Kitabı oku: «The Cash Boy», sayfa 4

CHAPTER X
THE HOUSEKEEPER SCHEMING

If Mrs. Bradley had been wiser, she would have felt less confident of her nephew’s producing a favorable impression upon Mr. Wharton. She resolved to open the subject at the breakfast table.

“I didn’t know, Mr. Wharton,” she commenced, “that you intended to engage a reader.”

“Nor did I propose to do so until last evening.”

“I think—you’ll excuse me for saying so—that you will find that boy too young to suit you.”

“I don’t think so. He reads very clearly and distinctly.”

“If I had known you thought of engaging a reader, I would have asked you to engage my nephew.”

“Indeed, I was not aware that you had a nephew in the city. Is he a boy?”

“No; he is a young man. He was twenty years old last June.”

“Is he unfavorably situated?”

“He has a place as salesman.”

“With what firm?”

“Gilbert & Mack.”

“Why, that is the same firm that employs my young friend. It is a good firm.”

“Perhaps it is, but my poor nephew receives a very small salary. He finds it very hard to get along.”

“Your nephew is young. He will be promoted if he serves his employers well.”

“Thomas would have been glad to read to you in the evening, sir,” said Mrs. Bradley, commencing the attack.

“But for my present engagement, I might have taken him,” said Mr. Wharton, politely.

“Have you engaged that boy for any length of time?”

“No; but it is understood that he will stay while I need him, and he continues to suit me. I have a favorable opinion of him. Besides, he needs the pay. He receives but three dollars a week as a cash-boy, and has a sister to support as well as himself.”

“I am sorry,” she said in an injured tone. “I hope you’ll excuse my mentioning it, but I took the liberty, having been for twenty years in your employ.”

“To be sure! You were quite right,” said her employer, kindly. “Perhaps I may be able to do something for your nephew, though not that. Tell him to come and see me some time.”

“Thank you, sir,” said the housekeeper.

There was one question she wanted to determine, and that was the amount of compensation received by Frank. She did not like to inquire directly from Mr. Wharton, but resolved to gain the information from our hero. Some evenings later she had the opportunity. Mr. Wharton had an engagement, and asked her to tell Frank, when he arrived that he was released from duty. Instead of this she received him in the library herself.

“Probably Mr. Wharton will not be at home this evening,” she said. “If he does not return in half an hour, you need not wait.”

She took up her work, seated in Mr. Wharton’s usual place, and Frank remained ready for duty.

“Mr. Wharton tells me you have a sister,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You must find it hard work to provide for her as well as yourself.”

“I do, or rather I did till I came here.”

“How much does Mr. Wharton pay you?” she asked, in an indifferent tone.

“Five dollars a week,” answered Frank.

“You are lucky that you have such a chance,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am; it is more than I earn, I know, but it is a great help to me.”

“And how much do you get as cash-boy?”

“Three dollars a week.”

“So you actually receive nearly twice as much for a couple of hours in the evening as for the whole day.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What a pity Thomas can’t have this chance,” she thought.

When it was nine o’clock, she said:

“You need not wait any longer. Mr. Wharton will not be home in time to hear you read.”

“Good-evening, Mrs. Bradley,” said Frank.

“Good-evening!” she responded, coldly.

“That boy is in the way,” she said to herself, when she was left alone. “He is in my way, and Tom’s way. I can see that he is artfully intriguing for Mr. Wharton’s favor, but I must checkmate him. It’s odd,” she resumed, after a pause, “but there is something in his face and voice that seems familiar to me. What is it?”

The following evening the housekeeper received another visit from her nephew.

“How do, aunt?” said Thomas Bradley, carelessly, as he entered the housekeeper’s room.

“Very well, thank you, Thomas. I am glad you are here. I have been wanting to see you.”

“The old man isn’t going to do anything for me, is he?”

“How can you expect it so soon? He doesn’t know you yet. How much do you think he pays the cash-boy that reads to him in the evening?”

“I don’t know.”

“Five dollars a week.”

“I wouldn’t give up my evenings for that,” he said.

“It isn’t so much the pay, Thomas, though that would be a help. He might take a fancy to you.”

“That might pay better. When are you going to introduce me?”

“This evening; that is, I will ask Mr. Wharton if he will see you.”

Mrs. Bradley entered the library, where Frank was engaged in reading aloud.

“Excuse my interruption,” she said; “but my nephew has just called, and I should like to introduce him to you, if you will kindly receive him.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Bradley,” said Mr. Wharton. “Bring him in.”

The housekeeper left the room, but speedily reappeared, followed by her nephew, who seemed a little abashed.

