The Cash Boy 3

The Cash Boy 3

"Then, sir, we will bid you good-day. Grace, let us go."

 

 

 

CHAPTER V

 

A LITTLE MISUNDERSTANDING

 

 

"Have you carried Frank Fowler to the poorhouse?" asked Tom Pinkerton,

eagerly, on his father's return.

 

"No," said the deacon, "he is going to make a visit at Mr. Pomeroy's

first."

 

"I shouldn't think you would have let him make a visit," said Tom,

discontentedly. "I should think you would have taken him to the

poorhouse right off."

 

"I feel it my duty to save the town unnecessary expense," said Deacon

Pinkerton.

 

So Tom was compelled to rest satisfied with his father's assurance that

the removal was only deferred.

 

Meanwhile Frank and Grace received a cordial welcome at the house of Mr.

Pomeroy. Sam and Frank were intimate friends, and our hero had been in

the habit of calling frequently, and it seemed homelike.

 

"I wish you could stay with us all the time, Frank--you and Grace," said

Sam one evening.

 

"We should all like it," said Mr. Pomeroy, "but we cannot always have

what we want. If I had it in my power to offer Frank any employment

which it would be worth his while to follow, it might do. But he has got

his way to make in the world. Have you formed any plans yet, Frank?"

 

"That is what I want to consult you about, Mr. Pomeroy."

 

"I will give you the best advice I can, Frank. I suppose you do not mean

to stay in the village."

 

"No, sir. There is nothing for me to do here. I must go somewhere where

I can make a living for Grace and myself."

 

"You've got a hard row to hoe, Frank," said Mr. Pomeroy, thoughtfully.

"Have you decided where to go?"

 

"Yes, sir. I shall go to New York."

 

"What! To the city?"

 

"Yes, sir. I'll get something to do, no matter what it is."

 

"But how are you going to live in the meantime?"

 

"I've got a little money."

 

"That won't last long."

 

"I know it, but I shall soon get work, if it is only to black boots in

the streets."

 

"With that spirit, Frank, you will stand a fair chance to succeed. What

do you mean to do with Grace?"

 

"I will take her with me."

 

"I can think of a better plan. Leave her here till you have found

something to do. Then send for her."

 

"But if I leave her here Deacon Pinkerton will want to put her in the

poorhouse. I can't bear to have Grace go there."

 

"She need not. She can stay here with me for three months."

 

"Will you let me pay her board?"

 

"I can afford to give her board for three months."

 

"You are very kind, Mr. Pomeroy, but it wouldn't be right for me to

accept your kindness. It is my duty to take care of Grace."

 

"I honor your independence, Frank. It shall be as you say. When you are

able--mind, not till then--you may pay me at the rate of two dollars a

week for Grace's board."

 

"Then," said Frank, "if you are willing to board Grace for a while, I

think I had better go to the city at once."

 

"I will look over your clothes to-morrow, Frank," said Mrs. Pomeroy,

"and see if they need mending."

 

"Then I will start Thursday morning--the day after."

 

About four o'clock the next afternoon he was walking up the main street,

when just in front of Deacon Pinkerton's house he saw Tom leaning

against a tree.

 

"How are you Tom?" he said, and was about to pass on.

 

"Where are you going?" Tom asked abruptly.

 

"To Mr. Pomeroy's."

 

"How soon are you going to the poorhouse to live?"

 

"Who told you I was going?"

 

"My father."

 

"Then your father's mistaken."

 

"Ain't you a pauper?" said Tom, insolently. "You haven't got any money."

 

"I have got hands to earn money, and I am going to try."

 

"Anyway, I advise you to resign as captain of the baseball club."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because if you don't you'll be kicked out. Do you think the fellows

will be willing to have a pauper for their captain?"

 

"That's the second time you have called me a pauper. Don't call me so

again."

 

"You are a pauper and you know it."

 

Frank was not a quarrelsome boy, but this repeated insult was too much

for him. He seized Tom by the collar, and tripping him up left him on

the ground howling with rage. As valor was not his strong point, he

resolved to be revenged upon Frank vicariously. He was unable to report

the case to his father till the next morning, as the deacon did not

return from a neighboring village, whither he had gone on business, till

late, but the result of his communication was a call at Mr. Pomeroy's

from the deacon at nine o'clock the next morning. Had he found Frank,

it was his intention, at Tom's request, to take him at once to the

poorhouse. But he was too late. Our hero was already on his way to New

York.

