The Cash Boy

CHAPTER VIII

AN UNEXPECTED ENGAGEMENT

“Take a seat, Frank,” said Mr. Wharton, pointing to a luxurious armchair on one side of the cheerful grate fire; “I will take the other, and you shall tell me all about yourself.”

“Thank you, sir,” said our hero.

His confidence was won by Mr. Wharton’s kind tone, and he briefly recounted his story.

At the conclusion, Mr. Wharton said:

“How old are you, Frank?”

“Fourteen, sir.”

“You are a brave boy, and a good boy, and you deserve success.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But I am bound to say that you have a hard task before you.”

“I know it, sir.”

“Why not let your sister go to the poorhouse for a few years, till you are older, and better able to provide for her?”

“I should be ashamed to do it, sir,” he said. “I promised my mother to take care of Grace, and I will.”

“How much do you earn as a cash-boy?”

“Three dollars a week.”

“Only three dollars a week! Why, that won’t pay your own expenses!” said the old gentleman in surprise.

“Yes, sir, it does. I pay fifty cents a week for my room, and my meals don’t cost me much.”

“But you will want clothes.”

“I have enough for the present, and I am laying up fifty cents a week to buy more when I need them.”

“You can’t buy many for twenty-six dollars a year. But that doesn’t allow anything for your sister’s expenses.”

“That is what puzzles me, sir,” said Frank, fixing a troubled glance upon the fire. “I shall have to work in the evenings for Grace.”

“What can you do?”

“I could copy, but I suppose there isn’t much chance of getting copying to do.”

“Then you have a good handwriting?”

“Pretty fair, sir.”

“Let me see a specimen. There are pen and ink on the table, and here is a sheet of paper.”

Frank seated himself at the table, and wrote his name on the paper.

“Very good,” said his host, approvingly. “Your hand is good enough for a copyist, but you are correct in supposing that work of that kind is hard to get. Are you a good reader?”

“Do you mean in reading aloud, sir?”

“Yes.”

“I will try, if you wish.”

“Take a book from the table—any book—and let me hear you read.”

Frank opened the first book that came to hand—one of Irving’s and read in a clear, unembarrassed voice about half a page.

“Very good indeed!” said Mr. Wharton. “You have been well taught. Where did you attend school?”

“Only in the town school, sir.”

“You have, at any rate, made good use of your advantages.”

“But will it do me any good, sir?” asked Frank.

“People are not paid for reading, are they?”

“Not in general, but we will suppose the case of a person whose eyes are weak, and likely to be badly affected by evening use. Then suppose such a person could secure the services of a good, clear, distinct reader, don’t you think he would be willing to pay something?”

“I suppose so. Do you know of any such person?” asked Frank.

“I am describing myself, Frank. A year since I strained my eyes very severely, and have never dared to use them much since by gaslight. Mrs. Bradley, my housekeeper, has read to me some, but she has other duties, and I don’t think she enjoys it very much. Now, why shouldn’t I get you to read to me in the evening when you are not otherwise employed?”

“I wish you would, Mr. Wharton,” said Frank, eagerly. “I would do my best.”

“I have no doubt of that, but there is another question—perhaps you might ask a higher salary than I could afford to pay.”

“Would a dollar a week be too much?” asked Frank.

“I don’t think I could complain of that,” said Mr. Wharton, gravely. “Very well, I will engage you as my reader.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But about the pay; I have made up my mind to pay you five dollars a week.”

“Five dollars a week!” Frank repeated. “It is much more than my services will be worth sir.”

“Let me judge of that, Frank.”

“I don’t know how to thank you, sir,” said Frank, gratefully. “I never expected to be so rich. I shall have no trouble in paying for Grace’s board and clothes now. When do you want me to begin reading to you?”

“You may as well begin to-night—that is, unless you have some other engagement.”

“Oh, no, sir, I have nothing else to do.”

“Take the Evening Post, then, and read me the leading editorial. Afterward, I will tell you what to read.”

Frank had been reading about half an hour, when a knock was heard at the door.

“Come in,” said Mr. Wharton.

Mrs. Bradley entered, with a soft, quiet step.

“I thought, sir,” she began, “you might like me to read to you, as usual.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bradley, but I am going to relieve you of that portion of your labors. My young friend here is to come every evening and read to me.”

“Indeed!” ejaculated the housekeeper in a tone of chilly displeasure, and a sharp glance at Frank, which indicated no great amount of cordiality. “Then, as I am intruding, I will take my leave.”

There was something in her tone that made Frank feel uncomfortable.

CHAPTER IX

THE HOUSEKEEPER’S NEPHEW

“By no means,” said Mr. Wharton, as the housekeeper was about to withdraw; “don’t imagine you are intruding. Come in and sit down.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Bradley, in a measured tone. “You are very considerate, I am sure, but if you’ll excuse me, I won’t come in this evening.”

“Mrs. Bradley has been with me a good many years,” explained Mr. Wharton, “and I dare say she feels a little disturbed at seeing another occupy her place, even in a duty like this.”

“I am afraid she will be offended with me, sir,” said Frank.

“Oh, no; I will explain matters to her. Go on with your reading, Frank.”

At half-past nine, Mr. Wharton took out his watch.

“It is getting late,” he said. “I have no doubt you are tired and need rest.”

“I am not tired, sir.”

“I believe in going to bed early. I shall seldom keep you later than this. Do you think you can find your way out?”