“My nephew, Thomas Bradley, Mr. Wharton,” said his aunt, by way of introduction. “You have often heard me speak of Mr. Wharton, Thomas.”

“How do you do, sir?” said Thomas awkwardly.

“Pray take a seat, Mr. Bradley. Your aunt has been long a member of my family. I am glad to see a nephew of hers. I believe you are a salesman at Gilbert & Mack’s?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you must know my young friend here?” pointing to Frank.

“How are you, Cash?” said Thomas, laughing, under the impression that he had said something smart.

“Very well, Mr. Bradley,” answered Frank, quietly.

“You see, that’s all the name we call ‘em in the store,” said Thomas.

Mr. Wharton could not help thinking:

“How poorly this young man compares with my young friend. Still, as he is Mrs. Bradley’s nephew, I must be polite to him.”

“Are there many cash-boys in your establishment, Mr. Bradley?”

“About a dozen. Ain’t there, Fowler?”

“I believe so, Mr. Bradley.”

“Gilbert & Mack do a good business, I should judge.”

“Yes, they do; but that doesn’t do us poor salesmen much good. We get just enough to keep soul and body together.”

“I am sorry to hear it,” said Mr. Wharton.

“Why, sir,” said Thomas, gaining confidence, “all they pay me is twelve dollars a week. How can they expect a fellow to live on that?”

“I began my career about your age,” said Mr. Wharton, “or perhaps a little younger, and had to live on but six dollars a week.”

“Didn’t you come near starving?” he asked.

“On the contrary, I saved a little every week.”

“I can’t,” said Thomas, a little discomfited. “Why, it takes half that to dress decently.”

Mr. Wharton glanced quietly at the rather loud and flashy dress worn by his visitor, but only said:

“A small salary, of course, makes economy necessary.”

“But when a fellow knows he earns a good deal more than he gets, he doesn’t feel like starving himself just that his employers may grow rich.”

“Of course, if he can better himself they cannot object.”

“That’s just what I want to do,” said Thomas; “but I expect I need influence to help me to something better. That’s a good hint,” thought he.

“I was telling Thomas,” said the housekeeper, “that you had kindly expressed a desire to be of service to him.”

“I am not now in active business,” said Mr. Wharton, “and of course have not the opportunities I formerly had for helping young men, but I will bear your case in mind, Mr. Bradley.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Thomas. “I am sure I earn a thousand dollars a year.”

“I think, Thomas,” said Mrs. Bradley, “we won’t intrude on Mr. Wharton longer this evening. When he finds something for you he will tell me.”

“All right, aunt. Good-night, Mr. Wharton. Good-night, Cash,” said Thomas, chuckling anew at the old joke.

“Well, aunt,” said he, when they were once more in the housekeeper’s room, “do you think the old gentleman will do anything for me?”

“I hope so; but I am not sure, Thomas, whether you were not too familiar. You spoke of money too quick.”

“It’s my way to come to business.”

“I wish you were his reader, instead of that boy.”

“Well, I don’t. I wouldn’t want to be mewed up in that room with the old man every night. I should get tired to death of it.”

“You would have a chance to get him interested in you. That boy is artful; he is doing all he can to win Mr. Wharton’s favor. He is the one you have most reason to dread.”

“Do you think he will do me any harm?”

“I think he will injure your chances.”

“Egad! if I thought that, I’d wring the young rascal’s neck.”

“There’s a better way, Thomas.”

“What’s that?”

“Can’t you get him dismissed from Gilbert & Mack’s?”

“I haven’t enough influence with the firm.”

“Suppose they thought him dishonest?”

“They’d give him the sack, of course.”

“Can’t you make them think so, Thomas?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then make it your business to find out.”

“I suppose you know what good it’s going to do, aunt, but I don’t. He’s got his place here with the old man.”

“If Mr. Wharton hears that he is discharged, and has lost his situation, he will probably discharge him, too.”

“Perhaps so; I suppose you know best.”

“Do as I tell you, and I will manage the rest.”

“All right. I need your help enough. To-night, for instance, I’m regularly cleaned out. Haven’t got but twenty-five cents to my name.”

“It seems to me, Thomas,” said his aunt, with a troubled look, “you are always out of money. I’ll give you five dollars, Thomas, but you must remember that I am not made of money. My wages are small.”

“You ought to have a good nest-egg laid aside, aunt.”

“I’ve got something, Thomas, and when I die, it’ll be yours.”

“I hope I shan’t have to wait too long,” thought Thomas, “but he did not give utterance to the thought.”

“Come again, Thomas, and don’t forget what I have said,” said Mrs. Bradley.

