CHAPTER XVI.
ANDY AT WORK
Punctually as the clock struck eight the next morning Andy entered the store of Mr. Flint on Union Square. He looked for his employer, but the jeweler seldom arrived before nine, his residence being in Harlem.
Behind the counter, arranging the goods in one of the cases, was a man with reddish hair who might at a guess be thirty-five years of age. It was Mr. Flint's head clerk, Simon Rich, who had been absent when Andy made his first call.
"What can I do for you, boy?" he asked, superciliously.
"Is Mr. Flint in?"
"No. You can tell me your business."
"I have come here to work."
"Oh!"
This exclamation was long-drawn out. Mr. Rich then proceeded to examine
Andy from head to foot in a manner which was extremely offensive.
Andy understood that for some reason this man would be his enemy. He would have understood his hostility better had he known that the boy just discharged was the head clerk's nephew.
"I suppose you are well acquainted with the business?" remarked Rich, with a sneer.
"I know nothing about it."
"Humph! you stand a chance of being very useful."
"I hope to become familiar with it soon," said Andy, coloring.
"Suppose you sweep out, to begin with."
He pointed out the broom, and Andy went to work.
"I wish he were a more agreeable man," thought Andy. "I am afraid he will make my position unpleasant."
Here a customer came in, and Mr. Rich was occupied for the next ten minutes.
The customer, a lady, bought a gold chain.
"Shall I send it?" asked the clerk.
"Yes, but not till twelve o'clock."
"To what address?"
She gave a number on Fifty-sixth Street.
"Very well."
"There will be an errand for you," said Rich, as he put back the chains not selected.
Andy nodded. He felt that he would rather be absent on an errand than in the company of Simon Rich.
"Where did Mr. Flint pick you up?" inquired Rich.
This was rude, but Andy felt that it would not be politic to get into a quarrel with the head clerk so soon.
"We met at lunch," he said.
"Where?"
"At the Sinclair House."
"Had you never seen him before?"
"No."
"Queer that he should engage you at such short notice!"
"He was acquainted with the gentleman I was with."
"What name?"
"Walter Gale."
"Yes, I have seen him. Are you related to Mr. Gale?"
"No."
"Are you aware that the boy you have displaced—John Crandall—is my nephew?"
"No, sir; I didn't know it. I am sorry he has lost his place."
"He is a good boy, but Mr. Flint became prejudiced against him. Did he say anything about him when he engaged you?"
"I believe he said that he was not satisfactory, but as I did not know him I did not notice."
Another customer came in, and at nine o'clock Mr. Flint entered.
"I see you are on hand," he said, pleasantly, to Andy.
"Yes, sir."
"When did you come to the city?"
"Yesterday, sir."
"Have you a boarding place?"
"Yes, sir, in Clinton Place. I was recommended to it by Mr. Gale."
"That is well. Mr. Rich, this is the new boy."
"So he told me," said Rich, coldly.
"Have you had any customers?"
"Yes, sir. There is one article to be sent—a gold chain—to Mrs. Mason, of Fifty-sixth Street."
"Any time mentioned?"
"Twelve o'clock."
"You can send Andrew at that time."
"Very well, sir."
Andy was very glad of his employer's presence. It checked any manifestation of rudeness on the part of the clerk.
At quarter to twelve a box containing the chain was handed to Andy, addressed to Mrs. Mason.
"Did you notice the lady who purchased the chain?" asked Mr. Flint.
"Yes, sir."
"I wish this box placed in her hands. Ask her to give you a receipt for it."
"Yes, sir."
"Here is money for car fare. You may go to lunch after delivering the box."
"Yes, sir."
Andy took a Broadway car, and just after twelve reached the house. The door was opened by a man-servant.
"I have a parcel for Mrs. Mason," said Andy.
"All right; I'll take it."
"I am only to deliver it into her hands."
"She isn't at home."
"Then I will wait for her. She said she would be here at twelve."
The man was about to speak rudely, when a lady mounted the steps.
"Are you from Mr. Flint?" she asked.
"Yes, madam."
"I am Mrs. Mason."
