Jed, the Poorhouse Boy

CHAPTER X.
JED REACHES DUNCAN

Percy Dixon's face flushed with resentment.

"Do you know who you are talking to?" he demanded.

"Yes," answered Jed coolly. "I am talking to a boy who thinks a great deal more of himself than any one else does."

"I would punish you, but I don't want to dirty my hands with you. I'll tell my father, and he'll see that old Fogson flogs you."

Jed smiled. He never meant to see Fogson again if he could help it, but he was too wise to impart his plans to Percy.

At this moment his father came up to the gate, and as he opened it his attention was drawn to Jed.

"Have you come here with any message for me?" he asked.

"I have a note for you."

"Give it to me."

"Humph!" said the squire, casting his eye over the note. "Mr. Fogson asks me to call this evening. I will do so."

"Very well, sir."

"Father," interrupted Percy, "there is to be a play performed at Duncan this evening."

"Is there?"

"Yes; I saw a bill in the post-office. It's the 'Gold King,' I believe. May I go?"

"I don't know," said the squire, hesitating. "Mr. Fogson wants me to call at the poorhouse."

"If you don't care about going, I can drive mother and Alice over. You know you promised we should attend the next theatrical performance anywhere near."

"If your mother and Alice would like to go I have no objection. You must drive carefully, and you can leave the horses in the hotel stable."

"All right," said Percy joyfully. "Did you ever go to a theatre?" he asked Jed in a patronizing tone.

"No."

"I have been quite often," said Percy complacently. "But, of course, paupers can't attend amusements."

"You may change your mind this evening," thought Jed.

Jed went at once to the doctor's house. Dr. Redmond had just arrived from a round of visits.

"Good morning, Jed," he said pleasantly.

"Good morning, Dr. Redmond."

"Do you want to see me?"

"I have come to claim your promise," said Jed.

"What is that?"

"You promised me a suit of clothes when I got ready to leave the poorhouse."

Dr. Redmond's face instantly assumed a look of interest.

"And you have decided to take this important step?" he said.

"Yes, doctor. I am tired of being called a pauper. I am sure I can earn my own living, and I mean to try it."

"I don't know but you are right, Jed. At any rate, you have my best wishes. Come into the house, and I will ask Mrs. Redmond to look up the suit. If I am not mistaken you will need other things also—socks, handkerchiefs, and underclothing."

"I need them, no doubt, but I don't want to ask too much."

"I think Mrs. Redmond can fit you out. And, by the way, I think you can manage a little supper. In what direction are you going?"

"To Duncan."

"Why there, in particular?"

"I have a friend there."

"Who is it?"

"Harry Bertram, the actor."

Dr. Redmond looked surprised.

"How did you get acquainted with him?"

Jed told the story. The incident of Fogson's assault on the sleeping actor and his defeat amused the doctor not a little.

"He may be of service to you," he said. "At any rate, an actor sees a good deal of the world, and he may be able to give you some advice. Now put on your clothes and see what a transformation they will make."

Mrs. Redmond took Jed up to a small chamber belonging to her absent son, and laid the clothing on the bed, advising Jed to go into the bathroom close by and take a good bath.

When, half an hour or more later, he descended to the floor below, Dr. Redmond started in surprise. In place of the poorhouse drudge there stood before him a good-looking boy, attired in a brown suit, with clean linen and his hair neatly brushed. Dr. and Mrs. Redmond exchanged glances.

"I wouldn't believe clothes made such a difference," exclaimed the doctor.

"Nor I," chimed in his wife.

The same idea came into the mind of each. Jed's personal appearance would do credit to any family, however exclusive. Yet he had been brought up in the Scranton poorhouse, and associated with paupers all his life.

"I mustn't forget to give you your money," said the doctor, and he put a roll of bills into Jed's hand.

"But here is five dollars!" said Jed. "It was only two you had of mine."

"Take the five. You will need it. It is small enough capital for a boy to go forth into the world with to seek his fortune. Now how are you going to Duncan?"

"I am going to walk."

"I am afraid you will get very tired," said Mrs. Redmond in a tone of sympathy.

"No, ma'am, it is only five miles."

"And five miles is a trifle to a strong boy like Jed."

"Won't you wait till after supper?" asked Mrs. Redmond.

"No, thank you. It would get me there too late."

