Loe raamatut: «The Telegraph Boy», lehekülg 3

CHAPTER VII.
AN INVITATION TO DINNER

"Mr. Bowen must be a rich man," thought Frank, as he paused on the steps of a fine brown-stone mansion, corresponding to the number on his card.

He rang the bell, and asked, "Is Mr. Bowen at home?"

"Yes, but he is in his chamber. I don't think he will see you."

"I think he will," said Frank, who thought the servant was taking too much upon herself, "as I come by his appointment."

"I suppose you can come into the hall," said the servant, reluctantly. "Is your business important?"

"You may tell him that the boy he sent for his umbrella has brought it. He was afraid he had lost it."

"He sets great store by that umbrella," said the girl, in a different tone. "I'll go and tell him."

Mr. Bowen came downstairs almost immediately. There was a look of extreme gratification upon his face.

"Bless my soul, how quick you were!" he exclaimed. "Why, I've only been home a few minutes. Did you find the umbrella at Mr. Peckham's office?"

"Yes, sir; it had been found, and taken care of."

"Did Peckham say anything?"

"He said you were probably afraid to trust it with him over night, but he smiled when he said it."

"Peckham will have his joke, but he is an excellent man. My boy, I am much indebted to you."

"I was very glad to do the errand, sir," said Frank.

"I think you said you were poor," said the old man, thoughtfully.

"Yes, sir. When I met you I hadn't a cent in the world."

"Haven't you any way to make a living?"

"Yes, sir. I could sell papers if I had enough money to set me up in business."

"Does it require a large capital?"

"Oh, no, sir," said Frank, smiling, "unless you consider fifty cents a large sum."

"Fifty cents!" repeated the old gentleman, in surprise. "You don't mean to say that this small sum would set you up in business?"

"Yes, sir; I could buy a small stock of papers, and buy more with what I received for them."

"To be sure. I didn't think of that."

Mr. Bowen was not a man of business. He had an ample income, and his tastes were literary and artistic. He knew more of books than of men, and more of his study than of the world.

"Well, my boy," he said after a pause, "how much do I owe you for doing this errand?"

"I leave that to you, sir. Whatever you think right will satisfy me."

"Let me see, you want fifty cents to buy papers, and you will require something to pay for your bed."

"Fifty cents in all will be enough, sir."

"I think I had better give you a dollar," said the old gentleman, opening his pocket-book.

Frank's eyes sparkled. A dollar would do him a great deal of good; with a dollar he would feel quite independent.

"Thank you, sir," he said. "It is more than I earned, but it will be very acceptable."

He put on his hat, and was about to leave the house, when Mr. Bowen suddenly said, "Oh, I think you'd better stay to dinner. It will be on the table directly. My niece is away, and if you don't stay I shall be alone."

Frank did not know what to say. He was rather abashed by the invitation, but, as the old gentleman was to be alone, it did not seem so formidable.

"I am afraid I don't look fit," he said.

"You can go upstairs and wash your face and hands. You'll find a clothes-brush there also. I'll ring for Susan to show you the way."

He rang the bell, and the girl who had admitted Frank made her appearance.

"Susan," said her master, "you may show this young gentlemen into the back chamber on the third floor, and see that he is supplied with towels and all he needs. And you may lay an extra plate; he will dine with me."

Susan stared first at Mr. Bowen, and then at Frank, but did not venture to make any remark.

"This way, young man," she said, and ascended the front stairs, Frank following her closely.

She led the way into a handsomely furnished chamber, ejaculating, "Well, I never!"

"I hope you'll find things to your satisfaction, sir," she said, dryly. "If we'd known you were coming, we'd have made particular preparations for you."

"Oh, I think this will do," said Frank, smiling for he thought it a good joke.

"I am glad you think it'll do," continued Susan. "Things mayn't be as nice as you're accustomed to at home."

"Not quite," said Frank, good-humoredly; "but I shan't complain."

"That's very kind and considerate of you, I'm sure," said Susan, tossing her head. "Well, I never did!"

"Nor I either, Susan," said Frank, laughing. "I am a poor boy, and I am not used to this way of living; so if you'll be kind enough to give me any hints, so I may behave properly at the table, I'll be very much obliged to you."

