Andy Grant's Pluck 15

Andy Grant's Pluck 15

"Through Mrs. Mason, of West Fifty-sixth Street. She has been a very

good friend to me. The gentleman who employs me is her brother."

 

"I shall be sorry to lose you, Andy, but I wish you to consult your own

interest. As to John Crandall, I shall discharge him at once. I will not

permit him to profit by the conspiracy against you. Can you stay this

evening?"

 

"No, sir. I am helping Mrs. Mason's son, Roy, in his Latin lessons. For

this I am paid five dollars per week."

 

"You seem to be very well provided for, I must say."

 

"Yes, sir, I have been fortunate."

 

The next day Mr. Flint notified Simon Rich that he was acquainted with

the manner in which evidence had been procured against Andy. Then he

turned to the nephew.

 

"The watch was pawned by you, John," he said, "under the direction of

your uncle."

 

"No, sir," said John. "If Andy Grant has told you this he has told a

lie."

 

"The matter is easily settled. Come around with me to the pawnbroker's."

 

John stammered and finally confessed.

 

"Of course I cannot retain your services after this. You, Mr. Rich, may

remain till the end of the month. I shall then feel obliged to make a

change."

 

Never were two conspirators more quickly punished. Simon Rich repented

bitterly yielding to the temptation to injure Andy. His malice had

recoiled upon himself.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXIV.

 

ANDY MAKES AN INVESTMENT.

 

 

Andy wrote to his friend, Walter Gale, who, it will be remembered, was

watching in Pennsylvania by the bedside of his uncle, giving him an

account of his change of business. He received the following reply:

 

"I felt indignant when I read your news of the conspiracy of Simon

Rich, but was pleased that it led to your advantage. I am inclined

to think that you will find your new business a better one than the

jewelry trade. The latter, if you went in for yourself, would call

for a large capital. In the real estate business capital is not so

much needed as good judgment and a large lot of acquaintances. I am

not personally acquainted with Mr. Crawford, but know him by

reputation as an energetic and honorable business man. If you do not

find your income adequate, all you have to do is to apply to me. I

will send you fifty dollars or more at any time.

 

"Now, as to the prospects of my return, they are remote. My uncle

seems cheered by my presence, and his health has improved. He cannot

live more than a year or two at the best, but when I came here it

seemed to be only a matter of months. I shall remain while I can do

him good.

 

"When Mr. Flint returns he will do you justice. You can afford to

wait, as your income is larger than before. You suggest that I need

not continue to pay your board. This, however, I intend to do, and

will advise you to lay aside some money every week, and deposit in a

savings bank. The habit of saving is excellent, and cannot be formed

too early."

 

"I am lucky to have such a friend," reflected Andy, as he finished

reading this letter. "I will try to make myself worthy of such good

fortune."

 

At the end of six months Andy had acquired a large practical

acquaintance with the real estate business. He displayed a degree of

judgment which surprised Mr. Crawford.

 

"You seem more like a young man than a boy," he said. "I am not at all

sure but I could leave my business in your hands if I wished to be

absent."

 

This compliment pleased Andy. He had also been raised to seven dollars a

week, and this he regarded as a practical compliment.

 

One evening on his return from West Fifty-sixth Street he strayed into

the Fifth Avenue Hotel, where he sat down to rest in the reading room.

 

Two men were sitting near him whose conversation he could not help

hearing.

 

"I own a considerable plot in Tacoma," said one. "I bought it two years

since, when I was on my way back from California. I should like to sell

the plot if I could get a purchaser."

 

"If the Northern Pacific Railroad is ever completed, the land will be

valuable," replied the other.

 

"True; but will it ever be completed? That date will be very remote, I

fancy."

 

"I don't think so. I would buy the land myself if I had the money, but

just at present I have none to spare. How much did you invest?"

 

"A thousand dollars."

 

"You might sell, perhaps, through a real estate agent?"

 

"The real estate agents here know very little of Western property. I

should not know to whom to apply."

 

Andy thought he saw a chance to procure business for his firm.

 

"Gentlemen," he said, "will you excuse my saying that I am in a real

estate office, and think you can make some satisfactory arrangement with

us?"

 

At the same time he handed the owner of the Tacoma property a card of

the firm.

 

"Crawford!" repeated his friend. "Yes, that is a reputable firm. You

cannot do better than adopt the young man's suggestion."

 

Andy Grant had written his name on the card.