 

 

 

CHAPTER VI

 

FRANK GETS A PLACE

 

 

"So this is New York," said Frank to himself, as he emerged from the

railway station and looked about him with interest and curiosity.

 

"Black yer boots? Shine?" asked a bootblack, seeing our hero standing

still.

 

Frank looked at his shoes. They were dirty, without doubt, but he would

not have felt disposed to be so extravagant, considering his limited

resources, had he not felt it necessary to obtain some information about

the city.

 

"Yes," he said, "you may black them."

 

The boy was on his knees instantly and at work.

 

"How much do you make in a day?" asked Frank.

 

"When it's a good day I make a dollar."

 

"That's pretty good," said Frank.

 

"Can you show me the way to Broadway?"

 

"Go straight ahead."

 

Our hero paid for his shine and started in the direction indicated.

 

Frank's plans, so far as he had any, were to get into a store. He knew

that Broadway was the principal business street in the city, and this

was about all he did know about it.

 

He reached the great thoroughfare in a few minutes, and was fortunate

enough to find on the window of the corner store the sign:

 

"A Boy Wanted."

 

He entered at once, and going up to the counter, addressed a young man,

who was putting up goods.

 

"Do you want a boy?"

 

"I believe the boss wants one; I don't. Go out to that desk."

 

Frank found the desk, and propounded the same question to a

sandy-whiskered man, who looked up from his writing.

 

"You're prompt," he said. "That notice was only put out two minutes

ago."

 

"I only saw it one minute ago."

 

"So you want the place, do you?"

 

"I should like it."

 

"Do you know your way about the city?"

 

"No, sir, but I could soon find out."

 

"That won't do. I shall have plenty of applications from boys who live

in the city and are familiar with the streets."

 

Frank left the store rather discomfited.

 

He soon came to another store where there was a similar notice of "A Boy

Wanted." It was a dry goods store.

 

"Do you live with your parents?" was asked.

 

"My parents are dead," said Frank, sadly.

 

"Very sorry, but we can't take you."

 

"Why not, sir?"

 

"In case you took anything we should make your parents responsible."

 

"I shouldn't take anything," said Frank, indignantly.

 

"You might; I can't take you."

 

Our hero left this store a little disheartened by his second rebuff.

 

He made several more fruitless applications, but did not lose courage

wholly. He was gaining an appetite, however. It is not surprising

therefore, that his attention was drawn to the bills of a restaurant on

the opposite side of the street. He crossed over, and standing outside,

began to examine them to see what was the scale of prices. While in this

position he was suddenly aroused by a slap on the back.

 

Turning he met the gaze of a young man of about thirty, who was smiling

quite cordially.

 

"Why, Frank, my boy, how are you?" he said, offering his hand.

 

"Pretty well, thank you," said our hero bewildered, for he had no

recollection of the man who had called him by name.

 

The other smiled a little more broadly, and thought:

 

"It was a lucky guess; his name is Frank."

 

"I am delighted to hear it," he continued. "When did you reach the

city?"

 

"This morning," said the unsuspecting Frank.

 

"Well, it's queer I happened to meet you so soon, isn't it? Going to

stay long?"

 

"I shall, if I can get a place."

 

"Perhaps I can help you."

 

"I suppose I ought to remember you," ventured our hero, "but I can't

think of your name."

 

"Jasper Wheelock. You don't mean to say you don't remember me? Perhaps

it isn't strange, as we only met once or twice in your country home. But

that doesn't matter. I'm just as ready to help you. By the way, have you

dined?"

 

"No."

 

"No more have I. Come in and dine with me."

 

"What'll you take?" asked Jasper Wheelock, passing the bill of fare to

Frank.

 

"I think I should like to have some roast beef," said Frank.

 

"That will suit me. Here, waiter, two plates of roast beef, and two cups

of coffee."

 

"How are they all at home?" asked Jasper.

 

"My mother has just died."

 

"You don't say so," said Jasper, sympathetically.

 

"My sister is well."

 

"I forgot your sister's name."

 

"Grace."

 

"Of course--Grace. I find it hard to remember names. The fact is, I have

been trying to recall your last name, but it's gone from me."

 

"Fowler."

 

"To be sure Frank Fowler. How could I be so forgetful."

