The Cash Boy 1

The Cash Boy 1

The Cash Boy

: Horatio Alger Jr.

 

PREFACE

 

 

"The Cash Boy," by Horatio Alger, Jr., as the name implies, is a story

about a boy and for boys.

 

Through some conspiracy, the hero of the story when a baby, was taken

from his relatives and given into the care of a kind woman.

 

Not knowing his name, she gave him her husband's name, Frank Fowler.

She had one little daughter, Grace, and showing no partiality in the

treatment of her children, Frank never suspected that she was not his

sister. However, at the death of Mrs. Fowler, all this was related to

Frank.

 

The children were left alone in the world. It seemed as though they

would have to go to the poorhouse but Frank could not become reconciled

to that.

 

A kind neighbor agreed to care for Grace, so Frank decided to start out

in the world to make his way.

 

He had many disappointments and hardships, but through his kindness to

an old man, his own relatives and right name were revealed to him.

 

 

 

CHAPTER I

 

A REVELATION

 

 

A group of boys was assembled in an open field to the west of the public

schoolhouse in the town of Crawford. Most of them held hats in their

hands, while two, stationed sixty feet distant from each other, were

"having catch."

 

Tom Pinkerton, son of Deacon Pinkerton, had just returned from Brooklyn,

and while there had witnessed a match game between two professional

clubs. On his return he proposed that the boys of Crawford should

establish a club, to be known as the Excelsior Club of Crawford, to play

among themselves, and on suitable occasions to challenge clubs belonging

to other villages. This proposal was received with instant approval.

 

"I move that Tom Pinkerton address the meeting," said one boy.

 

"Second the motion," said another.

 

As there was no chairman, James Briggs was appointed to that position,

and put the motion, which was unanimously carried.

 

Tom Pinkerton, in his own estimation a personage of considerable

importance, came forward in a consequential manner, and commenced as

follows:

 

"Mr. Chairman and boys. You all know what has brought us together. We

want to start a club for playing baseball, like the big clubs they have

in Brooklyn and New York."

 

"How shall we do it?" asked Henry Scott.

 

"We must first appoint a captain of the club, who will have power to

assign the members to their different positions. Of course you will want

one that understands about these matters."

 

"He means himself," whispered Henry Scott, to his next neighbor; and

here he was right.

 

"Is that all?" asked Sam Pomeroy.

 

"No; as there will be some expenses, there must be a treasurer to

receive and take care of the funds, and we shall need a secretary to

keep the records of the club, and write and answer challenges."

 

"Boys," said the chairman, "you have heard Tom Pinkerton's remarks.

Those who are in favor of organizing a club on this plan will please

signify it in the usual way."

 

All the boys raised their hands, and it was declared a vote.

 

"You will bring in your votes for captain," said the chairman.

 

Tom Pinkerton drew a little apart with a conscious look, as he supposed,

of course, that no one but himself would be thought of as leader.

 

Slips of paper were passed around, and the boys began to prepare their

ballots. They were brought to the chairman in a hat, and he forthwith

took them out and began to count them.

 

"Boys," he announced, amid a universal stillness, "there is one vote for

Sam Pomeroy, one for Eugene Morton, and the rest are for Frank Fowler,

who is elected."

 

There was a clapping of hands, in which Tom Pinkerton did not join.

 

Frank Fowler, who is to be our hero, came forward a little, and spoke

modestly as follows:

 

"Boys, I thank you for electing me captain of the club. I am afraid I am

not very well qualified for the place, but I will do as well as I can."

 

The speaker was a boy of fourteen. He was of medium height for his age,

strong and sturdy in build, and with a frank prepossessing countenance,

and an open, cordial manner, which made him a general favorite. It was

not, however, to his popularity that he owed his election, but to the

fact that both at bat and in the field he excelled all the boys, and

therefore was the best suited to take the lead.

 

The boys now proceeded to make choice of a treasurer and secretary.

For the first position Tom Pinkerton received a majority of the votes.

Though not popular, it was felt that some office was due him.

 

For secretary, Ike Stanton, who excelled in penmanship, was elected, and

thus all the offices were filled.

 

The boys now crowded around Frank Fowler, with petitions for such places

as they desired.

 

"I hope you will give me a little time before I decide about positions,

boys," Frank said; "I want to consider a little."

 

"All right! Take till next week," said one and another, "and let us have

a scrub game this afternoon."

 

The boys were in the middle of the sixth inning, when some one called

out to Frank Fowler: "Frank, your sister is running across the field. I

think she wants you."