CHAPTER XI
JOHN WADE

A tall man, with a sallow complexion, and heavily-bearded face, stood on the deck of a Cunard steamer, only a few miles distant from New York harbor.

“It’s three years since I have seen America,” he said to himself, thoughtfully. “I suppose I ought to feel a patriotic fervor about setting foot once more on my native shore, but I don’t believe in nonsense. I would be content to live in Europe all my life, if my uncle’s fortune were once in my possession. I am his sole heir, but he persists in holding on to his money bags, and limits me to a paltry three thousand a year. I must see if I can’t induce him to give me a good, round sum on account—fifty thousand, at least—and then I can wait a little more patiently till he drops off.”

“When shall we reach port, captain?” he asked, as he passed that officer.

“In four hours, I think, Mr. Wade.”

“So this is my birthday,” he said to himself.

“Thirty five years old to-day. Half my life gone, and I am still a dependent on my uncle’s bounty. Suppose he should throw me off—leave me out in the cold—where should I be? If he should find the boy—but no, there is no chance of that. I have taken good care of that. By the way, I must look him up soon—cautiously, of course—and see what has become of him. He will grow up a laborer or mechanic and die without a knowledge of his birth, while I fill his place and enjoy his inheritance.”

At six o’clock the vessel reached the Quarantine. Most of the passengers decided to remain on board one night more, but John Wade was impatient, and, leaving his trunks, obtained a small boat, and soon touched the shore.

It was nearly eight when John Wade landed in the city. It was half-past eight when he stood on the steps of his uncle’s residence and rang the bell.

“Is my uncle is Mr. Wharton—at home?” he asked of the servant who answered the bell.

“Yes, sir.”

“I am his nephew, just arrived from Europe. Let him know that I am here, and would like to see him.”

The servant, who had never before seen him, having only been six months in the house, regarded him with a great deal of curiosity, and then went to do his biding.

“My nephew arrived!” exclaimed Mr. Wharton, in surprise. “Why, he never let me know he was coming.”

“Will you see him, sir?”

“To be sure! Bring him in at once.”

“My dear uncle!” exclaimed John Wade, with effusion, for he was a polite man, and could act when it suited his interests to do so, “I am glad to see you. How is your health?”

“I am getting older every day, John.”

“You don’t look a day older, sir,” said John, who did not believe what he said, for he could plainly see that his uncle had grown older since he last saw him.

“You think so, John, but I feel it. Your coming is a surprise. You did not write that you intended sailing.”

“I formed the determination very suddenly, sir.”

“Were you tired of Europe?”

“No; but I wanted to see you, sir.”

“Thank you, John,” said his uncle, pressing his nephew’s hand. “I am glad you think so much of me. Did you have a pleasant voyage?”

“Rather rough, sir.”

“You have had no supper, of course? If you will ring the bell, the housekeeper will see that some is got ready for you.”

“Is Mrs. Bradley still in your employ, uncle?”

“Yes, John. I am so used to her that I shouldn’t know how to get along without her.”

Hitherto John Wade had been so occupied with his uncle that he had not observed Frank. But at this moment our hero coughed, involuntarily, and John Wade looked at him. He seemed to be singularly affected. He started perceptibly, and his sallow face blanched, as his eager eyes were fixed on the boy’s face.

“Good heavens!” he muttered to himself. “Who is that boy? How comes he here?”

Frank noticed his intent gaze, and wondered at it, but Mr. Wharton’s eyesight was defective, and he did not perceive his nephew’s excitement.

“I see you have a young visitor, uncle,” said John Wade.

“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Wharton, with a kindly smile. “He spends all his evenings with me.”

“What do you mean, sir?” demanded John Wade, with sudden suspicion and fear. “He seems very young company for–”

“For a man of my years,” said Mr. Wharton, finishing the sentence. “You are right, John. But, you see, my eyes are weak, and I cannot use them for reading in the evening, so it occurred to me to engage a reader.”

“Very true,” said his nephew. He wished to inquire the name of the boy whose appearance had so powerfully impressed him but he determined not to do so at present. What information he sought he preferred to obtain from the housekeeper.

“He seemed surprised, as if he had seen me some where before, and recognized me,” thought Frank, “but I don’t remember him. If I had seen his face before, I think I should remember it.”

“Don’t come out, uncle.” said John Wade, when summoned to tea by the housekeeper. “Mrs. Bradley and I are going to have a chat by ourselves, and I will soon return.”

“You are looking thin, Mr. John,” said Mrs Bradley.

“Am I thinner than usual? I never was very corpulent, you know. How is my uncle’s health? He says he is well.”