"I remember you," said Andy, bowing. "Will you be kind enough to give me a receipt?"
"Certainly. Step into the hall, and I won't keep you waiting long."
Andy sat down.
"Why didn't you give me the parcel, boy?" asked the servant.
"Because you are not Mrs. Mason. I had strict orders to deliver it to her."
"Humph! that is being mighty particular."
"I have nothing to do with Mr. Flint's rules."
Mrs. Mason returned almost immediately.
"Here is the receipt, and thank you," she said, pleasantly.
Andy bowed, and opened the door to go out.
"I am afraid I have interfered with your lunch," she said.
"I am going to it now, thank you."
"My lunch is just ready. Perhaps you will accept an invitation to lunch with me?"
"I shall be very glad to do so."
Andy had been brought up as a gentleman, and was not at all embarrassed, as some boys would have been, by this attention from a lady.
"Follow me, then," she said, as she led the way downstairs to the front basement.
A small table was set there, and Mrs. Mason pointed to a seat.
"You are my only guest," she said. "My boy is out of town just at present. Shall I help you to some cold chicken?"
"Thank you."
Besides the chicken there was bread and butter, some kind of preserve, and hot tea. It was all very plain, but Andy enjoyed it.
"I ought to know the name of my guest," said Mrs. Mason.
"My name is Andrew Grant."
"Have you been long at Mr. Flint's?"
"This is my first day."
"I hope you will find the situation a pleasant one. You are not a city boy?"
"No, I came from Arden."
They were waited upon at table by Gustave, the man who had treated Andy rudely.
He did not look at all pleasant at having to wait upon the boy from
"Flint's," and evidently considered his mistress very eccentric.
Mrs. Mason gossiped pleasantly, and evidently enjoyed her young company.
"That is better than eating alone," she said, as she rose from the table. "I feel quite well acquainted with you, Andrew. You must come up sometime when my boy is at home. He is a year or two younger than you, but I think you will get on together."
"I shall be very glad to come," replied Andy, gratefully. "Thank you for all your kindness."
He went back to the store at once.
"You are back early," said Mr. Flint.
"Yes, sir; Mrs. Mason invited me to lunch, and that saved time."
Simon Rich looked surprised. His nephew had never received so much attention from a customer.
CHAPTER XVII.
ANDY'S FELLOW BOARDERS
As time went on, Andy became sensible that Simon Rich was indeed no friend of his. He was watched with a cold vigilance that was nothing less than a lookout for imperfections. Andy saw that it would be necessary for him to be unusually careful and attentive to his duties.
Mr. Flint, on the other hand, was always kind and cordial, notwithstanding the slighting words from Mr. Rich.
One day when Andy returned from lunch he found a boy talking with Simon
Rich. He recognized him as his predecessor.
The boy, John Crandall, looked at him with an ill-natured glance. As Simon Rich did not see fit to introduce him he did not speak. When Rich went out to lunch John Crandall accompanied him.
"Don't you think there is any chance of my getting back, Uncle Simon?" asked John.
"Not at present. That boy you saw seems to have the inside track with
Mr. Flint."
"What sort of a boy is he?"
"He's too fresh. I don't like him."
"What made Mr. Flint take him on?"
"Heaven knows; I don't."
"Do you think he is likely to stay?"
"Not if I can help it."
"Can't you prejudice Mr. Flint against him?"
"I will if I can. I am looking for a chance to get him into trouble, but it isn't easy, as he is a goody-goody sort of a boy. He tries to get in with people. You know Mrs. Mason, of Fifty-sixth Street?"
"Yes; I have carried purchases there."
"The very first day he was here he went there with a chain, and she invited him to lunch."
"You don't mean it?" exclaimed John, in surprise. "She never took any notice of me."
They went to the Dairy Restaurant, on Union Square, for lunch.
"Uncle Simon," said John, when they were going out, "can't you give me fifty cents? You know I haven't a cent of money, now that my salary is stopped."
"What do you want fifty cents for?" demanded his uncle, frowning.
"I want to go to the Grand Opera House to-night. I haven't been to the theater for two weeks."
"And you can't expect to while you are not earning anything."