 

Frank dropped his bat and hastened to meet his sister.

 

"What's the matter, Gracie?" he asked in alarm.

 

"Oh, Frank!" she exclaimed, bursting into tears. "Mother's been bleeding

at the lungs, and she looks so white. I'm afraid she's very sick."

 

"Boys," said Frank, turning to his companions, "I must go home at once.

You can get some one to take my place, my mother is very sick."

 

When Frank reached the little brown cottage which he called home, he

found his mother in an exhausted state reclining on the bed.

 

"How do you feel, mother?" asked our hero, anxiously.

 

"Quite weak, Frank," she answered in a low voice. "I have had a severe

attack."

 

"Let me go for the doctor, mother."

 

"I don't think it will be necessary, Frank. The attack is over, and I

need no medicines, only time to bring back my strength."

 

But three days passed, and Mrs. Fowler's nervous prostration continued.

She had attacks previously from which she rallied sooner, and her

present weakness induced serious misgivings as to whether she would

ever recover. Frank thought that her eyes followed him with more than

ordinary anxiety, and after convincing himself that this was the case,

he drew near his mother's bedside, and inquired:

 

"Mother, isn't there something you want me to do?"

 

"Nothing, I believe, Frank."

 

"I thought you looked at me as if you wanted to say something." "There

is something I must say to you before I die."

 

"Before you die, mother!" echoed Frank, in a startled voice.

 

"Yes. Frank, I am beginning to think that this is my last sickness."

 

"But, mother, you have been so before, and got up again."

 

"There must always be a last time, Frank; and my strength is too far

reduced to rally again, I fear."

 

"I can't bear the thought of losing you, mother," said Frank, deeply

moved.

 

"You will miss me, then, Frank?" said Mrs. Fowler.

 

"Shall I not? Grace and I will be alone in the world."

 

"Alone in the world!" repeated the sick woman, sorrowfully, "with

little help to hope for from man, for I shall leave you nothing. Poor

children!"

 

"That isn't what I think of," said Frank, hastily.

 

"I can support myself."

 

"But Grace? She is a delicate girl," said the mother, anxiously. "She

cannot make her way as you can."

 

"She won't need to," said Frank, promptly; "I shall take care of her."

 

"But you are very young even to support yourself. You are only

fourteen."

 

"I know it, mother, but I am strong, and I am not afraid. There are a

hundred ways of making a living."

 

"But do you realize that you will have to start with absolutely nothing?

Deacon Pinkerton holds a mortgage on this house for all it will bring in

the market, and I owe him arrears of interest besides."

 

"I didn't know that, mother, but it doesn't frighten me."

 

"And you will take care of Grace?"

 

"I promise it, mother."

 

"Suppose Grace were not your sister?" said the sick woman, anxiously

scanning the face of the boy.

 

"What makes you suppose such a thing as that, mother? Of course she is

my sister."

 

"But suppose she were not," persisted Mrs. Fowler, "you would not recall

your promise?"

 

"No, surely not, for I love her. But why do you talk so, mother?" and

a suspicion crossed Frank's mind that his mother's intellect might be

wandering.

 

"It is time to tell you all, Frank. Sit down by the bedside, and I will

gather my strength to tell you what must be told."

 

"Grace is not your sister, Frank!"

 

"Not my sister, mother?" he exclaimed. "You are not in earnest?"

 

"I am quite in earnest, Frank."

 

"Then whose child is she?"

 

"She is my child."

 

"Then she must be my sister--are you not my mother?"

 

"No, Frank, I am not your mother!"

 

 

 

CHAPTER II

 

MRS. FOWLER'S STORY

 

 

"Not my mother!" he exclaimed. "Who, then, is my mother?"

 

"I cannot tell you, Frank. I never knew. You will forgive me for

concealing this from you for so long."

 

"No matter who was my real mother since I have you. You have been a

mother to me, and I shall always think of you as such."

 

"You make me happy, Frank, when you say that. And you will look upon

Grace as a sister also, will you not?"

 

"Always," said the boy, emphatically. "Mother, will you tell all you

know about me? I don't know what to think; now that I am not your son I

cannot rest till I learn who I am."

 

"I can understand your feelings, Frank, but I must defer the explanation

till to-morrow. I have fatigued myself with talking, but to-morrow you

shall know all that I can tell you."

 

"Forgive me for not thinking of your being tired, mother," and he bent

over and pressed his lips upon the cheek of the sick woman. "But don't

talk any more. Wait till to-morrow."