“He is pretty well, but he isn’t as young as he was.”

“I think he looks older,” said John. “But that is not surprising—at his age. He is seventy, isn’t he?”

“Not quite. He is sixty-nine.”

“His father died at seventy-one.”

“Yes.”

“But that is no reason why my uncle should not live till eighty. I hope he will.”

“We all hope so,” said the housekeeper; but she knew, while she spoke, that if, as she supposed, Mr. Wharton’s will contained a generous legacy for her, his death would not afflict her much. She suspected also that John Wade was waiting impatiently for his uncle’s death, that he might enter upon his inheritance. Still, their little social fictions must be kept up, and so both expressed a desire for his continued life, though neither was deceived as to the other’s real feeling on the subject.

“By the way, Mrs. Bradley,” said John Wade, “how came my uncle to engage that boy to read to him?”

“He was led into it, sir,” said the housekeeper, with a great deal of indignation, “by the boy himself. He’s an artful and designing fellow, you may rely upon it.”

“What’s his name?”

“Frank Fowler.”

“Fowler! Is his name Fowler?” he repeated, with a startled expression.

“Yes, sir,” answered the housekeeper, rather surprised at his manner. “You don’t know anything about him, do you?”

“Oh, no,” said John Wade, recovering his composure. “He is a perfect stranger to me; but I once knew a man of that name, and a precious rascal he was. When you mentioned his name, I thought he might be a son of this man. Does he say his father is alive?”

“No; he is dead, and his mother, too, so the boy says.”

“You haven’t told me how my uncle fell in with him?”

“It was an accident. Your uncle fell in getting out of a Broadway stage, and this boy happened to be near, and seeing Mr. Wharton was a rich gentleman, he helped him home, and was invited in. Then he told some story about his poverty, and so worked upon your uncle’s feelings that he hired him to read to him at five dollars a week.”

“Is this all the boy does?”

“No; he is cash-boy in a large store on Broadway. He is employed there all day, and he is here only in the evenings.”

“Does my uncle seem attached to him?” asked John.

“He’s getting fond of him, I should say. The other day he asked me if I didn’t think it would be a good thing to take him into the house and give him a room. I suppose the boy put it into his head.”

“No doubt. What did you say?”

“I opposed it. I told him that a boy would be a great deal of trouble in the family.”

“You did right, Mrs. Bradley. What did my uncle say?”

“He hinted about taking him from the store and letting him go to school. The next thing would be his adopting him. The fact is, Mr. John, the boy is so artful that he knows just how to manage your uncle. No doubt he put the idea into Mr. Wharton’s head, and he may do it yet.”

“Does my uncle give any reason for the fancy he has taken to the boy?” demanded John.

“Yes,” said the housekeeper. “He has taken it into his head that the boy resembles your cousin, George, who died abroad. You were with him, I believe?”

“Yes, I was with him. Is the resemblance strong? I took very little notice of him.”

“You can look for yourself when you go back,” answered the housekeeper.

“What else did my uncle say? Tell me all.”

“He said: ‘What would I give, Mrs. Bradley, if I had such a grandson? If George’s boy had lived, he would have been about Frank’s age. And,” continued the housekeeper, “I might as well speak plainly. You’re my master’s heir, or ought to be; but if this artful boy stays here long, there’s no knowing what your uncle may be influenced to do. If he gets into his dotage, he may come to adopt him, and leave the property away from you.”

“I believe you are quite right. The danger exists, and we must guard against it. I see you don’t like the boy,” said John Wade.

“No, I don’t. He’s separated your uncle and me. Before he came, I used to spend my evenings in the library, and read to your uncle. Besides, when I found your uncle wanted a reader, I asked him to take my nephew, who is a salesman in the very same store where that boy is a cash-boy, but although I’ve been twenty years in this house I could not get him to grant the favor, which he granted to that boy, whom he never met till a few weeks ago.”

“Mrs. Bradley, I sympathize with you,” said her companion. “The boy is evidently working against us both. You have been twenty years in my uncle’s service. He ought to remember you handsomely in his will. If I inherit the property, as is my right, your services shall be remembered,” said John Wade.

“Thank you, Mr. John,” said the gratified housekeeper.

“That secures her help,” thought John, in his turn.

“She will now work hard for me. When the time comes, I can do as much or as little for her as I please.”

“Of course, we must work together against this interloper, who appears to have gained a dangerous influence over my uncle.”

“You can depend upon me, Mr. John,” said Mrs. Bradley.

“I will think it over, and tell you my plan,” said John Wade. “But my uncle will wonder at my appetite. I must go back to the library. We will speak of this subject again.”