"But that isn't my fault," pleaded John.
"Yes, it is. You neglected your duties at Flint's, and he saw it. That is why you lost your place."
"It is pretty hard going about without a cent of money in your pocket."
"Then you should have kept your place. Have you been around to look for another position?"
"No; I thought you would get me back into Flint's."
"I don't think there is much chance, but I will try to get the other boy out."
"I hope you'll do that; I hate the sight of him. I feel as if he had turned me out of my place."
"How do you like the new boy, Mr. Rich?" asked the jeweler at the end of the first week.
"I don't care much for him," said Simon Rich, coldly.
"What is the matter with him? Does he neglect his work?"
"No," Rich admitted, unwillingly.
"What have you against him, then?"
"He has a sneaking way about him."
"On the contrary, he seems to me to be unusually frank and open."
"He is trying to get into your good graces."
"Well, that is proper, isn't it?
"Yes, but—"
"Well?"
"I think he will bear watching."
"Surely you don't suspect him of dishonesty."
"Still waters run deep," said the clerk, sententiously.
Mr. Flint smiled to himself as he turned away. He understood that the secret of his head clerk's prejudice was the fact that Andy had taken the place of his nephew.
Meanwhile Andy had got well acquainted at his boarding house. Besides
Mr. Warren he found his next neighbor, Sam Perkins, quite sociable.
Sam was a youth of eighteen, and was employed in a furnishing-goods store on lower Broadway. He was fortunate in the location of his store, as he finished work at half-past five, and was able to be at supper at the regular hour. He seemed rather fond of dress and indulged in a variety of showy neckties, being able to get them at wholesale rates.
He introduced himself to Andy the first evening.
"What pay do you get?" he asked.
"Five dollars a week."
"I get seven, but it's too small. A man can't live on it. Why, my car fare costs me sixty cents a week."
"It must be rather a tight squeeze."
"The folks at home allow me two dollars a week besides. You see, the governor's got money. But I tell you money melts away in New York."
"No doubt. There are a good many ways of spending money here."
"Suppose we go to the theater to-night."
"I would rather wait a while. This is my first night in the city."
"Have you got acquainted with old Warren?"
"You mean the occupant of the large room opposite?"
"Yes."
"I have talked with him a little."
"How do you like him?"
"I don't know him well enough to judge," said Andy, cautiously.
"He's a crank—and soft at that. Pretends that he is literary and writes for the magazines."
"He does, doesn't he?"
"Yes, he writes for them, but I don't think his articles get printed. He just sits round and writes, and isn't any company at all. I have tried to get him to go to the theater, but he won't. Once I was hard up—hadn't but a nickel—and asked him to lend me a quarter. He wouldn't."
"Very likely he hasn't got much money."
"That's right. Did you ever see such shabby neckties as he wears?"
"He hasn't your advantages about getting new neckties," said Andy, with a smile, for he had already learned where Sam was at work.
"How do you like the tie I have on? It's a stunner, isn't it?" asked
Sam, complacently.
"It's very showy."
"I get a new necktie every week. You see, I get them at half price.
Girls always notice your necktie."
"Then I don't think they'll pay me much attention."
"Your tie is too sober, that's a fact. Better let me bring you one. I can get it half off. They won't know but it's for me."
"Thank you. I may by and by accept your offer. Now, I don't want to spend any extra money."
At the table Andy was introduced to a Mr. and Mrs. Osborn, who did not appear to be long married. She was tall, angular and thirty-five. He was at least five years younger. He had married her for her money, but she let him have little advantage of it, dealing it out in small sums.
He occupied a small clerkship at eight dollars a week, out of which he had to pay his own board, while his wife, who had an income from property of a thousand dollars a year, defrayed her own expenses, and occasionally allowed him a dollar or two.
He was much better looking than his wife, and it was this, perhaps, that made her jealous if he looked at another woman. The particular object of her jealousy was a Miss Manson, who held a business position at an uptown milliner's. She was pleasant and piquant.
There was also a Mr. Kimball, who was a salesman at Hearn's. He liked to discuss financial problems, and felt that he should have been a banker, but found no one to talk with, as Mr. Osborn's ideas on finance were elementary.
