god.” + +“Yet to cheat his own nephew would be so base.” + +“Is there anything too base for such a man to do to get money?” + +The young man spoke bitterly. + +By this time they had reached Chester’s home. His mother was still up. +She looked up in surprise at her son’s companion. + +“Mother,” said Chester, “this is Mr. Bruce. Do you think we can give +him a bed?” + +“Why, certainly,” replied Mrs. Rand, cordially. “Have you had supper, +sir?” + +“I wouldn’t like to trouble you, ma’am.” + +“It will be no trouble. I can make some tea in five minutes. Chester, +take out the bread and butter and cold meat from the closet.” + +So before he went to bed the homeless wayfarer was provided with a warm +meal, and the world seemed brighter and more cheerful to him. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A DYING GIFT. + + +In the morning Walter Bruce came down to breakfast looking pale and +sick. He had taken a severe cold from scanty clothing and exposure to +the winter weather. + +“You have a hard cough, Mr. Bruce,” said Mrs. Rand, in a tone of +sympathy. + +“Yes, madam; my lungs were always sensitive.” + +When breakfast was over he took his hat and prepared to go. + +“I thank you very much for your kind hospitality,” he began. Then he +was attacked by a fit of coughing. + +“Where are you going. Mr. Bruce?” asked Chester. + +“I don’t know,” he answered, despondently. “I came to Wyncombe to see +my uncle Silas, but he will have nothing to say to me.” + +Chester and his mother exchanged looks. The same thought was in the +mind of each. + +“Stay with us a day or two,” said Mrs. Rand. “You are not fit to travel. +You need rest and care.” + +“But I shall be giving you a great deal of trouble.” + +“We shall not consider it such,” said Mrs. Rand. + +“Then I will accept your kind offer, for indeed I am very unwell.” + +Before the end of the day the young man was obliged to go to bed, and a +doctor was summoned. Bruce was pronounced to have a low fever, and to +be quite unfit to travel. + +Mrs. Rand and Chester began to feel anxious. Their hearts were filled +with pity for the young man, but how could they bear the expense which +this sickness would entail upon them? + +“Silas Tripp is his uncle,” said Mrs. Rand. “He ought to contribute the +expense of his sickness.” + +“I will go and see him,” said Chester. So he selected a time when +business would be slack in the store, and called in. He found Mr. Trip +in a peevish mood. + +“How are you, Chester?” he said. “I wish you was back.” + +“Why, Mr. Tripp? You’ve got Abel Wood in my place.” + +“He ain’t of much account,” grumbled Silas. “What do you think he done +this mornin’?” + +“I don’t know, sir.” + +“He smashed two dozen eggs, and eggs twenty-two cents a dozen. But I’ll +take it out of his salary. He’s dreadful awkward, that boy!” + +“Poor Abel!” thought Chester. “I am afraid he won’t have much salary +coming to him at the end of the week.” + +“You never broke no eggs while you was here, Chester.” + +“No; I don’t think I did.” + +“You’d ought to have stayed.” + +“I couldn’t stay on the salary you offered. But, Mr. Tripp, I’ve come +here on business.” + +“Hey? What about?” + +“Your nephew, Walter Bruce, is staying at our house.” + +“Is he?” returned Silas Tripp, indifferently. + +“And he is sick.” + +“I don’t feel no interest in him,” said Silas, doggedly. + +“Are you willing to pay his expenses? He has no money.” + +“No, I ain’t,” snarled Silas. “Ef you take him you take him at your own +risk.” + +“You wouldn’t have us turn him into the street?” said Chester, +indignantly. + +“You can do as you like. It ain’t no affair of mine. I s’pose he sent +you here.” + +“No, he didn’t; and I wouldn’t have come if we had been better fixed. +But we haven’t enough money to live on ourselves.” + +“Then tell him to go away. I never wanted him to come to Wyncombe.” + +“It seems to me you ought to do something for your own nephew.” + +“I can’t support all my relations, and I won’t,” said Silas, testily. +“It ain’t no use talkin’. Walter Bruce is shif’less and lazy, or he’d +take care of himself. I ain’t no call to keep him.” + +“Then you won’t do anything for him? Even two dollars a week would help +him very much.” + +“Two dollars a week!” ejaculated Silas. “You must think I am made of +money. Why, two dollars a week would make a hundred and four dollars a +year.” + +“That wouldn’t be much for a man of your means, Mr. Tripp.” + +“You talk foolish, Chester. I have to work hard for a livin’. If I +helped all my shif’less relations I’d end my days in the poorhouse.” + +“I don’t think you’ll go there from that cause,” Chester could not help +saying. + +“I guess not. I ain’t a fool. Let every tub stand on its own bottom, I +say. But I won’t be too hard. Here’s twenty-five cents,” and Silas took +a battered quarter from the money drawer. + +“Take it and use it careful.” + +“I think we will try to get along without it,” said Chester, with a +curl of the lip. “I’m afraid you can’t afford it.” + +“Do just as you like,” said Silas, putting back the money with a sigh +of relief, “but don’t say I didn’t offer to do something for Walter.” + +“No; I will tell him how much you offered to give.” + +“That’s a queer boy,” said Mr. Tripp, as Chester left the store. “Seems +to want me to pay all Walter Bruce’s expenses. What made him come to +Wyncombe to get sick? He’d better have stayed where he lived, and then +he’d have had a claim to go to the poorhouse. He can’t live on me, I +tell him that. Them Rands are foolish to take him in. They’re as poor +as poverty themselves, and now they’ve taken in a man who ain’t no +claim on them. I expect they thought they’d get a good sum out of me +for boardin’ him. There’s a great many onrasonable people in the +world.” + +“I will go and see Mr. Morris, the minister,” decided the perplexed +Chester. “He will tell me what to do.” + +Accordingly he called on the minister and unfolded the story to +sympathetic ears. + +“You did right, Chester,” said Mr. Morris. “The poor fellow was +fortunate to fall into your hands. But won’t it be too much for your +mother?” + +“It’s the expense I am thinking of, Mr. Morris. You know I have lost my +situation, and mother has no shoes to bind.” + +“I can help you, Chester. A rich lady of my acquaintance sends me a +hundred dollars every year to bestow in charity. I will devote a part +of this to the young man whom you have so kindly taken in, say at the +rate of eight dollars a week.” + +“That will make us feel easy,” said Chester gratefully. “How much do +you think his uncle offered me?” + +“I am surprised that he should have offered anything.” + +“He handed me twenty-five cents, but I told him I thought we could get +along without it.” + +“And you will. Silas Tripp has a small soul, hardly worth saving. He +has made money his god, and serves his chosen deity faithfully.” + +“I wouldn’t change places with him for all his wealth.” + +“Some day you may be as rich as he, but I hope, if you are, you will +use your wealth better.” + +At the beginning of the third week Walter Bruce became suddenly worse. +His constitution was fragile, and the disease had undermined his +strength. The doctor looked grave. + +“Do you think I shall pull through, doctor?” asked the young man. + +“While there is life there is hope, Mr. Bruce.” + +“That means that the odds are against me?” + +“Yes, I am sorry to say that you are right.” + +Walter Bruce looked thoughtful. + +“I don’t think I care much for life,” he said. “I have had many +disappointments, and I know that at the best I could never be strong +and enjoy life as most of my age do—I am resigned.” + +“How old are you, Walter?” asked Chester. + +“Twenty-nine. It is a short life.” + +“Is there anyone you would wish me to notify if the worst comes?” + +“No, I have scarcely a relative—except Silas Tripp,” he added, with a +bitter smile. + +“You have no property to dispose of by will?” asked the doctor. + +“Yes,” was the unexpected answer, “but I shall not make a will. A will +may be contested. I will give it away during my life.” + +Chester and the doctor looked surprised. They thought the other might +refer to a ring or some small article. + +“I want everything to be legal,” resumed Bruce. “Is there a lawyer in +the village?” + +“Yes, Lawyer Gardener.” + +“Send for him. I shall feel easier when I have attended to this last +duty.” + +Within half an hour the lawyer was at his bedside. + +“In the inside pocket of my coat,” said Walter Bruce, “you will find a +document. It is the deed of five lots in the town of Tacoma, in +Washington Territory. I was out there last year, and having a little +money, bought the lots for a song. They are worth very little now, but +some time they may be of value.” + +“To whom do you wish to give them?” asked Mr. Gardner. + +“To this boy,” answered Bruce, looking affectionately toward Chester. +“He and his have been my best friends.” + +“But your uncle—he is a relative!” suggested Chester. + +“He has no claim upon me. Lawyer, make out a deed of gift of these lots +to Chester Rand, and I will sign it.” + +The writing was completed, Bruce found strength to sign it, and then +sank back exhausted. Two days later he died. Of course the eight +dollars a week from the minister’s fund ceased to be paid to the Rands. +Chester had not succeeded in obtaining work. To be sure he had the five +lots in Tacoma, but he who had formerly owned them had died a pauper. +The outlook was very dark. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +CHESTER’S FIRST SUCCESS. + + +Chester and his mother and a few friends attended the funeral of Walter +Bruce. Silas Tripp was too busy at the store to pay this parting +compliment to his nephew. He expressed himself plainly about the folly +of the Rands in “runnin’ into debt for a shif’less fellow” who had no +claim upon them. “If they expect me to pay the funeral expenses they’re +mistaken,” he added, positively. “I ain’t no call to do it, and I won’t +do it.” + +But he was not asked to defray the expenses of the simple funeral. It +was paid for out of the minister’s charitable fund. + +“Some time I will pay you back the money, Mr. Morris,” said Chester. “I +am Mr. Bruce’s heir, and it is right that I should pay.” + +“Very well, Chester. If your bequest amounts to anything I will not +object. I hope for your sake that the lots may become valuable.” + +“I don’t expect it, Mr. Morris. Will you be kind enough to take care of +the papers for me?” + +“Certainly, Chester. I will keep them with my own papers.” + +At this time Tacoma contained only four hundred inhabitants. The +Northern Pacific Railroad had not been completed, and there was no +certainty when it would be. So Chester did not pay much attention or +give much thought to his Western property, but began to look round +anxiously for something to do. + +During the sickness of Walter Bruce he had given up his time to helping +his mother and the care of the sick man. The money received from the +minister enabled him to do this. Now the weekly income had ceased, and +it became a serious question what he should do to bring in an income. + +He had almost forgotten his meeting with Herbert Conrad, the young +artist, when the day after the funeral he received a letter in an +unknown hand, addressed to “Master Chester Rand, Wyncombe, New York.” + +As he opened it, his eyes opened wide with surprise and joy, when two +five-dollar bills fluttered to the ground, for he had broken the seal +in front of the post office. + +He read the letter eagerly. It ran thus: + + “DEAR CHESTER:—I am glad to say that I have sold your sketch for + ten dollars to one of the papers I showed you at Wyncombe. If you + have any others ready, send them along. Try to think up some + bright, original idea, and illustrate it in your best style. Then + send to me. + + “Your sincere friend, HERBERT.” + +Chester hardly knew whether he was standing on his head or his heels. +It seems almost incredible that a sketch which he had dashed off in +twenty minutes should bring in such a magnificent sum. + +And for the first time it dawned upon him he was an artist. Fifty +dollars gained in any other way would not have given him so much +satisfaction. Why, it was only three weeks that he had been out of a +place, and he had received more than he would have been paid in that +time by Mr. Tripp. + +He decided to tell no one of his good luck but his mother and the +minister. If he were fortunate enough to earn more, the neighbors might +wonder as they pleased about the source of his supplies. The money came +at the right time, for his mother needed some articles at the store. He +concluded to get them on the way home. + +Silas Tripp was weighing out some sugar for a customer when Chester +entered. Silas eyed him sharply, and was rather surprised to find him +cheerful and in good spirits. + +“How’s your mother this mornin’, Chester?” asked the grocer. + +“Pretty well, thank you, Mr. Tripp.” + +“Are you doin’ anything yet?” + +“There doesn’t seem to be much work to do in Wyncombe,” answered +Chester, noncommittally. + +“You was foolish to leave a stiddy job at the store.” + +“I couldn’t afford to work for the money you offered me.” + +“Two dollars and a quarter is better than nothin’. I would have paid +you two and a half. I like you better than that Wood boy. Is your +mother workin’?” + +“She is doing a little sewing, but she had no time for that with a sick +man in the house.” + +“I don’t see what made you keep a man that was no kith or kin to you.” + +“Would you have had us put him into the street, Mr. Tripp?” + +“I’d have laid the matter before the selec’-men, and got him into the +poorhouse.” + +“Well, it is all over now, and I’m not sorry that we cared for the poor +fellow. I would like six pounds of sugar and two of butter.” + +“You ain’t goin’ to run a bill, be you?” asked Silas, cautiously. “I +can’t afford to trust out any more.” + +“We don’t owe you anything, do we, Mr. Tripp?” + +“No; but I thought mebbe——” + +“I will pay for the articles,” said Chester, briefly. + +When he tendered the five-dollar bill Silas Tripp looked amazed. + +“Where did you get so much money?” he gasped. + +“Isn’t it a good bill?” asked Chester. + +“Why, yes, but——” + +“I think that is all you have a right to ask,” said Chester, firmly. +“It can’t make any difference to you where it came from.” + +“I thought you were poor,” said Mr. Tripp. + +“So we are.” + +“But it seems strange that you should have so much money.” + +“Five dollars isn’t much money, Mr. Tripp.” + +Then a sudden idea came to Silas Tripp, and he paused in weighing out +the butter. + +“Did my nephew leave any money?” he asked, sharply. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Then I lay claim to it. I’m his only relation, and it is right that I +should have it.” + +“You shall have it if you will pay the expense of his illness.” + +“Humph! how much did he leave?” + +“Thirty-seven cents.” + +Mr. Tripp looked discomfited. + +“You can keep it,” he said, magnanimously. “I don’t lay no claim to +it.” + +“Thank you,” returned Chester, gravely. + +“Then this five-dollar bill didn’t come from him?” + +“How could it? he hadn’t as much money in the world.” + +“He was a shif’less man. ‘A rolling stone gathers no moss,’” observed +Mr. Tripp, in a moralizing tone. + +“You haven’t been a rolling stone, Mr. Tripp.” + +“No; I’ve stuck to the store year in and year out for thirty-five +years. I ain’t had more’n three days off in that time.” + +“If I had your money, Mr. Tripp, I’d go off and enjoy myself.” + +“What, and leave the store?” said Silas, aghast at the thought. + +“You could hire some one to run it.” + +“I wouldn’t find much left when I came back; No, I must stay at home +and attend to business. Do your folks go to bed early, Chester?” + +“Not before ten,” answered Chester, in some surprise. + +“Then I’ll call this evenin’ after the store is closed.” + +“Very well, sir. You’ll find us up.” + +The idea had occurred to Mr. Tripp that Mrs. Rand must be very short of +money, and might be induced to dispose of her place at a largely +reduced figure. It would be a good-paying investment for him, and he +was not above taking advantage of a poor widow’s necessities. Of course +neither Mrs. Rand nor Chester had any idea of his motives or +intentions, and they awaited his visit with considerable curiosity. + +About fifteen minutes after nine a shuffling was heard at the door, +there was a knock, and a minute later Chester admitted the thin and +shriveled figure of Silas Tripp. + +“Good-evening, Mr. Tripp,” said Mrs. Rand, politely. + +“Good-evenin’, ma’am, I thought I’d call in and inquire how you were +gettin’ along.” + +“Thank you, Mr. Tripp, for the interest you show in our affairs. We are +not doing very well, as you may imagine.” + +“So I surmised, ma’am. So I surmised.” + +“It can’t be possible he is going to offer us a loan,” thought Chester. + +“You’ve got a tidy little place here, ma’am. It isn’t mortgaged, I +rec’on.” + +“No, Sir.” + +“Why don’t you sell it? You need the money, and you might hire another +house, or pay rent for this.” + +“Do you know of anyone that wants to buy it, Mr. Tripp?” + +“Mebbe I’d buy it myself, jest to help you along,” answered Silas, +cautiously. + +“How much would you be willing to give?” put in Chester. + +“Well, I calculate—real estate’s very low at present—three hundred +and fifty dollars would be a fair price.” + +Mrs. Rand looked amazed. + +“Three hundred and fifty dollars!” she ejaculated. “Why, it is worth at +least seven hundred.” + +“You couldn’t get it, ma’am. That’s a fancy price.” + +“What rent would you charge in case we sold it to you, Mr. Tripp,” +asked Chester. + +“Well, say five dollars a month.” + +“About sixteen or seventeen per cent. on the purchase money.” + +“Well, I’d have to pay taxes and repairs,” explained Tripp. + +“I don’t care to sell, Mr. Tripp,” said Mrs. Rand, decisively. + +“You may have to, ma’am.” + +“If we do we shall try to get somewhere near its real value.” + +“Just as you like, ma’am,” said Silas, disappointed. “I’d pay you cash +down.” + +“If I decide to sell on your terms I’ll let you know,” said Mrs. Rand. + +“Oh, well, I ain’t set upon it. I only wanted to do you a favor.” + +“We appreciate your kindness,” said Mrs. Rand, dryly. + +“Women don’t know much about business,” muttered Silas, as he plodded +home, disappointed. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ROBERT RAMSAY. + + +Mrs. Rand was as much amazed as Chester himself at his success as an +artist. + +“How long were you in making the drawing?” she asked. + +“Twenty minutes.” + +“And you received ten dollars. It doesn’t seem possible.” + +“I wish I could work twenty minutes every week at that rate,” laughed +Chester. “It would pay me better than working for Silas Tripp.” + +“Perhaps you can get some more work of the same kind?” + +“I shall send two more sketches to Mr. Conrad in a day or two. I shall +take pains and do my best.” + +Two days later Chester sent on the sketches, and then set about trying +to find a job of some kind in the village. He heard of only one. + +An elderly farmer, Job Dexter, offered him a dollar a week and board if +he would work for him. He would have eight cows to milk morning and +night, the care of the barn, and a multitude of “chores” to attend to. + +“How much will you give me if I board at home, Mr. Dexter?” asked +Chester. + +“I must have you in the house. I can’t have you trapesing home when you +ought to be at work.” + +“Then I don’t think I can come, Mr. Dexter. A dollar a week wouldn’t +pay me.” + +“A dollar a week and board is good pay for a boy,” said the farmer. + +“It may be for some boys, but not for me.” + +Chester reflected that if he worked all day at the farmer’s he could +not do any artistic work, and so would lose much more than he made. The +sketch sold by Mr. Conrad brought him in as much as he would receive in +ten weeks from Farmer Dexter. + +“Wyncombe people don’t seem very liberal, mother,” said Chester. “I +thought Mr. Tripp pretty close, but Job Dexter beats him.” + +In the meantime he met Abel Wood carrying groceries to a family in the +village. + +“Have you got a place yet, Chester?” he asked. + +“No; but I have a chance of one.” + +“Where?” + +“At Farmer Dexter’s.” + +“Don’t you go! I worked for him once.” + +“How did you like it?” + +“It almost killed me. I had to get up at half-past four, work till +seven in the evening, and all for a dollar a week and board.” + +“Was the board good?” inquired Chester, curiously. + +“It was the poorest livin’ I ever had. Mrs. Dexter don’t know much +about cookin’. We had baked beans for dinner three times a week, +because they were cheap, and what was left was put on for breakfast the +next mornin’.” + +“I like baked beans.” + +“You wouldn’t like them as Mrs. Dexter cooked them, and you wouldn’t +want them for six meals a week.” + +“No, I don’t think I should,” said Chester, smiling. “How do you get +along with Silas Tripp?” + +“He’s always scoldin’; he says I am not half as smart as you.” + +“I am much obliged to Mr. Tripp for his favorable opinion, but he +didn’t think enough of me to give me decent pay.” + +“He’s awful mean. He’s talkin’ of reducin’ me to two dollars a week. He +says business is very poor, and he isn’t makin’ any money.” + +“I wish you and I were making half as much as he.” + +“There’s one thing I don’t understand, Chester. You ain’t workin’, yet +you seem to have money.” + +“How do you know I have?” + +“Mr. Tripp says you came into the store three or four days ago and +changed a five-dollar bill.” + +“Yes; Mr. Tripp seemed anxious to know where I got it.” + +“You didn’t use to have five-dollar bills, Chester, when you were at +work.” + +“This five-dollar bill dropped down the chimney one fine morning,” said +Chester, laughing. + +“I wish one would drop down my chimney. But I must be gettin’ along, or +old Tripp will give me hail Columbia when I get back.” + +About nine o’clock that evening, as Chester was returning from a +lecture in the church, he was accosted by a rough-looking fellow having +very much the appearance of a tramp, who seemed somewhat under the +influence of liquor. + +“I say, boss,” said the tramp, “can’t you give a poor man a quarter to +help him along?” + +“Are you out of work?” asked Chester, staying his step. + +“Yes; times is hard and work is scarce. I haven’t earned anything for a +month.” + +“Where do you come from?” + +“From Pittsburg,” answered the tramp, with some hesitation. + +“What do you work at when you are employed?” + +“I am a machinist. Is there any chance in that line here?” + +“Not in Wyncombe.” + +“That’s what I thought. How about that quarter?” + +“I am out of work myself and quarters are scarce with me.” + +“That’s what you all say! There’s small show for a good, industrious +man.” + +Chester thought to himself that if the stranger was a good, industrious +man he was unfortunate in his appearance. + +“I have sympathy for all who are out of work,” he said. “Mother and I +are poor. When I did work I only got three dollars a week.” + +“Where did you work?” + +“In Mr. Tripp’s store, in the center of the village.” + +“I know. It’s a two-story building, ain’t it, with a piazza?” + +“Yes.” + +“Has the old fellow got money?” + +“Oh, yes; Silas Tripp is rich.” + +“So? He didn’t pay you much wages, though.” + +“No; he feels poor. I dare say he feels poorer than I do.” + +“Such men ought not to have money,” growled the tramp. “They’re keepin’ +it out of the hands of honest men. What sort of a lookin’ man is this +man Tripp? Is he as big as me?” + +“Oh, no, he is a thin, dried-up, little man, who looks as if he hadn’t +had a full meal of victuals in his life.” + +“What time does he shut up shop?” + +“About this time,” answered Chester, rather puzzled by the tramp’s +persistence in asking questions. + +“What’s your name?” + +“Chester Rand.” + +“Can’t you give me a quarter? I’m awful hungry. I ain’t had a bit to +eat since yesterday.” + +“I have no money to give you, but if you will come to our house I’ll +give you some supper.” + +“Where do you live?” + +“About five minutes’ walk.” + +“Go ahead, then; I’m with you.” + +Mrs. Rand looked up with surprise when the door opened and Chester +entered, followed by an ill-looking tramp, whose clothes were redolent +of tobacco, and his breath of whisky. + +“Mother,” said Chester, “this man tells me that he hasn’t had anything +to eat since yesterday.” + +“No more I haven’t,” spoke up the tramp, in a hoarse voice. + +“He asked for some money. I could not give him that, but I told him we +would give him some supper.” + +“Of course we will,” said Mrs. Rand, in a tone of sympathy. She did not +admire the appearance of her late visitor, but her heart was alive to +the appeal of a hungry man. + +“Sit down, sir,” she said, “and I’ll make some hot tea, and that with +some bread and butter and cold meat will refresh you.” + +“Thank you, ma’am, I ain’t over-partial to tea, and my doctor tells me I +need whisky. You don’t happen to have any whisky in the house, do you?” + +“This is a temperance house,” said Chester, “we never keep whisky.” + +“Well, maybe I can get along with the tea,” sighed the tramp, in +evident disappointment. + +“You look strong and healthy,” observed Mrs. Rand. + +“I ain’t, ma’am. Looks is very deceiving. I’ve got a weakness here,” +and he touched the pit of his stomach, “that calls for strengthenin’ +drink. But I’ll be glad of the victuals.” + +When the table was spread with an extemporized supper, the unsavory +visitor sat down, and did full justice to it. He even drank the tea, +though he made up a face and called it “slops.” + +“Where did you come from, sir?” asked Mrs. Rand. + +“From Chicago, ma’am.” + +“Were you at work there? What is your business?” + +“I’m a blacksmith, ma’am.” + +“I thought you were a machinist and came from Pittsburg,” interrupted +Chester, in surprise. + +“I came here by way of Pittsburg,” answered the tramp, coughing. “I am +machinist, too.” + +“His stories don’t seem to hang together,” thought Chester. + +After supper the tramp, who said his name was Robert Ramsay, took out +his pipe and began to smoke. If it had not been a cold evening, Mrs. +Rand, who disliked tobacco, would have asked him to smoke out of doors, +but as it was she tolerated it. + +Both Chester and his mother feared that their unwelcome visitor would +ask to stay all night, and they would not have felt safe with him in +the house, but about a quarter past ten he got up and said he must be +moving. + +“Good-night, and good luck to you!” said Chester. + +“Same to you!” returned the tramp. + +“I wonder where he’s going,” thought Chester. + +But when the next morning came he heard news that answered this +question. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +SILAS TRIPP MAKES A DISCOVERY. + + +When Silas Tripp went into his store the next day he was startled to +find a window in the rear was partially open. + +“How did that window come open, Abel?” he asked, as Abel Wood entered +the store. + +“I don’t know, sir.” + +“It must have been you that opened it,” said his employer, sternly. + +“I didn’t do it, Mr. Tripp, honest I didn’t,” declared Abel, earnestly. + +“Then how did it come open, that’s what I want to know?” + +“I am sure I can’t tell.” + +“Somebody might have come in during the night and robbed the store.” + +“So there might.” + +“It’s very mysterious. Such things didn’t happen when Chester was +here.” + +Abel made no answer, but began to sweep out the store, his first +morning duty. + +When Silas spoke of the store being robbed he had no idea that such a +robbing had taken place, but he went to the money drawer and opened it +to make sure all was safe. + +Instantly there was a cry of dismay. + +“Abel!” he exclaimed, “I’ve been robbed. There’s a lot of money +missing.” + +Abel stopped sweeping and turned pale. + +“Is that so, Mr. Tripp?” he asked, faintly. + +“Yes, there’s—lemme see. There’s been burglars here. Oh, this is +terrible!” + +“Who could have done it, Mr. Tripp?” + +“I dunno, but the store was entered last night. I never shall feel safe +again,” groaned Silas. + +“Didn’t they leave no traces?” + +“Ha! here’s a handkerchief,” said Mr. Tripp, taking the article from +the top of a flour barrel, “and yes, by gracious, it’s marked Chester +Rand.” + +“You don’t think he took the money?” ejaculated Abel, in open-eyed +wonder. + +“Of course it must have been him! He knew just where I kept the money, +and he could find his way about in the dark, he knew the store so +well.” + +“I didn’t think Chester would do such a thing.” + +“That’s how he came by his five-dollar bill. He came in bold as brass +and paid me with my own money—the young rascal!” + +“But how could he do it if the money was took last night? It was two or +three days ago he paid you the five-dollar bill.” + +This was a poser, but Mr. Tripp was equal to the emergency. + +“He must have robbed me before,” he said. + +“You haven’t missed money before, have you?” + +“Not to my knowledge, but he must have took it. Abel, I want you to go +right over to the Widow Rand’s and tell Chester I want to see him. I +dunno but I’d better send the constable after him.” + +“Shall I carry him his handkerchief?” + +“No, and don’t tell him it’s been found. I don’t want to put him on his +guard.” + +Abel put his broom behind the door and betook himself to the house of +Mrs. Rand. + +The widow herself opened the door. + +“Is Chester at home?” asked Abel. + +“Yes, he’s eating his breakfast. Do you want to see him?” + +“Well, Mr. Tripp wants to see him.” + +“Possibly he wants Chester to give him a little extra help,” she +thought. + +“Won’t you come in and take a cup of coffee while Chester is finishing +his breakfast?” she said. + +“Thank you, ma’am.” + +Abel was a boy who was always ready to eat and drink, and he accepted +the invitation with alacrity. + +“So Mr. Tripp wants to see me?” said Chester. “Do you know what it’s +about?” + +“He’ll tell you,” answered Abel, evasively. + +Chester was not specially interested or excited. He finished his +breakfast in a leisurely manner, and then taking his hat, went out with +Abel. It occurred to him that Mr. Tripp might be intending to discharge +Abel, and wished to see if he would return to his old place. + +“So you don’t know what he wants to see me about?” he asked. + +“Well, I have an idea,” answered Abel, in a mysterious tone. + +“What is it, then?” + +“Oh, I dassn’t tell.” + +“Look here, Abel, I won’t stir a step till you do tell me. You are +acting very strangely.” + +“Well, somethin’ terrible has happened,” Abel ejaculated, in excited +tones. + +“What’s it?” + +“The store was robbed last night.” + +“The store was robbed?” repeated Chester. “What was taken?” + +“Oh, lots and lots of money was taken from the drawer, and the window +in the back of the store was left open.” + +“I’m sorry to hear it. I didn’t know there was anybody in Wyncombe that +would do such things. Does Mr. Tripp suspect anybody?” + +“Yes, he does.” + +“Who is it?” + +“He thinks you done it.” + +Chester stopped abruptly and looked amazed. + +“Why, the man must be crazy! What on earth makes him think I would +stoop to do such a thing?” + +“’Cause your handkerchief was found on a flour barrel ’side of the +money drawer.” + +“My handkerchief! Who says it was my handkerchief?” + +“Your name was on it—in one corner; I seed it myself.” + +Then a light dawned upon Chester. The tramp whom he and his mother had +entertained the evening before, must have picked up his handkerchief, +and left it in the store to divert suspicion from himself. The +detective instinct was born within Chester, and now he felt impatient +to have the investigation proceed. + +“Come on, Abel,” he said, “I want to see about this matter.” + +“Well, you needn’t walk so plaguy fast, wouldn’t if I was you.” + +“Why not?” + +“’Cause you’ll probably have to go to jail. I’ll tell you what I’d do.” + +“Well?” + +“I’d hook it.” + +“You mean run away?” + +“Yes.” + +“That’s the last thing I’d do. Mr. Tripp would have a right to think I +was guilty in that case.” + +“Well, ain’t you?” + +“Abel Wood, I have a great mind to give you a licking. Don’t you know +me any better than that?” + +“Then why did you leave the handkerchief on the flour barrel?” + +“That’ll come out in due time.” + +They were near the store where Mr. Tripp was impatiently waiting for +their appearance. He did not anticipate Abel’s staying to breakfast, +and his suspicions were excited. + +“I’ll bet Chester Rand has left town with the money,” he groaned. “Oh, +it’s awful to have your hard earnin’s carried off so sudden. I’ll send +Chester to jail unless he returns it—every cent of it.” + +Here Abel entered the store, followed by Chester. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A SCENE IN THE GROCERY STORE. + + +“So you’ve come, have you, you young thief?” said Silas, sternly, as +Chester entered the store. “Ain’t you ashamed of yourself?” + +“No, I’m not,” Chester answered, boldly. “I’ve done nothing to be +ashamed of.” + +“Oh, you hardened young villain. Give me the money right off, or I’ll +send you to jail.” + +“I hear from Abel that the store was robbed last night, and I suppose +from what you say that you suspect me.” + +“So I do.” + +“Then you are mistaken. I spent all last night at home as my mother can +testify.” + +“Then how came your handkerchief here?” demanded Silas, triumphantly, +holding up the article. + +“It must have been brought here.” + +“Oho, you admit that, do you? I didn’t know but you’d say it came here +itself.” + +“No, I don’t think it did.” + +“I thought you’d own up arter a while.” + +“I own up to nothing.” + +“Isn’t the handkerchief yours?