"Then I will make up some sandwiches for you. Your walk will make you hungry."

Jed started with a small valise in which were packed some extra underclothing, and he carried in his hand a substantial lunch wrapped in paper.

It was far better than the supper which he missed at the poorhouse.

He was rather afraid of meeting some one whom he knew, particularly Percy Dixon, who he was sure would be delighted to thwart his plan by reporting him; but fortunately he escaped observation. He passed two men whom he knew very well, but in his new dress they did not know him.

Jed had walked about half way when a man in a top buggy overtook him, and, stopping his horse, called out, "Is this the road to Duncan?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is it a straight road all the way?"

"Not quite, sir. There are one or two turns."

"I am sorry to hear it. I am not acquainted hereabouts, and I shouldn't like to lose my way. Are you going to Duncan?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then jump in, unless you prefer walking. With a good guide I shall be all right."

"I would rather ride, and I will accept your invitation with pleasure."

"Then we are both suited."

Jed's new acquaintance was a stout man of middle age, with a prompt, alert manner, and looked like a business man. He had a quick, impulsive way with him.

"Are you travelling?" he asked, noticing Jed's valise.

"Yes, sir."

"Going to see the world, eh?"

"I'm going in search of a living, sir," answered Jed.

"Got parents?"

"No, sir. I'm alone in the world."

"Well, you've got a tough job before you."

"Yes, sir, I don't doubt it; but I am young and healthy, and I think I ought to be able to earn my living. Are you a business man?"

"No, not exactly. Why do you ask?"

"I thought you might have a place for me if you were."

"I am not in the right sort of business for you, my lad. I am the manager of the Gold King Dramatic Company."

"Then you are acquainted with Harry Bertram?" said Jed eagerly.

"Yes, he is one of my actors. What do you know of Harry Bertram?"

"He slept in the same room with me last night. He told me to come to Duncan, and he would see what he could do for me."

"Ha, indeed! Well, Harry is a good fellow, and a good friend. He has one fault. He is a little too convivial."

"Yes, sir; I thought so. Is he a good actor?"

"Excellent in his line. He gets a very good salary, but I am afraid he doesn't save very much of it. Are you going to see the play this evening?"

"Yes; Mr. Bertram thought he could get me in."

"You won't need to ask him for a pass. Here is one;" and the manager scribbled on a leaf from his note-book

Admit Bearer.

Mordaunt.

"Thank you, sir," said Jed, as he pocketed the pass. "I suppose you are Mr. Mordaunt?"

"John Mordaunt, manager of the Gold King Company. In my humbler days I was known to my friends as Jack Mordaunt."

By this time they had reached Duncan, and drove at once to the hotel.

CHAPTER XI.
JED'S FIRST APPEARANCE ON THE STAGE

Several gentlemen were sitting on the piazza in front of the hotel. Among them was Jed's acquaintance of the night before, Harry Bertram.

When he saw Mr. Mordaunt in the buggy he advanced to greet him.

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Mordaunt," he said. "I wanted to consult you."

"Any hitch, Bertram?" asked the manager.

"Yes. Young Clinton is sick and can't play to-night."

"What's the matter with the boy?"

"He is threatened with fever."

"Couldn't he play to-night? His part is a small one, but it is important."

"The doctor absolutely forbids his appearing on the stage."

"That is awkward. If we were in the city we might get a substitute, but a common country boy would make a mess of the part."

"You have a boy with you. Do you think he would do?"

"You have known him longer than I. I refer the matter to you."

"Why, it's Jed!" exclaimed Bertram, examining our hero closely.

"Didn't you know me, Mr. Bertram?" asked Jed smilingly.

"Who could, with such a change of dress? You must have met some good fairy. And how did you fall in with Mr. Mordaunt?"

"He kindly offered me a ride."

"Then you have left Scranton for good?"

"For good, I hope. If I can help you in any way I will do my best."

"Try him, Bertram," said the manager. "He is very presentable. Take him in hand, and see if you can't get him ready to take Ralph Clinton's place."

"Then no time is to be lost. Come up to my room, Jed, and I will tell you what you are expected to do—that is, if you have had supper."

"I ate my supper on the road before I fell in with Mr. Mordaunt."

"Follow me, then, Jed."

Harry Bertram led the way to a comfortable chamber on the second floor.