This frank acknowledgment quite appeased Susan, and she readily complied with our hero's request.

"But I must be going downstairs, or dinner will be late," she said, hurriedly. "You can come down when you hear the bell ring."

Frank had been well brought up, though not in the city, and he was aware that perfect neatness was one of the first characteristics of a gentleman. He therefore scrubbed his face and hands till they fairly shone, and brushed his clothes with great care. Even then they certainly did look rather shabby, and there was a small hole in the elbow of his coat; but, on the whole, he looked quite passable when he entered the dining-room.

"Take that seat, my boy," said his host.

Frank sat down and tried to look as if he was used to it.

"Take this soup to Mr. Kavanagh," said Mr. Bowen, in a dignified tone.

Frank started and smiled slightly, feeling more and more that it was an excellent joke.

"I wonder what Dick Rafferty would say if he could see me now," passed through his mind.

He acquitted himself very creditably, however, and certainly displayed an excellent appetite, much to the satisfaction of his hospitable host.

After dinner was over, Mr. Bowen detained him and began to talk of his dead son, telling anecdotes of his boyhood, to which Frank listened with respectful attention, for the father's devotion was touching.

"I think my boy looked a little like you," said the old gentleman. "What do you think, Susan?"

"Not a mite, sir," answered Susan, promptly.

"When he was a boy, I mean."

"I didn't know him when he was a boy, Mr. Bowen."

"No, to be sure not."

"But Mr. John was dark-complected, and this boy is light, and Mr. John's hair was black, and his is brown."

"I suppose I am mistaken," sighed the old man; "but there was something in the boy's face that reminded me of John."

"A little more, and he'll want to adopt him," thought Susan. "That wouldn't do nohow, though he does really seem like a decent sort of a boy."

At eight o'clock Frank rose, and wished Mr. Bowen good-night.

"Come and see me again, my boy," said the old gentleman, kindly. "You have been a good deal of company for me to-night."

"I am glad of it, sir."

"I think you might find something better to do than selling papers."

"I wish I could, sir."

"Come and dine with me again this day week, and I may have something to tell you."

"Thank you, sir."

Feeling in his pocket to see that his dollar was safe, Frank set out to walk down-town, repairing to the lodging-house, where he met Dick, and astonished that young man by the recital of his adventures.

"It takes you to get round, Frank," he said. "I wonder I don't get invited to dine on Madison avenue."

"I give it up," said Frank.

CHAPTER VIII.
A NEWSBOY'S EXPERIENCES

Frank slept that night at the lodging-house, and found a much better bed than he had been provided with by his late employer. He was up bright and early the next morning, and purchased a stock of morning papers. These he succeeded in selling during the forenoon, netting a profit of thirty cents. It was not much, but he was satisfied. At any rate he was a good deal better off than when in the employ of Mr. Mills. Of course he had to economize strictly, but the excellent arrangements of the lodging-house helped him to do this. Twelve cents provided him with lodging and breakfast. At noon, in company with his friend Dick, he went to a cheap restaurant, then to be found in Ann street, near Park row, and for fifteen cents enjoyed a dinner of two courses. The first consisted of a plate of beef, with a potato and a wedge of bread, costing ten cents, and the second, a piece of apple-pie.

"That's a good square meal," said Dick, in a tone of satisfaction. "I oughter get one every day, but sometimes I don't have the money."

"I should think you could raise fifteen cents a day for that purpose, Dick."

"Well, so I could; but then you see I save my money sometimes to go to the Old Bowery, or Tony Pastor's, in the evenin'."

"I would like to go, too, but I wouldn't give up my dinner. A boy that's growing needs enough to eat."

"I guess you're right," said Dick. "We'll go to dinner together every day, if you say so."

"All right, Dick; I should like your company."

About two o'clock in the afternoon, as Frank was resting on a bench in the City-Hall Park, a girl of ten approached him. Frank recognized her as an inmate of the tenement-house where Mills, his late employer, lived.

"Do you want to see me?" asked Frank, observing that she was looking towards him.