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then you stay here while Abel goes for the constable. You’ve got to be +punished for such doin’s. But I’ll give ye one chance. Give me back the +money you took—thirty-seven dollars and sixty cents—and I’ll forgive +ye, and won’t have you sent to jail.” + +“That is a very kind offer, Mr. Tripp, and if I had taken the money I +would accept it, and thank you. But I didn’t take it.” + +“Go for the constable, Abel, and mind you hurry. You just stay where +you are, Chester Rand. Don’t you go for to run away.” + +Chester smiled. He felt that he had the key to the mystery, but he +chose to defer throwing light upon it. + +“On the way, Abel,” said Chester, “please call at our house and ask my +mother to come to the store.” + +“All right, Chester.” + +The constable was the first to arrive. + +“What’s wanted, Silas?” he asked, for in country villages neighbors are +very apt to call one another by their Christian names. + +“There’s been robbery and burglary, Mr. Boody,” responded Mr. Tripp. +“My store was robbed last night of thirty-seven dollars and sixty +cents.” + +“Sho, Silas, how you talk!” + +“It’s true, and there stands the thief!” + +“I am sitting, Mr. Tripp,” said Chester smiling. + +“See how he brazens it out! What a hardened young villain he is!” + +“Come, Silas, you must be crazy,” expostulated the constable, who felt +very friendly to Chester. “Chester wouldn’t no more steal from you than +I would.” + +“I thought so myself, but when I found his handkerchief, marked with +his name, on a flour barrel, I was convinced.” + +“Is that so, Chester?” + +“Yes, the handkerchief is mine.” + +“It wasn’t here last night,” proceeded Silas, “and it was here this +morning. It stands to reason that it couldn’t have walked here itself, +and so of course it was brought here.” + +By this time two other villagers entered the store. + +“What do you say to that, Chester?” said the constable, beginning to be +shaken in his conviction of Chester’s innocence. + +“I agree with Mr. Tripp. It must have been brought here.” + +At this moment, Mrs. Rand and the minister whom she had met on the way, +entered the store. + +“Glad to see you, widder,” said Silas Tripp, grimly. “I hope you ain’t +a-goin’ to stand up for your son in his didoes.” + +“I shall certainly stand by Chester, Mr. Tripp. What is the trouble?” + +“Only that he came into my store in the silent watches of last night,” +answered Silas, sarcastically, “and made off with thirty-seven dollars +and sixty cents.” + +“It’s a falsehood, whoever says it,” exclaimed Mrs. Rand, hotly. + +“I supposed you’d stand up for him,” sneered Silas. + +“And for a very good reason. During the silent watches of last night, +as you express it, Chester was at home and in bed to my certain +knowledge.” + +“While his handkerchief walked over here and robbed the store,” +suggested Silas Tripp, with withering sarcasm, as he held up the +telltale evidence of Chester’s dishonesty. + +“Was this handkerchief found in the store?” asked Mrs. Rand, in +surprise. + +“Yes, ma’am, it was, and I calculate you’ll find it hard to get over +that evidence.” + +Mrs. Rand’s face lighted up with a sudden conviction. + +“I think I can explain it,” she said, quietly. + +“Oh, you can, can you? Maybe you can tell who took the money.” + +“I think I can.” + +All eyes were turned upon her in eager expectation. + +“A tramp called at our house last evening,” she said, “at about +half-past nine, and I gave him a meal, as he professed to be hungry and +penniless. It was some minutes after ten when he left the house. He +must have picked up Chester’s handkerchief, and left it in your store +after robbing the money drawer.” + +“That’s all very fine,” said Silas, incredulously, “but I don’t know as +there was any tramp. Nobody saw him but you.” + +“I beg your pardon, Mr. Tripp,” said the minister, “but I saw him about +half-past ten walking in the direction of your store. I was returning +from visiting a sick parishioner when I met a man roughly dressed and +of middle height, walking up the street. He was smoking a pipe.” + +“He lighted it before leaving our house,” said Mrs. Rand. + +“How did he know about my store?” demanded Silas, incredulously. + +“He was asking questions about you while he was eating his supper.” + +Silas Tripp was forced to confess, though reluctantly, that the case +against Chester was falling to the ground. But he did not like to give +up. + +“I’d like to know where Chester got the money he’s been flauntin’ round +the last week,” he said. + +“Probably he stole it from your store last night,” said the constable, +with good-natured sarcasm. + +“That ain’t answerin’ the question.” + +“I don’t propose to answer the question,” said Chester, firmly. “Where +I got my money is no concern of Mr. Tripp, as long as I don’t get it +from him.” + +“Have I got to lose the money?” asked Silas, in a tragical tone. “It’s +very hard on a poor man.” + +All present smiled, for Silas was one of the richest men in the +village. + +“We might take up a contribution for you, Silas,” said the constable, +jocosely. + +“Oh, it’s all very well for you to joke about it, considerin’ you +didn’t lose it.” + +At this moment Abel Wood, who had been sweeping the piazza, entered the +store in excitement. + +“I say, there’s the tramp now,” he exclaimed. + +“Where? Where?” asked one and another. + +“Out in the street. Constable Perkins has got him.” + +“Call him in,” said the minister. + +A moment later, Constable Perkins came in, escorting the tramp, who was +evidently under the influence of strong potations, and had difficulty +in holding himself up. + +“Where am I?” hiccoughed Ramsay. + +“Where did you find him, Mr. Perkins?” asked Rev. Mr. Morris. + +“Just outside of Farmer Dexter’s barn. He was lying on the ground, with +a jug of whisky at his side.” + +“It was my jug,” said Silas. “He must have taken it from the store. I +didn’t miss it before. He must have took it away with him.” + +“There warn’t much whisky left in the jug. He must have absorbed most +of it.” + +Now Mr. Tripp’s indignation was turned against this new individual. + +“Where is my money, you villain?” he demanded, hotly. + +“Whaz-zer matter?” hiccoughed Ramsay. + +“You came into my store last night and stole some money.” + +“Is zis zer store? It was jolly fun,” and the inebriate laughed. + +“Yes, it is. Where is the money you took?” + +“Spent it for whisky.” + +“No, you didn’t. You found the whisky here.” + +Ramsay made no reply. + +“He must have the money about him,” suggested the minister. “You’d +better search his pockets, Mr. Perkins.” + +The constable thrust his hand into the pocket of his helpless charge, +and drew out a roll of bills. + +Silas Tripp uttered an exclamation of joy. + +“Give it to me,” he said. “It’s my money.” + +The bills were counted and all were there. + +Not one was missing. Part of the silver could not be found. It had +probably slipped from his pocket, for he had no opportunity of spending +any. + +Mr. Tripp was so pleased to recover his bills that he neglected to +complain of the silver coins that were missing. But still he felt +incensed against the thief. + +“You’ll suffer for this,” he said, sternly, eying the tramp over his +glasses. + +“Who says I will?” + +“I say so. You’ll have to go to jail.” + +“I’m a ’spectable man,” hiccoughed the tramp. “I’m an honest man. I +ain’t done nothin’.” + +“Why did you take my handkerchief last night?” asked Chester. + +The tramp laughed. + +“Good joke, wasn’t it? So they’d think it was you.” + +“It came near being a bad joke for me. Do you think I robbed your store +now, Mr. Tripp?” + +To this question Silas Tripp did not find it convenient to make an +answer. He was one of those men—very numerous they are, too—who +dislike to own themselves mistaken. + +“It seems to me, Mr. Tripp,” said the minister, “that you owe an +apology to our young friend here for your false suspicions.” + +“Anybody’d suspect him when they found his handkerchief,” growled +Silas. + +“But now you know he was not concerned in the robbery you should make +reparation.” + +“I don’t know where he got his money,” said Silas. “There’s suthin’ +very mysterious about that five-dollar bill.” + +“I’ve got another, Mr. Tripp,” said Chester, smiling. + +“Like as not. Where’d you get it?” + +“I don’t feel obliged to tell.” + +“It looks bad, that’s all I’ve got to say,” said the storekeeper. + +“I think, Mr. Tripp, you need not borrow any trouble on that score,” +interposed the minister. “I know where Chester’s money comes from, and +I can assure you that it is honestly earned, more so than that which +you receive from the whisky you sell.” + +Silas Tripp was a little afraid of the minister, who was very +plain-spoken, and turned away muttering. + +The crowd dispersed, some following Constable Perkins, who took his +prisoner to the lockup. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +NEW PLANS FOR CHESTER. + + +Two days later Chester found another letter from Mr. Conrad at the post +office. In it were two bills—a ten and a five. + +Mr. Conrad wrote: + + “I have disposed of your two sketches to the same paper. The + publisher offered me fifteen dollars for the two, and I thought it + best to accept. Have you ever thought of coming to New York to + live? You would be more favorably placed for disposing of your + sketches, and would find more subjects in a large city than in a + small village. The fear is that, if you continue to live in + Wyncombe, you will exhaust your invention. + + “There is one objection, the precarious nature of the business. You + might sometimes go a month, perhaps, without selling a sketch, and + meanwhile your expenses would go on. I think, however, that I have + found a way of obviating this objection. I have a friend—Mr. + Bushnell—who is in the real estate business, and he will take you + into his office on my recommendation. He will pay you five dollars + a week if he finds you satisfactory. This will afford you a steady + income, which you can supplement by your art work. If you decide to + accept my suggestion come to New York next Saturday, and you can + stay with me over Sunday, and go to work on Monday morning. + + “Your sincere friend, + + “HERBERT CONRAD.” + +Chester read this letter in a tumult of excitement. The great city had +always had a fascination for him, and he had hoped, without much +expectation of the hope being realized, that he might one day find +employment there. Now the opportunity had come, but could he accept it? +The question arose, How would his mother get along in his absence? She +would be almost entirely without income. Could he send her enough from +the city to help her along? + +He went to his mother and showed her the letter. + +“Fifteen dollars!” she exclaimed. “Why, that is fine, Chester. I shall +begin to be proud of you. Indeed, I am proud of you now.” + +“I can hardly realize it myself, mother. I won’t get too much elated, +for it may not last. What do you think of Mr. Conrad’s proposal?” + +“To go to New York?” + +“Yes.” + +Mrs. Rand’s countenance fell. + +“I don’t see how I can spare you, Chester,” she said, soberly. + +“If there were any chance of making a living in Wyncombe, it would be +different.” + +“You might go back to Mr. Tripp’s store.” + +“After he had charged me with stealing? No, mother, I will never serve +Silas Tripp again.” + +“There might be some other chance.” + +“But there isn’t, mother. By the way, I heard at the post office that +the shoe manufactory will open again in three weeks.” + +“That’s good news. I shall have some more binding to do.” + +“And I can send you something every week from New York.” + +“But I will be so lonely, Chester, with no one else in the house.” + +“That is true, mother.” + +“But I won’t let that stand in the way. You may have prospects in New +York. You have none here.” + +“And, as Mr. Conrad says, I am likely to run out of subjects for +sketches.” + +“I think I shall have to give my consent, then.” + +“Thank you, mother,” said Chester, joyfully. “I will do what I can to +pay you for the sacrifice you are making.” + +Just then the doorbell rang. + +“It is Mr. Gardener, the lawyer,” said Chester, looking from the +window. + +A moment later he admitted the lawyer. + +“Well, Chester,” said Mr. Gardener, pleasantly, “have you disposed of +your lots in Tacoma yet?” + +“No, Mr. Gardener. In fact, I had almost forgotten about them.” + +“Sometime they may prove valuable.” + +“I wish it might be soon.” + +“I fancy you will have to wait a few years. By the time you are +twenty-one you may come into a competence.” + +“I won’t think of it till then.” + +“That’s right. Work as if you had nothing to look forward to.” + +“You don’t want to take me into your office and make a lawyer of me, +Mr. Gardener, do you?” + +“Law in Wyncombe does not offer any inducements. If I depended on my +law business, I should fare poorly, but thanks to a frugal and +industrious father, I have a fair income outside of my earnings. Mrs. +Rand, my visit this morning is to you. How would you like to take a +boarder?” + +Chester and his mother looked surprised. + +“Who is it, Mr. Gardener?” + +“I have a cousin, a lady of forty, who thinks of settling down in +Wyncombe. She thinks country air will be more favorable to her health +than the city.” + +“Probably she is used to better accommodations than she would find +here.” + +“My cousin will be satisfied with a modest home.” + +“We have but two chambers, mine and Chester’s.” + +“But you know, mother, I am going to New York to work.” + +“That’s true; your room will be vacant.” + +Mr. Gardener looked surprised. + +“Isn’t this something new,” he asked, “about you going to New York, I +mean?” + +“Yes, sir; that letter from Mr. Conrad will explain all.” + +Mr. Gardener read the letter attentively. + +“I think the plan a good one,” he said. “You will find that you will +work better in a great city. Then, if my cousin comes, your mother will +not be so lonesome.” + +“It is the very thing,” said Chester, enthusiastically. + +“What is your cousin’s name, Mr. Gardener?” asked the widow. + +“Miss Jane Dolby. She is a spinster, and at her age there is not much +chance of her changing her condition. Shall I write her that you will +receive her?” + +“Yes; I shall be glad to do so.” + +“And, as Miss Dolby is a business woman, she will expect me to tell her +your terms.” + +“Will four dollars a week be too much?” asked Mrs. Rand, in a tone of +hesitation. + +“Four dollars, my dear madam!” + +“Do you consider it too much? I am afraid I could not afford to say +less.” + +“I consider it too little. My cousin is a woman of means. I will tell +her your terms are eight dollars a week including washing.” + +“But will she be willing to pay so much?” + +“She pays twelve dollars a week in the city, and could afford to pay +more. She is not mean, but is always willing to pay a good price.” + +“I can manage very comfortably on that sum,” said Mrs. Rand, +brightening up. “I hope I shall be able to make your cousin +comfortable.” + +“I am sure of it. Miss Dolby is a very sociable lady, and if you are +willing to hear her talk she will be content.” + +“She will keep me from feeling lonesome.” + +When Mr. Gardener left the house, Chester said: “All things seem to be +working in aid of my plans, mother, I feel much more comfortable now +that you will have company.” + +“Besides, Chester, you will not need to send me any money. The money +Miss Dolby pays me will be sufficient to defray the expenses of the +table, and I shall still have some time for binding shoes.” + +“Then I hope I may be able to save some money.” + +During the afternoon Chester went to the store to buy groceries. Mr. +Tripp himself filled the order. He seemed disposed to be friendly. + +“Your money holds out well, Chester,” he said, as he made change for a +two-dollar bill. + +“Yes, Mr. Tripp.” + +“I can’t understand it, for my part. Your mother must be a good +manager.” + +“Yes, Mr. Tripp, she is.” + +“You’d orter come back to work for me, Chester.” + +“But you have got a boy already.” + +“The Wood boy ain’t worth shucks. He ain’t got no push, and he’s allus +forgettin’ his errands. If you’ll come next Monday I’ll pay you two +dollars and a half a week. That’s pooty good for these times.” + +“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Tripp, but I am going to work +somewhere else.” + +“Where?” asked Silas, in great surprise. + +“In New York,” answered Chester, proudly. + +“You don’t say! How’d you get it?” + +“Mr. Conrad, an artist, a friend of the minister, got it for me.” + +“Is your mother willin’ to have you go?” + +“She will miss me, but she thinks it will be for my advantage.” + +“How’s she goin’ to live? It will take all you can earn to pay your own +way in a big city. In fact, I don’t believe you can do it.” + +“I’ll try, Mr. Tripp.” + +Chester did not care to mention the new boarder that was expected, as +he thought it probable that Mr. Tripp, who always looked out for his +own interests, would try to induce Miss Dolby to board with him. As Mr. +Tripp had the reputation of keeping a very poor table, he had never +succeeded in retaining a boarder over four weeks. + +Chester found that his clothing needed replenishing, and ventured to +spend five dollars for small articles, such as handkerchiefs, socks, +etc. Saturday morning he walked to the depot with a small gripsack in +his hand and bought a ticket for New York. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A RAILROAD ACQUAINTANCE. + + +The distance by rail from Wyncombe to New York is fifty miles. When +about eight years of age Chester had made the journey, but not since +then. Everything was new to him, and, of course, interesting. His +attention was drawn from the scenery by the passage of a train boy +through the cars with a bundle of new magazines and papers. + +“Here is all the magazines, _Puck_ and _Judge_.” + +“How much do you charge for _Puck_?” asked Chester, with interest, for +it was _Puck_ that had accepted his first sketch. + +“Ten cents.” + +“Give me one.” + +Chester took the paper and handed the train boy a dime. + +Then he began to look over the pages. All at once he gave a start, his +face flushed, his heart beat with excitement. There was his sketch +looking much more attractive on the fair pages of the periodical than +it had done in his pencil drawing. He kept looking at it. It seemed to +have a fascination for him. It was his first appearance in a paper, and +it was a proud moment for him. + +“What are you looking at so intently, my son?” asked the gentleman who +sat at his side. He was a man of perhaps middle age, and he wore +spectacles, which gave him a literary aspect. + +“I—I am looking at this sketch,” answered Chester, in slight +confusion. + +“Let me see it.” + +Chester handed over the paper and regarded his seat mate with some +anxiety. He wanted to see what impression this, his maiden effort, +would have on a staid man of middle age. + +“Ha! very good!” said his companion, “but I don’t see anything very +remarkable about it. Yet you were looking at it for as much as five +minutes.” + +“Because it is mine,” said Chester, half proudly, half in +embarrassment. + +“Ah! that is different. Did you really design it?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“I suppose you got pay for it. I understand _Puck_ pays for everything +it publishes.” + +“Yes, sir; I got ten dollars.” + +“Ten dollars!” repeated the gentleman, in surprise. “Really that is +very handsome. Do you often produce such sketches?” + +“I have just begun, sir. That is the first I have had published.” + +“You are beginning young. How old are you?” + +“I am almost sixteen.” + +“That is young for an artist. Why, I am forty-five, and I haven’t a +particle of talent in that direction. My youngest son asked me the +other day to draw a cow on the slate. I did as well as I could, and +what do you think he said?” + +“What did he say?” asked Chester, interested. + +“He said, ‘Papa, if it wasn’t for the horns I should think it was a +horse.’” + +Chester laughed. It was a joke he could appreciate. + +“I suppose all cannot draw,” he said. + +“It seems not. May I ask you if you live in New York—the city, I +mean?” + +“No, sir.” + +“But you are going there?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“To live?” + +“I hope so. A friend has written advising me to come. He says I will be +better placed to do art work, and dispose of my sketches.” + +“Are you expecting to earn your living that way?” + +“I hope to some time, but not at first.” + +“I am glad to hear it. I should think you would find it very +precarious.” + +“I expect to work in a real estate office at five dollars a week, and +only to spend my leisure hours in art work.” + +“That seems sensible. Have you been living in the country?” + +“Yes, sir, in Wyncombe.” + +“I have heard of the place, but was never there. So you are just +beginning the battle of life?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“It has just occurred to me that I may be able to throw some work in +your way. I am writing an ethnological work, and it will need to be +illustrated. I can’t afford to pay such prices as you receive from +_Puck_ and other periodicals of the same class, but then the work will +not be original. It will consist chiefly of copies. I should think I +might need a hundred illustrations, and I am afraid I could not pay +more than two dollars each.” + +A hundred illustrations at two dollars each! Why, that would amount to +two hundred dollars, and there would be no racking his brains for +original ideas. + +“If you think I can do the work, sir, I shall be glad to undertake it,” +said Chester, eagerly. + +“I have no doubt you can do it, for it will not require an expert. +Suppose you call upon me some evening within a week.” + +“I will do so gladly, sir, if you will tell me where you live.” + +“Here is my card,” said his companion, drawing out his case, and +handing a card to Chester. + +This was what Chester read: + +“Prof. Edgar Hazlitt.” + +“Do you know where Lexington Avenue is?” asked the professor. + +“I know very little about New York. In fact, nothing at all,” Chester +was obliged to confess. + +“You will soon find your way about. I have no doubt you will find me,” +and the professor mentioned the number. “Shall we say next Wednesday +evening, at eight o’clock sharp? That’s if you have no engagement for +that evening,” he added, with a smile. + +Chester laughed at the idea of his having any evening engagements in a +city which he had not seen for eight years. + +“If you are engaged to dine with William Vanderbilt or Jay Gould on +that evening,” continued the professor, with a merry look, “I will say +Thursday.” + +“If I find I am engaged in either place, I think I can get off,” said +Chester. + +“Then Wednesday evening let it be!” + +As the train neared New York Chester began to be solicitous about +finding Mr. Conrad in waiting for him. He knew nothing about the city, +and would feel quite helpless should the artist not be present to meet +him. He left the car and walked slowly along the platform, looking +eagerly on all sides for the expected friendly face. + +But nowhere could he see Herbert Conrad. + +In some agitation he took from his pocket the card containing his +friend’s address, and he could hardly help inwardly reproaching him for +leaving an inexperienced boy in the lurch. He was already beginning to +feel homesick and forlorn, when a bright-looking lad of twelve, with +light-brown hair, came up and asked: “Is this Chester Rand?” + +“Yes,” answered Chester, in surprise. “How do you know my name?” + +“I was sent here by Mr. Conrad to meet you.” + +Chester brightened up at once. So his friend had not forgotten him +after all. + +“Mr. Conrad couldn’t come to meet you, as he had an important +engagement, so he sent me to bring you to his room. I am Rob Fisher.” + +“I suppose that means Robert Fisher?” + +“Yes, but everybody calls me Rob.” + +“Are you a relation of Mr. Conrad?” + +“Yes, I am his cousin. I live just outside of the city, but I am +visiting my cousin for the day. I suppose you don’t know much about New +York?” + +“I know nothing at all.” + +“I am pretty well posted, and I come into the city pretty often. Just +follow me. Shall I carry your valise?” + +“Oh, no; I am older than you and better able to carry it. What street +is this?” + +“Forty-second Street. We will go to Fifth Avenue, and then walk down to +Thirty-fourth Street.” + +“That is where Mr. Conrad lives, isn’t it?” + +“Yes; it is one of the wide streets, like Fourteenth and Twenty-third, +and this street.” + +“There are some fine houses here.” + +“I should think so. You live in Wyncombe, don’t you?” + +“Yes; the houses are all of wood there.” + +“I suppose so. Mr. Conrad tells me you are an artist,” said Rob, eying +his new friend with curiosity. + +“In a small way.” + +“I should like to see some of your pictures.” + +“I can show you one,” and Chester opened his copy of _Puck_ and pointed +to the sketch already referred to. + +“Did you really draw this yourself?” + +“Yes.” + +“And did you get any money for it?” + +“Ten dollars,” answered Chester, with natural pride. + +“My! I wish I could get money for drawing.” + +“Perhaps you can some time.” + +Bob shook his head. + +“I haven’t any talent that way.” + +“What house is that?” asked Chester, pointing to the marble mansion at +the corner of Thirty-fourth Street. + +“That used to belong to A. T. Stewart, the great merchant. I suppose +you haven’t any houses like that in Wyncombe?” + +“Oh, no.” + +“We will turn down here. This is Thirty-fourth Street.” + +They kept on, crossing Sixth and Seventh Avenues, and presently stood +in front of a neat, brownstone house between Seventh and Eighth +Avenues. + +“That is where Mr. Conrad lives,” said Rob. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +CHESTER’S FIRST EXPERIENCES IN NEW YORK. + + +The bell was rung, and a servant opened the door. + +“I will go up to Mr. Conrad’s room,” said Rob. + +The servant knew him, and no objection was made. They went up two +flights to the front room on the third floor. Rob opened the door +without ceremony and entered, followed by Chester. + +He found himself in a spacious room, neatly furnished and hung around +with engravings, with here and there an oil painting. There was a table +near the window with a portfolio on it. Here, no doubt, Mr. Conrad did +some of his work. There was no bed in the room, but through an open +door Chester saw a connecting bedroom. + +“This is a nice room,” he said. + +“Yes, cousin Herbert likes to be comfortable. Here, give me your +valise, and make yourself at home.” + +Chester sat down by the window and gazed out on the broad street. It +was a pleasant, sunny day, and everything looked bright and attractive. + +“You are going to live in New York, aren’t you?” asked Rob. + +“Yes, if I can make a living here.” + +“I guess cousin Herbert will help you.” + +“He has already. He has obtained a place for me in a real estate office +at five dollars a week.” + +“I think I could live on five dollars a week.” + +“I suppose it costs considerable to live in New York.” + +Chester felt no apprehension, however. He was sure he should succeed, +and, indeed, he had reason to feel encouraged, for had he not already +engaged two hundred dollars’ worth of work?—and this sum seemed as +much to him as two thousand would have done to Mr. Conrad. + +An hour glided by rapidly, and then a step was heard on the stairs. + +“That’s cousin Herbert,” said Rob, and he ran to open the door. + +“Hello, Rob. Did you find Chester?” + +“Yes, here he is!” + +“Glad to see you, Chester,” said the artist, shaking his hand +cordially; “you must excuse my not going to meet you, but I was busily +engaged on a large drawing for _Harper’s Weekly_, and, feeling in a +favorable mood, I didn’t want to lose the benefit of my inspiration. +You will find when you have more experience that an artist can +accomplish three times as much when in the mood. + +“I am glad you didn’t leave off for me. Rob has taken good care of me.” + +“Yes, Rob is used to the city; I thought you would be in safe hands. +And how do you like my quarters?” + +“They are very pleasant. And the street is so wide, too.” + +“Yes, I like Thirty-fourth street. I lodge, but I don’t board here.” + +Chester was surprised to hear this. In Wyncombe everyone took his meals +in the same house in which he lodged. + +“And that reminds me, don’t you feel hungry? I don’t ask Rob, for he +always has an appetite. How is it with you, Chester?” + +“I took a very early breakfast.” + +“So I thought,” laughed Conrad. “Well, put on our coats, and we’ll go +to Trainor’s.” + +They walked over to Sixth Avenue and entered a restaurant adjoining the +Standard Theater. It was handsomely decorated, and seemed to Chester +quite the finest room he was ever in. Ranged in three rows were small +tables, each designed for four persons. One of these was vacant, and +Conrad took a seat on one side, placing the two boys opposite. + +“Now,” he said, “I had better do the ordering. We will each order a +different dish, and by sharing them we will have a variety.” + +There is no need to mention of what the dinner consisted. All three +enjoyed it, particularly the two boys. It was the first meal Chester +had taken in a restaurant, and he could not get rid of a feeling of +embarrassment at the thought that the waiters, who were better dressed +than many of the prominent citizens of Wyncombe, were watching him. He +did not, however, allow this feeling to interfere with his appetite. + +“Do you always eat here, Mr. Conrad?” asked Chester. + +“No; sometimes it is more convenient to go elsewhere. Now and then I +take a table d’hote dinner.” + +“I don’t think I can afford to come here often,” Chester remarked, +after consulting the bill of fare and the prices set down opposite the +different dishes. + +“No; it will be better for you to secure a boarding place. You want to +be economical for the present. How did you leave your mother?” + +“Very well, thank you, Mr. Conrad. We have been very fortunate in +securing a boarder who pays eight dollars a week, so that mother thinks +she can get along for the present without help from me.” + +“That is famous. Where did you get such a boarder in Wyncombe?” + +“It is a lady, the cousin of Mr. Gardener, the lawyer. She will be +company for mother.” + +“It is an excellent arrangement. Now, boys, if you have finished, I +will go up and settle the bill.” + +As they left the restaurant, Mr. Conrad said: + +“In honor of your arrival, I shall not work any more to-day. Now, shall +we go back to my room, or would you like to take a walk and see +something of the city?” + +The unanimous decision was for the stroll. + +Mr. Conrad walked down Broadway with the boys, pointing out any notable +buildings on the way. Chester was dazzled. The great city exceeded his +anticipations. Everything seemed on so grand a scale to the country +boy, and with his joyous excitement there mingled the thought: “And I, +too, am going to live here. I shall have a share in the great city, and +mingle in its scenes every day.” + +Rob was used to the city, and took matters quietly. He was not +particularly impressed. Yet he could not help enjoying the walk, so +perfect was the weather. As they passed Lord & Taylor’s, a lady came +out of the store. + +“Why, mother,” said Rob, “is that you?” + +“Yes, Rob. I came in on a shopping excursion, and I want you to go with +me and take care of me.” + +Rob grumbled a little, but, of course, acceded to his mother’s request. +So Chester was left alone with Mr. Conrad. + +“How do you feel about coming to New York, Chester?” asked his friend. +“You are not afraid of failure, are you?” + +“No, Mr. Conrad, I feel very hopeful. Something has happened to me +to-day that encourages me very much.” + +“What is it?” + +Chester told the story of his meeting with Prof. Hazlitt, and the +proposition which had been made to him. + +“Why, this is famous,” exclaimed Conrad, looking pleased. “I know of +Prof. Hazlitt, though I never met him. He was once professor in a +Western college, but inheriting a fortune from his uncle, came to New +York to pursue his favorite studies. He does not teach now, but, I +believe, delivers an annual course of lectures before the students of +Columbia College. He is a shrewd man, and the offer of employment from +him is indeed a compliment. I am very glad you met him. He may throw +other work in your way.” + +“I hope I can give him satisfaction,” said Chester. “It makes me feel +rich whenever I think of the sum I am to receive. Two hundred dollars +is a good deal of money.” + +“To a boy like you, yes. It doesn’t go very far with me now. It costs a +good deal for me to live. How much do you think I have to pay for my +room—without board?” + +“Three dollars a week,” guessed Chester. + +Mr. Conrad smiled. + +“I pay ten dollars a week,” he said. + +Chester’s breath was quite taken away. + +“Why, I did not think the whole house would cost as much—for rent.” + +“You will get a more correct idea of New York expenses after a while. +Now, let me come back to your plans. You had better stay with me for a +few days.” + +“But I am afraid I shall be putting you to inconvenience, Mr. Conrad.” + +“No; it will be pleasant for me to have your company. On Monday morning +I will go with you to the office of the real estate broker who is to +employ you.” + +Chester passed Sunday pleasantly, going to church in the forenoon, and +taking a walk with Mr. Conrad in the afternoon. He wrote a short letter +to his mother, informing her of his safe arrival in the city, but not +mentioning his engagement by Prof. Hazlitt. He preferred to wait till +he had an interview with the professor, and decided whether he could do +the work satisfactorily. + +“Your future employer is Clement Fairchild,” said the artist. “His +office is on West Fourteenth Street, between Seventh and Eight +Avenues.” + +“What sort of a man is he?” asked Chester. + +“I don’t know him very well, but I believe he does a very good +business. You will know more about him in a week than I can tell you. +There is one comfort, and that is that you are not wholly dependent +upon him. I advise you, however, to say nothing in the office about +your art work. Business men sometimes have a prejudice against outside +workers. They feel that an employee ought to be solely occupied with +their interests.” + +“I will remember what you say, Mr. Conrad.” + +Chester looked forward with considerable curiosity and some anxiety to +his coming interview with Mr. Fairchild. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +A REAL ESTATE OFFICE. + + +About eight o’clock on Monday morning Chester, accompanied by his +friend Conrad, turned down Fourteenth Street from Sixth Avenue and kept +on till they reached an office over which was the sign: + +“Clement Fairchild, Real Estate.” + +“This is the place, Chester,” said the artist. “I will go in and +introduce you.” + +They entered the office. It was of fair size, and contained a high +desk, an office table covered with papers, and several chairs. There +was but one person in the office, a young man with black whiskers and +mustache and an unamiable expression. He sat on a high stool, but he +was only reading the morning paper. He turned lazily as he heard the +door open, and let his glance rest on Mr. Conrad. + +“What can I do for you?” he asked, in a careless tone. + +“Is Mr. Fairchild in?” asked the artist. + +“No.” + +“When will he be in?” + +“Can’t say, I am sure. If you have any business, I will attend to it.” + +“I have no special business, except to introduce my young friend here.” + +“Indeed!” said the clerk, impudently. “Who is he?” + +“He is going to work here,” returned Mr. Conrad, sharply. + +“What?” queried the bookkeeper, evidently taken by surprise. “Who says +he is going to work here?” + +“Mr. Fairchild.” + +“He didn’t say anything to me about it.” + +“Very remarkable, certainly,” rejoined Conrad. “I presume you have no +objection.” + +“Look here,” said the bookkeeper, “I think there is some mistake about +this. The place was all but promised to my cousin.” + +“You’ll have to settle that matter with your employer. Apparently he +doesn’t tell you everything, Mr. ——” + +“My name is Mullins—David Mullins,” said the bookkeeper, with dignity. + +“Then, Mr. Mullins, I have the pleasure of introducing to you Chester +Rand, late of Wyncombe, now of New York, who will be associated with +you in the real estate business.” + +“Perhaps so,” sneered Mullins. + +“He will stay here till Mr. Fairchild makes his appearance.” + +“Oh, he can sit down if he wants to.” + +“I shall have to leave you, Chester, as I must get to work. When Mr. +Fairchild comes in, show him this note from me.” + +“All right, sir.” + +Chester was rather chilled by his reception. He saw instinctively that +his relations with Mr. Mullins were not likely to be cordial, and he +suspected that if the bookkeeper could get him into trouble he would. + +After the artist had left the office, Mr. David Mullins leisurely +picked his teeth with his pen-knife, and fixed a scrutinizing glance on +Chester, of whom he was evidently taking the measure. + +“Do you knew Mr. Fairchild?” he at length asked, abruptly. + +“No, sir.” + +“It’s queer he should have engaged you as office boy.” + +Chester did not think it necessary to make any reply to this remark. + +“How much salary do you expect to get?” + +“Five dollars a week.” + +“Who told you so?” + +“The gentleman who came in with me.” + +“Who is he?” + +“Mr. Herbert Conrad, an artist and draughtsman.” + +“Never heard of him.” + +Mr. Mullins spoke as if this was enough to settle the status of Mr. +Conrad. A man whom he did not know must be obscure. + +“So, Mr. Fairchild engaged you through Mr. Conrad, did he?