"Now sit down, and I'll tell you what you will have to do. First, do you think you have the nerve to stand before an audience and play the part of a telegraph boy?"

"Yes, sir. I am not troubled with bashfulness."

"Have you ever spoken in public?"

"Yes, at school examinations."

"Then I think you'll do. Here is your part."

He handed Jed a small manuscript book containing the lines of his rôle, with the cues.

"You see it isn't long. I may be able to give you a little rehearsal, as you appear only in the first and last acts."

The next half hour was devoted to teaching Jed his part. Bertram was delighted with the aptitude shown by his pupil.

"Have you never attended a theatre?" he asked, almost incredulously.

"Never, Mr. Bertram."

"Then I can only say that you have the dramatic instinct, luckily for us. If you are sure you won't be afraid before the footlights, you'll do."

"Then I shall do," said Jed. "I never should think of being nervous."

"One thing more—nothing will be said of any substitution. To the audience you will be Ralph Clinton, as put down on the bill."

"That will suit me. I am afraid if I were announced as Jed, the Poorhouse Boy, it wouldn't help you," continued Jed with a smile.

"You may have to continue in the part a week or more. As to the pay, I can't speak of that yet. Mr. Mordaunt will arrange with you."

"If I can earn my board I shall be satisfied."

"I can promise you that, and fully as good board as you have been accustomed to."

"I hope it won't be worse," said Jed laughing.

"When you go to the theatre I will see if Ralph Clinton's uniform will fit you. I haven't much doubt on that point, as you seem to be about the same size."

The performance was to commence at eight. Harry Bertram and his protégé went to the hall, which was to be used as a theatre, early, so that Jed might be introduced to his fellow-actors and receive a little instruction as to the business of his part.

He was very quick to comprehend, and forgot nothing, so that Bertram felt quite easy in regard to him, though it was his first appearance on any stage.

Jed was very well received by the other members of the company, all of whom expressed satisfaction at having the gap so quickly filled.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, my boy," said George Osprey, the leading man. "Where have you played?"

"Nowhere, sir. This is my first appearance."

"I hope you won't funk."

"If that means break down, I am sure I won't."

"Good! Your confidence will pull you through."

"Mr. Osprey, introduce me, please," lisped an elderly young lady, of affected manners.

"This is Miss Celesta Raffles, Mr. –, I don't think I know your name."

"Jed Gilman, but I believe I am to be billed as Ralph Clinton."

"I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Gilman," said Miss Raffles. "I am sure you will be an honor to our noble profession."

"I hope so, Miss Raffles," said Jed smilingly, "but I shall be able to tell better to-morrow."

"I always sympathize with youth—with impulsive, enthusiastic youth," gushed Miss Raffles.

"If they are of the male sex," interpolated Mr. Osprey. "Mr. Gilman, I must warn you that Miss Raffles is a dangerous woman. She will do her best to make an impression on your heart."

"Oh, you wicked slanderer!" said the delighted Celesta. "Mr. Gilman, I am not dangerous at all. I will merely ask you to look upon me as your sister—your elder sister."

"Thank you, Miss Raffles," said Jed, showing a tact and self-possession hardly to be expected of one with his training. "Is Mr. Osprey one of your brothers?"

"Yes, she told me that she would be a sister to me. I have never—never recovered from the blow."

"I may change my mind," said Celesta, who admired the handsome leading man. "If you try again, you may meet with better success–"

"No," answered Osprey warily. "I never ask the same favor a second time. I leave you to Mr. Gilman. May you be happy, my children!"

As Celesta Raffles looked to be thirty-five, and Jed was but sixteen, he was a good deal amused, but Miss Raffles was disposed to take the matter in earnest.

"Don't let him prejudice you against me, Mr. Gilman!" she murmured. "We shall soon be better acquainted, I am sure. Do you know, I am to be your mother in the play? It is a little absurd, as I am only twenty-three, but we have to do strange things on the stage."

"She's thirty-six if she's a day," whispered Osprey, "but if you want to keep in her good graces you must believe her own reports of her age."

"Time to dress, Jed!" said Harry Bertram. "It will take you longer than usual, as it is the first time. Your nerve won't fail you, will it?"

Jed shook his head.

"I feel as cool as ever I did," he answered.

Fortunately the telegraph boy's uniform fitted him exactly. He hardly knew himself as he looked at his reflection in the little mirror in his dressing-room.