Indeed, Mrs. Osborn was the only one at the table who was competent to converse with him on his favorite subject.
"Miss Manson, may I pass you the sugar?" asked Mr. Osborn on the first occasion of Andy's appearing at dinner.
"Miss Manson can reach the sugar bowl herself," interposed Mrs. Osborn, with a reproving frown.
"I like to be neighborly, my dear," said her husband, deprecatingly.
"I see you do."
Miss Manson smiled, and so did others at the table, who detected Mrs.
Osborn's jealousy.
"Have you read the President's financial message, Mr. Osborn?" asked Mr.
Kimball.
"No; I don't take any interest in such things."
"I have read it, Mr. Kimball," said Mrs. Osborn, "and I approve his recommendations."
"So do I, with one exception," returned Mr. Kimball; and they began a conversation in which none of the other boarders took an interest.
When supper was over, Andy and Sam went for a walk. Mr. Warren excused himself on the ground that he was writing a poem for one of the magazines.
"So you are with a jeweler," said Sam. "I may come up and buy a ring some day. Do you allow a discount to friends?"
"I don't know yet. I will favor you if I can."
CHAPTER XVIII.
A PLOT AGAINST ANDY
Some six weeks later, about the middle of the forenoon, a Western Union
Telegraph boy entered the store and handed Mr. Flint a telegram.
Tearing it open, the jeweler read the contents and seemed quite agitated.
"Mr. Rich," he said, turning to the head clerk, "I have bad news. My only brother is dangerously sick. This dispatch says that if I wish to see him alive I must start at once."
"Where does he live?"
"In Denver, Colorado."
"That is a long way off."
"Yes. I don't see how I can leave the business, but I cannot bear to think of my brother dying without my seeing him again."
"I think, sir, that I can keep things straight. I have been with you for six years."
"True, and you know the business thoroughly. Besides, you can write or telegraph me, if need be, every day."
"I will do so, sir. You can depend on me."
"Besides, you will have Andrew to help you. He is a good and faithful boy."
To this Simon Rich made no reply, but there was a look on his face that boded no good for Andy.
"I think I will go home at once and get ready. It is necessary that I should start immediately. I shall have no time to give you directions, but I will write you as soon as I reach Denver."
"Very well, sir," said Simon Rich, smoothly. "Make your mind quite easy.
All will go well during your absence."
Half an hour later, when Andy returned from an errand, Mr. Flint was gone.
"I have a message for Mr. Flint," said Andy, as he entered the store.
"You can give it to me."
"I was told to deliver it to Mr. Flint personally."
"You will find that rather a hard job, young man," said Rich, with a sneer.
"I don't understand you," returned Andy, in surprise.
"Mr. Flint is on his way to Denver by this time."
"Does he go on business?"
"He has received news that his only brother lies there at the point of death."
"How long will he be gone?" asked Andy, who began to understand that this was likely to prove bad news for him.
"Probably not less than three weeks. Of course, I shall manage the store while he is away. Did you hear that?"
"Yes."
"And I want you to understand," continued Rich, in a bullying tone, "that I won't stand any nonsense from you. You will have to attend strictly to business. I sha'n't be such an easy-going boss as Mr. Flint."
"I always aim to do my duty," said Andy.
"You will find it best to do so while I am in charge. Now, don't stand gaping there, but go to work."
Andy was moved to an angry reply, but thought it prudent to refrain. He realized that for three weeks, and probably longer, he was to be at the mercy of a man who evidently disliked him.
How he should be able to stand it he did not know. He determined, however, to do his duty as well as he knew how, and not to reply when the head clerk was insolent and abusive.
About an hour later Simon Rich gave him a postal, which he directed him to drop in the nearest mail box.
It was addressed to John Crandall, Andy's predecessor, and ran thus:
"DEAR JOHN: Come around as soon as you can. I have news for you.
Your uncle,
SIMON RICH."
About four o'clock John Crandall entered the store.
"Andrew," said Rich, "you may go to the branch post office at Ninth
Street and get a dollar's worth of postage stamps."