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Do you know anything about the city?” + +“Not much.” + +“Then I can’t imagine why Mr. Fairchild should have hired you. You +can’t be of much use here.” + +Chester began to feel discouraged. All this was certainly very +depressing. + +“I shall try to make myself useful,” he said. + +“Oh, yes,” sneered Mr. Mullins, “new boys always say that.” + +There was a railing stretching across the office about midway, dividing +it into two parts. The table and desk were inside. The remaining space +was left for the outside public. + +A poor woman entered the office, her face bearing the impress of +sorrow. + +“Is Mr. Fairchild in?” she asked. + +“No, he isn’t.” + +“I’ve come in about the month’s rent.” + +“Very well! You can pay it to me. What name?” + +“Mrs. Carlin, sir.” + +“Ha! yes. Your rent is six dollars. Pass it over, and I will give you a +receipt.” + +“But I came to say that I had only three dollars and a half toward it.” + +“And why have you only three dollars and a half, I’d like to know?” +said Mullins, rudely. + +“Because my Jimmy has been sick three days. He’s a telegraph boy, and +I’m a widow, wid only me bye to help me.” + +“I have nothing to do with the sickness of your son. When you hired +your rooms, you agreed to pay the rent, didn’t you?” + +“Yes, sir; but——” + +“And you didn’t say anything about Jimmy being sick or well.” + +“True for you, sir; but——” + +“I think, Mrs. Carlin, you’ll have to get hold of the other two dollars +and a half some how, or out you’ll go. See?” + +“Shure, sir, you are very hard with a poor widow,” said Mrs. Carlin, +wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron. + +“Business is business, Mrs. Carlin.” + +“If Mr. Fairchild were in, he’d trate me better than you. Will he be in +soon?” + +“Perhaps he will, and perhaps he won’t. You can pay the money to me.” + +“I won’t, sir, beggin’ your pardon. I’d rather wait and see him.” + +“Very well! you can take the consequences,” and Mr. Mullins eyed the +widow with an unpleasant and threatening glance. + +She looked very sad, and Chester felt that he should like to give the +bookkeeper a good shaking. He could not help despising a man who +appeared to enjoy distressing an unfortunate woman whose only crime was +poverty. + +At this moment the office door opened, and a gentleman of perhaps forty +entered. He was a man with a kindly face, and looked far less important +than the bookkeeper. Mr. Mullins, on seeing him, laid aside his +unpleasant manner, and said, in a matter-of-fact tone: + +“This is Mrs. Carlin. She owes six dollars rent, and only brings three +dollars and a half.” + +“How is this, Mrs. Carlin?” inquired Mr. Fairchild, for this was he. + +Mrs. Carlin repeated her story of Jimmy’s illness and her consequent +inability to pay the whole rent. + +“When do you think Jimmy will get well?” asked the agent, kindly. + +“He’s gettin’ better fast, sir. I think he’ll be able to go to work by +Wednesday. If you’ll only wait a little while, sir——” + +“How long have you been paying rent here?” asked Mr. Fairchild. + +“This is the third year, sir.” + +“And have you ever been in arrears before?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Then you deserve consideration. Mr. Mullins, give Mrs. Carlin a +receipt on account, and she will pay the balance as soon as she can.” + +“Thank you, sir. May the saints reward you, sir! Shure, I told this +gentleman that you’d make it all right with me. He was very hard with +me.” + +“Mr. Mullins,” said the agent, sternly, “I have before now told you +that our customers are to be treated with consideration and kindness.” + +David Mullins did not reply, but he dug his pen viciously into the +paper on which he was writing a receipt, and scowled, but as his back +was turned to his employer, the latter did not see it. + +When Mrs. Carlin had left the office, Chester thought it best to +introduce himself. + +“I am Chester Rand, from Wyncombe,” he said. “Mr. Conrad came round to +introduce me, but you were not in.” + +“Ah, yes, you have come to be my office boy. I am glad to see you and +hope you will like the city. Mr. Mullins, you will set this boy to +work.” + +“He told me he was to work here, but as you had not mentioned it I +thought there must be some mistake. He says he doesn’t know much about +the city.” + +“Neither did I when I first came here from a country town.” + +“It will be rather inconvenient, sir. Now, my cousin whom I mentioned +to you is quite at home all over the city.” + +“I am glad to hear it. He will find this knowledge of service—in some +other situation,” added Mr. Fairchild, significantly. + +David Mullins bit his lip and was silent. He could not understand why +Felix Gordon, his cousin, had failed to impress Mr. Fairchild +favorably. He had not noticed that Felix entered the office with a +cigarette in his mouth, which he only threw away when he was introduced +to the real estate agent. + +“I’ll have that boy out of this place within a month, or my name isn’t +David Mullins,” he said to himself. + +Chester could not read what was passing through his mind, but he felt +instinctively that the bookkeeper was his enemy. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +MR. MULLINS, THE BOOKKEEPER. + + +Chester felt that it was necessary to be on his guard. The bookkeeper +was already his enemy. There were two causes for this. First, Mr. +Mullins was naturally of an ugly disposition, and, secondly, he was +disappointed in not securing the situation for his cousin. + +At noon the latter made his appearance. He was a thin, +dark-complexioned boy, with curious-looking eyes that somehow inspired +distrust. + +He walked up to the desk where the book keeper was writing. + +“Good-morning, Cousin David,” he said. + +“Good-morning, Felix. Sit down for a few minutes, and I will take you +out to lunch.” + +“All right!” answered Felix. “Who’s that boy?” he inquired, in a low +voice. + +“The new office boy. Wait till we go out, and I will tell you about +it.” + +In five minutes David Mullins put on his hat and coat and went out with +his cousin. + +“Stay here and mind the office,” he said to Chester, “and if anybody +comes in, keep them, if possible. If any tenant comes to pay money, +take it and give a receipt.” + +“All right, sir.” + +When they were in the street, Felix asked: + +“Where did you pick up the boy? Why didn’t I get the place?” + +“You must ask Mr. Fairchild that. He engaged him without consulting +me.” + +“What sort of a boy is he?” + +“A country gawky. He knows nothing of the city.” + +“Is he a friend of Mr. Fairchild?” + +“Fairchild never met him before. Some beggarly artist interceded for +him.” + +“It is too bad I can’t be in the office. It would be so nice to be in +the same place with you.” + +“I did my best, but Fairchild didn’t seem to fancy you. I think he took +a prejudice against you on account of your smoking cigarettes. He must +have seen you with one.” + +“Does the new boy smoke cigarettes?” + +“I don’t know. That gives me an idea. You had better get intimate with +him and offer him cigarettes. He doesn’t know Mr. Fairchild’s +prejudice, and may fall into the trap.” + +“How can I get acquainted with him?” + +“I’ll see to that. I shall be sending him out on an errand presently, +and you can offer to go with him.” + +“That’ll do. But you must buy me a package of cigarettes.” + +“Very well. My plan is to have the boy offend Mr. Fairchild’s +prejudices, and that may make a vacancy for you. By the way, never let +him see you smoking.” + +“I won’t, but as he is not about, I’ll smoke a cigarette now.” + +“Better wait till after lunch.” + +About ten minutes after Mr. Mullins left the office, a man of +forty—evidently a mechanic—entered. + +“Is the bookkeeper in?” he asked. + +“He’s gone to lunch.” + +“He sent me a bill for this month’s rent, which I have already paid.” + +“Please give me your name.” + +“James Long.” + +“And where do you live?” + +The address was given—a house on East Twentieth Street. + +“Haven’t you the receipt?” asked Chester. + +“No.” + +“Didn’t Mr. Mullins give you one?” + +“Yes; but I carelessly left it on the table. I suppose he found it and +kept the money,” he added, bitterly. + +“But that would be a mean thing to do,” said Chester, startled. + +“Nothing is too mean for Mullins,” said Long. “He’s a hard man and a +tricky one.” + +“He will come in soon if you can wait.” + +“I can’t. I am at work, and this is my noon hour.” + +“I will tell him what you say——” + +“Perhaps I may have a chance to call in this afternoon. I feel worried +about this matter, for, although it is only ten dollars, that is a good +deal to a man with a family, and earning only twelve dollars a week.” + +Presently Mr. Mullins returned. + +“Has anybody been in?” he asked. + +“Yes,” answered Chester. “A man named James Long.” + +A curious expression came into the bookkeeper’s eye. + +“Well, did he pay his rent?” + +“No; he said he had paid it already.” + +“Oh, he did, did he?” sneered the bookkeeper. “In that case, of course +he has the receipt.” + +“No; he said he had left it here on the table, and did not think of it +till some time afterwards.” + +“A likely story. He must think I am a fool. Even a boy like you can see +through that.” + +“He seemed to me like an honest man.” + +“Oh, well, you are from the country, and could not be expected to know. +We have some sharp swindlers in New York.” + +Chester was quite of that opinion, but he was beginning to think that +the description would apply better to David Mullins than to James Long. + +“By the way, Chester,” said Mr. Mullins, with unusual blandness, “this +is my cousin, Felix Gordon.” + +“Glad to meet you,” said Felix, with an artificial smile. + +Chester took the extended hand. He was not especially drawn to Felix, +but felt that it behooved him to be polite. + +“You boys must be somewhere near the same age,” said the bookkeeper. “I +will give you a chance to become acquainted. Chester, I want you to go +to number four seventy-one Bleecker Street. I suppose you don’t know +where it is?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Felix, go with him and show him the way.” + +Chester was quite amazed at this unusual and unexpected kindness on the +part of a man whom he had regarded as an enemy. Was it possible that he +had misjudged him? + +The two boys went out together. + +When they were fairly in the street, Felix produced his package of +cigarettes. + +“Have one?” he asked. + +“No, thank you; I don’t smoke.” + +“Don’t smoke!” repeated Felix, in apparent amusement. “You don’t mean +that?” + +“I never smoked a cigarette in my life.” + +“Then it’s high time you learned. All boys smoke in the city.” + +“I don’t think I should like it.” + +“Oh, nonsense! Just try one for my sake.” + +“Thank you, Felix. You are very kind, but I promised mother I wouldn’t +smoke.” + +“Your mother lives in the country, doesn’t she?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then she won’t know it.” + +“That will make no difference. I made the promise, and I mean to keep +it,” said Chester, firmly. + +“Oh, well, suit yourself. What a muff he is!” thought Felix. “However, +he’ll soon break over his virtuous resolutions. Do you know,” he +continued, changing the subject, “that you have got the situation I was +after?” + +“I think I heard Mr. Mullins say something about it. I am sorry if I +have stood in your way.” + +“Oh, if it hadn’t been you it would have been some other boy. How do +you think you shall like the city?” + +“Very much, I think.” + +“What pay do you get?” + +“Five dollars a week.” + +“You can’t live on that.” + +“I will try to.” + +“Of course, it is different with me. I should have lived at home. +You’ll have to run into debt.” + +“I will try not to.” + +“Where do you live?” + +“I am staying with a friend—Mr. Conrad, an artist—just now, but I +shall soon get a boarding place.” + +“I live on Eighty-sixth Street—in a flat. My father is in the custom +house.” + +“How long has your cousin—Mr. Mullins—been in this office?” + +“About five years. He’s awfully smart, cousin David is. It’s he that +runs the business. Mr. Fairchild is no sort of a business man.” + +Chester wondered how, under the circumstances, Mr. Mullins should not +have influence enough to secure the situation of office boy for Felix. + +They soon reached Bleecker Street. Chester took notice of the way in +order that he might know it again. He was sharp and observing, and +meant to qualify himself for his position as soon as possible. + +At five o’clock the office was vacated. Chester remained to sweep up. A +piece of paper on the floor attracted his attention. He picked it up +and found, to his surprise, that it was James Long’s missing receipt. +It was on the floor of the clothes closet, and he judged that it had +dropped from the bookkeeper’s pocket. + +What should he do with it? + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE TABLES TURNED. + + +Under ordinary circumstances, Chester would have handed the receipt to +the bookkeeper, but he was convinced that it was the purpose of Mr. +Mullins to defraud the tenant out of a month’s rent, and he felt that +it would not be in the interest of the latter for him to put this power +in the hands of the enemy. Obviously the receipt belonged to James +Long, who had lost it. + +Fortunately, Chester had the address of the mechanic on East Twentieth +Street, and he resolved, though it would cost him quite a walk, to call +and give him the paper. In twenty minutes after locking the office he +found himself in front of a large tenement house, which was occupied by +a great number of families. He found that Long lived on the third floor +back. + +He knocked at the door. It was opened to him by a woman of forty, who +had a babe in her arms, while another—a little girl—was holding onto +her dress. + +“Does Mr. James Long live here?” asked Chester. + +“Yes.” + +“Is he at home?” + +“No, but I am expecting him home from work every minute. Will you come +in, or shall I give him your message?” + +“Perhaps I had better see him, if it won’t inconvenience you.” + +“Oh, no, if you will excuse my poor rooms,” said Mrs. Long, pleasantly. + +“I am poor myself, and am not used to fine rooms.” + +“Take the rocking-chair,” said Mrs. Long, offering him the best chair +in the room. “If you will excuse me, I will go on preparing my +husband’s supper.” + +“Certainly. Shall I take the baby?” + +“Oh, I wouldn’t like to trouble you.” + +“I like babies.” + +Chester had seen that the baby’s face was clean, and that it looked +attractive. Babies know their friends instinctively, and this +particular baby was soon in a frolic with its young guardian. + +“I guess you are used to babies,” said the mother, pleased. + +“No, I am the only baby in my family, but I am fond of children.” + +I may remark here that manly boys generally do like children, and I +haven’t much respect for those who will tease or tyrannize over them. + +In ten minutes a heavy step was heard on the stairs, and James Long +entered. His face was sober, for, after his interview with Chester +Rand—he had not had time for a second call—he began to fear that he +should have to pay his month’s rent over again, and this to him would +involve a severe loss. + +He looked with surprise at Chester, not immediately recognizing him. + +“I come from Mr. Fairchild’s office,” explained Chester. + +“Oh, yes; I remember seeing you there. Has the receipt been found?” he +added, eagerly. + +“Yes.” + +James Long looked very much relieved. + +“I am very glad,” he sighed. “Mr. Mullins wouldn’t have believed me. +What does he say now?” + +“He doesn’t know that the receipt is found.” + +“How is that?” asked the mechanic, puzzled. + +“I found it after Mr. Mullins went away.” + +“Where did you find it?” + +“In the clothes closet, just under where Mr. Mullins hangs his coat,” +added Chester, significantly. + +“And you bring it to me?” + +“Yes, it belongs to you. Besides, after what I heard, I didn’t dare to +trust it in the hands of the bookkeeper.” + +“I see you think the same of him as I do.” + +“I don’t like him.” + +“You think he meant to cheat me?” + +“It looks like it.” + +“I am all right now. What do you think I had better do?” + +“Come round to-morrow, but don’t show the receipt unless Mr. Fairchild +is in the office. He is a very different man from Mr. Mullins. The +bookkeeper might still play a trick upon you?” + +“I believe you’re right. Shall I tell him how you found and gave me +back the receipt?” + +“No; let Mr. Mullins puzzle over it. It is fortunate he didn’t destroy +the receipt, or you would have had no resource.” + +“You’re a smart boy, and I’ll take your advice. How long have you been +in the office?” + +“This is my first day,” answered Chester, smiling. + +“Well, well! I couldn’t have believed it. You will make a smart +business man. You’ve been a good friend to James Long, and he won’t +forget it. I say, wife, perhaps this young gentleman will stay to +supper.” + +“Thank you,” answered Chester. “I would, but I am to meet a friend +uptown at six o’clock. It is so late,” he added, looking at the clock +on the mantel, “that I must go at once.” + +When Chester met his friend the artist, he told him of what had +happened. + +“That Mullins is evidently a rascal, and a very mean one,” said Mr. +Conrad. “If I were going to defraud anyone, it wouldn’t be a poor +mechanic.” + +“Mr. Mullins has already taken a dislike to me. If he should discover +that I have found the receipt and given it to Mr. Long, he would hate +me even worse.” + +“You must look out for him. He will bear watching.” + +“I wish he were more like Mr. Fairchild. He seems a fair, honorable +man.” + +“He is. I don’t understand why he should employ such a fellow as +Mullins.” + +“Perhaps he hasn’t found him out.” + +“Mullins will find it hard to explain this matter. Let me know how it +comes out. I suppose Long will call at the office to-morrow?” + +“Yes; I advised him to.” + +The next day, about twenty minutes after twelve, James Long entered the +office. He looked about him anxiously, and, to his relief, saw that Mr. +Fairchild was present. He went up to the table where the broker was +seated. + +“I came about my rent,” he said. + +“You can speak to Mr. Mullins,” said the broker, going on with his +writing. + +“I would rather speak with you, sir.” + +“How is that?” asked Mr. Fairchild, his attention excited. + +“I will tell you, sir,” said the bookkeeper, with an ugly look. “This +man came here yesterday and declined to pay his rent, because, he said, +he had paid it already.” + +“And I had,” said Long, quietly. “I am a mechanic on small wages, and I +can’t afford to pay my rent twice.” + +“Did you pay the rent to Mr. Mullins?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“When?” + +“Day before yesterday.” + +“Then he gave you a receipt?” + +“He did, sir.” + +“It seems to me that than settles the question. Did you give him a +receipt, Mr. Mullins?” + +“If I had, he could show it now. He says that he left it behind in the +office here. Of course, that’s too thin!” + +“It is very important to take good care of your receipt, Mr. Long.” + +“Did you ever lose or mislay a receipt, sir?” + +“Yes, I have on two or three occasions.” + +“So that I am not the only one to whom it has happened.” + +“Mr. Mullins, did Mr. Long come to the office on the day when he says +he paid the rent?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“And he didn’t pay it?” + +“No, sir. He said he hadn’t the money, but would bring it in a few +days.” + +James Long listened in indignant astonishment. + +“That is untrue, sir. I made no excuse, but handed Mr. Mullins the +amount in full.” + +“There is a very extraordinary discrepancy in your statements. You say +that he wrote out a receipt?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“It is a pity that you can’t produce it.” + +“Yes,” chimed in Mullins, with a sneer, “it is unlucky that you cannot +produce it.” + +Then came a sensation. + +“I can produce it,” said Long. “The receipt has been found,” and he +drew out the slip of paper and passed it to Mr. Fairchild. + +The face of Mullins was a study. His amazement was deep and genuine. + +“It must be a forgery,” he said. “Mr. Long can’t possibly have a +receipt.” + +“You are mistaken,” said Mr. Fairchild. “The receipt and the signature +are genuine, and it is written on one of our letter heads.” + +Mullins took the receipt and faltered: + +“I don’t understand it.” + +“Nor do I,” said the broker, sternly. “Did you make any entry on the +books?” + +“I—I don’t remember.” + +“Show me the record.” + +Mr. Fairchild opened the book, and saw an entry made, but afterward +erased. + +When the bookkeeper found the receipt on the table, a promising piece +of rascality was suggested to him. He would keep the money himself, and +conceal the record. + +“Mr. Long,” said the broker, “here is your receipt. It is clear that +you have paid your rent. You will have no more trouble.” + +Then, as the mechanic left the office, the broker, turning to the +bookkeeper, said, sternly: + +“Another such transaction, Mr. Mullins, and you leave my employ.” + +“But, sir——” stammered Mullins. + +“You may spare your words. I understand the matter. If you had not been +in my employ so long, I would discharge you at the end of this week.” + +Mullins went back to his desk, crushed and mortified. But his brain was +busy with the thought, “Where could James Long have obtained the +receipt?” He remembered having put it into the pocket of his overcoat, +and it had disappeared. + +“I was a fool that I didn’t destroy it,” he reflected. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +A PLOT AGAINST CHESTER. + + +The more the bookkeeper thought of it, the more he was of the opinion +that Chester must have had something to do with the events that led to +his discovery and humiliation. Otherwise, how could James Long have +recovered the receipt? He, himself, had found it and kept it in his +possession. Chester must have chanced upon the receipt and carried it +to Long. + +Though well convinced of it, he wished to find out positively. +Accordingly, he took his cousin Felix into his confidence as far as was +necessary, and sent him to the room of the mechanic to find out whether +Chester had been there. + +It was the middle of the forenoon when Felix knocked at the door of +James Long’s humble home. + +Mrs. Long, with the baby in her arms, answered the knock. + +“Is this Mrs. Long?” asked Felix. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“I am the friend of Chester Rand.” + +“I don’t think I know Mr. Rand,” said Mrs. Long, who had not heard +Chester’s name. + +“The boy from Mr. Fairchild’s office. He called here, I believe, one +day last week.” + +“Oh, yes and a good friend he was to me and mine.” + +“In what way?” asked Felix, his face lighting with satisfaction at the +discovery he had made. + +“He brought my husband the receipt he had lost. Didn’t he tell you?” + +“Oh, yes. I wasn’t thinking of that. He asked me to inquire if he left +his gloves here?” + +“I haven’t found any. I should have seen them if he left them here.” + +“All right. I will tell him. He thought he might have left them. Good +morning, ma’am.” + +And Felix hurried downstairs. He was not partial to poor people or +tenement houses, and he was glad to get away. + +He reached the office in time to go out to lunch with the bookkeeper. + +“Well?” asked Mullins, eagerly. “Did you go to Long’s?” + +“Yes.” + +“What did you find out?” + +“I found out that your office boy had been there and carried them the +receipt.” + +“The young—viper! So he is trying to undermine me in the office. Well, +he’ll live to regret it,” and the bookkeeper shook his head vigorously. + +“I’d get even with him if I were you, Cousin David.” + +“Trust me for that! I generally pay off all debts of that kind.” + +“How will you do it?” asked Felix, curiously. + +“I don’t know yet. Probably I’ll get him into some bad scrape that will +secure his discharge.” + +“And then you’ll get me into the place?” + +“I am afraid I can’t. I am not on good terms with Mr. Fairchild, and my +recommendation won’t do you much good, even if I do manage to get rid +of Chester.” + +“Then I don’t see how I am going to be benefited by working for you,” +said Felix, dissatisfied. + +“I’ll pay you in some way. To begin with, here’s a dollar. This is for +your errand of this morning.” + +“Thank you, Cousin David,” said Felix, pocketing the bill with an air +of satisfaction. “I think I’ll go to Daly’s Theater to-night. Father +doesn’t give me much spending money—only twenty-five cents a week, and +what’s a fellow to do with such a beggarly sum as that?” + +“It is more than I had at your age.” + +“The world has progressed since then. A boy needs more pocket money now +than he did fifteen years ago. How soon shall you try to get even with +that boy?” + +“I think it will be prudent to wait a while. Mr. Fairchild may suspect +something if I move too soon. The boy has been with us less than a +week.” + +“He has been with you long enough to do some harm.” + +“That’s true,” said Mullins, with an ugly look. + +“Does he seem to suit Mr. Fairchild?” + +“Yes; he appears to be intelligent, and he attends to his duties—worse +luck!—but he’s a thorn in my side, a thorn in my side! I’d give +twenty-five dollars if he was out of the office.” + +“Do you want me to break off acquaintance with him?” + +“No; keep on good terms with him. Let him think you are his intimate +friend. It will give me a chance to plot against him—through you.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +PROF. HAZLITT AT HOME. + + +Chester did not forget his engagement to call upon Prof. Hazlitt on +Wednesday evening. + +He was shown at once into the professor’s study. It was a large room, +the sides lined with bookcases crowded with volumes. There seemed to be +more books than Chester had ever seen before. + +In the center of the room was a study table, covered with books, open +as if in use. On one side was a desk, at which Prof. Hazlitt himself +was seated. + +“Good-evening, my young friend,” he said, cordially, as Chester entered +the room. “You did not forget your appointment.” + +“No, sir. I was not likely to forget such an engagement.” + +“Have you grown to feel at home in the city?” + +“Not entirely, sir, but I am getting a little used to it.” + +“I think you mentioned that you were going into a real estate office?” + +“Yes, sir. I have commenced my duties there.” + +“I hope you find them agreeable.” + +“I might, sir, but that the bookkeeper seems to have taken a dislike to +me.” + +“I suspect that you would like better to devote yourself to art work.” + +“I think I should, sir, but Mr. Conrad thinks it better that I should +only devote my leisure to drawing.” + +“No doubt his advice is wise, for the present, at least. Now, suppose +we come to business. I believe I told you I am writing a book on +ethnology.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“I find a good deal of help in rare volumes which I consult at the +Astor Library. These I cannot borrow, but I have the use of anything I +find suited to my needs in the library of Columbia College. Then I +import a good many books. I shall spare no pains to make my own work +valuable and comprehensive. Of course, I shall feel at liberty to copy +and use any illustrations I find in foreign publications. It is here +that you can help me.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Here, for instance,” and the professor opened a French book, “are some +sketches illustrating the dress and appearance of the natives of +Madagascar. Do you think you can copy them?” + +“I have no doubt of it, sir,” he answered. + +“Sit down in that chair and try. You will find pencils and drawing +paper before you. I will mention one or two particulars in which I want +you to deviate from the original.” + +Chester sat down and was soon deep in his task. He felt that it was +important for him to do his best. He could understand that, though the +professor was a kind-hearted man, he would be a strict critic. + +He therefore worked slowly and carefully, and it was nearly an hour +before he raised his head and said: + +“I have finished.” + +“Show the sketch to me,” said the professor. + +Chester handed it to him. + +He examined it with critical attention. Gradually his face lighted up +with pleasure. + +“Admirably done!” he exclaimed. “You have carried out my wishes.” + +“Then you are satisfied, sir?” + +“Entirely.” + +“I am very glad,” said Chester, with an air of relief. + +He felt now he could do all that was required of him, and, as the +contract would pay him two hundred dollars, this success to-night was +an important one. + +“I won’t ask you to do any more this evening, but I will give you some +work to do at home. I believe I agreed to pay you two dollars for each +sketch?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Probably you are not over well provided with money, and I will pay you +as you go on. Or, rather, I will give you ten dollars as an advance for +future work.” + +“Thank you, sir. You are very kind.” + +“Only considerate. I have seen the time when a ten-dollar-bill would +have been welcome to me. Now, thanks to a wealthy relative, who left me +a fortune, I am amply provided for.” + +At this moment the study door opened and a bright-looking boy of about +fifteen entered. + +“May I come in, uncle?” he asked, with a smile. + +“Yes. Chester, this is my nephew, Arthur Burks. Arthur, this is Chester +Rand, a young artist, who is assisting me.” + +Arthur came forward and gave Chester his hand cordially. + +“You ought to wear spectacles,” he said, “like uncle Edgar. You don’t +look dignified enough to be his assistant.” + +“That may come in time,” said Chester, with a smile. + +“Arthur, I am done with Chester for this evening,” said the professor. +“You may carry him off and entertain him. You may bring me the other +two sketches whenever you are ready.” + +“Come up to my den,” said Arthur. “I have the front room on the third +floor.” + +As they went upstairs, a prolonged, melancholy shriek rang through the +house. + +Chester stopped short in dismay, and an expression of pain succeeded +the gay look on Arthur’s face. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +CHESTER TAKES A LESSON IN BOXING. + + +“That is my poor, little cousin,” explained Arthur. + +“Is he sick or in pain?” asked Chester, in quick sympathy. + +“He had a fever when he was three years old that left his mind a wreck. +He is now eight. The most eminent physicians have seen him, but there +seems little hope of his improvement or recovery.” + +“Does he suffer pain?” + +“You ask on account of the shriek you heard. As far as we can tell, he +does not. The shriek comes, so the doctor tells us, from a nervous +spasm. He would have been a bright boy if he had kept his health. Would +you like to see him?” + +Chester shrank back. + +“I am afraid I should excite him,” he said. + +He had, besides, an idea that a boy so afflicted would be repulsive in +appearance. + +“No,” said Arthur, “it may relieve him to see you by diverting his +thoughts.” + +Without further words, he opened the door of a room at the head of the +staircase and entered, followed reluctantly by Chester. + +“Ernest,” said Arthur, in a soothing tone, “I have brought you a +friend. His name is Chester.” + +Chester was amazed at the sight of the boy. He was wonderfully +handsome, especially when at Arthur’s words the look of pain left his +face and it brightened into radiant beauty. He seemed to fall in love +with Chester at first sight. He ran up to him, seized his hand, kissed +it, and said: + +“I love you.” + +Arthur, too, looked amazed. + +“He never took to anyone so before,” he said. “You have fascinated +him.” + +“Sit down. Let me sit in your lap,” pleaded Ernest. + +All feeling of repugnance, all thoughts of the boy’s malady were +forgotten. Chester sat in a low rocking-chair and Ernest seated himself +in his lap, touching his face and hair softly with a caressing hand. + +“What a charming boy he is!” thought Chester. + +“Did you come to see me?” asked Ernest, softly. + +“Yes, I came with Arthur.” + +“Will you stay with me a little while?” + +“A little while, but I must soon go. Why did you scream so loud a +little while ago?” + +“I—don’t know.” + +“Were you in pain?” + +“N—no,” answered Ernest, softly. + +“Do you like to cry out in that manner?” + +“No, but—I have to do it. I can’t help it.” + +“I think he gives the right explanation,” said Arthur. “It is a nervous +impulse, and has nothing to do with pain.” + +“Does he ever sit in your lap, like this?” + +“No; I think he likes me in a way, for I am always kind to him, but you +seem to draw him to you irresistibly.” + +At that moment the professor came in. When he saw Ernest sitting in +Chester’s lap, he stopped short in astonishment. + +“This is strange,” he said. + +“Isn’t it, uncle? Chester seems to fascinate my little cousin. No +sooner did he enter the room than Ernest ran up to him, kissed his +hand, and caressed him.” + +“I can’t explain it,” said the professor, “but Chester seems to have a +wonderful influence over my poor boy. I never saw him look so happy or +contented before.” + +All this while Ernest continued to stroke Chester’s cheek and his hair, +and regarded him with looks of fond affection. + +“I am afraid Ernest annoys you,” said the professor. + +“No; I am glad he likes me. I never had a little brother. I think I +should enjoy having one.” + +“If he could only be always like this,” said the professor, +regretfully. + +Just then Margaret entered. She was the nurse, who had constant charge +of Ernest. She paused on the threshold, and her looks showed her +surprise. + +“Ernest has found a friend, Margaret,” said the professor. + +“I never saw the like, sir. Come here, Ernest.” + +The boy shook his head. + +“No, I want to stay with him,” indicating Chester. + +“Did Ernest ever see him before, sir?” + +“No; it seems to be a case of love at first sight.” + +“He has cut me out,” said Arthur, smiling. “Ernest, which do you like +best, me or him?” + +“Him,” answered Ernest, touching Chester’s cheek. + +“I must tell Dr. Gridley of this new manifestation on the part of my +poor boy,” said the professor. “Perhaps he can interpret it.” + +For twenty minutes Chester retained Ernest on his lap. Then Arthur +said: + +“Chester must go now, Ernest.” + +The boy left Chester’s lap obediently. + +“Will you come and see me again?” he pleaded. + +“Yes, I will come,” said Chester, and, stooping over, he kissed the +boy’s cheek. Ernest’s face lighted up with a loving smile, and again he +kissed Chester’s hand. + +“Now, Chester, you can come to my den.” Arthur opened the door of a +large room, furnished with every comfort. + +It was easy to see that it was a boy’s apartment. On a table were +boxing gloves. Over a desk in a corner was hung the photograph of a +football team, of which Arthur was the captain. There was another +photograph representing him with gloves on, about to have a set-to with +a boy friend. + +“Do you box, Chester?” he asked. + +“No; I never saw a pair of boxing gloves before.” + +“I will give you a lesson. Here, put on this pair.” + +Chester smiled. + +“I shall be at your mercy,” he said. “I am, perhaps, as strong as you, +but I have no science.” + +“It won’t take you long to learn.” + +So the two boys faced each other. Before he knew what was going to +happen, Chester received a light tap on the nose from his new friend. + +“I must tell you how to guard yourself. I will be the professor and you +the pupil.” + +Chester soon became interested, and at the end of half an hour his +teacher declared that he had improved wonderfully. + +“We will have a lesson every time you come to see uncle,” he said. + +“Then I shall come to see two professors.” + +“Yes, an old one and young one. Between uncle, Ernest and myself, you +will find your time pretty well occupied when you come here.” + +“I think it a great privilege to come here,” said Chester, gratefully. + +“And I am glad to have you. I shall have some one to box with, at any +rate. Now,” he added, with a comical look, “I can’t induce my uncle to +have a bout with me. Indeed, I should be afraid to, for he is so +shortsighted he would need to wear spectacles, and I would inevitably +break them.” + +Chester could not forbear laughing at the idea of the learned professor +having a boxing match with his lively, young nephew. + +“If you will make me as good a boxer as yourself, I shall feel very +much indebted.” + +“That will come in time. I am quite flattered at the opportunity of +posing as a teacher. Have you a taste for jewelry? Just look in this +drawer.” + +Arthur opened one of the small drawers in his bureau, and displayed a +varied collection of studs, sleeve buttons, collar buttons, scarf pins, +etc. + +“You might set up a jeweler’s store,” suggested Chester. “Where did you +get them all?” + +“I had an uncle who was in the business, and he and other relatives +have given me plenty.” + +“I haven’t even a watch.” + +“No, really? Why, how can you get along without one?” + +“I have to.” + +“Wait a minute.” + +Arthur opened another drawer, revealing two silver watches, one an open +face, the other a hunting watch. + +“Take your choice,” he said. + +“Do you really mean it?” + +“Certainly.” + +“But would your uncle approve of your giving me such a valuable +present?” + +“My uncle doesn’t bother himself about such trifles. I don’t use either +of these watches. I have a gold one, given me last Christmas.” + +“Since you are so kind, I think I prefer the hunting watch.” + +“All right! There it is. Let me set it for you. The chain goes with it, +of course.” + +Chester felt delighted with his present. He had hoped sometime—when he +was eighteen, perhaps—to own a watch, but had no expectation of +getting one so soon. + +“You are a generous friend, Arthur,” he said. + +“Don’t make too much of such a trifle, Chester!” returned the other, +lightly. + +When Chester said he must go home, Arthur put on his hat and proposed +to walk with him part of the way, an offer which Chester gratefully +accepted. + +They walked over to Broadway, chatting as they went. + +All at once, Chester, who had not expected to see anyone he knew, +touched Arthur on the arm. + +“Do you see that man in front of us?” he asked, pointing to a figure +about six feet ahead. + +“Yes. What of him?” + +“It is our bookkeeper, David Mullins.” + +“Is it, indeed? Do you know whom he is walking with?” + +Chester glanced at a rather flashily dressed individual who was walking +arm in arm with the bookkeeper. + +“No,” he answered. + +“It is Dick Ralston,” answered Arthur, “one of the most notorious +gamblers in the city.