“Yes, sir. When shall I come to-morrow evening?”

“A little before eight.”

“I will be punctual.”

Jasper was waiting for him, not wholly without anxiety, for it was very unusual for Frank to be late.

“Well, Frank!” he exclaimed; “this is a pretty time for you to come home. I began to think you had got into trouble. I was just going around to the nearest station house in search of you.”

“I was in quite a different place, Jasper.”

Frank told his story, including an account of his engagement.

“So it seems I am to lose your company in the evening. I am sorry for that, but I am glad you are so lucky.”

“It was better than I expected,” said Frank, with satisfaction.

“What sort of a man is this Mr. Wharton?” said Jasper.

“He is very kind and generous. I am lucky to have so good a friend. There’s only one thing that is likely to be disagreeable.”

“What’s that?”

“The housekeeper—her name is Mrs. Bradley—for some reason or other she doesn’t want me there.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Her manner, and the way she speaks. She came in to read to Mr. Wharton last evening, and didn’t seem to like it because I had been taken in her place.”

“She is evidently jealous. You must take care not to offend her. She might endeavor to have you dismissed.”

“I shall always treat her politely, but I don’t think I can ever like her.”

Meanwhile, the housekeeper, on leaving the library, had gone to her own room in dudgeon.

“Mr. Wharton’s a fool!” she muttered to herself.

“What possessed him to take this cash-boy from the streets, invite him to dinner, and treat him as an honored guest, and finally to engage him as a reader? I never heard of anything so ridiculous! Is this little vagabond to take my place in the old man’s good graces? I’ve been slaving and slaving for twenty years, and what have I got by it? I’ve laid up two thousand dollars; and what is that to provide for my old age? If the old man would die, and remember me handsomely in his will, it would be worth while; but this new favorite may stand in my way. If he does I’ll be revenged on him as sure as my name is Ulrica Bradley.”

Here the area bell rang, and in a moment one of the housemaids entered Mrs. Bradley’s room.

“There’s your nephew outside, ma’am, and wanting to see you.”

“Tell him to come in,” and the housekeeper’s cold face became softer and pleasanter in aspect as a young man of twenty entered and greeted her carelessly.

“How are you, aunt?”

“Pretty well, Thomas,” she answered. “You haven’t been here for some time.”

“No. I’ve had a lot of work to do. Nothing but work, work, all the time,” he grumbled. “I wish I was rich.”

“You get through at six o’clock, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I hope you spend your evenings profitably, Thomas?”

“I ain’t likely to go on any sprees, aunt, if that’s what you mean. I only get twelve dollars a week.”

“I should think you might live on it.”

“Starve, you mean. What’s twelve dollars to a young fellow like me when he’s got his board to pay, and has to dress like a gentleman?”

“You are not in debt, I hope, Thomas?” said Mrs. Bradley, uneasily.

“I owe for the suit I have on, and I don’t know where I’m going to get the money to pay for it.”

He was dressed in a flashy style, not unlike what is popularly denominated a swell. His coarse features were disfigured with unhealthy blotches, and his outward appearance was hardly such as to recommend him. But to him alone the cold heart of the housekeeper was warm. He was her sister’s son and her nearest relative. Her savings were destined for him, and in her attachment she was not conscious of his disagreeable characteristics. She had occasionally given him a five-dollar bill to eke out what he termed his miserable pay, and now whenever he called he didn’t spare hints that he was out of pocket, and that a further gift would be acceptable. Indeed, the only tie that bound him to his aunt was a mercenary one.

But the housekeeper, sharp-sighted as she ordinarily was, did not detect the secret motive of such attention she received from her nephew. She flattered herself that he really loved her, not suspecting that he was too selfish to love anybody but himself.

“Thomas,” she said, with a sudden thought, “I may be able to help you to an increase of your income. Mr. Wharton needs somebody to read to him evenings. On my recommendation he might take you.”

“Thank you, aunt, but I don’t see it. I don’t want to be worked to death.”

“But, think, Thomas,” said his aunt, earnestly. “He is very rich. He might take a fancy to you and remember you in his will.”

“I wish somebody would remember me in his will. Do you really think there’s any chance of the old boy’s doing something handsome for me?”

“That depends on yourself. You must try to please him.”

“Well, I must do something. What’ll he give?”

“I don’t know yet. In fact, there’s another reading to him just now.”

“Then there’s no chance for me.”

“Listen to me. It’s a boy he’s picked up in the streets, quite unsuited for the place. He’s a cash-boy at Gilbert & Mack’s. Why, that’s where you are,” she added, with sudden recollection.

“A cash-boy from my own place? What’s his name?”

“Fowler, I believe.”

“I know him—he’s lately come. How did he get in with the old man?”

“Mr. Wharton fell in the street, and he happened to be near, and helped him home.”

“You’ll have to manage it, aunt.”

“I’ll see what I can do to-morrow. He ought to prefer my nephew to a strange boy, seeing I have been twenty years in his service. I’ll let you know as soon as I have accomplished anything.”

“I don’t half like the idea of giving up my evenings. I don’t believe I can stand it.”

“It is only for a little while, to get him interested in you.”

“Maybe I might try it a week, and then tell him my health was failing, and get him to do something else for me.”

“At any rate, the first thing must be to become acquainted.”

Thomas now withdrew, for he did not enjoy spending an evening with his aunt, the richer by five dollars, half of which was spent before the evening closed at a neighboring billiard saloon.

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?”