"I wonder if Mr. and Mrs. Fogson would recognize me if they should see me on the stage?" thought Jed.

Then it occurred to him that Percy Dixon and his mother would be present. He smiled to himself as he thought of Percy's bewilderment when he saw him under such a strange change of circumstances.

It is not necessary to give the plot of the Gold King. It is sufficient to say that Jed, the telegraph boy, had been stolen from his parents in early life, the Gold King being his father. He is obliged to earn his own living as a boy, but in the last act he is restored to his friends and his old station in life.

In the first act Jed appeared in his predecessor's uniform. In the last he wore his own suit, this being quite as well adapted to the character as Ralph Clinton's street costume.

Mrs. Dixon and Percy occupied seats in the third row from the front. They always paid the highest prices, and secured the most eligible seats.

At the end of ten minutes Jed's cue was called and he appeared on the stage. Percy, who was watching the play with the greatest attention, started in amazement when he saw the boy actor.

"Mother," he whispered, "that boy is the perfect image of Jed, the poorhouse boy."

"Is he, indeed? Very singular, on my word!"

"And he has the same voice," continued Percy, still more excited.

"But I suppose it can't be he," said Mrs. Dixon inquiringly.

"No, I think not," answered Percy. "Jed doesn't know anything about acting, and this boy is perfectly at home on the stage."

This was indeed true. Jed was quite self-possessed. Moreover, he never hesitated for a word or stumbled, but was letter-perfect. His scene was with George Osprey, as member of a fashionable club, who had inquired into his history. "Yes," said Jed, repeating his part, "yes, Mr. Glendower, I am a poor boy, but those who look down upon me will one day find their mistake—they may find that the poor telegraph boy whom they once despised is able to look down upon them."

As he uttered these words, Jed, perhaps intentionally, let his glance rest on Percy Dixon, while the latter gazed at him open-mouthed.

"I believe it is Jed, after all, mother!" he ejaculated.

CHAPTER XII.
PERCY DIXON IS BEWILDERED

At the end of the first act Jed and George Osprey were called before the curtain. Jed had been instructed to bow his thanks, and did so. Percy watched his face eagerly, for this brought Jed within a few feet of him.

"Mother," he said, "if that boy isn't Jed, it is his twin brother."

"But, Percy," said his mother, who was a practical woman, "I never heard that the boy had a twin brother."

"Oh, pshaw! I meant that he is exactly like him."

"But this boy is Ralph Clinton. The bill says so."

"I know it," said Percy, with a puzzled expression. "I don't understand it at all."

"The boy you mean is probably in bed at the Scranton poorhouse."

"Perhaps he is. I don't see, for my part, how he could be here, or know how to act."

The play proceeded. It was in five acts, and Jed was not called upon to appear again till the last one. He proved himself up to the requirements of the part, and evidently produced a favorable impression on the audience.

"Mother," said Percy, "I would like to wait at the stage door till the actors come out."

"But, Percy, it is already late. We ought to be starting for home."

"But, mother, you know father is Overseer of the Poor, and if this boy is Jed, he has run away from the Scranton poorhouse, and father will be held responsible."

"Why should he?"

"Because the paupers are under his charge. If one of them runs away he will be blamed."

"Well, if you think we ought to stop," said the lady undecidedly. "But I don't see what you expect to accomplish."

"I want to see that boy face to face. I want to speak to him, and find out for certain who he is."

"Well, don't be any longer than you can help."

"I won't."

Meanwhile Jed and Harry Bertram were conversing in the greenroom.

"You did yourself proud, my boy," said Bertram. "You acted as well as Clinton, and in some respects better."

"I am glad to hear you say so, Mr. Bertram," said Jed, gratified.

"I could hardly believe that this was your first appearance on the stage. Weren't you frightened at all?"

"Not a bit. I enjoyed it."

"Did you see any of your Scranton friends in the audience?"

"I saw none of my Scranton friends," answered Jed, "but I saw two Scranton acquaintances."

"Who were they?"

"Percy Dixon, son of the Overseer of the Poor, and his mother."

"Where were they sitting?"

"In the third row from the stage."

"Do you think they recognized you?"

"I saw Percy watching me very closely I am sure he noticed my resemblance to his old acquaintance Jed, but he couldn't understand how it was possible for me to be the same boy."