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +DICK RALSTON. + + +Chester was new to the city and a novice in worldly affairs, but the +discovery that the bookkeeper was on intimate terms with a gambler +astounded him. He felt that Mr. Fairchild ought to know it, but he +shrank from telling him. + +Of course, the presumption was that Mullins was also a gambler, but +this was not certain. Chester decided to say nothing, but to be +watchful. David Mullins had been five years in his present place, and +his services must have been satisfactory or he would not have been +retained. + +There was one thing, however, that Chester did not know. This +gambler—Dick Ralston, as he was familiarly called—was only a recent +acquaintance. Mullins had known him but three months, but had already, +through his influence, been smitten by the desire to become rich more +quickly than he could in any legitimate way. + +He had accompanied Dick to the gaming table, and tried his luck, losing +more than he could comfortably spare. He was in debt to his dangerous +friend one hundred and fifty dollars, and on the evening in question +Dick had intimated that he was in need of the money. + +“But how can I give it to you?” asked Mullins, in a tone of annoyance. + +“You receive a good salary.” + +“One hundred dollars a month, yes. But I can’t spare more than thirty +dollars a month toward paying the debt.” + +“Which would take you five months. That won’t suit me. Haven’t you got +any money saved up?” + +“No; I ought to have, but I have enjoyed myself as I went along, and it +has taken all I earned.” + +“Humph! Very pleasant for me!” + +“And for me, too. It isn’t very satisfactory to pinch and scrape for +five months just to get out of debt. If it was for articles I had +had—in other words, for value received—it would be different. But it +is just for money lost at the gaming table—a gambling debt.” + +“Such debts, among men of honor,” said Dick, loftily, “are the most +binding. Everywhere they are debts of honor.” + +“I don’t see why,” grumbled Mullins. + +“Come,” said Ralston, soothingly, “you are out of sorts, and can’t see +things in their right light. I’ll lend you fifty dollars more, making +the debt two hundred dollars.” + +“I don’t see how that will help me.” + +“I’ll tell you. You must win the money to pay your debt at the gaming +table. Why, two hundred dollars is a trifle. You might win it in one +evening.” + +“Or lose as much more.” + +“There’s no such word as fail! Shall I tell you what I did once?” + +“Yes,” answered Mullins, in some curiosity. + +“I was in Nashville—dead broke! I was younger then, and losses +affected me more. I was even half inclined—you will laugh, I know—to +blow my brains out or to throw myself into the river, when a stranger +offered to lend me ten dollars to try my luck again. Well, I thought as +you did, that it was of little use. I would lose it, and so make +matters worse. + +“But desperation led me to accept. It was one chance, not a very good +one, but still a chance. From motives of prudence I only risked five +dollars at first. I lost. Savagely I threw down the remaining five and +won twenty-five. Then I got excited, and kept on for an hour. At the +end of that time, how do you think I stood?” + +“How?” asked Mullins, eagerly. + +“I had won eight hundred and sixty-five dollars,” answered Dick +Ralston, coolly. “I paid back the ten dollars, and went out of the +gambling house a rich man, comparatively speaking.” + +Now, all this story was a clever fiction, but David Mullins did not +know this. He accepted it as plain matter of fact, and his heart beat +quickly as he fancied himself winning as large a sum. + +“But such cases must be rare,” he ventured. + +“Not at all. I could tell you more wonderful stories about friends of +mine, though it was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. Now, +will you take the fifty dollars I offered you?” + +“Yes, but I don’t want to play again to-night. I feel nervous.” + +“Very good. Meet me to-morrow evening at the gambling house, and the +money shall be ready for you.” + +Then they parted, and the bookkeeper, who had a headache, went home and +to bed. He had that evening lost fifty dollars to Dick Ralston, and so +increased his debt from one hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars. + +But his heart was filled with feverish excitement. The story told by +Ralston had its effect upon him, and he decided to keep on in the +dangerous path upon which he had entered. Why pinch himself for five +months to pay his debt, when a single evening’s luck would clear him +from every obligation? If Dick Ralston and others could be lucky, why +not he? This was the way Mullins reasoned. He never stopped to consider +what would be the result if things did not turn out as he hoped—if he +lost instead of won. + +Some weeks passed. The bookkeeper met with varying success at the +gaming table. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, but on the whole his +debt to Dick Ralston didn’t increase. There were reasons why the +gambler decided to go slow. He was playing with Mullins as a cat plays +with a mouse. + +But our chief concern is with Chester Rand. He found a comfortable room +on Twelfth Street, not far from the office, which, with board, only +cost him five dollars per week. This, to be sure, took all his salary, +but he was earning something outside. + +On account of so much time being taken up by his work for the +professor, he did little for the comic weeklies. But occasionally, +through his friend, the artist, a five or ten-dollar bill came into his +hands. He bought himself a new suit, and some other articles which he +found he needed, and wrote home to ask his mother if she wished any +assistance. + +“Thank you for your offer,” she replied, “but the money Miss Dolby pays +me defrays all my housekeeping expenses and a little more. She is +certainly peculiar, but is good-natured, and never finds fault. She is +a good deal of company for me. Of course, I miss you very much, but it +cheers me to think you are doing well, and are happy, with good +prospects for the future. There is nothing for you in Wyncombe, as I +very well know; that is, nothing you would be willing to accept. + +“That reminds me to say that Mr. Tripp is having a hard time with boys. +He discharged Abel Wood soon after you went to New York. He has tried +two boys since, but doesn’t seem to get suited. When I was in the store +yesterday, he inquired after you. ‘Tell him,’ he said, ‘that if he gets +tired of New York, he can come back to the store, and I will pay him +three dollars a week!’” He said this with an air of a man who is making +a magnificent offer. I told him you were satisfied with your position +in the city. I must tell you of one mean thing he has done. + +“He has been trying to induce Miss Dolby to leave me and take board +with him, offering to take her for two dollars a week less. She told me +of this herself. ‘I wouldn’t go there if he’d take me for nothing,’ she +said, and I believe she meant it. She is not mean, and is willing to +pay a fair, even a liberal, price, where she is suited. You see, +therefore, that neither you nor I need borrow any trouble on this +point!” + +This letter relieved Chester of all anxiety. All things seemed bright +to him. What he did for the comic weeklies, added to his work for Prof. +Hazlitt, brought him in ten dollars a week on an average. This, added +to the five dollars a week from Mr. Fairchild, gave him an aggregate +salary of fifteen dollars a week, so that he was always amply provided +with money. + +“Cousin David,” said Felix to the bookkeeper one day, “I don’t see how +it happens that Chester is so well supplied with cash.” + +“Is he?” asked Mullins. + +“Yes; he has just bought a new suit, a new hat and new shoes. They must +have cost him altogether as much as thirty dollars. How much wages do +you pay him?” + +“Five dollars a week.” + +“And he pays all that for board, for he told me so.” + +“It does seem a little mysterious. Perhaps his friend the artist helps +him.” + +“No, he doesn’t. I intimated as much one day, but he said no, that he +paid his own way. One evening last week, I saw him going into Daly’s +Theatre with a young fellow handsomely dressed—quite a young swell. +They had two-dollar seats, and I learned that Chester paid for them. He +doesn’t have any chance to pick up any money in this office, does he?” +asked Felix, significantly. + +“I can’t say as to that. I haven’t missed any.” + +“I wish he would help himself. Of course, he would be discharged, and +then you might find a place for me.” + +“I may do so yet.” + +“Is there any chance of it?” asked Felix, eagerly. + +“In about two weeks, Mr. Fairchild is going West on business. He will +be gone for a month, probably. In his absence, I shall run the office.” + +“I see.” + +“And I shall probably find some reason for discharging Chester Rand,” +added the bookkeeper, significantly. “In that case, you will hold +yourself ready to slip into his place.” + +“Bully for you, Cousin David,” exclaimed Felix, in exultation. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +MR. FAIRCHILD LEAVES THE CITY. + + +About ten days later, Chester found himself alone in the office with +his employer, the bookkeeper having gone out to call upon a man who had +commissioned the broker to buy him a house. + +“Chester,” said Mr. Fairchild, “has Mr. Mullins mentioned to you that I +start next Monday on a Western trip?” + +“I heard him say so to a gentleman in here on business.” + +“I shall have to leave Mr. Mullins to take charge of the office and run +the business. The time was when I would have done so with confidence, +but the affair of James Long has made me distrustful. He thoroughly +understands my business, and it would be difficult for me to supply his +place. For the present, therefore, I feel obliged to retain him. During +my absence, however, I wish, if you see anything wrong, that you would +apprise me of it by letter. You may direct letters to Palmer’s Hotel, +Chicago, and they will be forwarded to me from there. What is your +address?” + +Chester gave it, and Mr. Fairchild wrote it down. + +“It is rather unusual,” continued Mr. Fairchild, “for a man in my +position to make a confidant of his office boy, but I have observed you +carefully, and I believe that you are not only intelligent, but are +faithful to my interests.” + +“Thank you, sir,” said Chester, with genuine gratification. “I think I +can promise you that you will not be disappointed in me.” + +“Of course Mr. Mullins must not know of the understanding between us. +Don’t breathe a hint of what I have said.” + +“No, sir, I will not.” + +“In case you think it necessary you may telegraph to me. I hope, +however, that no such emergency will arise.” + +Chester asked himself whether it was his duty to apprise Mr. Fairchild +of his seeing Mullins in intimate companionship with a gambler, but, on +the whole, decided not to do so. He did not wish needlessly to +prejudice his employer against the bookkeeper. + +On Monday morning Mr. Fairchild left the office and took the Sixth +Avenue Elevated train to Cortlandt Street station, from which it is +only five minutes’ walk to the ferry connecting with the train on the +Pennsylvania Railroad. + +“How long shall you be away, Mr. Fairchild?” asked the bookkeeper. + +“I cannot yet tell. It will depend on the success I meet with in my +business. I am afraid I may be absent four weeks.” + +“Don’t hurry back,” said Mullins. “I will keep things running.” + +“I rely upon your fidelity,” said the broker, not without significance. + +“You may be assured of that. I have been in your employ for over five +years.” + +“And of course understand all the details of my business. That is true. +Continue faithful to me and you will have no cause to repent it.” + +“Thank you, sir. You need have no anxiety.” + +“Chester,” said Mr. Fairchild, “you may go with me as far as the +station and carry my grip.” + +When they were outside, the broker said: + +“I could have carried the grip myself, but I wished to have a parting +word with you. Mr. Mullins is thoroughly acquainted with my business, +but within the last six months I found myself distrusting him. In four +weeks, for I shall be likely to be away that length of time, something +may occur detrimental to my interests, and I heartily wish I had some +one else in charge. I may rely upon you bearing in mind what I told you +the other day?” + +“Yes, sir; I won’t forget.” + +“I know that you are faithful, and I only wish you understood the +business well enough to be placed in charge.” + +“I wish so, too,” said Chester, frankly. + +“I think, however,” Mr. Fairchild added, with a smile, “that it would +be hardly prudent to trust my business to an office boy.” + +“You are already trusting me very much, Mr. Fairchild.” + +“Yes; I feel safe in doing so.” + +Chester took the grip up the Elevated stairway and parted with Mr. +Fairchild at the ticket office. + +As he went down to the street he reflected that his own position during +the broker’s absence might not be very comfortable. Still he had his +employer’s confidence, and that gave him much pleasure. + +He had reached Harris’ large store on his way home when a +rakish-looking figure, springing from he knew not where, overtook and +touched him on the arm. Chester immediately recognized him as the +gambler with whom he had seen the bookkeeper walking on the evening of +his first visit to the house of Prof. Hazlitt. + +“I say, boy,” said Ralston, “you’re employed by Fairchild, the real +estate man, ain’t you?” + +“Yes, sir,” answered Chester, coldly. + +“Didn’t I see him going to the Elevated station with you just now?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“With a grip in his hand?” + +“Yes.” + +“Is he off for a journey?” + +“He has started for the West.” + +“So? I had business with him, but I suppose I can transact it with +Mullins just as well.” + +“You will find him in the office.” + +“All right! I’ll go there.” + +Chester turned his glance upon Dick Ralston and rapidly took note of +his appearance. He was rather a stocky man, with a red, pimpled face, a +broad nose, small, twinkling eyes and intensely black hair. He wore a +“loud,” striped sack suit, and on one of his pudgy fingers was a +diamond ring. It was really a diamond, and he had often found it +serviceable. When he was in very bad luck he pawned it for a +comfortable sum, but invariably redeemed it when fortune smiled upon +him again. + +He followed Chester into the broker’s office. Mullins sat on a stool at +the desk, picking his teeth. He looked like a man of leisure, with +little upon his mind. + +“Hello, Mullins, old boy!” said Dick, pushing forward with extended +hand. “So you’re promoted to boss?” + +“Yes,” answered the bookkeeper, showing his teeth in a complacent +smile. “Can I sell you a house this morning?” + +“Well, not exactly. I’m not quite up to that in the present state of my +funds. If you have on your list a one-story shanty on the rocks near +Central Park I may invest.” + +“Cash down, or do you want to have part of the purchase money on +mortgage?” + +Then both laughed, and Ralston made a playful dig at Mullins’ ribs. + +Chester could not help hearing the conversation. He saw in it a proof +of the friendly relations between the two. This, so far as he knew, was +the first visit made by Ralston to Mr. Mullins. It was clear that the +bookkeeper felt that such a caller would injure him in the eyes of Mr. +Fairchild. + +“I am glad old Fairchild is gone,” said Dick Ralston, lowering his +tone. “Now I can come in freely.” + +“Don’t come in too often,” replied Mullins, with a cautioning look at +Chester. “It might——” + +Chester lost the rest of the sentence. + +“Send him out!” suggested Dick, in a still lower tone, but Chester +caught the words. + +“Chester,” said the bookkeeper, “you may go up to the Fifth Avenue +Hotel and ask at the office if Mr. Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis, has +arrived?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +After Chester went out, Ralston inquired, “Is there a man named Paul +Perkins?” + +“Not that I know of,” answered Mullins, with a laugh. + +“I see. You’re a sharp fellow. You only wanted to get rid of the kid.” + +“Exactly. Now we can talk freely.” + +“That’s what I came about. Do you know, Mullins, you are owing me seven +hundred and fifty dollars?” + +“Is it so much as that?” asked the bookkeeper, anxiously. + +“Yes; I can show you the account. Now, to tell you the truth, Mullins, +I’m in a tight fix, and my bank account needs replenishing.” + +“So does mine,” returned Mullins, with a sickly smile. + +Dick Ralston frowned slightly. + +“No joking, please!” he said, roughly. “I’m in earnest.” + +“I don’t see what I am going to do about it,” muttered Mullins, +defiantly. + +“Don’t you. Then perhaps I can help you by a suggestion.” + +“I wish you would.” + +“You are left in charge here during Mr. Fairchild’s absence?” + +“Well, suppose I am.” + +“And you handle the funds?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then,” and Dick Ralston bent over and whispered something in the +bookkeeper’s ear. + +Mullins started, and looked agitated. + +“What would you have me do?” he inquired. + +“Borrow a little money from the office,” answered Dick, coolly. + +“But, good heavens, man, it would ruin me. Must you have me risk +prison?” + +“Don’t be alarmed! I only want you to borrow two or three hundred +dollars. You can return it before Fairchild gets back.” + +“How am I to return it?” + +“You can win it back in one evening at the gaming table.” + +“Or lose more.” + +There was considerable further conversation, Dick Ralston urging, and +Mullins feebly opposing something which the gambler proposed. Then a +customer came in, who had to receive attention. Inside of an hour +Chester re-entered the office, accompanied by a sandy-complexioned +stranger, his head covered with a broad, flapping, Western sombrero, +and wearing a long, brown beard descending at least eighteen inches. + +“I hear you want to see me,” he said to Mullins. + +“Who are you?” asked the astonished bookkeeper. + +“I am Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis,” was the surprising reply. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +PAUL PERKINS, OF MINNEAPOLIS. + + +If a bomb had exploded in the office David Mullins and his friend +Ralston could not have been more astonished than by the appearance of +Paul Perkins, whose name was invented without the slightest idea that +any such person existed. + +Before relating what followed, a word of explanation is necessary. + +Chester went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel without the slightest suspicion +that he had been sent on a fool’s errand. He imagined, indeed, that Mr. +Mullins wanted to get rid of him, but did not doubt that there was such +a man as Paul Perkins, and that he was expected to arrive at the Fifth +Avenue Hotel. + +He walked up Broadway in a leisurely manner, feeling that his hasty +return was not desired. He reached the Fifth Avenue, and entering—it +was the first time he had ever visited the hotel—went up to the desk. + +The clerk was giving instructions to a bell boy, who was directed to +carry a visitor’s card to No. 221. When at leisure, Chester asked: + +“Has Mr. Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis, arrived at the hotel?” + +The clerk looked over the list of arrivals. Finally his forefinger +stopped at an entry on the book. + +“Yes,” he answered, “he arrived last evening. Did you wish to see him?” + +About this Chester was in doubt. He had only been asked to inquire if +Mr. Perkins had arrived. He assumed, however, that the bookkeeper +wished to see Mr. Perkins at the office. Accordingly he answered, “Yes, +sir. I should like to see him.” + +The clerk rang a bell and another bell boy made his appearance. + +“Write your name on a card,” said the clerk, “and I will send it up.” + +“The gentleman won’t know my name,” said Chester. + +“Then give the name of your firm.” + +So Chester, after slight hesitation, wrote: + +“Chester Rand. From Clement Fairchild, Real Estate Broker.” + +“Take that up to 169,” said the clerk to the bell boy. + +In five minutes the boy returned. + +“Mr. Perkins says you are to come upstairs to his room,” he reported. + +Chester followed the bell boy to the elevator. + +He had never before ridden in such a conveyance and the sensation was a +novel one. They got off at one of the upper floors, and Chester +followed his guide to the door of a room near by. + +The bell boy knocked. + +“Come in,” was heard from the inside. + +Chester entered and found himself in the presence of a man of fifty, +with a sandy complexion and thick, brown beard. He held the card in his +hand, and was looking at it. + +“Are you Chester Rand?” he asked, in a high-pitched voice. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“And you come from Clement Fairchild?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“This is very curious. I never heard the name before.” + +Chester looked surprised. + +“I can’t explain it, sir,” he said. “I was asked to come to the hotel +and ask if you had arrived.” + +“Where is Mr. Fairchild’s office?” + +“On West Fourteenth Street.” + +“And he is a real estate broker?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“I don’t understand what he wants of me, or how in the name of all that +is curious he ever heard of me. I don’t own any real estate, except a +three-story house in which I live.” + +“Perhaps, sir, if you will go to the office with me you will get an +explanation.” + +“Precisely. That is a very practical and sensible suggestion. Is it far +off? I ask because I have never been in New York before.” + +“It is only about ten minutes’ walk.” + +“Then I’ll go with you, that is, if you can wait fifteen minutes while +I finish writing a letter to my wife, apprising her of my safe +arrival.” + +“Yes, sir, I am in no especial hurry.” + +“Then sit down, and—you may look at this,” handing him the last copy +of _Puck_. + +Chester opened the paper eagerly, for _Puck_ had accepted two of his +sketches. He opened it at random, and his eye lighted up, for there was +one of the two sketches handsomely reproduced. He uttered a little +exclamation. + +“What have you found?” asked Paul Perkins, looking up from his letter. + +“This picture—is one of mine.” + +“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed the man from Minneapolis, dropping his +pen in surprise. “I thought you were an office boy.” + +“So I am, sir, but—sometimes I sell sketches to the illustrated +papers.” + +“What did you get for this?” + +“Seven dollars and a half. That is, I sold this and another for fifteen +dollars.” + +“By the great horn spoon! but this is wonderful.” + +Chester did not feel called upon to say anything. + +“How long did it take you to draw this picture?” + +“A little over half an hour.” + +“Jerusalem! that is at the rate of ten dollars an hour. I am contented +to make ten dollars a day.” + +“So should I be, sir. I don’t draw all the time,” said Chester, with a +smile. + +“I was going to ask if you wouldn’t give me lessons in drawing and +sketching.” + +“I should be afraid to, sir,” laughed Chester. “You might prove a +dangerous rival.” + +“You needn’t be afraid. I can play as well as I can sing.” + +“I suppose you sing well, sir,” said Chester, roguishly. + +“You can judge. When I was a young man I thought I would practice +singing a little in my room one night. The next morning my landlady +said, in a tone of sympathy, ‘I heard you groaning last night, Mr. +Perkins. Did you have the toothache?’” + +Chester burst into a hearty laugh. + +“If that is the case,” he said, “I won’t be afraid of you as a rival in +drawing.” + +Mr. Perkins set himself to finishing his letter, and in twenty minutes +it was done. + +“Now, I am ready,” he said. + +As they went downstairs, Chester observed, “I will ask you as a favor, +Mr. Perkins, not to refer to my work in _Puck_, as it is not known at +the office that I do any work outside.” + +“All right, my boy. By the way, how much do they pay you at the +office?” + +“Five dollars a week.” + +“Evidently it isn’t as good a business as drawing.” + +“No, sir; but it is more reliable. I can’t always satisfy the comic +papers, and I am likely to have sketches left on my hands.” + +“Yes; that is a practical way of looking at it, and shows that you are +a boy of sense. What sort of a man is Mr. Fairchild?” + +“A very kind, considerate man, but I forgot to say that you won’t see +him.” + +“But I thought he sent you to call on me?” + +“No, sir; Mr. Fairchild started for the West this morning. It was Mr. +Mullins, the bookkeeper, who sent me.” + +“That complicates the mystery. Is he a good friend of yours?” + +“No, sir; he dislikes me.” + +Mr. Perkins looked curious, and Chester, considerably to his own +surprise, confided to him the story of his relations with the +bookkeeper. + +“He’s a scamp!” commented the man from Minneapolis. “Why does Mr. +Fairchild keep him. I wouldn’t! I’d bounce him very quick.” + +“He has been with Mr. Fairchild five years and understands his business +thoroughly.” + +“Well, there is something in that; but I wouldn’t like to have in my +employ a man whom I couldn’t trust. Have you ever been out West?” + +“No, sir.” + +“You ought to come out there. The city I represent is a smart one and +no mistake. Of course you’ve heard of the rivalry between Minneapolis +and St. Paul.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“I don’t take sides, for I live in both, but I think business +facilities in Minneapolis are greater. I think you are a boy who would +succeed at the West.” + +“I should like to go there some day. I own some property in Washington +Territory.” + +“You do?” exclaimed Paul Perkins, in great surprise. “Whereabouts?” + +“In Tacoma. I own some lots there.” + +“Then let me tell you, my boy, that you will be a rich man.” + +“But I thought prices of land in Tacoma were small.” + +“So they are—at present; but it is the future terminus of the Northern +Pacific Railroad. When it is completed there will be a boom. How many +lots do you own?” + +“Five.” + +“Take my advice and hold on to them. What square is this?” + +They had reached Seventeenth Street. + +“Union Square.” + +“It’s a pretty place. Is Tiffany’s near here?” + +“Yes, sir; only two blocks away. We shall pass it.” + +“All right! Point it out to me. I’m going to buy a gold watch for +myself there. I’ve needed one for a long time, but I wanted the +satisfaction of buying one at Tiffany’s. Anything that is sold there +must be A No. 1.” + +“I have no doubt of it, but I don’t trade there much yet.” + +“No; you must wait till you have realized on your Western lots.” + +They turned down Fourteenth Street, and soon stood in front of Mr. +Fairchild’s office. They entered, and this brings us to the point where +the last chapter ends. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +MR. PERKINS MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE. + + +Dick Ralston and the bookkeeper stared at their Western friend in +undisguised amazement. Finally Mr. Mullins said, “What did I understand +you to call yourself?” + +“Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis.” + +“And—you are staying at the Fifth Avenue Hotel?” + +“Certainly. Didn’t you send this boy with a message?” said Mr. Perkins, +rather impatiently. + +“Ye-es.” + +“How did you know that I was coming to New York? That’s what beats me.” + +Mullins began to appreciate the situation, and he was cudgeling his +brains for an explanation. Finally one came. + +“I may be misinformed, but I learned from a friend of yours that you +were coming here with an intention of locating in our city. Now, as we +are in the real estate business, I thought we would offer our services +to find you a suitable house.” + +“Some friend of mine notified you of my coming to New York? Why, I +started off on a sudden without consulting anyone. I don’t see how +anyone could give you the information.” + +“I won’t undertake to explain it,” said the bookkeeper. “I will only +say that I am glad to meet you.” + +“Thank you! You are very polite. What was the name of the friend who +spoke about me and my plans?” + +“I have a poor memory for names, but I believe I have the gentleman’s +card in my desk.” + +He opened the desk and made an elaborate search for what he knew he +should not find. + +“It’s no use,” he said, after a pause. “It’s disappeared.” + +“What was the appearance of the person?” persisted Mr. Perkins. + +“He was—tall, and—yes, with a dark complexion and—and side +whiskers.” + +“About how old?” + +“I should say about forty.” + +“I know plenty of people answering that description. But how did he +happen to call on you?” + +“There you have me. He had some business with Mr. Fairchild, and +unfortunately Mr. F. started West this morning.” + +“I see. I can get no clew to the mystery. However, I am glad to have +made the acquaintance of this young man,” indicating Chester. + +“Oh, you mean our office boy,” returned Mullins, coldly. + +Just then Dick Ralston nudged the bookkeeper. + +“Introduce me,” he said, _sotto voce_. + +The bookkeeper did not incline favorably to this request, but did not +dare to refuse. Dick Ralston’s appearance was decidedly against him, +and his “loud” attire was in keeping with his face and manners. + +“Mr. Perkins,” said Mullins, “allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. +Ralston.” + +“Glad to meet you, Mr. Ralston,” said the man from Minneapolis, +extending his hand, which Dick seized and pressed warmly. + +“Proud to make your acquaintance, Mr. Perkins,” rejoined the gambler. +“I always did like Western people.” + +“Thank you. I am not Western by birth, though I went out to Minnesota +when I was a mere boy.” + +“And I have no doubt you have prospered,” said Ralston, who was really +anxious to learn whether Mr. Perkins was well provided with money and +was worth fleecing. + +“Well, I don’t complain,” answered Perkins, in a matter-of-fact tone. + +“I shall be glad to pay you any attentions,” insinuated Ralston. “I +know the ropes pretty well, and I flatter myself I can show you the +town as well as anyone, eh, Mullins?” + +“Oh, yes,” assented the bookkeeper, not over cordially. + +“I have no doubt of it, Mr. Ralston, and I take your offer kindly, but +I am afraid I won’t have time to go round much.” + +“Won’t you go out and take a drink? Mullins, you go, too!” + +“Thank you, but I don’t drink—at any rate, when I am away from home. +By the way, Mr.——” and he stopped short, for he did not remember the +bookkeeper’s name. + +“Mr. Mullins,” suggested that gentleman. + +“You are misinformed about my wanting to locate in this city. New +York’s a right smart place, I admit, but give me Minneapolis. That +suits me.” + +“All right, sir. I am misinformed, that’s all.” + +“If you find my friend’s card just write and let me know his name. I’d +like to know who it is that knows so much about my plans.” + +“I will. Where shall I direct?” + +“Oh, just direct to Minneapolis. I’m well known there. A letter will be +sure to reach me.” + +“Shall you be at the hotel this evening, Mr. Perkins?” added Dick +Ralston, who found it hard to give up his design upon his new +acquaintance. + +“I don’t know. I haven’t made any plans.” + +“I was thinking I might call upon you.” + +“Don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Ralston. Probably you would not find me +in.” + +Mr. Perkins was a tolerably shrewd man. He had “sized up” the gambler, +and decided that he did not care to become any better acquainted with +him. + +“Just as you say,” returned Dick Ralston, looking discomfited. “I +thought perhaps I could make it pleasant for you.” + +“If I find I have time I can call at your place of business,” said the +man from Minneapolis, with a shrewd glance at the gambler. + +“I have no place of business,” returned Ralston, rather awkwardly. “I +am a—a capitalist, and sometimes speculate in real estate. Don’t I, +Mullins?” + +“Of course. By the way, I forgot to tell you that I have four lots on +Ninety-sixth Street which would make a good investment.” + +“Ninety-sixth Street! Ahem, rather far uptown. What’s the figure?” + +“Five thousand dollars.” + +“I’ll take a look at them as soon as I have time. You see, Mr. Perkins, +I do all my real estate business through my friend, Mr. Mullins.” + +“Just so.” + +Neither Mr. Perkins nor Chester was taken in by Ralston’s assumption of +the character of a capitalist. The Western man had already a shrewd +suspicion of the gambler’s real business, and being a cautious and +prudent man, did not care to cultivate him. + +“Good-morning!” said Mr. Perkins. “I must not take up any more of your +time. Will you allow Chester to go out with me for five minutes?” + +“Certainly.” + +David Mullins would have liked to refuse, but had no good excuse for +doing so. + +“Don’t stay long!” he said, rather sharply. + +“I won’t keep him long.” + +When they were in the street Mr. Perkins said: “I don’t like the looks +of that bookkeeper of yours.” + +“Nor do I,” returned Chester. + +“I wouldn’t trust him any further than I could see him. Who was that +Ralston? Have you ever seen him before?” + +“Once. He doesn’t come into the office when Mr. Fairchild is at home.” + +“Do you know anything about him?” + +“I know—that is, I have heard that he is a well-known gambler.” + +“By the great horn spoon, if I didn’t think so! He seemed very anxious +to show me round the city.” + +“He would probably have taken you to a gambling house.” + +“Not if I was in my senses. I don’t gamble, and I hope you don’t.” + +“I shouldn’t know how,” answered Chester, with a smile. + +“Have you any engagement for this evening?” + +“No, sir.” + +“What time do you leave the office?” + +“At five o’clock.” + +“Then come round to the hotel and take dinner with me. I don’t know +anyone in the city, and I shall be glad to have your company this +evening. We will take a walk together, and you can show me what’s worth +seeing.” + +“Are you not afraid that I will take you to a gambling house?” asked +Chester, with a smile. + +“I’ll risk it.” + +“You would find Mr. Ralston a better guide.” + +“But not so safe a one. I shall be satisfied with you.” + +When Chester returned to the office Mullins asked, sharply: “What did +Perkins want to say to you?” + +“He asked me to dine with him to-night at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.” + +“Speak a good word for me, Chester,” said Ralston, with unusual +affability. “I would like to become better acquainted with him.” + +“What shall I say, Mr. Ralston?” + +“Tell him I am a prominent man, and expect to be nominated for Congress +next fall.” + +This he said with a wink. Chester and the bookkeeper laughed. + +“I’ll tell him,” said Chester. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +DICK RALSTON’S FATHER. + + +When Chester followed Mr. Perkins into the great dining room of the +Fifth Avenue he was rather dazzled by its size and the glistening +appearance of the tables. + +“I hope you have brought your appetite with you, Chester,” said his +Western friend. “The Fifth Avenue sets a good table.” + +“My appetite is sure to be good. I was kept so busy to-day that I had +hardly time to buy a sandwich for lunch.” + +“All the better! You’ll enjoy your meal. As for me, I don’t have the +appetite I do at home. There’s nothing like a tramp on the open prairie +to make a man feel peckish.” + +“Have you ever been in New York before, Mr. Perkins?” + +“Not since I was a boy. I was born up Albany way, and came here when I +was about your age. But, Lord, the New York of that day wasn’t a +circumstance to what it is now. There was no Elevated railroad then, +nor horse cars either, for that matter, and where this hotel stands +there was a riding school or something of that sort.” + +“Are you going to stay here long?” + +“I go to Washington to-morrow, stopping at Philadelphia and Baltimore +on the way. No. I have no business in Washington, but I think by the +time a man is fifty odd he ought to see the capital of his country. I +shall shake hands with the President, too, if I find him at home.” + +“Have you ever been further West than Minneapolis?” + +“Yes, I have been clear out to the Pacific. I’ve seen the town of +Tacoma, where you’ve got five lots. I shall write out to a friend in +Portland to buy me as many. Then we shall both have an interest there.” + +“You think the lots are worth something?” + +“I know it. When the Northern Pacific Railroad is finished, every +dollar your friend spent for his lots will be worth thirty or forty.” + +“I hope your predictions will come true, Mr. Perkins.” + +“Did I hear you speaking of Tacoma?” asked a gentleman on Chester’s +left hand. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“I can tell you something about it. I live at Seattle.” + +“Am I right about there being a future for the place?” asked Paul +Perkins. + +“You are. I may say that lots there are already worth twice what they +were last week.” + +“How’s that?” + +“Because work on the railroad has been resumed, and there is no doubt +now that it will be pushed to completion.” + +“That settles it. I must own property there. I won’t wait to write, but +will telegraph my friend in Portland to go there at once at my expense, +and buy five—no, ten lots. I got that idea from you, Chester, and if I +make a profit I shall feel indebted to you.” + +“I shall be glad if it helps fill your pockets, Mr. Perkins.” + +“Come up to my room for a while, Chester,” went on the other, “and we +will consider what to do. We might go to the theater, but I think I +would rather walk about here and there using my eyes. There is plenty +to see in New York.” + +“That will suit me, Mr. Perkins.” + +About eight o’clock the two went downstairs. Near the entrance, just +inside the hotel, Chester heard himself called by name. + +Looking up, he recognized Felix Gordon. + +“Are you going to the theater, Chester?” asked Felix. + +“No, I think not.” + +“Won’t you introduce me to your friend?” + +“Mr. Perkins, this is Felix Gordon, nephew of our bookkeeper,” said +Chester, unwillingly. + +“Hope you are well, Mr. Gordon,” said Paul. “Are you fond of the +theater?” + +“Yes, sir,” answered Felix, eagerly. “There’s a good play at Palmer’s. +I think you’d like it.” + +“No doubt, but I’d rather see the streets of New York. As you are a +friend of Chester, do me the favor to buy yourself a ticket,” and Mr. +Perkins drew a two-dollar bill from his pocket and tendered it to +Felix. + +“I am ever so much obliged,” said Felix, effusively. “As it is time for +the performance to commence, I’ll go at once, if you’ll excuse me.” + +“Certainly. You don’t want to lose the beginning of the play.” + +As Felix started off on a half run, Mr. Perkins said: “Do you know why +I was so polite to Felix, who by all accounts isn’t your friend at +all?” + +“No, I was rather puzzled.” + +“I wanted to get rid of him. He was probably sent here by his uncle as +a spy upon us. Now he is disposed of.” + +“I see you are shrewd,” said Chester, laughing. + +“Yes, I’m a little foxy when there’s occasion,” rejoined Mr. Perkins. +“Now, where shall we go?” + +I will not undertake to describe the route followed by the two. The +city was pretty much all new to the stranger from Minneapolis, and it +mattered little where he went. + +About ten o’clock the two witnessed from a distance a scene between a +man of forty and an old, infirm man, apparently seventy years of age. + +“The younger man is Ralston, the gambler,” said Chester, in excitement, +when they were near enough to recognize the figures of the two. + +“Halt a minute, and let us hear what it is all about,” returned Mr. +Perkins. + +“I am hungry,” said the old man, pitifully, “and I have no money for a +bed. Have pity on me, Dick, and give me something.” + +“You ought not to have come here,” returned Ralston, roughly. “Why +didn’t you stay in the country, where you had a comfortable home?” + +“In the poorhouse,” murmured the old man, sadly. + +“Well, it’s no worse for being a poorhouse, is it?” + +“But is it right for me to live there when you are rich and +prosperous?” + +“How do you know I am rich and prosperous?” + +“By your dress. And there’s a diamond in your shirt bosom. That must be +valuable.” + +“It’s about all I own that is valuable. It was a fool’s errand that +brought you here. You had better go back,” and Ralston prepared to go +on. + +“Won’t you give me a trifle, Dick?” + +“Well, take that.” + +“A quarter?” + +“Yes; it will give you some supper.” + +“But what shall I do for a bed?” + +“Go to the station house. They’ll take in an old man like you.” + +Before the aged man could renew his application the younger one had +disappeared round the corner of the next street. + +“Follow me, Chester,” said Paul Perkins. “I’m going to speak to the old +man.” + +He touched him on the shoulder. + +“Are you in trouble, my friend?” he asked. + +The old man, looking the picture of despondency in his ragged suit, and +with his long, gray locks floating over his shoulders, turned at the +words. + +“Yes, sir,” he said, “I am poor and in trouble, and my heart is sore.” + +“Is the man who has just left you related to you?” + +“He is my only son.” + +“He doesn’t seem kind to you.” + +“No; he cares nothing for his old father.” + +“How did you become so poor?” + +“He is the cause. When he was turned twenty-one I was worth ten +thousand dollars. He forged my name, more than once, and to save him I +paid the forged notes. So it happened that I was turned out in my old +age from the farm and the home that had been mine for twenty-five +years, and in the end I was sent to the poorhouse.” + +“Then he brought all this upon you?” + +“Yes.” + +“Do you know what he is now?” + +“He tells me he is in business.” + +“His business is carried on at the gambling house, so my young friend +here assures me. You will get no help from him.” + +“I begin to think so. Perhaps I was foolish to leave my home, poor as +it was, and come here to ask help.” + +“How much money will take you home?” + +“Two dollars.” + +“Here is a ten-dollar bill. Take it, get a meal and a night’s lodging +and in the morning start for home. It is the best thing you can do. As +for your son, you can only leave him to his own devices. A man who will +treat his old father as he has treated you will never prosper.” + +“Thank you, sir. I will follow your advice.” + +“I would rather be in your position, old and poor as you are, than in +his.” + +“Chester,” added Mr. Perkins, as they walked on, “this Ralston is a +more contemptible rascal than I thought. If my old father were living, +I would give half the money I possess. While I had a dollar in my +pocket he should share it.” + +“I say the same, Mr. Perkins.” + +When they reached the Fifth Avenue Hotel, Paul Perkins shook hands with +Chester. + +“Good-night,” he said. “You won’t see me for two weeks, perhaps, but +I’ll be sure to find you out when I return to the city. I hope you +won’t have any trouble with that scoundrel in the office.” + +“Thank you, Mr. Perkins, but I am afraid I shall.” + +“Don’t mind it if you do. Remember that you will always have a friend +in Paul Perkins.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +CHESTER IS DISCHARGED. + + +“Well,” said David Mullins, addressing his cousin Felix, “did you go to +the Fifth Avenue Hotel last evening?” + +“Yes, Cousin David.” + +“Did you see that man from Minneapolis and Chester?” + +“Yes.” + +“Where did they go?” + +“I don’t know.” + +“You don’t know?” frowned Mullins. “And why not, I should like to +know?” + +“Because I went to Palmer’s Theater.” + +“So that is the way you spent the quarter I gave you?” exclaimed the +bookkeeper, indignantly. + +“I couldn’t go to Palmer’s on that.” + +“Did you go with them?” asked Mullins, hopefully. + +“No, but Mr. Perkins gave me money to go.” + +“What made him do it?” + +“He thought I was a friend of Chester.” + +“How much did he give you?” + +“I occupied a dollar seat,” answered Felix, noncommittally. + +He did not care to mention that the sum given him was two dollars, half +of which he still had in his pocket. + +“Humph! so he gave you a dollar. Why didn’t you take it and stay with +them?” + +“Because he gave it to me expressly for the theater. It would have +looked strange if I had stayed with them after all.” + +“I would have found a way, but you are not smart.” + +Felix did not make any reply, being content with having deceived his +cousin as to Mr. Perkins’ gift. + +“I say, Cousin David, aren’t you going to bounce that boy pretty quick +and give me his place?” + +“Yes, as soon as I get a good excuse.” + +“Will you do it to-day?” + +“No; it would look strange. You may be sure I won’t keep him long.” + +At this point Chester came into the office and was surprised to see Mr. +Mullins and Felix already there. Usually the bookkeeper did not show up +till half an hour later. + +“Good-morning,” said Mullins, smoothly. “Did you dine with Mr. Perkins +last evening?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“I suppose you went to the theater?” + +“No; Mr. Perkins preferred to take a walk, as he has not been in New +York since he was a boy. Did you enjoy the play, Felix?” + +“Yes, thank you. It was very nice. I am ever so much obliged to Mr. +Perkins for the money to go.” + +“Mr. Perkins must be a rich man?” said Mullins, interrogatively. + +“I think he is pretty well off,” answered Chester. + +“How long does he stay in the city?” + +“He was to leave this morning. He is going to Washington.” + +David Mullins was glad to hear this. It would make it easier for him to +discharge Chester. + +He dispatched him on an errand, and was about to make some entries in +the books when Dick Ralston strolled in. + +“How are you, Dick? Can I do anything for you this morning?” + +“Yes; you can let me have a hundred dollars.” + +“I can’t do that,” answered the bookkeeper, with a slight frown. + +“You’ll have to settle up soon,” said Ralston, in a surly tone. + +“Give me time, can’t you? I can’t do everything in a minute. What is +the matter with you? You look as if you had got out of the wrong side +of the bed.” + +“I had a disagreeable thing happen last evening. Who should appear to +me on Madison Avenue but the old man.” + +“Your father?” + +“Yes; he left a good, comfortable home up in the country, and came here +to see if he couldn’t get some money out of me.” + +“Did he?” + +“I gave him a quarter and advised him to go back. He seems to think I +am made of money.” + +“So he has a comfortable home?” + +“Yes,” answered Ralston, hesitating slightly. “He’s better off than I +am in one way. He has no board to pay, and sometimes I haven’t money to +pay mine.” + +“I suppose he is staying with friends or relatives,” said Mullins, who +was not aware that Mr. Ralston, senior, was the inmate of a poorhouse. + +“It is an arrangement I made for him. I felt angry to see him here, and +I told him so. However, he isn’t likely to come again. Have you heard +from Fairchild yet?” + +“No; it isn’t time. He won’t reach Chicago till this evening or +to-morrow morning.” + +“Meanwhile—that is, while he is away—you have full swing, eh?” + +“Yes; I suppose so.” + +“Then you’ll be a fool if you don’t take advantage of it.” + +David Mullins did not answer. He repented, now that it was too late, +that he had placed himself in the power of such a man as Dick Ralston. +As long as he owed him seven hundred and fifty dollars there was no +escaping him, and Mullins felt very uncomfortable when he considered +what steps the gambler wanted him to take to get free from his debts. + +At this moment a dignified-looking gentleman living on West +Forty-seventh Street entered the office. He was the owner of a large +building, of which Mr. Fairchild acted as agent. He looked askance at +Dick Ralston, whose loud dress and general appearance left little doubt +as to his character. + +“Is Mr. Fairchild in?” the caller asked. + +“No, sir; he started for the West yesterday.” + +“I am sorry.” + +“I can attend to your business, Mr. Gray.” + +“No, thank you. I prefer to wait. How long will Mr. Fairchild be +absent?” + +“Probably six weeks.” + +The gentleman took his leave, with another side glance at Ralston. + +When he had gone, Ralston said, “Who is that, Mullins?” + +“Mr. Gray, a wealthy banker, living on Forty-seventh Street.” + +“So? Why didn’t you introduce me to the old duffer? I might have made +something out of him.” + +“He is not your style, Dick. He wouldn’t care to be introduced to a +stranger.” + +“So he puts on airs, does he?” + +“No; but he is rather a proud, reserved man.” + +“Thinks himself better than his fellow men, I suppose,” sneered the +gambler. + +“I can’t say, but it wouldn’t have been policy to make you acquainted. +If you won’t be offended, Dick, I will say that though I am personally +your friend, I am afraid that it isn’t best for you to be here so +much.” + +“So you are getting on your high horse, Mullins, are you?” + +“No; but you are too well known, Dick. If you were only an ordinary +man, now, it would be different, but your striking appearance naturally +makes people curious about you.” + +Dick Ralston was not insensible to flattery, and this compliment +propitiated him. He was about to go out when Chester entered, returning +from his errand. + +“How are you, kid?” inquired Ralston. + +“Very well, Mr. Ralston,” answered Chester, coldly, for he could not +forget how the gambler had treated his old father. + +“Well, did you pass the evening with that cowboy from Minneapolis?” + +“I spent the evening with Mr. Perkins.” + +“Of course! That’s what I mean. Has he got money?” + +“He didn’t tell me.” + +“He gave Felix money to go to the theater,” interposed Mullins. + +“Is that so? He seems to be liberal. I’d like to cultivate his +acquaintance. How long is he going to stay at the Fifth Avenue?” + +“He left for Washington this morning.” + +“I am sorry to hear it. Another chance gone, Mullins.” + +The bookkeeper looked warningly at Ralston. He did not care to have him +speak so freely before the office boy. + +“I don’t suppose we are likely to have any business with Paul Perkins,” +he said. “I offered to sell him a house, but he doesn’t care to locate +in New York.” + +Things went on as usual for the rest of the day. Mr. Mullins, if +anything, treated Chester better than usual, and the office boy began +to think that he had done the bookkeeper injustice. Felix spent +considerable of his time in the office, spending his time in reading +nickel libraries, of which he generally carried a supply with him. + +On the next day, about three o’clock in the afternoon, Chester was sent +downtown on an errand. He was delayed about ten minutes by a block on +the Sixth Avenue car line. When he entered the office, Mullins +demanded, sharply, “What made you so long?” + +Chester explained. + +“That’s too thin!” retorted the bookkeeper. “I have no doubt you +loitered, wasting your employer’s time.” + +“That isn’t true, Mr. Mullins,” said Chester, indignantly. + +“You won’t mend matters by impertinence. It is clear to me that you +won’t suit us. I will pay you your wages up to this evening, and you +can look for another place.” + +“Mr. Fairchild engaged me, Mr. Mullins. It is only right that you +should keep me till he returns, and report your objections.” + +“I don’t require any instructions from you. You are discharged—do you +understand?” + +“Yes,” answered Chester, slowly. + +“You needn’t wait till evening. Here is your money. Felix will take +your place for the present.” + +“Yes, Cousin David,” returned Felix, with alacrity. + +“I protest against this sudden discharge,” said Chester, “for no fault +of my own, Mr. Mullins.” + +“You have said enough. I understand my business.” + +There was nothing for Chester to do but to accept the dismissal. It +took him by surprise, for though he anticipated ill treatment, he had +not expected to be discharged. + +“Well, Felix,” said the bookkeeper, “you’ve got the place at last.” + +“Yes,” smiled Felix, complacently. “Didn’t Chester look glum when you +bounced him?” + +“I don’t know and I don’t care. I have no further use for him. He’s too +fresh!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +INTRODUCES MR. SHARPLEIGH, THE DETECTIVE. + + +Chester was not so much disturbed by his discharge, so far as it +related to his own welfare, as by the thought that Mr. Fairchild’s +interests were threatened. He felt that his absent employer ought to be +notified at once. + +Accordingly he went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel and telegraphed to +Chicago: + + “I am discharged. Felix Gordon is in my place. Will write.” + +A few hours later Chester received the following message at his +lodgings. + +“Your telegram received. Will write you instructions. FAIRCHILD.” + +Two days later Chester received a letter requesting him to call at once +on a well-known detective, give him all the available information and +request him to keep careful watch of Mr. Mullins and his operations, +and interfere if any steps were taken prejudicial to Mr. Fairchild’s +interests. + +Chester called on the detective and was fortunate enough to find him +in. He expected to see a large man of impressive manners and imposing +presence, and was rather disappointed when he found a small personage +under the average height, exceedingly plain and unpretentious, who +might easily have been taken for an humble clerk on a salary of ten or +twelve dollars a week. + +Mr. Sharpleigh listened attentively to Chester’s communication, and +then proceeded to ask questions. + +“Do you know anything of Mr. Mullins outside of the office?” he asked. + +“A little, sir.” + +“Has he any bad habits? Is he extravagant? Does he drink?” + +“I have never seen any evidence that he drank,” answered Chester. +“Perhaps he may drink a glass of wine or beer occasionally.” + +“I don’t mean that. He is not what may be called an intemperate man?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Any other objectionable habits?” + +“I think he gambles.” + +“Ha! this is important. What makes you think so?” + +“He seems to be intimate with a man who, I am told, is a well-known +gambler.” + +“Who is it?” + +“Dick Ralston.” + +“Ralston is as well known as any gambler in the city. How is it that +this has not excited the suspicions of Mr. Fairchild?” + +“I don’t think Mr. Fairchild knows it.” + +“Then Ralston doesn’t come into the office?” + +“He did not when Mr. Fairchild was in town. As soon as Mr. Fairchild +left he came at once, and now spends considerable time there.” + +“Probably Mullins owes him money lost in gambling.” + +“I think he does. I overheard him one day urging Mr. Mullins to give +him money.” + +“That makes it probable. Do you know if they keep company outside?” + +“I have seen them walking late in the evening.” + +“Why do you think Mr. Mullins discharged you?” + +“He wanted the place for a cousin of his.” + +“What name?” + +“Felix Gordon.” + +“Is he there now?” + +“Yes; Felix was taken on when I was discharged.” + +“At once?” + +“Yes. He was in the office, probably waiting for the vacancy.” + +“The plan seems to have been cut and dried. What sort of a boy is +Felix?” + +“I don’t know him very well. He seems on confidential terms with Mr. +Mullins.” + +“Did the bookkeeper have any other reasons for disliking you?” + +“Yes; I interfered to prevent his cheating a mechanic out of his +month’s rent.” + +“State the circumstances.” + +Chester did so. + +“How long has Mr. Mullins been in Mr. Fairchild’s employ?” + +“About five years, I think I have heard.” + +“That speaks well for him. Probably his acquaintance with Ralston is +recent, or he would have done something before this to insure his +discharge.” + +There was a short silence, and Chester asked: “Have you any more +questions, Mr. Sharpleigh?” + +“Not at present. Will you give me your address?” + +Chester did so. + +“I will send for you if I need you. I think you can help me materially. +You seem to have a clear head, and are observing.” + +It was the evening for Chester to call at Prof. Hazlitt’s. + +“I passed your office this morning, Chester,” said Arthur Burks, “and +thought of calling in, but I was in haste.” + +“You wouldn’t have found me, Arthur. I am discharged.” + +“What!” exclaimed Arthur, in surprise. “What complaint does Mr. +Fairchild make of you?” + +“None at all. He is out of the city. The bookkeeper, who dislikes me, +discharged me, and gave the place to his cousin.” + +“I am awfully sorry. What will you do?” + +“I have some money saved up. Besides, I shall devote more time to +drawing. I made a sketch yesterday which Mr. Conrad thinks I will get +ten dollars for.” + +“That is fine. I never earned ten dollars in my life.” + +“You have never felt obliged to work, except in school.” + +“I take care not to injure my health in studying,” said Arthur, with a +laugh. + +“I will speak to uncle Edgar, and he will arrange to have you come four +times a week instead of two. Then you will earn more money from him.” + +“Thank you, Arthur. I should like that.” + +Prof. Hazlitt, on being spoken to, ratified this arrangement, so that +Chester’s mind was easy. He knew now that he would be able to support +himself and more, too. + +Chester soon had something more to encourage him. He received at his +lodgings the following letter: + + “MR. CHESTER RAND. + + “DEAR SIR: We are about to establish a new comic weekly, which we + shall call _The Phoenix_. It is backed by sufficient capital to + insure its success. Our attention has been called to some + illustrations which you have furnished to some of our successful + contemporaries, and we shall be glad to secure your services. We + may be able to throw considerable work in your way. Please call at + our office as soon as possible. + + “EDITORS OF THE PHOENIX.” + +Chester was quite exhilarated by this letter. He felt that it was a +proof of his growing popularity as an artist, and this was particularly +gratifying. Besides, his income would be largely, at any rate +considerably, increased. He lost no time in presenting himself at the +office of _The Phoenix_. + +It was located in a large office building on Nassau Street. He took the +elevator and went upstairs to the sixth floor. On the door of a room a +little way from the elevator he saw the name, and knocked. + +“Come in!” was the response. + +Chester opened the door and found himself in the presence of a man of +about forty, with a profusion of brown hair shading a pleasant +countenance. He looked up inquiringly as Chester entered. + +“Is this the editor of _The Phoenix_?” inquired Chester, respectfully. + +“_The Phoenix_ will have no existence till next week,” answered the +other, pleasantly. “I expect to be its editor.” + +“I came in answer to your letter.” + +“To my letter?” repeated the editor, puzzled. + +“Yes; my name is Chester Rand.” + +“What!” exclaimed the brown-haired man, almost incredulously. “You—a +boy? How old are you?” + +“Sixteen.” + +“And you are a contributor to _Puck_ and other papers?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“You must be a smart boy. Shake hands.” + +Chester shook hands with a smile. + +“Will my being a boy make any difference?” he asked. + +“Not if your work is satisfactory. Are you willing to work exclusively +for _The Phoenix_?” + +“Yes, sir; that is, if I may be allowed to complete a contract I have +made.” + +“What sort of a contract?” + +“I am illustrating Prof. Hazlitt’s ethnological work. I think it may +take me some months more, working evenings.” + +“That won’t interfere with us. I was afraid you might be under an +engagement with a rival publication.” + +“No, sir. So far as that goes I will confine myself to _The Phoenix_ +if——” + +“Terms are satisfactory, I suppose.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Then I will agree to pay you twenty-five dollars a week for the first +six months. I may be able to do better afterward.” + +Chester was dazzled. Twenty-five dollars a week! What would Silas Tripp +say to that or his enemy, the bookkeeper. + +“I accept,” he answered, promptly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +CHESTER MEETS ANOTHER ARTIST. + + +“Where do you wish me to work?” asked Chester, after a pause. + +“You can work at home, but you can call at the office every day to +leave your work and receive instructions.” + +“All right, sir. When do you wish me to commence?” + +“At once. Have you any work ready? I asked because we want to get out +the first number as soon as possible.” + +“I have one sketch and have several ideas jotted down.” + +“Good! Deliver as much as possible to-morrow.” + +Chester returned home in a high state of exultation. He would be paid +less for individual sketches, but, on the other hand, he would have a +steady income and an assured market for all he might produce. It seemed +a wonderful promotion from five dollars a week to twenty-five. To be +sure, when in the real estate office he had picked up extra +compensation for outside work, but this was precarious and could not be +depended on. With twenty-five dollars a week he would feel rich. This +set him to considering that he must have a better room if he was to do +work at home. In the same house where he now occupied a hall bedroom +was a large, square room well lighted with two windows, well furnished +and having a good writing desk, left by some previous tenant in part +payment of arrears of rent, which he could have for five dollars a +week. He had often thought he would like to occupy it, and wished he +might find an agreeable roommate who would share the expense with him. +Now he felt that he could bear the expense alone. He lost no time in +securing it and moving his few belongings in. + +Mrs. Crosby, his landlady, was rather surprised. + +“You must be doing well,” she said. + +Chester smiled. + +“I have been discharged from my position in the real estate office,” he +said. + +“Then,” said the landlady, in some dismay, “isn’t it imprudent to take +a more expensive room?” + +“I have secured a much better place.” + +“Oh! that alters the case. Is it likely to be permanent?” + +“If I lose it I will go back to my old room.” + +“I am sure I am glad to hear of your good luck, Mr. Rand. It is very +seldom that a young man of your age——” + +“Call me a boy. I am not a young man yet.” + +“You seem to be getting on as well as a young man. I think you are real +smart.” + +“You mustn’t flatter me, Mrs. Crosby. You will make me vain. I forgot +to say that I shall be a considerable part of the time in my room. That +is why I want a larger one.” + +“But when will you work?” asked the landlady, puzzled. + +“I shall work in my room.” + +“But what work can you do there?” + +“I am an artist; that is, I am to make drawings for a new magazine.” + +“You don’t say so? Will that pay?” + +“Very handsomely.” + +“I hope you will show me some of them. I never met an artist before.” + +“I am afraid I am not much of an artist. I can show you one of my +pictures now.” + +Chester took from the table a number of _Puck_ and pointed out a +sketch. + +“That’s pretty good,” said the landlady. “You wouldn’t get more than +thirty-five cents for such a picture, would you?” + +“I was paid five dollars for that.” + +“Do tell!” exclaimed Mrs. Crosby, who was brought up in a country town +and still used some of the expressions which were familiar to her in +early days. “I can’t hardly believe it. It seems foolish to pay so much +for such a little thing.” + +“I don’t think it foolish, Mrs. Crosby. It must pay them, or they +wouldn’t keep on doing it.” + +Chester moved into his new room and enjoyed his ample accommodations +very much. The next day he went to the office of _The Phoenix_ and +carried in two sketches. They were fortunate enough to win the approval +of the editor. + +“I see you are practical and understand what we want, Mr. Rand,” he +said. Just behind Chester was a man of fifty, rather shabby and +neglectful in his personal appearance. He might be described as an +artist going to seed. Whatever talent he might have had originally had +been dulled and obscured by chronic intemperance. + +“Excuse me, sir,” he said, deferentially, “but I would like to submit a +couple of sketches. I am Guy Radcliff.” + +“Glad to see you, Mr. Radcliff. Let me examine them.” + +“I am afraid,” said the editor, after a brief examination, “that these +are not quite what we want.” + +“Is it possible?” exclaimed Mr. Radcliff, indignantly. “You scorn my +work, yet accept the sketches of that boy!” pointing at Chester with +withering contempt. + +“Because he has given me what I want.” + +“I was a famous artist before he was born.” + +“Very likely, and had done good work. But this is not good work.” + +“Sir!” + +“My dear sir, don’t be offended. I don’t care for the age of any of my +contributors. I know something of your famous successes, and I hope +next time to approve and buy what you bring me.” + +Mr. Radcliff seemed only half propitiated. He and Chester went out +together. + +“What is your name, boy?” asked the artist. + +“Chester Rand.” + +“I never heard of you.” + +“I am only a beginner,” said Chester, modestly. + +“You seem to have got in with Fleming.” + +“I may not keep in with him.” + +“Are you doing pretty well?” + +“Yes, for a boy.” + +“Have you got a loose quarter about you? I haven’t done much work +lately, and am hard up.” + +Chester took half a dollar from his pocket and handed it to the elder +man. His compassion was stirred as he felt for Radcliff’s humiliation +in being obliged to make such an appeal to a boy like himself. + +“Thank you. You’re a gentleman. I’ll return it soon,” said Radcliff, +looking relieved. “Good luck to you! You’re a good fellow, after all.” + +“I wish you good luck, too, Mr. Radcliff.” + +Chester did not need to be told what had brought the elder artist into +such an impecunious condition. His face with its unnatural flush showed +that his habits had been far from creditable. + +“If I needed anything to keep me from drinking, Mr. Radcliff’s example +would be sufficient,” thought Chester. He had before now been invited +to take a drink at some convenient saloon, but he had never been +tempted to do so. + +Two days later Chester was walking through Union Square when he came +face to face with Felix Gordon. + +Felix espied him first. + +“Hello! Chester,” said his successor. + +“Hello! I didn’t see you.” + +“I envy you.” + +“Why?” + +“You have nothing to do but to enjoy yourself,” answered Felix, +significantly. + +“Oh, that’s it!” said Chester, smiling. He saw that Felix thought him +to be out of employment. + +“That was the case with you before you succeeded me in the real estate +office. How do you like it?” + +“Pretty well, but I think I ought to get more salary. You got five +dollars, didn’t you?” + +“Yes.” + +“I will try and get six when Mr. Fairchild gets back.” + +“I wish you success.” + +“You don’t feel any grudge against me for taking your place?” + +“No; it wasn’t you who got me discharged.” + +“I thought you’d be in to get a letter of recommendation from cousin +David.” + +“Would he give me one?” + +“I don’t know. Are you trying to get a place?” + +“No.” + +Felix looked surprised. + +“You ain’t rich, are you?” he asked. + +“No; what makes you ask?” + +“I don’t see how you can live without any salary.” + +“I couldn’t. I ought to tell you that I have got a place.” + +“You have?” exclaimed Felix, in surprise, and it must be confessed, +disappointment. + +“Yes.” + +“Where is it?” + +“In the office of a new paper.” + +“What is it?” + +“_The Phoenix_, a comic paper just started.” + +“Where is the office?” + +“In Nassau Street.” + +“Then why are you not there?” + +“I don’t have to be there all the time.” + +“Do you get good pay?” + +“Yes.” + +“How much?” + +“I get more than I did at the real estate office.” + +“You don’t say!” + +“Yes. I was in luck.” + +“Do you get six dollars?” + +“More. I don’t care to tell you just how much I get.” + +“By the way, there was an old man in the office yesterday inquiring +after you.” + +“Did he give his name?” + +“Yes. He said his name was Silas Tripp.” + +“What on earth brought Mr. Tripp to New York?” Chester asked himself. + +This question will be answered in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +A STRANGER IN NEW YORK. + + +It was not often that Silas Tripp went to New York. The expense was a +consideration, and again he found it difficult to leave his business. +But he had received a circular from an investment company in Wall +Street, offering ten per cent. interest for any money he might have to +invest. High interest always attracts men who love money, and it so +happened that Silas had five hundred dollars invested. The difference +between six and ten per cent. interest on this sum would make twenty +dollars annually, besides a contingent share in extra profits promised +in the circular, and on the whole he thought it would pay him to make +the journey. + +He went at once to the office of Messrs. Gripp & Co., on his arrival in +the city. He found the financial agents occupying handsome offices, +well furnished and covered with a thick Turkey carpet. Everything +betokened prosperity, and Mr. Tripp was dazzled. The result was that he +made the investment and laid away in his old-fashioned wallet five new +bonds, assuring a dividend of ten per cent. + +“I calc’late it’s safe,” he said to Mr. Gripp, a stout man with a +florid face, expensively dressed and sporting a large and showy diamond +ring. + +“Assuredly, my dear sir,” said Gripp, with suavity. “I congratulate +you, Mr. Tripp, on making an unusually profitable investment. I venture +to say that within the year, besides the regular dividend, there will +be an extra dividend of five per cent., making fifteen per cent. in +all. It is a pity you had not more invested.” + +“Mebby I’ll bring you in some more bimeby,” said Mr. Tripp, cautiously. + +“I trust you will, for