"You're the boy that went round with the blind man, aint you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"He wants you to come back."

Frank was rather surprised, but concluded that Mills had difficulty in obtaining a boy to succeed him. This was not very remarkable, considering the niggardly pay attached to the office.

"Did he send you to find me?" asked our hero.

"Yes; he says you needn't pass that money if you'll come back."

"Tell him that I don't want to come back," said Frank, promptly. "I can do better working for myself."

"He wants to know what you are doing," continued the girl.

"Does he? You can tell him that I am a newsboy."

"He says if you don't come back he'll have you arrested for stealing money from him. You mustn't be mad with me. That's what he told me to say."

"I don't blame you," said Frank, hotly; "but you can tell him that he is a liar."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare to tell him that; he would beat me."

"How can he do that, when he can't see where you are?"

"I don't know how it is, but he can go right up to where you are just as well as if he could see."

"So he can. He's a humbug and a fraud. His eyes may not be very good, but he can see for all that. He pretends to be blind so as to make money."

"That's what mother and I think," said the girl. "So you won't come back?"

"Not much. He can hire some other boy, and starve him. He won't get me."

"Aint you afraid he'll have you arrested for stealing?" asked the girl.

"If he tries that I'll expose him for wanting me to pass a counterfeit note. I never took a cent from him."

"He'll be awful mad," said the little girl.

"Let him. If he had treated me decently I would have stayed with him. Now I'm glad I left him."

Mills was indeed furious when, by degrees, he had drawn from his young messenger what Frank had said. He was sorry to lose him, for he was the most truthful and satisfactory guide he had ever employed, and he now regretted that he had driven him away by his unreasonable exactions. He considered whether it would be worth while to have Frank arrested on a false charge of theft, but was restrained by the fear that he would himself be implicated in passing counterfeit money, that is, in intention. He succeeded in engaging another boy, who really stole from him, and finally secured a girl, for whose services, however, he was obliged to pay her mother twenty cents every time she went out with him. Mean and miserly as he was, he agreed to this with reluctance, and only as a measure of necessity.

As he became more accustomed to his new occupation Frank succeeded better. He was a boy of considerable energy, and was on the alert for customers. It was not long before his earnings exceeded those of Dick Rafferty, who was inclined to take things easily.

One evening Dick was lamenting that he could not go to the Old Bowery.

"There's a bully play, Frank," he said. "There's a lot of fightin' in it."

"What is it called, Dick?"

"'The Scalpers of the Plains.' There's five men murdered in the first act. Oh, it's elegant!"

"Why don't you go, then, Dick?"

"Cause I'm dead-broke—busted. That's why. I aint had much luck this week, and it took all my money to pay for my lodgin's and grub."

"Do you want very much to go to the theatre, Dick?"

"Of course I do; but it aint no use. My credit aint good, and I haint no money in the bank."

"How much does it cost?"

"Fifteen cents, in the top gallery."

"Can you see there?"

"Yes, it's rather high up; but a feller with good eyes can see all he wants to there."

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Dick. You have been a good friend to me, and I'll take you at my expense."

"You will? To-night?"

"Yes."

"You're a reg'lar trump. We'll have a stavin' time. Sometime, when I'm flush, I'll return the compliment."

So the two boys went. They were at the doors early, and secured a front seat in the gallery. The performance was well adapted to please the taste of a boy, and they enjoyed it exceedingly. Dick was uproarious in his applause whenever a man was killed.

"Seems to me you like to see men killed, Dick," said his friend.

"Yes, it's kinder excitin'."

"I don't like that part so well as some others," said Frank.

"It's' a stavin' play, aint it?" asked Dick, greatly delighted.

Frank assented.

"I'll tell you what, Frank," said Dick; "I'd like to be a hunter and roam round the plains, killin' bears and Injuns."

"Suppose they should kill you? That wouldn't suit you so well, would it?"

"No, I guess not. But I'd like to be a hunter, wouldn't you?"

"No, I would rather live in New York. I would like to make a journey to the West if I had money enough; but I would leave the hunting to other men."