 

"You are rather young for a real estate agent, Mr. Grant," remarked the

lot owner.

 

Andy smiled.

 

"I am only a subordinate," he said.

 

"Has your principal ever dealt in Western property?" asked Mr. Bristol.

 

"Not to any extent, but I have heard him speak favorably of it."

 

"I will call at your office to-morrow forenoon, then."

 

Andy apprised Mr. Crawford of the appointment made.

 

"I shall be glad to see your acquaintance, Andy," said Mr. Crawford. "I

have advices from a friend of mine in Washington that the railroad is

sure to be completed within a short time. This land will be worth

buying. Have you any money?"

 

"I have a hundred dollars in a savings bank," answered Andy.

 

"Then I will give you a quarter interest in the purchase, and you can

give me a note for the balance which at present you are unable to pay. I

am sure we shall make a good deal of money within a short time, and I

want you to reap some advantage, as it will have come to me through

you."

 

"Thank you, sir. I shall be very glad to have a share in the

investment."

 

About eleven o'clock, James Bristol, who proved to be a resident of

Newark, New Jersey, presented himself at the office and was introduced

by Andy to Mr. Crawford.

 

"Andy has told me of your business," said the real estate agent. "You

have some property in Tacoma."

 

"Yes; I was persuaded to invest in some two years since. Now I need the

money. Do you think you can find me a customer?"

 

"What do you ask for it?"

 

"A thousand dollars--the same price I paid."

 

"Is it eligibly situated?"

 

"If the town ever amounts to anything, it will be in the business part."

 

"How many lots will it divide into?"

 

"Twenty-five of the usual city dimensions."

 

"Then I think I will take it off your hands. Part I will reserve for

myself, and a part I will allot to a friend."

 

"Can you pay me cash?"

 

"Yes. I will make out a check at once."

 

Mr. Bristol breathed a sigh of satisfaction.

 

"I don't mind telling you," he said, "that I am very glad to realize on

the investment. I have to meet a note for five hundred dollars in three

days, and I was at a loss to know how to raise the money."

 

"Then the transaction will be mutually satisfactory," rejoined Mr.

Crawford.

 

"Well, Andy," said his employer, when his customer left the office, "we

are now Western land owners. I will draw up a note, which I will get you

to sign, for a hundred and fifty dollars, and you can assign to me the

money in the savings bank. I shall expect interest at the rate of six

per cent."

 

"I shall be very glad to pay it, sir."

 

It was a satisfaction to Andy to think that he had made an investment

which was likely ere many years to make him golden returns. He began to

read with interest the accounts of the growth and development of the

West, and decided to be unusually economical in the future, so as to be

able to pay up the note due to Mr. Crawford, that he might feel that he

owned his Western property without incumbrance.

 

While Andy, as a rule, dressed neatly, there was one respect in which he

did not win the approval of his neighbor, Sam Perkins.

 

"I should think a boy with your income would be more particular about

his neckties," said Sam.

 

"What's the matter with my neckties, Sam? Are they not neat?"

 

"Yes; but they are plain, such as a Quaker might wear. Why don't you

get a showy tie, like mine?"

 

Andy smiled as he noticed the gorgeous tie which his friend wore.

 

"I don't like to be showy," he said.

 

"You'll never attract the attention of the girls with such a plain tie

as you wear. Now, when I walked on Fifth Avenue last Sunday afternoon,

as many as twenty girls looked admiringly at my tie."

 

"That would make me feel bashful, Sam."

 

"Let me bring you one from the store like mine. You shall have it at the

wholesale price."

 

"No; I think not. It wouldn't be as becoming to me as to you. I don't

want to be considered a dude."

 

"I don't mind it. Next week I'm going to buy a pair of patent leathers.

They will be really economical, as I shall not have to spend money on

shines."

 

One Saturday afternoon, when Andy was walking through one of the quiet

streets west of Bleecker, his attention was drawn to a small boy,

apparently about eleven years old, who was quietly crying as he walked

along the sidewalk. He had never seen the boy before that he could

remember, yet his face wore a familiar __EXPRESSION__.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXV.

 

SQUIRE CARTER'S RELATIVES.

 

 

Andy was kind-hearted, and the boy's evident sorrow appealed to him. He

went forward and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

 

"What is the matter?" he asked.

 

"I went to the baker's to buy some bread for mother, and the baker tells

me that the quarter is a bad one."

 

"Let me look at it."