your own sake. To us it is not important, as we +have plenty of capital offered. Indeed, we have had to limit +investments to five thousand dollars for each person. Why, a +millionaire, whose name would be very familiar to you if I could +venture to mention it, came here last week and wanted to invest fifty +thousand dollars in our bonds, but I firmly refused to take more than +five thousand.” + +“I don’t see why you should,” said Silas, puzzled. + +“I will tell you why. We wish to give a chance to smaller investors, +like yourself, for instance. Rich men have plenty of ways in which to +invest their money to advantage, while you probably don’t know where to +get over six per cent.” + +“No; I never got more’n that.” + +“I dare say you have considerable invested at that small interest.” + +“Well, mebbe.” + +“Think how much it would be for your advantage to get four per cent. +more.” + +“To be sure, sartin! Well, I’ll think of it, Mr. Gripp. Mebbe I’ll come +and see you ag’in soon.” + +Mr. Gripp smiled to himself. He saw that the bait was likely to prove +effective. + +“Well, good-by, Mr. Gripp. You’ll send me any information about the +bonds?” + +“Yes, Mr. Tripp, with pleasure. Whenever you are in the city, even if +you have no business with us, make our office your home. Whenever you +have any letters to write, we will furnish you a desk and all +facilities.” + +“Thank you, Mr. Gripp; you’re very obleeging.” + +So the old man went out, feeling very complacent over his new +investment, and much pleased with the handsome way he was treated by +Mr. Gripp. + +“Lemme see,” he reflected. “I’ve got five thousand dollars invested. At +ten per cent. it would amount to five hundred dollars, and with an +extra dividend of two hundred and fifty dollars more. I’ll have to +think it over. All seems safe and square, and Mr. Gripp is a real +gentleman.” + +Silas Tripp looked at his watch. It was only half-past ten. How should +he occupy his spare time? + +“I guess I’ll go and see Chester Rand,” he said. “His mother told me +where he was working. Perhaps he’ll know of some cheap place where I +can get dinner. The last time I was in the city it cost me forty cents. +That’s a terrible price.” + +Mr. Tripp knew the location of Mr. Fairchild’s office, and after some +inquiry he found his way there. He felt so much like a stranger in the +big city that he anticipated with pleasure seeing a familiar face. +Perhaps Chester would invite him out to lunch, and Mr. Tripp, in his +frugality, would not have declined the offer even of an office boy, as +long as it would save him expense. + +Felix Gordon was just leaving the office on an errand. + +“Is that Mr. Fairchild’s office?” inquired Silas. + +“Yes,” answered Felix, with rather a disdainful glance at Silas Tripp’s +rusty garments. + +“Much obleeged to ye,” said Silas. + +He entered the office and glanced about, expecting to see Chester. + +David Mullins came forward, and with some show of civility greeted the +old country merchant. Though he was not naturally polite, he knew that +the size of a man’s purse could not always be judged from the cut or +quality of his garments, and he was just as ready to make money out of +Silas as out of any fashionably dressed customer. + +“Is Mr. Fairchild in?” asked Silas. + +“No; Mr. Fairchild is out West. I am Mr. Mullins, his bookkeeper, and +represent him.” + +“Just so! Have you a boy workin’ for you named Chester—Chester Rand?” + +“Are you a friend of his?” asked the bookkeeper. + +“Well, yes. I come from Wyncombe, where he lives, and I know his folks. +I was told he was workin’ here.” + +“Yes, he was working here,” answered Mullins, emphasizing the past +tense. + +“Isn’t he here now?” demanded Silas, with surprise. + +“No.” + +“How’s that?” + +“It’s rather a delicate matter, as you are a friend of his, but some +days since I was obliged to discharge him.” + +“You don’t say!” ejaculated Silas, in manifest surprise. + +“I am sorry to say it.” + +“But what was the matter? What did he do?” + +“Well, as to that, he did nothing very serious, but he wasted time when +he was sent out on an errand, and I felt that it was injurious to the +interests of Mr. Fairchild to retain him.” + +“He used to be spry enough when he worked for me.” + +“When he worked for you?” + +“Yes. I keep a store out in Wyncombe, and he was in my employ most a +year. I used to think him quite a lively boy.” + +“I dare say he would do very well in a country store, but in the city +we want boys to be active and wide awake. I don’t want to say anything +against him. He was perfectly honest, so far as I know.” + +“Has he got another place?” + +“I don’t think he has. It is difficult for a boy to get a place in this +city—that is, a good place, and he wouldn’t be likely to refer any +employer to me.” + +“I’m afraid he’ll be put to it to live, for his mother was poor. How +much wages did you pay him?” + +“Five dollars a week.” + +“That’s pretty high pay.” + +“So it is, and we expect a first-class boy for that.” + +“Have you got a better boy in his place?” + +“Yes; I have taken in a cousin of mine who knows my ways and satisfies +me.” + +“Was it the boy I saw just after I came in—a dark-complexioned boy +with black hair?” + +“Yes, that is Felix.” + +“And you find him better than Chester?” + +“Yes.” + +Silas Tripp did not make any comments, but he had not been very +favorably impressed by the little he had seen of Chester’s successor. + +“Mebbe Chester isn’t adapted to the city,” Silas said. + +“I think you are right. It would be better for him to go back into your +store, but country boys fancy they must come to the city and become +city business men.” + +“That’s so. Mebbe I wouldn’t succeed in the city myself, though I’m +doin’ a tidy business in Wyncombe. I’d like to see Chester. Can you +tell me where he lives?” + +“No, I haven’t his address.” + +“I wonder he hasn’t gone back home. Mebbe he hasn’t got the money.” + +“I presume you are correct in your conjecture.” + +“His mother hasn’t said anything to me about Chester bein’ out of work. +I’m surprised at that.” + +“Perhaps he did not like to tell her.” + +“Very like, very like! I’m really sorry to hear Chester ain’t done no +better.” + +“He isn’t quite up to our mark, but I dare say he will do very well in +the country or in some small business.” + +“Are you doin’ a large business? You don’t seem to have much stock +here.” + +“My dear sir, we can’t get brownstone houses and country villas into an +office like this.” + +“Is that what you sell?” + +“Yes; I sold a fifty-thousand-dollar house this morning up on +Forty-fifth Street, and yesterday I sold a summer hotel for forty +thousand dollars. Our commission in each case would be several hundred +dollars.” + +“Sho! Well, you be doin’ a good business. Can you tell where I can get +a good dinner moderate?” + +Felix came in at this moment. + +“Felix,” said his cousin, “you may keep the office while I go out to +lunch. Mr. —— You didn’t tell me your name.” + +“Silas Tripp.” + +“Mr. Tripp, it will give me pleasure if you will go out and take lunch +with me.” + +“Well, I am sure you’re very polite,” said Silas, pleased to think he +would be saved expense; “I’m much obliged.” + +So the two went out together. Mullins continued to say considerable +that was derogatory to Chester, and left Mr. Tripp under the impression +that he was a failure so far as New York business was concerned. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +MR. TRIPP IS DISAPPOINTED. + + +Silas Tripp returned home full of the news he had heard in New York. + +“Just as I thought,” he said to himself, “Chester Rand ought never to +have left Wyncombe. He ain’t calc’lated to succeed in the city. He’d +orter have stayed in my store. In two or three years he might have been +earnin’ four or five dollars a week, and he could have boarded at home. +It costs a sight to live in the city. I ain’t sure that I could afford +it myself.” + +Mr. Tripp decided to offer Chester his old place at two dollars and a +half a week. Abel Wood was again in his employ, but he didn’t like him +as well as Chester. + +The latter he had always found reliable, while Abel was rather apt to +forget what Silas told him. Once he had stopped in the street and +played ball, losing ten or fifteen minutes in that way. Mr. Tripp was +obliged to confess that he never had a more satisfactory boy than +Chester. + +The store closed at nine, and Silas, instead of going into the house, +walked over to Mrs. Rand’s cottage. + +She was rather surprised when she saw who her visitor was. + +“Good-evening, Mr. Tripp,” she said, politely. “Won’t you come in?” + +“Thank you, widder. It’s rather late to call, but I thought you might +like to hear about York, seein’ Chester is there.” + +“Have you been to New York to-day?” + +“Yes; I went up on a little business.” + +“Did you see Chester?” + +“No, I didn’t see him,” answered Silas, significantly. + +“Did you hear anything of him?” Mrs. Rand naturally asked. + +Mr. Tripp coughed. + +“Well, yes, I heered somethin’ about him.” + +“Is he—sick?” asked the mother, anxiously, made apprehensive by his +tone. + +“Not that I know of. Hain’t he writ anything special to you?” + +“I had a letter yesterday, but there was nothing special in it.” + +“I suppose he didn’t say nothin’ about his place?” + +“Yes; he likes it very much.” + +“I don’t like to say it, widder, but he’s deceivin’ you. I saw his +employer myself, and he said that he had to discharge Chester.” + +Somehow Mrs. Rand did not seem so much disturbed by this intelligence +as the storekeeper thought she would be. + +“Oh, you mean the real estate office,” she said. + +“Yes; I was treated quite handsome by Mr. Mullins, the bookkeeper, who +is runnin’ the business while Mr. Fairchild is away. He says Chester +wasn’t spry enough, that he wasn’t wide awake enough to work in the +city.” + +Mrs. Rand actually smiled. + +“So that is what he said,” she returned. “I can tell you why Chester +was discharged. Mr. Mullins wanted to give the place to his nephew.” + +“Mebbe so,” answered Silas, dubiously. “Anyhow, it’s unfortunate for +Chester to lose his place. I feel for you, Mrs. Rand, as I always liked +Chester myself, and I came here to-night to say that I’m ready to take +him back into the store, and give him two dollars and a half a week. He +suits me.” + +Mr. Tripp leaned back in the rocking-chair and looked as if he had made +a very handsome proposal. + +“I see, Mr. Tripp,” said Mrs. Rand, smiling, “that you think Chester is +out of a position.” + +“So he is. Wasn’t he discharged? I know from what Mr. Mullins said he +won’t take him back.” + +“Chester would not be willing to go back. He has a new and better +place.” + +“You don’t say!” ejaculated Mr. Tripp, surprised and, it must be +confessed, disappointed. “What sort of a place is it?” + +“He is working for a New York paper or magazine.” + +“Sho! Does he get as much pay as he did at the other place?” + +“Considerably more,” Mrs. Rand answered, with satisfaction. + +“More’n five dollars a week?” + +“Yes; he offers to send me five dollars a week, but I can get along +without assistance, since Miss Dolby pays me so liberally.” + +“Well, I am surprised. Chester is very lucky. Mebbe it won’t last,” he +continued, hopefully. + +“It seems likely to be permanent.” + +“Well, I guess I must be goin’. If he should lose his place, tell him I +will take him back any time.” + +“I don’t think he would be satisfied to come back to Wyncombe after +working in New York.” + +Silas Tripp returned to his house rather disappointed. He had felt so +sure of securing Chester’s services, and now his old boy seemed to be +quite out of his reach. + +“Offered to send his mother five dollars a week!” he soliloquized. +“Then he must be makin’ as much as ten in his new place. Mr. Mullins +didn’t seem to know about it. I wonder what he can be doin’ to get such +a high salary.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +PROF. NUGENT. + + +Chester still went three times a week to the house of Prof. Hazlitt. He +was getting on fast with the professor’s work. + +“I think I shall go to press with my book before the end of the year,” +said the professor, one evening, as Chester was taking his leave. “In +my preface I shall mention your name, Chester, as my artistic +collaborator.” + +“Couldn’t you mention my name, too, Uncle Edgar?” asked Arthur Burks. + +“In what way?” inquired the professor smiling. + +“You can say that I supervised the illustrations,” answered Arthur, +demurely. + +“I am afraid you will have to wait till you are better entitled to +credit.” + +“Now, that’s mean, Uncle Edgar. I know how I’ll get even with you.” + +“How?” + +“I will write a rival book, and get Chester to illustrate it better +than yours.” + +“It would need better illustrations, since there would be nothing else +in the work worthy of attention.” + +“Your uncle has got you there,” said Chester. + +“You’ll illustrate my book, won’t you?” + +“Certainly; that is, if I can depend on prompt payment.” + +Chester and Arthur Burks were fast friends. Arthur did not shine in +scholarship, but he was fond of fun, and was a warm-hearted and +pleasant companion, and a true friend. + +One afternoon he called on Chester at his room. + +“I bring you an invitation to dinner,” he said. “Uncle has a friend +from Oregon visiting him, and as he is an interesting talker, you will +enjoy meeting him. I believe he is a professor in Williamette +University.” + +“Thank you, Arthur; I shall be very glad to come.” + +“Come with me now, if you have got through your day’s work. You can +have a little scientific conversation before dinner.” + +“It will be the science of baseball and tennis, I suspect, Arthur.” + +“No doubt you will find me very instructive.” + +“You always are, Arthur.” + +“Thank you. I like to be appreciated by somebody.” + +At the dinner table Chester was introduced to Prof. Nugent. + +“This is Chester Rand, the young artist who is illustrating my +ethnological work, brother Nugent,” said Prof. Hazlitt. + +“What—this boy?” Prof. Nugent exclaimed, in a tone of surprise. + +“Yes. Boy as he is, he is a salaried contributor to _The Phoenix_.” + +“You surprise me. How old are you, Mr. Rand?” + +“Sixteen.” + +“I suppose you began your art education early?” + +Chester smiled. + +“No, sir,” he answered. “Four months ago I was the boy in a country +grocery store.” + +“This is wonderful. I shall subscribe to _The Phoenix_ before I go back +to my Western home.” + +“I am afraid, sir, it will be too light to suit your taste.” + +“My dear young friend, don’t suppose I am always grave. What says the +Latin poet: + + “_‘Dulce est desipere in loco.’_ + +“If you don’t understand it, probably Arthur can enlighten you.” + +“What does it mean, Arthur?” + +“It means, ‘When all your serious work is done, ’tis best to have a +little fun,’” answered Arthur, promptly. + +“Bravo, Arthur,” said Prof. Nugent, clapping his hands. “So we have a +young poet as well as a young artist here.” + +“Oh, yes,” answered Arthur. “I’m pretty smart, but few people find it +out.” + +“You’d better ask the professor about Tacoma,” suggested Arthur, during +a pause in the conversation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +MR. FAIRCHILD’S TELEGRAM. + + +“Tacoma!” repeated the professor. “Who is interested in Tacoma?” + +“I own five lots of land there,” answered Chester. + +“Then I congratulate you. Lots are rising there, and are destined to go +to a still higher point.” + +“How do you account for that?” asked Prof. Hazlitt. + +“In three months the Northern Pacific Railroad will be completed, and +that will give a great impetus to the growth of the town. I expect to +live to see fifty thousand people there. Let me ask how you became +possessed of these lots?” + +“They were given to me by a friend now dead.” + +“What was his name?” + +“Walter Bruce.” + +“Indeed! Why, I own three lots adjoining the Bruce lots. They are among +the best located in the town.” + +“Would you advise me to keep them or sell if I have the chance?” + +“To keep them, by all means. I shall keep mine. If, however, you wish +to sell, I will myself pay you five hundred dollars each.” + +“Then I may consider myself worth twenty-five hundred dollars,” said +Chester, in a tone of satisfaction. + +“Yes, and more if you are willing to wait.” + +“I think Mr. Bruce only gave twenty-five dollars apiece for them.” + +“Very likely. Mine only cost thirty dollars each.” + +“I shall begin to look upon you as a rich man, Chester,” said Arthur +Burks. + +“Only a rich boy,” corrected Chester, laughing. “I haven’t begun to +shave yet.” + +“I think I shall commence next week,” remarked Arthur, rubbing his +cheek vigorously. + +“Since you own property in our neighborhood, Mr. Rand,” said Prof. +Nugent, “why don’t you make us a visit?” + +“I hope to some day when I can afford it,” replied Chester, “but I +didn’t know till you told me just now that my lots were worth more than +a trifle.” + +“If ever you do come, don’t forget to call on me at the university. It +is located in Salem, Oregon. I may be able to take a trip to Tacoma +with you.” + +“Thank you, sir. I should like nothing better.” + +The next afternoon Chester chanced to enter the Fifth Avenue Hotel. He +went through the corridor and into the reading room to buy a paper. +What was his surprise to see his recent acquaintance, Paul Perkins, +sitting in an armchair, reading a Minneapolis journal. + +“Why, Chester!” exclaimed Mr. Perkins, cordially, as he rose and shook +Chester’s hand vigorously. “It does my heart good to see you. I was +intending to call at your office to-morrow.” + +“You wouldn’t have found me, Mr. Perkins.” + +“How is that?” + +“I have been discharged.” + +“By that rascal, Mullins? It’s a shame. I must see if I can’t find you +another position.” + +“Thank you, but it is not necessary. I have a place already.” + +“Good! Is it in the real estate business?” + +“No, I am engaged on _The Phoenix_, a new weekly humorous paper, as one +of the regular staff of artists.” + +“Whew! That is good. Do you get fair pay?” + +“Twenty-five dollars a week.” + +“You don’t say so. That is surprising. How much did you get at the +other place?” + +“Five.” + +“Then this is five times as good. You ought to give Mr. Mullins a vote +of thanks for bouncing you.” + +“I don’t think he meant to benefit me,” said Chester, smiling. + +“Do you have to work hard? What are your hours?” + +“I have none. I work at home and select my own hours.” + +“Are you through work for the day?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then you must stay and dine with me. It is four o’clock. We can chat +for an hour, and then go to dinner.” + +“Thank you. I will accept with pleasure. Did you have a pleasant +journey?” + +“Yes; but I should have enjoyed it better if you had been with me. I +called at the White House and shook hands with the President.” + +“Did you tell him you wanted an office?” + +“No office for me. I would rather have my own business and be my own +master. Washington’s a fine city, but give me Minneapolis.” + +“I may call on you in Minneapolis sometime, Mr. Perkins.” + +“I hope you will. You’ll find it worth visiting. It’s a right smart +place, if I do say it.” + +“I have seen a professor from a university in Oregon, and he has given +me good news of my lots in Tacoma. I have five, as I think I told you. +He offered me five hundred dollars apiece cash down.” + +“Don’t you take it! They’re going a good deal higher, now that the +railroad is nearly completed.” + +“So he told me.” + +“I congratulate you on your good luck, Chester. I am sure you deserve +it. But you haven’t told me why you were ‘bounced.’” + +“Mr. Mullins said I wasted time in going his errands. It wasn’t true, +but it was only an excuse to get rid of me. He took his cousin Felix in +my place.” + +The two friends went to dinner about six o’clock. At seven they came +downstairs and sat in the lobby on a sofa near the door. + +Through the portal there was a constant ingress and egress of men—a +motley crowd—business men, politicians, professionals and men perhaps +of shady character, for a great hotel cannot discriminate, and hundreds +pass in and out who are not guests and have no connection with the +house. + +“It is a wonderful place, Chester,” said Mr. Perkins. “Everybody seems +at home here. I suppose everybody—everybody, at least, who is +presentable—in New York comes here sometime during the year.” + +Just then Chester uttered a little exclamation of surprise. As if to +emphasize Mr. Perkins’ remark, two persons came in who were very well +known to the young artist. They were David Mullins and Dick Ralston. + +Mullins heard the slight exclamation and turned his head in the +direction of the sofa on which Chester and his friend were sitting. So +did Ralston. + +“Why, it’s your old boy!” he said. + +Mullins smiled a little maliciously. He had not heard that Chester had +a place. + +“I suppose you are boarding here,” he said, with a little sarcasm. + +“No, Mr. Mullins, but I have just dined here—with my friend, Mr. +Perkins.” + +Mullins inclined his head slightly. + +“Has he adopted you?” he asked, in a tone bordering on impertinence. + +“No, sir,” answered Mr. Perkins; “but if Chester ever wants me to, I +will. At present he is prosperous, and requires no help or adoption.” + +“Oh! Have you got a place?” asked Mullins, turning to Chester. + +“Yes.” + +“In the same business?” + +“No; I am in the office of a weekly paper.” + +“Oh!” said the bookkeeper, disdainfully. “They pay beggarly salaries at +such places.” + +“Then I am favored. I receive more than twice as much as I did in your +office.” + +Chester did not care to just state how much he received. + +“That can’t be possible!” + +“It is a fact, however. Has Mr. Fairchild returned?” + +“No. Why do you want to know?” + +“I have no wish to go back, Mr. Mullins. Don’t be apprehensive of that. +I don’t wish to disturb Felix.” + +Dick Ralston listened with some interest to the conversation. + +“It strikes me the kid has come to no harm from being discharged,” he +said. + +“I believe this is Mr. Perkins, of Minneapolis?” + +“Yes, sir,” answered the Westerner, eying the gambler with a +penetrating glance. + +“I shall be glad to be your guide if you wish to see something of New +York. Will you join us this evening?” + +“You are very polite, but I have an engagement with Chester.” + +“A mere boy! He knows nothing about the city.” + +“Still I am satisfied with him.” + +The two passed on and went into the bar-room, where they sat down at a +table and ordered some liquid refreshment. + +“Well, Mullins,” said the gambler, “I am getting impatient. The days +are slipping by, and you have done nothing.” + +“You know what I am waiting for. Yesterday a check for a thousand +dollars was paid in at the office, and deposited in the bank to-day.” + +“Good! And then?” + +“I will send Felix to the bank and draw out sixteen hundred. Will that +satisfy you?” + +“I see, and, according to our arrangement, Felix will hand it to me on +his way back to the office, and then swear that it was taken from him +by some unknown party. You have coached him, have you?” + +“Yes. Of course, I had to let him into the secret partially, promising +him twenty-five dollars for himself.” + +“Ten would have been sufficient.” + +“He would not have been satisfied. We can spare that.” + +“How soon do you expect Fairchild back?” + +“In three days.” + +But on the morrow Mullins was disconcerted by receiving the following +telegram: + + “Expect me back sometime to-day. FAIRCHILD.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +THE ATTEMPTED ROBBERY. + + +Dick Ralston was in the real estate office when the telegram was +received. Indeed, he spent a good deal of his time there, so that it +was supposed by some that he had a share in the business. + +“Look at that, Dick!” said the bookkeeper, passing the telegram to his +confederate. + +“Confusion! What sends him home so soon?” said Ralston. “Do you suppose +he suspects anything?” + +“No. How can he? Perhaps,” said Mullins, nervously, “we had better give +up the whole thing. You see how I will be placed. I’m afraid I shall be +suspected.” + +“Look here!” growled Ralston, “I don’t want to hear any such weak, +puerile talk. How do you propose to pay me the nine hundred and +sixty-odd dollars you owe me? Do you expect to save it out of your +salary?” he concluded, with a sneer. + +“I wish we had never met,” said the bookkeeper, in a troubled tone. + +“Thank you; but it is too late for that. There is nothing to do but to +carry out our program. How much money is there on deposit in the bank?” + +“About twenty-four hundred dollars.” + +“Then we had better draw out more than eighteen hundred. As well be +hanged for a sheep as for a lamb.” + +“You forget, Ralston, that such a wholesale draft will raise suspicion +at the bank.” + +“You’re awfully cautious.” + +“I don’t want everything to miscarry through imprudence.” + +“Come, it is ten o’clock. Better send Felix to the bank.” + +“Better wait a little while. If we drew such a large amount just at the +beginning of banking hours, the bank officers might suspect something.” + +“Cautious again. Well, wait half an hour, if you must. Call Felix and +give him his instructions.” + +Felix Gordon came in at this moment, and was admitted to the +conference. + +“Felix,” said the bookkeeper, “you remember the arrangement I made with +you yesterday?” + +“Yes, Cousin David.” + +“It is to be carried out to-day. I shall give you a check for eighteen +hundred dollars, and you will receive the money and come from the bank +here.” + +“Yes, Cousin David.” + +“You will carry the parcel in the left-hand pocket of your sack coat, +and if it is taken you can appear to be unconscious of it.” + +“Yes.” + +“And—that is all you will have to do, except to say that a tall, thin +man”—Ralston was short and sturdy—“jostled against you, and must have +taken it.” + +“All right! I see. And I am to have twenty-five dollars for——” + +“Your trouble. Yes.” + +“Give it to me now.” + +“Wait till you come back. Don’t be afraid. You will get it.” + +“All right.” + +When Felix was on his way to the bank, he did not know that he was +followed at a little distance by a small man with keen, black eyes, +who, without appearing to do so, watched carefully every movement of +the young office boy. + +When Felix entered the bank, he also entered the bank, and stood behind +Felix in the line at the paying teller’s window. + +He nodded secretly to the teller when that official read the check +presented by Felix. + +“Eighteen hundred dollars?” the latter repeated, aloud. + +“Yes, sir,” answered Felix, composedly. + +“I shall have to go back to get it. We haven’t as much here.” + +He went to another part of the bank and returned after a time with +three packages. One was labeled one thousand dollars, another five +hundred dollars and a third two hundred dollars. Then he counted out +from the drawer beside him a hundred dollars in bills. + +Felix, with a look of relief, took the three parcels and dropped them +carelessly in the side pocket of his sack coat, and put the bills in +loose. Then he started on his way back to the office. + +Mr. Sharpleigh, for it was he, as the reader has doubtless guessed, +walked closely behind him. He was not quite sure as to the manner in +which the money was to be taken, but guessed at once when he caught +sight of Dick Ralston at a little distance with his eyes intently fixed +upon Felix. + +The office boy sauntered along, with nothing apparently on his mind, +and finally stopped in front of a window on Union Square, which +appeared to have considerable attraction for him. + +Then it was that the detective saw Ralston come up, and, while +apparently watching the window also, thrust his hand into the pocket of +the office boy and withdraw the package of money, which he at once +slipped into his own pocket. + +Mr. Sharpleigh smiled a little to himself. + +“Very neat!” he soliloquized, “but it won’t go down, my cunning +friend.” + +Felix gave a little side glance, seeing what was going on, but +immediately stared again in at the window. + +Sharpleigh beckoned to a tall man, dressed as a civilian, but really an +officer in plain clothes. + +“Go after him!” he said, in a low voice, indicating Ralston. + +Then he followed Felix, who in about five minutes began to show signs +of agitation. + +He thrust his hand wildly into his pocket, and looked panic-stricken. + +“What is the matter, my boy?” asked Sharpleigh, blandly. + +“Oh, sir, I have been robbed,” faltered Felix. + +“Robbed—of what?” + +“I had eighteen hundred dollars in bank bills in my pocket, in four +parcels, and—and they must have been taken while I was looking in at +this window.” + +“You seem to have been very careless?” said Sharpleigh. “Why were you +not more careful when you knew you had so much money in your care?” + +“I—I ought to have been, I know it, sir, but I wasn’t thinking.” + +“Where are you employed?” + +“At Mr. Fairchild’s office, on Fourteenth Street.” + +“The real estate agent?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“I know the place.” + +“My cousin is the bookkeeper. He will be so angry with me.” + +“I think he will have reason. I saw a man following you rather closely, +I presume he took the money.” + +“Oh, won’t you come back to the office with me and tell my cousin that? +I am afraid he will discharge me.” + +“Yes, I will go with you.” + +So it happened that Felix and Mr. Sharpleigh went together into the +office where Mullins was eagerly waiting for the return of his +emissary. + +“What’s the matter, Felix?” he said, as the boy entered. “Have you +brought the money?” + +“Oh, Cousin David, I am so sorry.” + +“So sorry? For what?” + +“I—I have lost the money. A pickpocket took it while I was looking in +at a window. This gentleman was near and he saw a suspicious-looking +man next to me.” + +“This is a strange story, Felix. We must notify the police at once. Did +you see anyone likely to commit the theft, sir?” + +This was, of course, addressed to Mr. Sharpleigh. + +“Yes.” + +“You will be willing to testify to this at the police office? You see, +this boy is my cousin. Mr. Fairchild is away, and I shall be blamed for +this terrible loss. Why, there were eighteen hundred dollars in the +parcel!” + +“There were three parcels, and a roll of bills, Cousin David.” + +Mr. Mullins looked surprised. + +“Then it was not all put in one parcel?” he said. + +“No.” + +“That is strange. I—I don’t know what to do. Mr. Fairchild has +telegraphed that he will be at home sometime during the day. Probably I +had better wait till he comes before notifying the police.” + +This he said in a questioning sort of way, as if asking Sharpleigh’s +advice. + +“That will give the thief a chance to escape,” suggested the detective. + +“True. Perhaps you will be kind enough to leave word at the nearest +police office. I only wish Mr. Fairchild were here.” + +“All right, sir,” said the detective, “I will comply with your +request.” + +He left the office, but it is needless to say that he didn’t go far +away. + +“This is a very interesting comedy,” he murmured, rubbing his hands, “a +very interesting comedy, and apparently played for my benefit.” + +“Now, Felix,” said the bookkeeper, “tell me how it all came out. Did +the paying teller look suspicious when you presented the check?” + +“No. He said he hadn’t as much money in the drawer, and went to the +safe in the back part of the bank. He returned with three parcels of +bills in brown paper, and a hundred dollars loose.” + +“And then you put it in your pocket?” + +“Yes, Cousin David; I did exactly as you told me. I put them in my +pocket and walked back in a leisurely way.” + +“Did you see anything of Ralston?” + +“Yes, I saw him out of the corner of my eye, while I was looking in at +a window on Union Square.” + +“He took the money?” + +“Yes. Now, Cousin David, give me the twenty-five dollars.” + +At that instant the door was opened suddenly, and Dick Ralston dashed +into the office, looking very much excited. + +“Mullins,” he said, “we’ve been sold—sold—regularly sold. Look at +this!” and he showed one of the brown packages partly torn open. + +“Well,” said the bookkeeper, “what’s the matter?” + +“Matter? Matter enough. Here’s a package marked one thousand dollars, +and it contains only slips of green paper in place of bills. You can +see for yourself.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +A DAY OF SURPRISES. + + +The bookkeeper looked amazed. + +He turned to Felix. + +“Was this package given you at the bank?” he asked. + +“Yes,” answered Felix. + +“I don’t understand it. Do you think they suspected anything?” he +continued, turning to Ralston. + +“What could they suspect?” growled Dick. “It’s a pretty trick for a +respectable bank to play on a customer.” + +“Was all the money bogus?” asked Mullins. + +“Here are a hundred dollars in good bills.” + +“Have you opened any of the other packages?” + +“No, but I will.” + +The gambler tore off a little of the outer paper from the +five-hundred-dollar and two-hundred-dollar packages, only to discover +that their contents were no more valuable than those of the first +bundle. + +“I’d like to know what all this means,” said Ralston. “Is it a trick of +yours?” he demanded, looking suspiciously at Mullins. + +“No. On my honor, no. It is very puzzling. They must have made a +mistake at the bank.” + +“Send the boy back.” + +“It won’t do. He has already reported that he has been robbed. +It’s—it’s very awkward.” + +“You must do something,” said Dick Ralston, harshly. “I’m not going to +be swindled in this way.” + +It was at this point that the office door was heard to open. Mr. +Sharpleigh entered and fixed his glance on Ralston. + +“Mr. Mullins,” he said, “you wish to know who robbed your office boy of +the money he drew from the bank?” + +“Yes,” faltered Mullins. + +“There he stands!” answered Sharpleigh, calmly, pointing to Ralston. + +“It’s a—lie!” exclaimed the gambler, but he turned pale. + +“I saw the robbery with my own eyes,” went on the detective, “and——” +he turned his eyes to the door, which opened to admit a stalwart +policeman. + +“Arrest that man!” said the detective. “He lay in wait for the office +boy, and on his return from the bank robbed him of a large sum of money +which he had just drawn out.” + +“Who are you?” demanded Ralston, trying to brazen it out. + +“I am James Sharpleigh, a detective.” + +Mullins listened in dismay, for Sharpleigh’s name was familiar to him +as one of the cleverest detectives in the city. + +“And who authorized you to meddle in a matter that did not concern +you?” + +The answer came from an unexpected quarter. Mr. Fairchild, valise in +hand and dusty with travel, entered the office. He heard the question, +and quickly comprehended the situation. + +“It is nearly two weeks,” he said, “since I engaged Mr. Sharpleigh to +watch what was going on in the office. Chester Rand telegraphed me that +he had been discharged, and my suspicions were excited.” + +“So it’s that boy!” muttered the bookkeeper, spitefully. + +“I left all to the discretion of my friend Sharpleigh, who has +justified my confidence. I shall have to ask him to throw light on the +present situation.” + +This the detective did in a few brief sentences. + +“Am I to arrest this man?” asked the policeman. + +“Yes,” answered the broker, sternly. “Mr. Sharpleigh, will you +accompany the officer and prefer charges?” + +“See here,” said Ralston, with an ugly look, “I’m not going to be a +scapegoat. Your bookkeeper put up this job.” + +Mr. Fairchild turned slowly and regarded David Mullins attentively. + +“I will bear in mind what you say,” he answered. + +“I took nothing of value,” continued Ralston, “and you can’t hold me. +Here are three packages filled with green paper.” + +“Yes,” said Sharpleigh, “the bank teller was acting under my +instructions. I took care, however, to have one roll of genuine bills.” + +When the three had left the office Mr. Fairchild turned to the +bookkeeper. + +“Mr. Mullins,” he said, “what could induce you to engage in such a +wicked plot?” + +“I don’t admit any complicity in the affair,” replied the bookkeeper, +in a surly tone. + +“Have you seen Chester Rand lately?” + +“I saw him last evening at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.” + +“Why did you discharge him?” + +“I thought him unfit for his place.” + +“There may be a difference of opinion on that point. This boy,” he +added, significantly, “is a relative of yours, I believe.” + +“Yes.” + +“Will you give me an idea of what has been done during my absence?” + +Together the broker and the bookkeeper went over the books. Then Mr. +Fairchild went out to dinner. + +He was no sooner out of the office than Mullins said: “Felix, remain +here till Mr. Fairchild returns. I am going out on an errand.” + +He opened the safe, drew therefrom a small package and left the office. + +Half an hour later he was on a Cortlandt Street ferryboat bound for the +Jersey shore. + +The package which he took with him contained four hundred dollars in +bills, which he had drawn from the bank the day previous without the +knowledge of his confederate. He had been providing for contingencies. + +When Mr. Fairchild returned Felix delivered the message. + +The broker at once looked suspicious. + +“Did Mr. Mullins say where he was going?” he asked. + +“Yes, sir. He said he was going out on an errand.” + +“Did he take anything with him?” + +“I didn’t observe, sir.” + +When Sharpleigh came in a little later he looked about him inquiringly. + +“Where’s Mullins?” + +“I don’t think we shall see him again very soon,” and the broker told +the detective what he knew about his disappearance. + +Sharpleigh shrugged his shoulders. + +“He has been too sharp for us,” he said. “Do you want me to do +anything?” + +“No; his loss of place and reputation will be a sufficient punishment.” + +At the close of the day Felix said: “I suppose you don’t want me any +more.” + +“You can stay till the end of the week. I have not had time to form any +plans.” + +“Do—do you think Cousin David will come back?” + +“I think it very improbable,” said the broker, seriously. “Can you +throw any light on the events of to-day?