Dick, however, did not agree with his more sensible companion. Many boys like him are charmed with the idea of a wild life in the forest, and some have been foolish enough to leave good homes, and, providing themselves with what they considered necessary, have set out on a journey in quest of the romantic adventures which in stories had fired their imaginations. If their wishes could be realized it would not be long before the romance would fade out, and they would long for the good homes, which they had never before fully appreciated.

When the week was over, Frank found that he had lived within his means, as he had resolved to do; but he had not done much more. He began with a dollar which he had received from Mr. Bowen, and now he had a dollar and a quarter. There was a gain of twenty-five cents. There would have been a little more if he had not gone to the theatre with Dick; but this he did not regret. He felt that he needed some amusement, and he wished to show his gratitude to his friend for various kind services. The time had come to accept Mr. Bowen's second dinner invitation. As Frank looked at his shabby clothes he wished there were a good pretext for declining, but he reflected that this would not be polite, and that the old gentleman would make allowances for his wardrobe. He brushed up his clothes as well as he could, and obtained a "boss shine" from Dick. Then he started for the house on Madison avenue.

"I'll lend you my clo'es if you want 'em," said Dick.

"There are too many spots of blacking on them, Dick. As I'm a newsboy, it wouldn't look appropriate. I shall have to make mine answer."

"I'll shine up the blackin' spots if you want me to."

"Never mind, Dick. I'll wait till next time for your suit."

CHAPTER IX.
VICTOR DUPONT

As Frank was walking on Madison avenue, a little before reaching the house of Mr. Bowen he met a boy of his own age, whom he recognized. Victor Dupont had spent the previous summer at the hotel in the country village where Frank had lived until he came to the city. Victor was proud of his social position, but time hung so heavily upon his hands in the country that he was glad to keep company with the village boys. Frank and he had frequently gone fishing together, and had been associated in other amusements, so that they were for the time quite intimate. The memories of home and past pleasures thronged upon our hero as he met Victor, and his face flushed with pleasure.

"Why, Victor," he said, eagerly, extending his hand, "how glad I am to see you!"

Frank forgot that intimacy in the country does not necessarily lead to intimacy in the city, and he was considerably surprised when Victor, not appearing to notice his offered hand, said coldly, "I don't think I remember you."

"Don't remember me!" exclaimed Frank, amazed. "Why, I am Frank Kavanagh! Don't you remember how much we were together last summer, and what good times we had fishing and swimming together?"

"Yes, I believe I do remember you now," drawled Victor, still not offering his hand, or expressing any pleasure at the meeting. "When did you come to the city?"

"I have been here two or three weeks," replied Frank.

"Oh, indeed! Are you going to remain?"

"Yes, if I can earn a living."

Victor scanned Frank's clothes with a critical, and evidently rather contemptuous, glance.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Are you in a store?"

"No; I am selling papers."

"A newsboy!" said Victor, with a curve of the lip.

"Yes," answered Frank, his pleasure quite chilled by Victor's manner.

"Are you doing well?" asked Victor, more from curiosity than interest.

"I am making my expenses."

"How do you happen to be in this neighborhood? I suppose you sell papers down-town."

"Yes, but I am invited to dinner."

"Not here—on the avenue!" ejaculated Victor.

"Yes," answered Frank, enjoying the other's surprise.

"Where?"

Frank mentioned the number.

"Why, that is next to my house. Mr. Bowen lives there."

"Yes."

"Perhaps you know some of the servants," suggested Victor.

"I know one," said Frank, smiling, for he read Victor's thoughts; "but my invitation comes from Mr. Bowen."

"Did you ever dine there before?" asked Victor, puzzled.

"Yes, last week."

"You must excuse my mentioning it, but I should hardly think you would like to sit down at a gentleman's table in that shabby suit."

"I don't," answered Frank; "but I have no better."

"Then you ought to decline the invitation."

"I would, but for appearing impolite."

"It seems very strange that Mr. Bowen should invite a newsboy to dinner."

"Perhaps if you'd mention what you think of it," said Frank, somewhat nettled, "he would recall the invitation."

"Oh, it's nothing to me," said Victor; "but I thought I'd mention it, as I know more of etiquette than you do."

"You are very considerate," said Frank, with a slight tinge of sarcasm in his tone.