"Then you baffled him?"

"I don't know. I shouldn't wonder if he would be waiting outside to get a view of me."

"And if he does?"

"He will do all he can to get me back to the poorhouse."

"Then I'll tell you what to do. Go out of the stage door arm in arm with me, and I will address you as Ralph. If he speaks, appear not to know him."

"That will be a capital joke," said Jed taking in the humor of the situation.

"Between us, I think we can bluff him off."

Jed had appeared in the last act in his street costume, and had no preparations to make, but Bertram had to exchange his stage for his ordinary dress. When they were ready they emerged from the stage door arm in arm. A glance showed Jed that Percy was waiting to intercept him. He did not appear to notice Percy, but passed on.

Percy hastened forward, and touched him on the arm.

"Look here, I want to speak to you," he said.

"Speak on, my boy," said Jed, assuming the style of his new profession.

"How did you come here?" demanded Percy bluntly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you are Jed Gilman."

"My dear Ralph, what does this person mean?" said Bertram.

"He evidently mistakes me for some one he knows," said Jed coolly. "May I ask your name, young man?"

"You know me well enough," said Percy angrily, for Jed had not tried to change his voice. "I am Percy Dixon."

"Percy Dixon?" repeated Jed. "Where have I met you?"

"Where have you met me?" retorted Percy. "At the Scranton poorhouse."

"Do you reside there?" asked Jed with admirable composure.

"Do I live at the poorhouse?" repeated Percy, exasperated. "Of course I don't."

Mrs. Dixon had heard this colloquy, as she was sitting in the carriage only six feet away.

"Percy," she said, "I told you you had made a mistake."

"I don't believe I have," said Percy in a sulky tone.

"For whom do you take me, Mr. Dixon?" asked Jed.

"For Jed Gilman, a poorhouse boy."

"I feel very much complimented," said Jed smoothly. "I hope Jed is a nice boy."

"No, he isn't. He is an impudent young rascal."

"Then how dare you compare my friend Ralph to a boy like that?" demanded Bertram savagely. "You must be crazy, or do you mean to deliberately insult him?"

Poor Percy was overwhelmed. He wasn't half so certain now that he was right. True, there was a wonderful resemblance between the young actor and Jed, but then it seemed impossible that Jed should have left the poorhouse suddenly (and Percy remembered seeing him that very afternoon at his own home) and developed into a member of a dramatic company.

"I may have made a mistake," he said doubtfully.

"I am glad you realize this possibility," said Bertram. "Did you witness the play this evening?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you think your friend Jed–"

"He is not my friend."

"Well, do you think that Jed, whatever he is, could act like my friend Ralph?"

"No, I don't think he could," Percy admitted.

"Probably this Jed is a very ordinary boy?"

"I should say so. Ordinary is no name for it. He is stupid."

"Then you will see for yourself that it is not very likely that he should become an accomplished actor all at once. If it were you it might be different. You are evidently a young man of social position, while this Jed is a poor boy, and I presume without education."

"Yes, he is very ignorant," answered Percy, falling into the trap. "Is it—hard to learn to act?" he added.

"Not if you have talent and education. Do you think of trying the stage?"

"I might some time," said Percy, flattered by the question.

"If you do, I hope you will succeed. Now, Mr. Dixon, I must bid you good night, as my friend Ralph and myself are fatigued with our acting and must get to bed."

"Good evening!" said Jed, raising his hat gravely.

"Good evening!" returned Percy, more puzzled than ever.

He jumped into the carriage and started to drive home.

"Then it wasn't Jed?" said his mother.

"I suppose not," answered Percy, "but I never in all my life saw such a resemblance."

"Very likely," replied Mrs. Dixon placidly. "There was a woman in Trenton who looked just like me, so that no one could tell us apart."

"Yes," admitted Percy; "I must be mistaken. This boy had a very nice suit on, while Jed was dressed in rags."

When they reached home Squire Dixon was abed and asleep. Percy came down late to breakfast.

"By the way, Percy," said his father, as he helped him to breakfast, "Fogson has just been over to report that the boy Jed has mysteriously disappeared. He never went back after bringing me the message yesterday afternoon."

Percy dropped his knife and fork and stared at his father in open-eyed amazement.

"Then it was Jed, after all!" he exclaimed.