Andy Grant's Pluck 10

Andy Grant's Pluck 10

"I don't quite like that last line," he said looking up from the paper.

"Can you suggest any improvement?"

 

"You might say, 'And charm the pensive cow,'" suggested Andy,

mischievously.

 

"True, that might be a striking figure. I will consider it when I revise

the poem for publication in book form."

 

The rest of the poem was of similar quality.

 

"I don't think they would accept that for the _Century_," thought Andy.

 

"Do you devote yourself to literary work, or are you in business?" he

asked.

 

"I may go into business, but at present I only write. I send a letter

once a month to the Greenville _Banner_."

 

"I suppose they pay?"

 

"Oh--ah, yes," answered the poet, in a hesitating voice, "but the terms

are strictly confidential. If you ever pick up any incidents in your

daily walks, Mr. Grant, I shall be glad if you will communicate them to

me, that I may weave them into my correspondence."

 

"With pleasure."

 

Then it occurred to Andy to tell his neighbor about the street

adventurer whom he had met three times that morning.

 

"Capital!" exclaimed Warren. "I will get that into my next letter. I

see, Mr. Grant, you have an observing eye. You would make a good

reporter for one of the city dailies."

 

"Do you think so?" asked Andy, feeling complimented.

 

"I am sure of it."

 

"How long have you lived in the city, Mr. Warren?"

 

"About three months. Some time I will tell you why I came here," he

continued, with an air of mystery.

 

"I shall be glad to hear."

 

"I will tell you now, for I see you have a sympathetic soul. I loved,

and my love was returned, but a heartless parent interposed and

separated two loving hearts."

 

He took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. Andy hardly knew

whether to laugh or to express sympathy.

 

"I suppose that often happens?" he said, rather lamely. "Perhaps he may

yet repent."

 

"I live in that hope. When I have become famous, I will go back and

offer myself again to Sophia. I suppose you have had no heart

experiences as yet, Mr. Grant?"

 

"Not as yet, but I can sympathize with you."

 

"I am so glad you have come. I shall make you my confidential friend."

 

Then the conversation drifted into other channels.

 

 

 

 

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."