Andy understood that stamps were not needed, and that the errand was devised to get him out of the way. However it was his duty to obey.
When he was fairly out of the store, John asked, with some curiosity:
"What is the news you were going to tell me, Uncle Simon?"
"Mr. Flint has started for Colorado, and I am in full charge of the store," answered Rich, with a triumphant smile.
"Golly! That's great news!" exclaimed John. "Now you can discharge that cub and get me in again."
"I mean to, but you will have to wait a few days."
"Why need I?"
"Because I must have a good excuse for bouncing him. Mr. Flint will inquire, you know."
"I should think it would be easy to invent one."
"Well, not altogether easy, but I have a plan. You see, the boy is one of the goody-goody kind who has no bad habits. If I could catch him playing pool, or anything of that kind, there would be no trouble; but he is one of your model boys."
"Like me," suggested John.
"I never took you for a model boy. Still, you are my nephew, and I must do the best I can for you."
"What is the plan you have thought of?"
"I haven't fully decided; but come in to-morrow, and I may think of something by that time."
"I wish I was here now. It will be good fun, now that old Flint is gone."
"Be careful not to say 'old Flint' before Andrew. He might repeat it to the boss when he returns."
"If he should I would punch his head," said John, promptly.
"I don't think I would advise you to do that," said Simon Rich, shrewdly.
"Why not? I could lick him with one hand."
"If you ever get into a fight with him you will need two. He is strong and muscular."
"You seem to be taking his part, Uncle Simon."
"Not at all, but I won't shut my eyes to facts. Andrew is much stronger than you are."
John did not look well pleased, but his uncle added:
"In this case, however, it is not a matter of strength. We must use cunning."
"All right, uncle. You know best, of course."
"Of course I know best. All you have to do is to be guided by me. We must get rid of him in such a way that Mr. Flint will approve of my action."
"It will be a great day for me when I take his place."
"Exactly. Be patient, and it will come about. Meanwhile I want you to treat him as a friend."
"Why?"
"So that he won't suspect that there is any conspiracy against him."
"I see. You are a smart one, Uncle Simon."
"I flatter myself that I know what I am about," returned Rich, complacently.
Andy was considerably surprised at the kindness with which he was treated, during the next few days, by the head salesman. He had expected something very different. He began to think he had misjudged Mr. Rich.
He was still more surprised when the next day at his lunch hour he was invited to the Dairy Kitchen by John Crandall. He did not care to accept, but John insisted upon it, and he thought it would be rude to refuse.
John chatted very pleasantly during the meal, and Andy was both surprised and pleased.
"Have you got a new place?" he asked.
"No, but uncle thinks he can get me one before long."
"I hope it will be a good one."
"Oh, I think it will," said John, showing his teeth and smiling significantly.
So passed several days, and Andy began to think that Mr. Rich had become his friend. But at length the storm broke.
One day, as he entered the store, he noticed that Simon Rich was looking grave and stern.
"Andrew," he said, without preface, "something very disagreeable has happened."
"What is it, Mr. Rich?"
"A gold watch has disappeared from this case."
"A valuable one?" asked Andy, innocently.
"It is one that retails at fifty dollars. I would not have had this occur during Mr. Flint's absence for twice that sum."
"Have you any idea of what has become of it?"
"Not at present, but as you and my nephew are in the store so much, of course you would have opportunities of taking it."
"Uncle Simon," said John, who was present, "I insist on your searching me."
"I will do so, though I am sure neither you nor Andrew is at fault."
"Search me, too, Mr. Rich," said Andy, fearlessly.
Nothing was found on John, but thrusting his hand into the upper pocket of Andy's vest, Simon Rich drew out a folded paper.
"What is this?" he cried. "A pawn ticket for a gold watch? What does this mean?"
"Let me see it," said Andy, dumfounded.
It was a ticket issued by a Third Avenue pawnbroker for a gold watch, on which ten dollars appeared to have been loaned. The name of the borrower appeared as A. Grant.
"Miserable boy!" said the salesman, severely; "so you have turned thief.
What a hypocrite you must be!"
"I don't know what it means," faltered Andy, quite overwhelmed.