 

The coin had a dull appearance and a greasy feeling. It was

unquestionably counterfeit.

 

"Yes, it is bad," said Andy. "Is your mother poor?"

 

"Very poor," answered the boy. "This quarter was all the money she had,

and now we shall have no supper."

 

"Whom do you mean by 'we'?"

 

"My little brother and myself."

 

Andy intended at first simply to give the boy a good coin for the bad

one, but he saw that there was a call for something more.

 

"Do you live near here?" he asked.

 

"Yes, sir; just across the street."

 

"I will go back with you to the baker's, and then I will go with you to

see your mother. Perhaps I can help her."

 

The boy put his hand confidingly in Andy's, and the two went a little

distance to the baker's.

 

"Now make your purchases," said Andy.

 

"If you have brought back that bad quarter I won't take it," announced

the baker, sharply.

 

"I will pay you," said Andy, quietly.

 

"Then it's all right. The boy brought me a very bad quarter. I have to

look sharp, for a good many bad coins are offered me."

 

Andy produced a genuine silver piece, and the bread was handed to the

boy, with the change.

 

The boy looked at it hesitatingly.

 

"It is yours," he said to Andy.

 

"No, I have changed quarters with you. I will keep the bad one."

 

Again he looked at the boy, and again the resemblance to some familiar

face puzzled him.

 

"What is your name?" he asked.

 

"Ben Carter."

 

Carter! That explained it. The boy looked like Conrad Carter, though he

had a pleasanter __EXPRESSION__.

 

"Have you an Uncle Philemon?" he inquired.

 

"How did you know?" asked the boy, in surprise.

 

"Because you look like Conrad Carter."

 

"He is my cousin."

 

"And you are poor?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Your uncle is considered rich."

 

"I know he is, but he won't do anything for mother."

 

Andy was now all the more desirous of seeing the boy's family.

 

"I know your uncle," he said. "Do you think he knows you are so poor?"

 

"Yes, for mother has written to him."

 

By this time they had reached the place which Ben called home.

 

"Go upstairs and I will follow," said Andy.

 

They went up two flights, and the boy opened a door at the top of the

landing.

 

There was a woman not far from forty in the room. On her face was a look

of settled sorrow. At her knee was a small boy five years of age. She

looked at Andy inquiringly.

 

"Mother," said Ben, "here is the bread. I couldn't have bought it, for

the quarter was bad, if this boy had not given me another quarter."

 

"This young gentleman," corrected the mother.

 

"No, Mrs. Carter; I am a boy, and I prefer to be called so. I came up

with Ben, for I find that he is related to Squire Carter, of Arden, whom

I know very well."

 

"You know Philemon Carter?"

 

"Yes; he lives in Arden. That is my birthplace."

 

Mrs. Carter's countenance fell.

 

"Philemon Carter was my husband's brother," she said; "but there is

little friendship between us."

 

"He is reputed rich."

 

"And we are poor. I see you wonder at that. When my husband's father

died, Philemon was executor. It was understood that he was worth

twenty-five thousand dollars. Yet of this amount my poor husband

received but one thousand. I may be uncharitable, but I have always felt

that Philemon cheated us out of our rightful share."

 

"I should not be surprised. I never liked Squire Carter. He always

seemed to me to be a selfish man."

 

"He has certainly acted selfishly toward us."

 

"Does he know of your poverty?"

 

"Yes. Only two weeks since, in a fit of despair, I wrote to him for

help. Here is his answer."

 

She handed a letter to Andy. He instantly recognized the handwriting of

the magnate of Arden.

 

"Shall I read it?" he asked.

 

"Yes, do so, and let me know what you think of it."

 

This was the letter:

 

"SOPHIA: I have received your letter, and am surprised that you

should expect me to help support you. You are my brother's widow, it

is true, but your destitution is no fault of mine. My brother was

always shiftless and unpractical, and to such men good luck never

comes. He might at any rate have insured his life, and so made

comfortable provision for you. You cannot expect me to repair his

negligence. You say you have two boys, one eleven years of age. He

is certainly able to earn money by selling papers or tending an

office.

 

"As for myself, I am not a rich man, but have always been careful to

meet my expenses and provide for the future. I, too, have a son,

Conrad, whom I think it my duty to educate and start in life. Any

money I might send you would be so much taken from him. I advise you

to apply to some charitable society if you need temporary

assistance. It will be much better than to write me begging letters.

Yours truly,

 

"PHILEMON CARTER."