 

In the afternoon Frank had a call from Sam Pomeroy.

 

"The club is to play to-morrow afternoon against a picked nine, Frank,"

he said. "Will you be there?"

 

"I can't, Sam," he answered. "My mother is very sick, and it is my duty

to stay at home with her."

 

"We shall miss you--that is, all of us but one. Tom Pinkerton said

yesterday that you ought to resign, as you can't attend to your duties.

He wouldn't object to filling your place, I fancy."

 

"He is welcome to the place as soon as the club feels like electing

him," said Frank. "Tell the boys I am sorry I can't be on hand. They had

better get you to fill my place."

 

"I'll mention it, but I don't think they'll see it in that light.

They're all jealous of my superior playing," said Sam, humorously.

"Well, good-bye, Frank. I hope your mother'll be better soon."

 

"Thank you, Sam," answered Frank, soberly. "I hope so, too, but she is

very sick."

 

The next day Mrs. Fowler again called Frank to the bedside.

 

"Grace is gone out on an errand," she said, "and I can find no better

time for telling you what I know about you and the circumstances which

led to my assuming the charge of you."

 

"Are you strong enough, mother?"

 

"Yes, Frank. Thirteen years ago my husband and myself occupied a

small tenement in that part of Brooklyn know as Gowanus, not far from

Greenwood Cemetery. My husband was a carpenter, and though his wages

were small he was generally employed. We had been married three years,

but had no children of our own. Our expenses were small, and we got on

comfortably, and should have continued to do so, but that Mr. Fowler

met with an accident which partially disabled him. He fell from a high

scaffold and broke his arm. This was set and he was soon able to work

again, but he must also have met with some internal injury, for his full

strength never returned. Half a day's work tired him more than a

whole day's work formerly had done. Of course our income was very much

diminished, and we were obliged to economize very closely. This preyed

upon my husband's mind and seeing his anxiety, I set about considering

how I could help him, and earn my share of the expenses.

 

"One day in looking over the advertising columns of a New York paper I

saw the following advertisement:

 

"'For adoption--A healthy male infant. The parents are able to pay

liberally for the child's maintenance, but circumstances compel them to

delegate the care to another. Address for interview A. M.'

 

"I had no sooner read this advertisement than I felt that it was just

what I wanted. A liberal compensation was promised, and under our

present circumstances would be welcome, as it was urgently needed. I

mentioned the matter to my husband, and he was finally induced to give

his consent.

 

"Accordingly, I replied to the advertisement.

 

"Three days passed in which I heard nothing from it. But as we were

sitting at the supper table at six o'clock one afternoon, there came a

knock at our front door. I opened it, and saw before me a tall stranger,

a man of about thirty-five, of dark complexion, and dark whiskers. He

was well dressed, and evidently a gentleman in station.

 

"'Is this Mrs. Fowler?' he asked.

 

"'Yes, sir,' I answered, in some surprise

 

"'Then may I beg permission to enter your house for a few minutes? I

have something to say to you.'

 

"Still wondering, I led the way into the sitting-room, where your

father--where Mr. Fowler----"

 

"Call him my father--I know no other," said Frank.

 

"Where your father was seated.

 

"'You have answered an advertisement,' said the stranger.

 

"'Yes, sir,' I replied.

 

"'I am A. M.,' was his next announcement. 'Of course I have received

many letters, but on the whole I was led to consider yours most

favorably. I have made inquiries about you in the neighborhood, and the

answers have been satisfactory. You have no children of your own?'

 

"'No, sir.'

 

"'All the better. You would be able to give more attention to this

child.'

 

"'Is it yours, sir?' I asked

 

"'Ye-es,' he answered, with hesitation. 'Circumstances,' he continued,

'circumstances which I need not state, compel me to separate from it.

Five hundred dollars a year will be paid for its maintenance.'

 

"Five hundred dollars! I heard this with joy, for it was considerably

more than my husband was able to earn since his accident. It would make

us comfortable at once, and your father might work when he pleased,

without feeling any anxiety about our coming to want.

 

"'Will that sum be satisfactory?' asked the stranger.

 

"'It is very liberal,' I answered.

 

"'I intended it to be so,' he said. 'Since there is no difficulty on

this score, I am inclined to trust you with the care of the child. But I

must make two conditions.'

 

"'What are they, sir?'

 

"'In the first place, you must not try to find out the friends of the

child. They do not desire to be known. Another thing, you must move from Brooklyn.'