By this time he had reached the house of Mr. Bowen, and the two boys parted.

Frank could not help thinking a little about what Victor had said. His suit, as he looked down at it, seemed shabbier than ever. Again it occurred to him that perhaps Mr. Bowen had forgotten the invitation, and this would make it very awkward for him. As he waited for the door to open he decided that, if it should appear that he was not expected, he would give some excuse, and go away.

Susan opened the door.

"Mr. Bowen invited me to come here to dinner to-night," began Frank, rather nervously.

"Yes, you are expected," said Susan, very much to his relief. "Wipe your feet, and come right in."

Frank obeyed.

"You are to go upstairs and get ready for dinner," said Susan, and she led the way to the same chamber into which our hero had been ushered the week before.

"There won't be much getting ready," thought Frank. "However, I can stay there till I hear the bell ring."

As he entered the room he saw a suit of clothes and some underclothing lying on the bed.

"They are for you," said Susan, laconically.

"For me!" exclaimed Frank, in surprise.

"Yes, put them on, and when you come down to dinner Mr. Bowen will see how they fit."

"Is it a present from him?" asked Frank, overwhelmed with surprise and gratitude, for he could see that the clothes were very handsome.

"Well, they aint from me," said Susan, "so it's likely they come from him. Don't be too long, for Mr. Bowen doesn't like to have any one late to dinner."

Susan had been in the service of her present mistress fifteen years, and was a privileged character. She liked to have her own way; but had sterling qualities, being neat, faithful, and industrious.

"I wonder whether I am awake or dreaming," thought Frank, when he was left alone. "I shouldn't like to wake up and find it was all a dream."

He began at once to change his shabby clothes for the new ones. He found that the articles provided were a complete outfit, including shirt, collar, cuffs, stockings; in fact, everything that was needful. The coat, pants, and vest were a neat gray, and proved to be an excellent fit. In the bosom of the shirt were neat studs, and the cuffs were supplied with sleeve-buttons to correspond. When Frank stood before the glass, completely attired, he hardly knew himself. He was as well dressed as his aristocratic acquaintance, Victor Dupont, and looked more like a city boy than a boy bred in the country.

"I never looked so well in my life," thought our young hero, complacently. "How kind Mr. Bowen is!"

Frank did not know it; but he was indebted for this gift to Susan's suggestion. When her master told her in the morning that Frank was coming to dinner, she said, "It's a pity the boy hadn't some better clothes."

"I didn't notice his clothes," said Mr. Bowen. "Are they shabby?"

"Yes; and they are almost worn out. They don't look fit for one who is going to sit at your table."

"Bless my soul! I never thought of that. You think he needs some new clothes."

"He needs them badly."

"I will call at Baldwin's, and order some ready-made; but I don't know his size."

"He's about two inches shorter than you, Mr. Bowen. Tell 'em that, and they will know. He ought to have shirts and stockings, too."

"So he shall," said the old man, quite interested. "He shall have a full rig-out from top to toe. Where shall I go for the shirts and things?"

Susan had a nephew about Frank's age, and she was prepared to give the necessary information. The old gentleman, who had no business to attend to, was delighted to have something to fill up his time. He went out directly after breakfast, or as soon as he had read the morning paper, and made choice of the articles already described, giving strict injunctions that they should be sent home immediately.

This was the way Frank got his new outfit.

When our hero came downstairs Mr. Bowen was waiting eagerly to see the transformation. The result delighted him.

"Why, I shouldn't have known you!" he exclaimed, lifting both hands. "I had no idea new clothes would change you so much."

"I don't know how to thank you, sir," said Frank, gratefully.

"I never should have thought of it if it hadn't been for Susan."

"Then I thank you, Susan," said Frank, offering his hand to the girl, as she entered the room.

Susan was pleased. She liked to be appreciated; and she noted with satisfaction the great improvement in Frank's appearance.

"You are quite welcome," she said; "but it was master's money that paid for the clothes."

"It was your kindness that made him think of it," said Frank.

From that moment Susan became Frank's fast friend. We generally like those whom we have benefited, if our services are suitably acknowledged.