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Go on. Was the robbery planned?” + +“Yes, sir. I was to receive twenty-five dollars for my share.” + +“I believe you know Chester Rand?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Do you know where he lives?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Will you ask him to call here to-morrow?” + +“I will, sir; but he tells me he has a good place, and would not care +to return.” + +“I am aware of that. It is possible I may retain you——” + +“Oh, sir, if you would!” + +“On condition that you agree to serve me faithfully.” + +This was quite beyond the expectations of Felix. + +“I will try to do so,” he said, earnestly. + +“You have begun well by confessing your share in the plot which came so +near being successful. As your day’s work is ended, I will consider the +errand on which I am sending you extra, and will pay you for it.” + +The broker handed a half dollar to Felix, which he accepted joyfully. + +“I don’t much care if Cousin David has gone away,” he soliloquized. +“Mr. Fairchild seems a good sort of man, and I’ll do my best to please +him.” + +When Felix was ushered into Chester’s presence the latter was just +finishing a comic sketch for _The Phoenix_. + +“What’s that?” asked Felix, in surprise, for he was quite unaware of +Chester’s artistic gifts. + +Chester showed it to him with a smile. + +“Now you see how I am making my living,” he said. + +“Do you get pay for that?” + +“Yes, certainly.” + +Then Felix bethought himself of his errand. + +“There’s a great row at the office,” he said. “Mr. Fairchild has got +home, Cousin David has run away and Mr. Ralston is arrested.” + +“That’s a budget of news. When did Mr. Fairchild return?” + +“This forenoon. He wants you to call to-morrow.” + +“All right. I will do so.” + +“And if he offers you back your old place you won’t take it?” said +Felix, anxiously. “If you don’t, I think he’ll keep me.” + +“Then I’ll promise not to accept. I am better satisfied where I am. +Have you had supper, Felix?” + +“No.” + +“Then come and take supper with me. I go out about this time.” + +“It had certainly been a day of surprises,” as Felix reflected when he +found himself seated opposite a boy whom he had always disliked, as his +guest. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +EDWARD GRANGER. + + +“I suppose you don’t care to come back to the office, Chester?” said +Mr. Fairchild, when Chester called upon him the next day at the office. + +“I like my present position better,” answered Chester; “besides, I +suppose you are hardly prepared to offer me twenty-five dollars a +week.” + +“Do you receive as much as that?” asked the broker, in amazement. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“I congratulate you heartily,” said Mr. Fairchild. “It is clear that +you are too high priced for the real estate business.” + +“Felix tells me you may retain him.” + +“I will give him a chance. It depends upon himself whether he stays.” + +“I am very glad of it, sir. Felix has hardly been my friend, but now +that his cousin is away he may improve. I certainly hope so.” + +“What shall you do about Ralston?” asked Chester, presently. + +“I shall proceed against him. Such a man is a curse to the community. +It was through him that my bookkeeper lost his integrity and ruined his +prospects. If he is locked up he will be prevented from doing any more +harm.” + +As Dick Ralston will not again figure in this story, it may be +mentioned here that he was found guilty in the trial that soon +followed, and was sentenced to a term of several years’ imprisonment. + +The bitterest reflection he had when sentence was pronounced was that +his confederate, Mullins, had escaped and was a free man. Rogues may +work together, but it is seldom that any tie of friendship exists +between them. + +Chester was now able to save money. Including what he received from +Prof. Hazlitt, his income was about thirty-five dollars a week. + +His personal expenses were greater than they had been, on account of +having a more expensive room. Yet altogether they did not exceed twelve +dollars per week, leaving him a balance of twenty-three. + +Of this sum he proposed to send his mother a part, but she wrote that +the liberal board paid by Miss Jane Dolby covered all her expenses. + +“I hope if you have money to spare you will put it in some savings +bank,” she wrote. “At present we are well and prospering, but the time +may come when our income will be diminished, and then it will be very +comfortable to have some money laid aside.” + +Chester acted upon his mother’s suggestion. He did not tell her how +much he earned. He wished this to be an agreeable surprise at some +future day. + +Then Chester moved into a larger room. The hall bedroom which he had +hitherto occupied was taken by a young man of nineteen named Edward +Granger. He was slender and looked younger than he was. + +He did not seem strong, and there was a sad expression on his face. +Sometimes he called on Chester, but for several days they had not met. +About six o’clock one afternoon Chester knocked at his door. + +“Come in!” he heard, in a low voice. + +Entering, he saw Edward lying on the bed face downward, in an attitude +of despondency. + +“What’s the matter, Edward?” he asked. “Are you sick?” + +“Yes, sick at heart,” was the sad reply. + +“How is that?” inquired Chester, in a tone of sympathy. + +“I have lost my place.” + +“When was that?” + +“Three days since. My employer has engaged in my place a boy from the +country—his nephew—and I am laid aside.” + +“That is unfortunate, certainly, but you must try to get another place. +Your employer will give you a recommendation, won’t he?” + +“Yes, I have one in my pocket, but it is not easy to get a new place, +and meanwhile——” He hesitated. + +“Meanwhile you are out of money, I suppose,” said Chester. + +“Yes; I couldn’t save anything. I got only five dollars a week, and my +room costs two. I suppose, when the week is up, Mrs. Randolph will turn +me into the street.” + +“Not while you have a friend in the next room,” said Chester, +cordially. + +Edward looked up quickly. + +“Will you really be my friend?” he asked. + +“Try me. Have you had supper?” + +“I have not eaten anything for two days,” answered Granger, sadly. + +“Why didn’t you call upon me? I wouldn’t have seen you suffer.” + +“I didn’t like to ask. I thought you would consider me a beggar.” + +“You will understand me better after a while. Now put on your hat and +come out with me.” + +Edward did so, but he was so weak from long fasting that he was obliged +to lean upon Chester in walking to the restaurant, which was luckily +near by. + +“Let me advise you to take some soup first,” said Chester. “Your +stomach is weak, and that will prepare it for heartier food.” + +“I don’t feel hungry,” returned Edward. “I only feel faint.” + +“It may be well not to eat very much at first.” + +“How kind you are! I must be two or three years older than you, yet you +care for and advise me.” + +“Consider me your uncle,” said Chester, brightly. “Now tell me how it +happens that you didn’t apply to some friend or relative.” + +A shadow passed over the boy’s face. + +“I have none in New York—except yourself.” + +“Then you are not a city boy.” + +“No; I came from Portland.” + +“In Maine?” + +“No; in Oregon.” + +“You have relatives there?” + +“A mother.” + +“I suppose you hear from her?” + +Edward Granger was silent. + +“I don’t wish you to tell me if you have an objection.” + +“Yes, I will tell you, for I think you are a true friend. My mother is +married again, and my stepfather from the first disliked me. I think it +is because my mother had money, and he feared she would leave it to me. +So he got up a false charge against me of dishonesty. My mother became +cold to me, and I—left home. I am of a sensitive nature, and I could +not bear the cold looks I met with.” + +“How long ago was this?” + +“About six months since.” + +“You came to New York directly?” + +“Yes.” + +“Where did you get the money to come?” + +“I came by it honestly,” answered Edward, quickly. “I had a deposit in +a savings bank, put in during my own father’s life. I felt I had a +right to use this, and I did so. It brought me to New York, and kept me +here till I got a place in an insurance office.” + +“And you managed to live on five dollars a week?” + +“Yes; it was hard, but I went to the cheapest eating houses, and I—got +along.” + +“But you had no money to buy clothing.” + +“I brought a fair supply with me. Now I am beginning to need some small +articles, such as handkerchiefs and socks.” + +“I wondered you would never go to supper with me.” + +“I didn’t want you to know how little I ordered. You might have thought +me mean.” + +“Poor fellow!” said Chester, pityingly. “You have certainly had a hard +time. And all the while your mother was living in comfort.” + +“Yes, in luxury, for she is worth at least fifty thousand dollars in +her own right.” + +“I hope your stepfather has not got possession of it.” + +“He had not when I came away. My mother is naturally cautious, and +would not give it to him. He attributed this to my influence over her, +but it was not so. She is of Scotch descent, and this made her careful +about giving up her property. She allowed him the use of the income, +only reserving a little for herself.” + +“Have you had any communication with her since you left Portland?” + +“I wrote her once, but received no answer.” + +“The letter may not have reached her. It may have fallen into the hands +of your stepfather. What is his name?” + +“Trimble—Abner Trimble.” + +“Was he in any business?” + +“Yes; he kept a liquor saloon, and patronized his own bar too much for +his own good.” + +“I shouldn’t think your mother would like to have him in that +business.” + +“She asked him to change it, but he wouldn’t. He had a set of +disreputable companions who made his saloon their headquarters, and he +did not wish to give them up, as he might have had to do if he had gone +into another business.” + +By this time supper was over, and the two walked to Broadway. Edward +felt stronger, and his eye was brighter. + +Suddenly he gripped Chester’s arm. + +“Do you see that man?” he asked, pointing to a black-bearded man on the +other side of the street. + +“Yes; what of him?” + +“It is a gentleman from Portland, a neighbor of ours. What can he be +doing in New York?” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +A FRIEND FROM OREGON. + + +“Go over and speak to him,” suggested Chester. + +“Come with me, then.” + +The two boys crossed the street and intercepted the man from Portland. +He was of medium height, with dark hair, and had a brisk, Western way +with him. + +“Don’t you remember me, Mr. Wilson?” said Edward. + +“What! Edward Granger?” ejaculated the Oregonian. “Well, I am glad to +see you. Didn’t know what had become of you. Are you living here?” + +“Yes, sir. Let me introduce my friend, Chester Rand.” + +“Glad to meet you, Mr. Rand,” said Wilson, heartily. “So you are a +friend of Edward’s.” + +“Indeed he is, an excellent friend!” exclaimed young Granger. “Have +you—seen my mother lately?” + +“Come over to my hotel and I’ll answer all your questions. I’m stopping +at the Continental, on the next block.” + +“All right! Will you come, Chester?” + +“Yes; I shall be glad to.” + +They were soon sitting in the office of the Continental Hotel, at the +corner of Broadway and Twentieth Street. + +“Now I’ll answer your questions,” said Nathaniel Wilson. “Yes, I saw +your mother the day before I set out.” + +“And is she well?” asked Edward, anxiously. + +“She was looking somewhat careworn. She probably misses you.” + +“She never writes to me,” said Edward, bitterly. + +“It may be because she doesn’t know your address. Then your stepfather +keeps her prejudiced against you.” + +“I suppose there is no change in him?” + +“No; except that he is drinking harder than ever. His business is +against him, though he would drink even if he didn’t keep a saloon.” + +“Does he treat my mother well?” + +“I think he does. I have never heard anything to the contrary. You see, +he wouldn’t dare to do otherwise, as your mother has the property, and +he wants to keep in with her in order to get a share.” + +“I have been afraid that she would give a part to him.” + +“Thus far I am confident she hasn’t done it. She is Scotch, isn’t she?” + +“Yes; her name was Downie, and she was born in Glasgow, but came to +this country at an early age.” + +“The Scotch are careful and conservative.” + +“She probably gives most of her income to Trimble—indeed, he collects +her rents—but the principal she keeps in her own hands. Once I heard +your stepfather complaining bitterly of this. ‘My wife,’ he said, +‘treats me very badly. She’s rolling in wealth, and I am a poor man, +obliged to work early and late for a poor living.’” + +“He pays nothing toward the support of the house,” said Edward, +indignantly. “Mother pays all bills, and gives him money for himself +besides.” + +“I don’t see how she could have married such a man!” + +“Nor I. He seems coarse, and is half the time under the influence of +drink.” + +“I wonder whether he has induced your mother to make a will in his +favor,” said Wilson, thoughtfully. “If he did, I think her life would +be in danger.” + +Edward turned pale at this suggestion. + +“I don’t care so much for the property,” he said, “but I can’t bear to +think of my mother’s life as being in danger.” + +“Probably your mother’s caution will serve her a good turn here also,” +said Wilson. “It isn’t best to borrow trouble. I will keep watch, and +if I see or hear of anything alarming I will write you. But now tell me +about yourself. Are you at work?” + +“Not just at present,” replied Edward, embarrassed. + +“But I think I can get him another place in a day or two,” said +Chester, quickly. + +“If you need a little money, call on me,” added the warm-hearted +Westerner. “You know you used to call me your uncle Nathaniel.” + +“I wouldn’t like to borrow,” said Edward, shyly. + +“When was your birthday?” + +“A month ago.” + +“Then I must give you a birthday present You can’t object to that,” and +Mr. Wilson took a ten-dollar gold piece from his pocket and pressed it +upon Edward. + +“Thank you very much. I can’t decline a birthday gift.” + +“That’s what I thought. I am an old friend, and have a right to +remember you. Was Mr. Rand in the same office with you?” + +“No; Chester is an artist.” + +“An artist! A boy like him!” ejaculated the Oregonian in surprise. + +Chester smiled. + +“I am getting older every day,” he said. + +“That’s what’s the matter with me,” rejoined Mr. Wilson. “You haven’t +any gray hair yet, while I have plenty.” + +“Not quite yet,” smiled Chester. + +“What kind of an artist are you?” + +“I make drawings for an illustrated weekly. It is a comic paper.” + +“And perhaps you put your friends in occasionally?” + +“Not friends exactly, but sometimes I sketch a face I meet in the +street.” + +“You may use me whenever you want a representative of the wild and +woolly West.” + +“Thank you, Mr. Wilson.” + +“But in that case you must send me a copy of the paper.” + +“I won’t forget it.” + +“How long are you staying in New York, Mr. Wilson?” asked Edward. + +“I go away to-morrow. You must spend the evening with me.” + +“I should like to do so. It seems good to see an old friend.” + +“By and by we will go to Delmonico’s and have an ice cream. I suppose +you have been there?” + +“No; office boys don’t often patronize Delmonico. They are more likely +to go to Beefsteak John’s.” + +“I never heard that name. Is it a fashionable place?” + +“Yes, with those of small pocketbooks. It is a perfectly respectable +place, but people living on Fifth Avenue prefer the Brunswick or +Delmonico’s.” + +Edward brightened up so much owing to the presence of a friend from his +distant home that Chester could hardly believe that it was the same boy +whom he had found but a short time before in the depths of despondency. + +About nine o’clock they adjourned to Delmonico’s and ordered ices and +cake. + +“This seems a tiptop place,” said the Oregonian, looking about him. “We +haven’t got anything equal to it in Portland, but we may have sometime. +The Western people are progressive. We don’t want to be at the tail end +of the procession. Mr. Rand, you ought to come out and see something of +the West, particularly of the Pacific coast. You may not feel an +interest in it at present, but——” + +“I have more interest in it than you imagine, Mr. Wilson. I have some +property at Tacoma.” + +“You don’t mean it! What kind of property?” + +“I own five lots there.” + +“Then you are in luck. Lots in Tacoma are rising every day.” + +“But it wouldn’t be well to sell at present, would it?” + +“No; the railroad has only recently been completed, and the growth of +Tacoma has only just begun.” + +“I hope to go West some day.” + +“When you do you must call on me. Perhaps you will come, too, Edward?” + +Edward Granger shook his head. + +“It won’t be worth while for me to go back while Mr. Trimble is alive. +He seems to have such an influence over my mother that it would not be +pleasant for me to go there and have a cold reception from her.” + +“I will call on her and mention your name. Then I can see how the land +lays. How she can prefer such a man as Abner Trimble to her own son I +can’t understand.” + +About ten o’clock the two boys left Mr. Wilson, who had been going +about all day and showed signs of fatigue. + +“Shan’t I see you again, Mr. Wilson?” asked Edward. + +“No; I must take an early start in the morning. You had better let me +lend you a little money.” + +“No, thank you, sir. Your generous gift will help me till I get a +place.” + +So the farewells were said, and the boys walked home. + +“Now,” said Edward, “I must try to get a place. This money will last me +two weeks, and in that time I ought to secure something.” + +He went from place to place, answering advertisements the next day, but +met with no luck. He was feeling rather depressed when Chester came +into his room. + +“I have found a place for you,” he said, brightly. + +“You don’t mean it! Where is it?” asked young Granger. + +“At the office of _The Phoenix_. You will be in the mailing department. +The salary is small—only seven dollars a week—but——” + +“I shall feel rich. It is two dollars more than I received at my last +place. When am I to go to work?” + +“To-morrow. The mailing clerk has got a better place, and that makes an +opening for you.” + +“And I owe this good fortune to you,” said Edward, gratefully. “How can +I repay you?” + +“By being my friend!” + +“That I shall be—for life!” replied Edward, fervently. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +AFTER A YEAR. + + +A year passed. Chester remained in the service of _The Phoenix_, which +had become an established success. His artistic work was so satisfactory +that his salary had been raised from twenty-five to thirty dollars per +week. Yet he had not increased his personal expenses, and now had +nearly a thousand dollars deposited in different savings banks. + +He had concealed the extent of his prosperity from his mother, meaning +in time to surprise her agreeably. + +About this period he received a letter from Wyncombe. It was from his +mother. It ran thus: + + “DEAR CHESTER: I am sorry to write you bad news. Miss Jane Dolby + has decided to visit a sister in Chicago and remain a year. Of + course this cuts off the liberal income I have received from her, + and which has been adequate to meet my expenses. I may be able to + earn something by sewing, but it will be only a little. I shall, + therefore, have to accept the offer you made me sometime since to + send me a weekly sum. I am sorry to be a burden to you, but it will + only be for a year. At the end of that time Miss Dolby promises to + come back and resume boarding with me. + + “I think we have reason to feel grateful for your continued success + in New York. Silas Tripp called a few evenings since. He has had a + great deal of trouble with boys. He says he has not had anyone to + suit him since you left. He asked me if I thought you would come + back for four dollars a week. This he seemed to consider a very + liberal offer, and it was—for him. I didn’t give him any + encouragement, as I presume you prefer art to the grocery business. + + “You need not begin to send me money, at once, as I have been able + to save a little from Miss Dolby’s board. + + “Your affectionate mother, + + “SARAH RAND.” + +Chester answered at once: + + “DEAR MOTHER: Don’t feel any anxiety about your loss of income + through Miss Dolby’s departure, and don’t try to earn any money by + sewing. My income is larger than you suppose, and I will send you + weekly as much as you have been accustomed to receive from your + boarder. Should it be more than you need, you can lay aside any + surplus for future use. + + “Tell Mr. Tripp I prefer New York to Wyncombe as a place of + business, and I am obliged to decline his generous offer. I cannot + help thinking sometimes how fortunate it was that he declined over + a year since to increase my pay, as in that case I might still have + been working for him instead of establishing a reputation as an + artist here. Last week I received a larger offer from another + publication, but as the publishers of _The Phoenix_ have always + treated me well, I didn’t think that I would be justified in making + a change. I mean in a week or two to come home to pass Sunday. I + shall feel delighted to see my friends in Wyncombe, and most of + all, my mother. + + “Your loving son, CHESTER .” + +Mrs. Rand protested against Chester sending her eight dollars a week, +but he insisted upon it, advising her to lay aside what she did not +need. + +One evening about this time Edward Granger, who still occupied the +small apartment adjoining, came into Chester’s room, looking agitated. + +“What is the matter?” asked Chester. “Have you had bad news?” + +“Yes; I have had a letter from Mr. Wilson, of Portland, whom you +recollect we met about a year ago.” + +“I remember him.” + +“I will read you his letter. You will see that I have reason to feel +anxious.” + +The letter ran as follows: + + “DEAR EDWARD: I promised to send you any news I might pick up about + your mother and her promising husband. Trimble is indulging in + liquor more than ever, and I don’t see how he can stand it unless + he has a cast iron constitution. From what I hear he has never given + up trying to get your mother’s property into his hands. She has + held out pretty firm, but she may yield yet. I hear that he is + circulating reports that you are dead. In that case he thinks she + may be induced to make a will leaving her property to Mr. Trimble; + having, as I believe, no near relatives, so that he would seem to + be the natural heir. + + “I may be doing Trimble an injustice, but I think if such a will + were made she wouldn’t live long. Your stepfather is in great + straits for money, it seems, and he might be tempted to do + something desperate. As far as I can hear, Abner Trimble’s plan is + this: He took a pal of his around to the house who had been in New + York recently, and the latter gave a circumstantial account of your + dying with typhoid fever. Evidently your mother believed it, for + she seemed quite broken down and has aged considerably since the + news. No doubt her husband will seize this opportunity to induce + her to make a will in his favor. Here lies the danger; and I think + I ought to warn you of it, for your presence here is needed to + defeat your stepfather’s wicked plans. Come out at once, if you + can. + + “Your friend, + + “NATHANIEL WILSON.” + +“What do you think of that, Chester?” asked Edward, in a troubled +voice. + +“I think it very important. Your mother’s life and your interests both +are in peril.” + +“And the worst of it is that I am helpless,” said Edward, sadly. “I +ought to go out there, but you know how small my salary is. It has +required the utmost economy to live, and I haven’t as much as five +dollars saved up. How can I make such a long and costly journey?” + +“I see the difficulty, Edward, but I need time to think it over. +To-morrow afternoon come in and I may have some advice to give you.” + +“I know that you will advise me for the best, Chester.” + +“There is a good deal in age and experience,” said Chester, smiling. + +When Edward left the room Chester took from his pocket a letter +received the day previous, and postmarked Tacoma. It was to this effect: + + “MR. CHESTER RAND. + + “DEAR SIR: We learn that you own five lots on Main Street, numbered + from 201 to 205. We have inquiries as to three of those lots as a + location for a new hotel, which it is proposed to erect at an early + date. We are, therefore, led to ask whether you are disposed to + sell, and, if so, on what terms. We should be glad to have a + personal interview with you, but if it is impracticable or + inconvenient for you to come on to Tacoma we will undertake, as + your agents, to carry on the negotiations. + + “Yours respectfully, + + “DEAN & DOWNIE, + “Real Estate Agents.” + + +“Why shouldn’t I go to Tacoma?” thought Chester. “I can probably sell +the lots to better advantage than any agents, and should be entirely +unable to fix upon a suitable price unless I am on the ground. In case +I go on, I can take Edward with me, and trust to him to repay the money +advanced at some future time.” + +The more Chester thought of this plan the more favorable it struck him. + +He went the next day to the office of _The Phoenix_, and after +delivering his sketches, said: “I should like leave of absence for two +months. Can you spare me?” + +“Does your health require it, Mr. Rand?” asked the editor. + +“No,” answered Chester, “but I own a little property in Tacoma, and +there are parties out there who wish to buy. It is important that I +should go out there to attend to the matter.” + +The editor arched his brows in astonishment. + +“What!” he said. “An artist, and own real estate? This is truly +surprising.” + +“I didn’t earn it by my art,” replied Chester, smiling. “It was a +bequest.” + +“That accounts for it. I suppose, under the circumstances, we must let +you go; but why need you give up your work? Probably ideas and +suggestions may come to you while you are traveling. These you can send +to us by mail.” + +“But I can’t do enough to earn the salary you pay me.” + +“Then we will pay according to the amount you do.” + +“That will be satisfactory.” + +“Do you need an advance for the expenses of your journey?” + +“No; I have some money laid by.” + +“Another surprise! When do you want to start?” + +“As soon as possible. I will not come to the office again.” + +“Then good luck and a pleasant journey.” + +When Edward Granger came into his room later in the day, Chester said: +“Day after to-morrow we start for Oregon. Ask your employers to hold +your place for you, and get ready at once.” + +“But the money, Chester?” gasped Edward. + +“I will advance it to you, and you shall repay me when you can.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +PREPARING FOR THE JOURNEY. + + +No sooner had Chester decided upon his Western journey than he +telegraphed to Dean & Downie, of Tacoma: + +“I will call upon you within two weeks.” + +Mrs. Rand was much surprised when Chester, coming home unexpectedly, +announced his intentions. + +“Do you want me to take you with me, mother?” asked Chester, with a +smile. + +“I am afraid I could not help you much. But you are not used to +traveling. You may take the wrong cars.” + +Again Chester smiled. + +“I have spent over a year in the city, mother,” he said. “I have got +along pretty well in the last twelve months, haven’t I?” + +“Yes; but suppose you were to fall sick, with no one to look after +you?” + +“I didn’t tell you that I am going to have company. Edward Granger, who +was born in Oregon, and is three years older than myself, will go with +me.” + +“Then I shall feel easier. He knows the way, and can look after you.” + +Chester was secretly of opinion that he was more competent to look +after Edward, but did not say so. He saw that his mother was easier in +mind, and this relieved him. + +Before he started from New York he called to see Mr. Fairchild. On +Fourteenth Street he fell in with Felix Gordon. + +“How are you getting along, Felix?” he asked. + +“Pretty well. Mr. Fairchild has raised me to six dollars a week.” + +“I am glad of it. That shows he is satisfied with you.” + +“I try to please him. I began to think that is the best policy. That is +why you have succeeded so well.” + +“Do you ever hear from Mr. Mullins?” + +“No; but I know where he is.” + +“Where? Of course you know that I have no wish to injure him.” + +“He is somewhere in Oregon, or perhaps in Washington Territory.” + +Washington had not at that time been advanced to the dignity of a +State. + +“That is curious.” + +“Why is it curious?” + +“Because I am going to start for Oregon and Washington to-night.” + +“You don’t mean it! What are you going for?” + +“On business,” answered Chester, not caring to make a confidant of +Felix. + +“Won’t it cost a good deal of money?” + +“Yes; but I expect to get paid for going.” + +“What a lucky fellow you are!” said Felix, not without a trace of envy. +“I wish I could go. I like to travel, but I have never had a chance.” + +Mr. Fairchild was equally surprised when told of Chester’s plans. + +“Are you going as an artist?” he asked. + +“No; as a real estate man,” answered Chester. “I own a few lots in +Tacoma, and have a chance of selling a part of them.” + +Then he went into particulars. + +“I congratulate you. I have only one piece of advice to offer. Make +careful inquiries as to the value of property. Then ask a fair price, +not one that is exorbitant. That might drive the hotel people to +seeking another site for their house.” + +“Thank you, Mr. Fairchild; I will remember your advice.” + +“The journey is an expensive one. If you need two or three hundred +dollars I will loan it to you cheerfully.” + +“Thank you very much, but I have more money saved up than I shall +require.” + +“I see you are careful and provident. Well, Chester, I wish you every +success.” + +“I am sure of that, Mr. Fairchild. By the way, I hear that your old +bookkeeper is in Oregon or Washington.” + +“Who told you?” + +“Felix. Have you any message for him if I happen to meet him?” + +“Say that I have no intention of prosecuting him. If he is ever able I +shall be glad to have him return the money he took from me. As to +punishment, I am sure he has been punished enough by his enforced +flight and sense of wrongdoing.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +A GREAT SURPRISE. + + +From New York to Tacoma is a long journey. Over three thousand miles +must be traversed by rail, but the trip is far from tiresome. Chester +and his companion thoroughly enjoyed it. All was new and strange, and +the broad spaces through which they passed were full of interest. + +They stopped at Niagara Falls, but only for a few hours, and spent a +day in Chicago. Then they were whirled onward to St. Paul and +Minneapolis, and later on over the broad plains of North Dakota and +through the mountains of Montana. + +“I never thought the country was so large before,” said Chester to +Edward. “You have been over the ground once before.” + +“Yes; but part of it was during the night, It is pleasant to see it +once more. Many of the places have grown considerably, though it is +only two years since I came from Portland.” + +Chester made some agreeable acquaintances. An unsociable traveler +misses many of the profitable results of his journey, besides finding +time hang heavily on his hands. + +Just after leaving Bismarck, in North Dakota, Chester’s attention was +called to an old man, whose white hair and wrinkled face indicated that +he had passed the age of seventy years. + +The conductor came through the car, collecting tickets. The old man +searched for his, and an expression of dismay overspread his face. + +“I can’t find my ticket,” he said. + +“That is unfortunate. Where did you come from?” + +“From Buffalo.” + +“When did you last see your ticket?” + +“I stopped over one night in Bismarck, and had to share my room with a +young man, for the hotel was crowded. I think he must have picked my +pocket of the ticket.” + +“Did you know the ticket was missing when you boarded the train?” + +“No, sir. I did not think to look.” + +“Your case is unfortunate. How far are you going?” + +“To Tacoma. I have a son there.” + +“I am afraid you will have to pay the fare from here. I have no +discretion in the matter, and cannot allow you to ride without a +ticket.” + +“Don’t you believe my ticket was stolen?” asked the old man, in a state +of nervous agitation. + +“Yes, I believe it. I don’t think a man of your age would deceive me. +But I cannot let you travel without paying for another.” + +“I haven’t money enough,” said the old man, piteously. “If you will +wait till I reach Tacoma my son will give me money to pay you.” + +“I am not allowed to do that. I think you will have to get out at the +next station.” + +The old man was much agitated. + +“It is very hard,” he sighed. “I—I don’t know what to do.” + +Chester had listened to this conversation with great sympathy for the +unfortunate traveler, on account of his age and apparent helplessness. + +“How much is the fare to Tacoma from this point?” he asked. + +“In the neighborhood of fifty dollars,” answered the conductor. + +“Will your son be able to pay this?” asked Chester. + +“Oh, yes,” answered the old man. “William has been doin’ well. He is +going to build a large hotel in Tacoma—he and another man.” + +“Then,” said Chester, “I will advance you what money you need. You can +give me a memorandum, so that I can collect it from your son.” + +“Heaven bless you, young man!” said the old man, fervently. “You are +indeed a friend to me who am but a stranger. I am sure you will +prosper.” + +“Thank you.” + +“What a fellow you are, Chester!” said Edward. “You will make yourself +poor helping others.” + +“I shall sleep better for having aided the old man,” answered Chester. + +The rest of the journey was uneventful. The two boys went at once to +Tacoma, as Chester felt that the gentlemen who were negotiating for his +lots were probably in a hurry to arrange for the building of the hotel. +After establishing themselves at a hotel and eating dinner, they went +at once to the office of Dean & Downie, the real estate agents from +whom Chester had received a letter. + +Here a surprise awaited him. + +Standing at a desk in the rear of the office was a figure that looked +familiar. The man turned as the door opened to admit Chester, and the +latter recognized to his great astonishment his old enemy—David +Mullins! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +DAVID MULLINS AGAIN. + + +When David Mullins saw Chester enter the office he turned pale, and +looked panic-stricken. + +“You here!” he exclaimed, in a hollow voice. + +“Yes, Mr. Mullins. I am surprised to meet you.” + +“Then you didn’t know I was here?” + +“I heard from Felix that you were in this part of the country.” + +“I am trying to earn an honest living,” said Mullins, in agitation. “My +employers know nothing to my prejudice. Do you come as a friend or an +enemy?” + +“Mr. Mullins, I haven’t the least intention of harming you. I will not +even appear to know you. I came here to see Dean & Downie, with whom I +have business.” + +“Heaven be praised! I will not soon forget your kindness. Here comes +Mr. Dean. Remember your promise.” + +At this moment Mr. Dean entered the office. David Mullins had returned +to his desk. + +“This young man wishes to see you, Mr. Dean,” he said, formally, when +his employer entered. + +Mr. Dean looked at Chester, inquiringly. + +“I am Chester Rand, with whom you have had some correspondence,” said +Chester, tendering his card. “I have just arrived from New York.” + +The broker regarded him in surprise. + +“You Chester Rand?” he exclaimed. “Why, you are a boy.” + +“I must plead guilty to that indictment,” said Chester, smiling, “but I +am the owner of the lots which I understand are wanted for the new +hotel.” + +David Mullins, who heard this conversation, looked up in amazement. He +had not known of the correspondence with Chester, as Mr. Dean had +written his letter personally, and it had not gone through the office. + +“Can you furnish any evidence of this?” asked Mr. Dean. + +“Here is the letter you sent me, and here is a copy of my reply.” + +The broker took the letter from Chester’s hand and all doubt vanished +from his countenance. + +“I am glad to see you here so soon, Mr. Rand,” he said, “as the parties +with whom I am negotiating are anxious to conclude matters as soon as +possible. Will you go over with me to Mr. Taylor’s office? Taylor and +Pearson are the parties’ names.” + +“I will go with pleasure.” + +As they walked through the chief business street Chester noticed with +interest evidences of activity everywhere. Tacoma he found was +situated, like San Francisco, on a side hill, sloping down toward Puget +Sound. + +“What a fine location for a town,” he said. + +“Yes,” answered Mr. Dean, “this is destined to be a large city. Our +people are enterprising and progressive. Seattle is at present ahead of +us, but we mean to catch up, and that ere many years.” + +“At what price are lots selling on this street?” + +“I see you have business ideas,” said the broker, smiling. “I suppose +you want to know what price you can charge for your lots.” + +“You are right.” + +“Of course it will not be right for me to advise you, being employed by +the other party, but I will give you some idea. The lot adjoining your +plot sold last week for two thousand dollars.” + +“Two thousand?” + +“Yes.” + +“Probably it would be well for me to wait a year or two, as the lots +would undoubtedly command more then.” + +“That is one way of looking at it. Let me point out another. You have +five lots, have you not?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“If you sell three to the hotel company you can hold the other two five +years if you like. The proximity of the hotel will help to enhance +their value.” + +“I see that.” + +“That is a point to be considered. If you ask a prohibitory price, the +hotel will go elsewhere, and you may have to wait a good while before +you have a chance to sell. But here is Mr. Taylor’s office.” + +The broker entered, followed by Chester. Here a surprise awaited him. + +Sitting in an armchair was his venerable friend of the train, appearing +very much at home. His face lighted up when Chester came in. + +“William,” he said to a stout man of middle age, “this is the young man +who generously advanced money to meet my car fare when I was in danger +of being put off the train.” + +The younger man advanced and cordially offered his hand. + +“My boy,” he said, “I shall not soon forget your kindness to my father. +I will gladly repay you for the money you disbursed on his account.” + +“I was very glad to stand his friend, sir,” returned Chester, modestly. + +“Let me know to whom I am indebted.” + +“Mr. Taylor,” said the broker, “this young gentleman is Chester Rand, +owner of the lots which you wish to buy.” + +“Is it possible?” ejaculated William Taylor. “I didn’t know that the +owner of the lots was a boy.” + +“The lots were a bequest to me from the original owner,” said Chester. + +“And you have never been out this way before?” + +“This is my first visit to Tacoma.” + +“You are hardly old enough to be in business.” + +“I am an artist; that is, I furnish illustrations to a comic weekly +paper in New York.” + +“You have begun life early. I suspect you are better fitted for +business than most young men of your age. Here is my partner, Mr. +Pearson.” + +In the negotiation that followed the reader will not be interested. At +length a mutually satisfactory arrangement was made. Chester agreed to +sell the three lots wanted for the hotel for eight thousand dollars, +half cash and the balance on a year’s time at twelve per cent. +interest. + +When the business was concluded and papers signed, Mr. Dean said: “Mr. +Rand, I think you have made a good bargain. You might have extorted +more, but you have received a fair price and retained the good will of +the purchaser. What do you propose to do with the four thousand dollars +you will receive in cash?” + +“I have not had time to think.” + +“I will venture to give you some advice. My partner, John Downie, has +made a specialty of city property, and he will invest any part for you +in lower-priced city lots, which are sure to advance rapidly.” + +“Then I will put the matter in his hands and rely on his judgment. I +will carry back with me a thousand dollars, and leave with him three +thousand dollars for investment.” + +“Then come back to the office and I will introduce you to Mr. Downie, +with whom you can leave instructions.” + +Chester was presented to Mr. Downie, a blond young man, who looked +honest and reliable, and they soon came to an understanding. They +walked about the town—it was not a city then—and Chester picked out +several lots which he was in favor of buying. + +He remained a week in Tacoma, and before the end of that time all +arrangements were perfected, and he found himself the owner of seven +lots, more or less eligible, in addition to the two he had reserved in +the original plot. + +On the evening of the second day, as he was taking a walk alone, he +encountered David Mullins. + +“Good-evening, Mr. Mullins,” he said, politely. + +“Good-evening, Chester,” returned the bookkeeper, flushing slightly. “I +want to thank you for not exposing my past misdeeds.” + +“I hope, Mr. Mullins, you did not think me mean enough to do so.” + +“I am sorry to say that according to my sad experience eight out of ten +would have done so, especially if they had reason, like you, to +complain of personal ill treatment.” + +“I don’t believe in persecuting a man.” + +“I wish all were of your way of thinking. Shall I tell you my +experience?” + +“If you will.” + +“When I left New York I went to Chicago and obtained the position of +collector for a mercantile establishment. I was paid a commission, and +got on very well till one unlucky day I fell in with an acquaintance +from New York. + +“‘Where are you working?’ he asked. + +“I told him. + +“The next day my employer summoned me to his presence. + +“‘I shall not require your services any longer,’ he said. + +“I asked no questions. I understood that my treacherous friend had +given me away. + +“I had a few dollars saved, and went to Minneapolis. There I was +undisturbed for six months. Then the same man appeared and again +deprived me of my situation.” + +“How contemptible!” ejaculated Chester, with a ring of scorn in his +voice. + +“Then I came to Tacoma, and here I have been thus far undisturbed. When +I saw you I had a scare. I thought my time had come, and I must again +move on.” + +“So far from wishing to harm you, Mr. Mullins,” said Chester, “if, +through the meanness of others you get into trouble you can any time +send to me for a loan of fifty dollars.” + +“Thank you,” ejaculated Mullins, gratefully, wringing Chester’s hand. +“You are heaping coals of fire on my head.” + +“You will always have my best wishes for your prosperity. If ever you +are able, repay the money you took from Mr. Fairchild, and I will +venture to promise that he will forgive you.” + +“With God’s help I will!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +ABNER TRIMBLE’S PLOT. + + +Just off First Street, in Portland, Ore., is a saloon, over which +appears the name of the proprietor: + + “Abner Trimble.” + +Two rough-looking fellows, smoking pipes, entered the saloon. Behind +the bar stood a stout, red-faced man. This was Trimble, and his +appearance indicated that he patronized the liquors he dispensed to +others. + +“Glad to see you, Floyd,” said Trimble. + +“That means a glass of whisky, doesn’t it?” returned Floyd. + +“Well, not now. I want you to go up to the house again, to see my +wife.” + +“About the old matter?” + +“Yes; she isn’t quite satisfied about the kid’s death, and she won’t +make a will in my favor till she is. She wants to ask you a few +questions.” + +Floyd made a wry face. + +“She’s as bad as a lawyer. I say, Abner, I’m afraid I’ll get tripped +up.” + +“You must stick to the old story.” + +“What was it?” + +“Don’t you remember you said that the kid hired a boat to row in the +harbor along with two other boys, and the boat was upset and all three +were drowned?” + +“Yes, I remember. It’s a smart yarn, isn’t it?” grinned Floyd. + +“Yes, but you mustn’t let her doubt it. You remember how you came to +know about the drowning?” + +“No, I forget.” + +Abner Trimble frowned. + +“Look here, Floyd. You’d better remember, or you won’t get the money I +promised you. You were out in a boat yourself, and saw the whole thing. +You jumped into the water, and tried to save the kid, but it was no +use. He went to the bottom—and that was the end of him!” + +“A very pretty story,” said Floyd, complacently. “Won’t I get somethin’ +for tryin’ to save the kid’s life?” + +“As like as not. I’ll suggest it to the old lady myself.” + +“When do you want me to go up to the house?” + +“Now. The lawyer’s coming at four o’clock, and I want you to confirm +Mrs. T. in her belief in the boy’s death.” + +“It’s dry talkin’, Abner,” said Floyd, significantly. + +“Take a glass of sarsaparilla, then.” + +“Sarsaparilla!” repeated Floyd, contemptuously. “That’s only fit for +children.” + +“Lemon soda, then.” + +“What’s the matter with whisky?” + +“Are you a fool? Do you think Mrs. T. will believe your story if you +come to her smelling of whisky?” + +“You’re hard on me, Abner. Just one little glass.” + +“You can put that off till afterward. Here, take some lemon soda, or +I’ll mix you a glass of lemonade.” + +“Well, if I must,” said Floyd, in a tone of resignation. + +“You can have as much whisky as you like afterward.” + +“Then the sooner we get over the job the better. I’m ready now.” + +“Here, Tim, take my place,” said Abner Trimble, calling his barkeeper; +“I’m going to the house for an hour. Now come along.” + +Abner Trimble lived in a comfortable dwelling in the nicer portion of +the city. It belonged to his wife when he married her, and he had +simply taken up his residence in her house. He would have liked to have +lived nearer the saloon, and had suggested this to his wife, but she +was attached to her home and was unwilling to move. + +Trimble ushered his visitor into the sitting room and went up to see +his wife. She was sitting in an armchair in the room adjoining her +chamber, looking pale and sorrowful. + +“Well, Mary,” said Trimble, “I’ve brought Floyd along to answer any +questions relating to poor Edward’s death.” + +“Yes, I shall be glad to see him,” answered his wife, in a dull, +spiritless tone. + +“Shall I bring him up?” + +“If you like.” + +Trimble went to the landing and called out: “You can come up, Floyd.” + +Floyd entered the room, holding his hat awkwardly in his hands. He was +not used to society, and did not look forward with much pleasure to the +interview which had been forced upon him. + +“I hope I see you well, ma’am,” he said, bobbing his head. + +“As well as I ever expect to be,” answered Mrs. Trimble, sadly. “Your +name is——” + +“Floyd, ma’am. Darius Floyd.” + +“And you knew my poor son?” + +“Yes, ma’am, I knew him well. Ed and I was regular cronies.” + +Mrs. Trimble looked at the man before her, and was mildly surprised. +Certainly Edward must have changed, or he would not keep such company. +But, prejudiced against her son as she had been by her husband’s +misrepresentations, she feared that this was only another proof of +Edward’s moral decadence. + +“You have been in New York recently?” + +“Yes; I was there quite a while.” + +“And you used to see Edward?” + +“’Most every day, ma’am.” + +“How was he employed?” + +This was not a question to which Mr. Floyd had prepared an answer. He +looked to Mr. Trimble as if for a suggestion, and the latter nodded +impatiently, and shaped his mouth to mean “anything.” + +“He was tendin’ a pool room, ma’am,” said Floyd, with what he thought a +lucky inspiration. “He was tendin’ a pool room on Sixth Avenue.” + +“He must indeed have changed to accept such employment. I hope he +didn’t drink?” + +“Not often, ma’am; just a glass of sarsaparilla or lemon soda. Them are +my favorites.” + +Abner Trimble turned aside to conceal a smile. He remembered Mr. +Floyd’s objecting to the innocent beverages mentioned, and his decided +preference for whisky. + +“I am glad that he was not intemperate. You saw the accident?” + +“Yes, ma’am.” + +“Please tell me once more what you can.” + +“I took a boat down at the Battery to have a row one afternoon, when, +after a while, I saw another boat comin’ out with three fellers into +it. One of them was your son, Edward.” + +“Did you know Edward’s companions?” + +“Never saw them before in my life. They was about as old as he. Well, +by and by one of them stood up in the boat. I surmise he had been +drinkin’. Then, a minute afterward, I saw the boat upset, and the three +was strugglin’ in the water. + +“I didn’t take no interest in the others, but I wanted to save Edward, +so I jumped into the water and made for him. That is, I thought I did. +But it so happened in the confusion that I got hold of the wrong boy, +and when I managed to get him on board my boat, I saw my mistake. It +was too late to correct it—excuse my emotion, ma’am,” and Mr. Floyd +drew a red silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes; “but +when I looked out and couldn’t see either of the other young fellers, +and realized that they were drowned, I felt awful bad.” + +Mrs. Trimble put her handkerchief to her eyes and moaned. The picture +drawn by Mr. Floyd was too much for her. + +“I wish I could see the young man whose life you saved,” she said, +after a pause, “Have you his name and address?” + +“No, ma’am; he didn’t even thank me. I didn’t get even the price of a +glass of—sarsaparilla out of him.” + +Mr. Floyd came near saying whisky, but bethought himself in time. + +“I have been much interested by your sad story, Mr. Floyd,” said the +sorrow-stricken mother. “You seem to have a good and sympathetic +heart.” + +“Yes, ma’am,” replied Floyd; “that is my weakness.” + +“Don’t call it a weakness! It does you credit.” + +Mr. Floyd exchanged a sly glance of complacency with Abner Trimble, who +was pleased that his agent got off so creditably. He had evidently +produced a good impression on Mrs. Trimble. + +“You see, my dear,” he said, gently, “that there can be no doubt about +poor Edward’s death. I have thought, under the circumstances, that you +would feel like making a will, and seeing that I was suitably provided +for. As matters stand your property would go to distant cousins, and +second cousins at that, while I would be left out in the cold. + +“I know, of course, that you are younger than myself and likely to +outlive me, but still, life is uncertain. I don’t care much for money, +but I wouldn’t like to die destitute, and so I asked Mr. Coleman, the +lawyer, to come round. I think I hear his ring now. Will you see him?” + +“Yes, if you wish it. I care very little what becomes of the property +now my boy is no more.” + +Mr. Trimble went downstairs, and returned with a very +respectable-looking man of middle age, whom he introduced as Mr. +Coleman. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +MAKING A WILL. + + +“Mr. Coleman,” said Trimble, with suavity, “this is my wife, Mrs. +Trimble.” + +The lawyer bowed. + +“I believe you wish to execute a will, Mrs. Trimble?” said he. + +“Yes,” answered the poor mother, in a spiritless tone. + +Various questions were asked in relation to the property, and then the +lawyer seated himself at a table and wrote the formal part of the will. + +“I understand you wish to leave the entire property to your husband?” +he said, in a tone of inquiry. + +“In the event of my son’s death,” interpolated Mrs. Trimble. + +“But, my dear, he is dead,” said Abner Trimble, with a slight frown. + +“I would prefer to have it expressed in this way.” + +“I am sure,” continued Trimble, annoyed, “that Mr. Coleman will +consider it unnecessary.” + +“I see no objections to it,” said the lawyer. “Of course, the son being +dead, it won’t count.” + +“Mr. Coleman,” explained Mrs. Trimble, “I have no reason to doubt my +poor son’s death, but I didn’t see him die, and there may have been a +mistake.” + +“How can there be?” demanded Trimble, impatiently. “Didn’t my friend +Floyd see him drowned?” + +“He may have been mistaken. Besides, he only says he did not see him +after the boat upset. He may have been picked up by some other boat.” + +For the first time Trimble and Floyd saw the flaw in the story, which +had been invented by Trimble himself. + +“Was there any boat near, Floyd?” asked Trimble, winking significantly. + +“No, sir; not within a quarter of a mile.” + +“Edward could swim. He may have reached one by swimming.” + +This was news to Trimble. He had not been aware that his stepson could +swim. + +“Under the circumstances,” said the lawyer, “I think Mrs. Trimble is +right.” + +Trimble looked panic-stricken. Knowing that Edward Granger was still +living he recognized the fact that such a will would do him no good. + +“If he were alive he would let us know,” he said, after a pause. + +“Probably he would.” + +“So that we may conclude he is dead.” + +“It might be stipulated that if the missing son does not appear within +three years from the time the will is made he may be regarded as dead?” +suggested the lawyer. + +“One year would be sufficient, it seems to me,” put in Trimble. + +“I would rather make it three,” said his wife. + +Abner Trimble looked disappointed, but did not dare object. + +The lawyer continued to write. + +“I understand, then,” he observed, “that you bequeath all your estate +to your husband, in the event of your son being decided to be dead.” + +Mrs. Trimble paused to consider. + +“I think,” she said, “I will leave the sum of five thousand dollars to +charitable purposes as a memorial of Edward.” + +“I don’t think much of charitable societies,” growled Trimble. + +“Some of them do a great deal of good,” said the lawyer. “Are there any +particular societies which you would wish to remember, Mrs. Trimble?” + +“I leave the choice to my executor,” said the lady. + +“Whom have you selected for that office?” + +“Will you serve?” she asked. + +“Then you don’t care to appoint Mr. Trimble?” + +“No, I think not.” + +“It is customary to appoint the husband, isn’t it, Mr. Coleman?” asked +Abner. + +“It is quite often done.” + +“I would prefer you,” said Mrs. Trimble, decidedly. + +“If it will ease your mind, I will take the office, Mrs. Trimble.” + +“Now,” said the lawyer, after a brief interval; “I will read the draft +of the will as I have written it, and you can see if it meets your +views.” + +He had about half completed reading the document when there was heard a +sharp ring at the doorbell. Then there were steps on the stairs. + +A terrible surprise was in store for Mrs. Trimble. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +AN UNEXPECTED SURPRISE. + + +The door of the sitting room was opened quickly, and two boys dashed +into the room. They were Edward Granger and Chester Rand. + +Abner Trimble turned pale and uttered an imprecation. All his plans, so +carefully laid, were menaced with ignominious defeat. + +Floyd looked up in surprise, but did not comprehend the situation. In +spite of the positive testimony he had given he did not even know +Edward Granger by sight. + +Mrs. Trimble uttered a wild cry, but her face lighted up with supreme +joy. + +“Edward!” she exclaimed, and half rising, opened her arms. + +Her son sprang forward and embraced his mother. + +“Oh, Edward!” she murmured, “are you really alive?” + +“Very much alive, mother,” answered Edward, with a smile. + +“And I was mourning you as dead! I thought I should never see you +again.” + +“I have not died that I am aware of, mother. Who told you I was dead?” + +“Mr. Trimble and—this gentleman,” looking at Floyd. “He told me he saw +you drowned in New York Bay.” + +Edward regarded Floyd with curiosity. + +“I haven’t any recollection of ever seeing the gentleman,” he said. “I +don’t know him.” + +“How do you explain this, Mr. Floyd?” asked Mrs. Trimble, suspiciously. + +Floyd tried to speak, but faltered and stammered. He was in a very +awkward position, and he realized it. Abner Trimble came to his +assistance. + +“You must have been mistaken, Floyd,” he said. “The young man you saw +drowned must have been a stranger.” + +“Yes,” returned Floyd, grasping the suggestion. “Of course I must have +been mistaken. The young man I saw bore a wonderful resemblance to Mr. +Granger.” + +“How long is it since you saw me drowned, Mr. Floyd?” asked Edward. + +“About three weeks,” answered Floyd, in an embarrassed tone. + +“In New York Bay?” + +“Yes. You were out in a boat with two other young fellows—that is, a +young man who was the perfect image of you was. The boat upset, and all +three were spilled out. I saved the life of one, but the others were, +as I thought, drowned. I am sorry that I was mistaken.” + +“Does that mean you are sorry I was not drowned?” + +“No; I am sorry to have harrowed up your mother’s feelings by a story +which proves to be untrue.” + +“I suppose Mr. Trimble brought you here,” said Edward, quietly. He had +in former days stood in fear of his stepfather, but now, backed up by +Chester, he felt a new sense of courage and independence. + +“Of course I brought him here,” growled Trimble. “Fully believing in my +friend Floyd’s story, for I know him to be a gentleman of truth, I +thought your mother ought to know it.” + +“I was about to make my will at Mr. Trimble’s suggestion, leaving him +all my property,” said Mrs. Trimble, regarding her husband +suspiciously. + +“Of course it was better to leave it to me than to second cousins whom +you don’t care anything about,” interposed Trimble, sourly. “Come, +Floyd, our business is at an end. We will go over to the saloon.” + +“Shan’t I get anything for my trouble?” asked Floyd, uneasily, a remark +which led the lawyer to regard him sharply. + +“Your valuable time will be paid for,” said Trimble, sarcastically. + +He led the way out, and Floyd followed. + +“Mrs. Trimble,” said the lawyer, rising, “allow me to congratulate you +on the happy event of this day. I am particularly glad that my services +are not needed.” + +“They will be needed, Mr. Coleman. Will you do me the favor of drawing +up a will leaving my entire property, with the exception of a thousand +dollars, to my son, Edward, and bring it here to-morrow morning, with +two trusty witnesses, and I will sign it.” + +“To whom will you leave the thousand dollars?” + +“To my—to Mr. Trimble,” answered Mrs. Trimble, coldly. “I will not +utterly ignore him.” + +“Very well, Mrs. Trimble. I will call at half-past ten o’clock +to-morrow morning.” + +The lawyer bowed himself out, leaving Mrs. Trimble and the boys +together. + +“Mother,” said Edward, “I have not yet had a chance to introduce to you +my friend, Chester Rand, of New York.” + +“I am very glad to welcome any friend of yours, Edward.” + +“You have reason to do so in this case, mother. But for Chester I +should not have had the money to come on from New York. He paid my +traveling expenses.” + +“He shall be repaid, and promptly, and he will accept my heartiest +thanks, also. I hope, Mr. Rand, you will make your home with us while +you are in Portland.” + +“Thank you, Mrs. Trimble, but I have already secured lodgings at a +hotel. At some future time I may accept your invitation.” + +Chester strongly suspected that he would not be a welcome guest to Mr. +Trimble when that gentleman learned that he had been instrumental in +bringing home his stepson in time to defeat his plans. But he called +every day till, his business being concluded, he started on his return +to New York. Edward had expected to go back with him, but to this Mrs. +Trimble would not listen. + +“We have been separated long enough, Edward,” she said. “Henceforth +your place is at my side. I feel that I have done you injustice, and I +want to repair it. I made a mistake in marrying Mr. Trimble, but it is +too late to correct that. I will not permit him, hereafter, to separate +me from my son.” + +“If you wish me to remain, mother, I will,” rejoined Edward. “I was not +happy away from you. From this time forth I will stand by you and +protect you from all that is unpleasant.” + +Edward spoke with a courage and manliness which he had not formerly +shown. It was clear that adversity had strengthened and improved him. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +CONCLUSION. + + +Let us go back to Wyncombe. Mrs. Greene, living near Mrs. Rand, was a +lady who made it her business to know all about her neighbors’ affairs. +She stepped into Silas Tripp’s store to buy a pound of butter. + +Mr. Tripp himself waited upon her; Mrs. Greene generally had some item +of news, and for this he possessed a keen relish. + +“Any news, Mrs. Greene?” he asked, as he handed her the package of +butter. + +“I suppose you’ve heard that the widder Rand has lost her boarder?” + +“You don’t say so!” returned Silas, with genuine interest. + +“Yes, it’s so. I saw her go off myself yesterday afternoon, bag and +baggage.” + +“Was she dissatisfied, do you think?” + +“Like as not. The widder says she’s comin’ back, but I don’t believe +it. Between you and me, Mr. Tripp, I wonder that she stayed so long. +Now, if she had been boardin’ with you it would have been different.” + +“So it would, Mrs. Greene; so it would. I would have been willing to +take her just to oblige.” + +“So would I, Mr. Tripp. The widder charged her a ridiculous +price—eight dollars a week.” + +“It was extortionate. I never charged such a price.” + +“Nor I. Miss Dolby’s board ran the house, so that Chester didn’t need +to send any home, and now Chester’s lost his place.” + +“You don’t say so!” ejaculated Silas, eagerly. + +“Yes. Mrs. Rand told me herself that he had left his work and gone out +West in search of a place. I don’t see, for my part, what the widder’s +goin’ to do.” + +“I’m sorry Chester’s been so unlucky. But he needn’t have gone out +West; I’m ready to take him back into my store.” + +“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Tripp.” + +“I want to help along his mother, seein’ she’s a widder and in hard +luck.” + +“Shall I tell her you will take Chester back?” + +“No; I’ll call round and see her about it. There may be some dickerin’ +about the salary. Chester’s got rather high notions, but I can’t afford +to pay extravagant prices.” + +“Just so. I’m sorry for the widder Rand, but she’s sot too much on that +boy, and thought there wasn’t no other boy in Wyncombe that was equal +to him. I’m sure my Fred is just as smart as he.” + +It was not till the next evening that Mr. Tripp found it convenient to +call on Mrs. Rand. She was rather surprised by the visit, and a little +curious to learn what it meant. + +“Good-evenin’, widder,” said Silas, coughing. + +“Good-evening, Mr. Tripp. Won’t you step in for a few minutes?” + +“Thank you. I don’t care if I do. I heard yesterday from Mrs. Greene +that you’d lost your boarder.” + +“Yes; Miss Dolby has gone to Chicago for a year. She has a sister +there.” + +“Do you expect her back?” + +“Yes, after a year.” + +“I wouldn’t calc’late too much upon it if I were you. Women folks is +mighty onsartin when they make promises.” + +Mrs. Rand smiled. + +“You may be right, Mr. Tripp,” she said. + +“I hear, too, that Chester’s lost his place.” + +“No; he has left it for a time, but he expects to go back.” + +“That’s onsartin, too. I’m sorry for you, widder.” + +“Thank you, Mr. Tripp, but there’s no occasion.” + +“You’ll be rather put to it to get along, I reckon.” + +“Still, I have good friends in Wyncombe,” said Mrs. Rand, smiling +mischievously. “Now, if I were really ‘put to it,’ I am sure I could +rely upon your assistance.” + +“I’m very short of money,” returned Silas, alarmed at this suggestion. +“Still, I’ve got the will to help you. If Chester’s out of work, I’m +ready to take him back into the store.” + +“I will tell him that when I write.” + +“Where is he now?” + +“He’s gone out West.” + +“He’s made a mistake. I knew a boy that went out West some years since, +and nearly starved. He came home ragged and hungry.” + +“I am not afraid Chester will have that experience. He had saved up +some money when at work in New York.” + +“It won’t last long, widder. It don’t take long for fifty dollars to +melt away. Did he have that much?” + +“I think he did, Mr. Tripp.” + +“He’d better have put it in a savings bank and come back to Wyncombe to +work for me. How soon do you expect him back?” + +“Next week.” + +“When he comes, send him round to see me.” + +A few days later, Mrs. Greene went into Silas Tripp’s store again. + +“Well, Mr. Tripp,” she said, “Chester Rand’s got home.” + +“You don’t say! If you see him, tell him to come round and see me.” + +“And I can tell you some more news. You know that half-acre lot that +j’ins onto the widder’s land?” + +“The apple orchard? Yes.” + +“Well, Chester’s bought it.” + +“You don’t mean it! Where on earth did he get the money? Do you know +what he paid?” + +“Two hundred dollars.” + +“He’ll never be able to pay for it.” + +“He has paid cash down. Besides, he’s got a new suit of clothes and a +gold watch. I don’t believe he will be willing to take a place in your +store.” + +Silas Tripp was amazed. Nay, more, he was incredulous. But it so +happened that Chester himself came into the store in five minutes, and +confirmed the news. + +“Where did you get the money, Chester?” asked Mr. Tripp, curiously, +eying the boy with unwonted respect. + +“I saved it. I received high pay in New York.” + +“But you’ve lost the place?” + +“Oh, no! I go back to work next week.” + +“How much pay do you get?” + +“Thirty dollars a week.” + +“Don’t try to fool me!” said Silas, with asperity. “It ain’t creditable +to deceive a man old enough to be your grandfather.” + +Chester smiled. + +“Do you want me to bring an affidavit from my employers?” he asked. + +“But it’s ridiculous, payin’ a boy such wages!” objected Silas. + +“It would be foolish for you to pay it, Mr. Tripp; but they think me +worth it.” + +“What sort of work do you do?” + +“I make pictures. I will show you a couple,” and Chester produced a +copy of _The Phoenix_. + +“Why, I didn’t think they paid more’n a quarter apiece for such +pictures.” + +“It’s lucky for me that they pay higher than that.” + +“What was you doin’ out West?” + +“I went partly to see the country.” + +“I s’pose it cost you considerable money?” + +“Yes, traveling is expensive.” + +“You’d better have put the money in the bank.” + +“I don’t think so.” + +“Boys have foolish notions. I s’pose you was sorry to hear that Miss +Dolby had gone away?” + +“No, I want mother to have a few months’ rest.” + +“Your mother’ll miss her board.” + +“No, for I shall make it up to her.” + +“You talk as if you was rich, Chester.” + +“I am not so rich as you, Mr. Tripp.” + +“You seem to be spending more money; some day you’ll be put to it to +get along.” + +But that has not yet come. Two years have passed, and Chester is still +in the employ of _The Phoenix_, but he now receives forty dollars per +week. He has sold his other two lots in Tacoma for five thousand +dollars each, and still has the cheaper lots he bought as an +investment. He could sell these at a handsome profit, but will hold +them a while longer. + +About a year ago he received intelligence from Edward Granger that his +stepfather had died suddenly of heart trouble, brought on by an undue +use of alcoholic mixtures. Edward concluded: “Now there is nothing to +mar my mother’s happiness. I live at home and manage her business, +besides filling a responsible place in a broker’s office. We hope you +will pay us a visit before long. We have never forgotten your kindness +to me in my time of need.” + +A month since Mr. Fairchild was surprised by receiving a remittance +from Tacoma. His old bookkeeper, David Mullins, remitted to him the +amount he had stolen at the time of his hurried departure from New +York, with interest up to date. + +“I hope, Mr. Fairchild,” he concluded, “you will now forgive me for my +treachery. I feel great satisfaction in paying my debt. I have been +assisted by a fortunate investment in outside lots. I am glad to hear +that Felix is doing well. You were kind to retain him.” + +Felix is really doing well, and bids fair to make a good business man. +He was weak and influenced to evil by his cousin; but with good +surroundings he is likely to turn out creditably. + +Chester retains the friendship and good opinion of his first friend, +Carl Conrad, and is a favorite visitor at the house of Prof. Hazlitt, +whose great work has just appeared from the press of a subscription +publisher. His nephew, Arthur Burks, is now in college, and he and +Chester remain intimate friends. + +Silas Tripp has ceased to expect to secure the services of Chester in +his store. He had never been able to understand the secret of Chester’s +success, but has been heard to remark: “It does beat all how that boy +gets along!” + +Fortunately, prosperity has not spoiled Chester. He is still the same +modest and warm-hearted boy, or perhaps I should say young man, and his +friends all agree that he deserves his success. + + +THE END. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHESTER RAND *** + +***** This file should be named 23108–0.txt or 23108–0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/1/0/23108/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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