 

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the coffee and roast

beet, which both he and his new friend attacked with vigor.

 

"What kind of pudding will you have?" asked the stranger.

 

"Apple dumpling," said Frank.

 

"That suits me. Apple dumpling for two."

 

In due time the apple dumpling was disposed of, and two checks were

brought, amounting to seventy cents.

 

"I'll pay for both," said Jasper. "No thanks. We are old acquaintances,

you know."

 

He put his hand into his pocket, and quickly withdrew it with an

exclamation of surprise:

 

"Well, if that isn't a good joke," he said. "I've left my money at home.

I remember now, I left it in the pocket of my other coat. I shall have

to borrow the money of you. You may as well hand me a dollar!"

 

Frank was not disposed to be suspicious, but the request for money made

him uneasy. Still there seemed no way of refusing, and he reluctantly

drew out the money.

 

His companion settled the bill and then led the way into the street.

 

Jasper Wheelock was not very scrupulous; he was quite capable of

borrowing money, without intending to return it; but he had his good

side.

 

"Frank," said he, as they found themselves in the street, "you have done

me a favor, and I am going to help you in return. Have you got very much

money?"

 

"No. I had twenty dollars when I left home, but I had to pay my fare in

the cars and the dinner, I have seventeen dollars and a half left."

 

"Then it is necessary for you to get a place as soon as possible."

 

"Yes; I have a sister to support; Grace, you know."

 

"No, I don't know. The fact is, Frank, I have been imposing upon you. I

never saw you before in the whole course of my life."

 

"What made you say you knew me?"

 

"I wanted to get a dinner out of you. Don't be troubled, though; I'll

pay back the money. I've been out of a place for three or four weeks,

but I enter upon one the first of next week. For the rest of the week

I've got nothing to do, and I will try to get you a place.

 

"The first thing is to get a room somewhere. I'll tell you what, you may

have part of my room."

 

"Is it expensive?"

 

"No; I pay a dollar and a half a week. I think the old lady won't charge

more than fifty cents extra for you."

 

"Then my share would be a dollar."

 

"You may pay only fifty cents. I'll keep on paying what I do now. My

room is on Sixth Avenue." They had some distance to walk. Finally Jasper

halted before a baker's shop.

 

"It's over this," he said.

 

He drew out a latch-key and entered.

 

"This is my den," he said. "It isn't large you can't get any better for

the money."

 

"I shall have to be satisfied," said Frank. "I want to get along as

cheap as I can."

 

"I've got to economize myself for a short time. After this week I shall

earn fifteen dollars a week."

 

"What business are you in, Mr. Wheelock?"

 

"I am a journeyman printer. It is a very good business, and I generally

have steady work. I expect to have after I get started again. Now, shall

I give you some advice?"

 

"I wish you would."

 

"You don't know your way around New York. I believe I have a map

somewhere. I'll just show you on it the position of the principal

streets, and that will give you a clearer idea of where we go."

 

The map was found and Jasper explained to Frank the leading

topographical features of the Island City.

 

One thing only was wanting now to make him contented, and this was

employment. But it was too late to make any further inquiries.

 

"I've been thinking, Frank," said Jasper, the next morning, "that you

might get the position as a cash-boy."

 

"What does a cash-boy do?"

 

"In large retail establishments every salesman keeps a book in which his

sales are entered. He does not himself make change, for it would not do

to have so many having access to the money-drawer. The money is carried

to the cashier's desk by boys employed for the purpose, who return with

the change."

 

"Do you think I can get a situation as cash-boy?"

 

"I will try at Gilbert & Mack's. I know one of the principal salesmen.

If there is a vacancy he will get it for you to oblige me."

 

They entered a large retail store on Broadway. It was broad and

spacious. Twenty salesmen stood behind the counter, and boys were

running this way and that with small books in their hands.

 

"How are you, Duncan?" said Jasper.

 

The person addressed was about Jasper Wheelock's age. He had a keen,

energetic look and manner, and would be readily singled out as one of

the leading clerks.

 

"All right, Wheelock. How are you?" he responded. "Do you want anything

in our line?"

 

"No goods; I want a place for this youngster. He's a friend of mine.

I'll answer for his good character."

 

"That will be satisfactory. But what sort of a place does he want?"

 

"He is ready to begin as cash-boy."