The Cash Boy 6

The Cash Boy 6

"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?"

 

"I haven't enough influence with the firm."

 

"Suppose they thought him dishonest?"

 

"They'd give him the sack, of course."

 

"Can't you make them think so, Thomas?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Then make it your business to find out."

 

"I suppose you know what good it's going to do, aunt, but I don't. He's

got his place here with the old man."

 

"If Mr. Wharton hears that he is discharged, and has lost his situation,

he will probably discharge him, too."

 

"Perhaps so; I suppose you know best."

 

"Do as I tell you, and I will manage the rest."

 

"All right. I need your help enough. To-night, for instance, I'm

regularly cleaned out. Haven't got but twenty-five cents to my name."

 

"It seems to me, Thomas," said his aunt, with a troubled look, "you are

always out of money. I'll give you five dollars, Thomas, but you must

remember that I am not made of money. My wages are small."

 

"You ought to have a good nest-egg laid aside, aunt."

 

"I've got something, Thomas, and when I die, it'll be yours."

 

"I hope I shan't have to wait too long," thought Thomas, "but he did not

give utterance to the thought."

 

"Come again, Thomas, and don't forget what I have said," said Mrs.

Bradley.

 

 

 

CHAPTER XI

 

JOHN WADE

 

 

A tall man, with a sallow complexion, and heavily-bearded face, stood

on the deck of a Cunard steamer, only a few miles distant from New York

harbor.

 

"It's three years since I have seen America," he said to himself,

thoughtfully. "I suppose I ought to feel a patriotic fervor about

setting foot once more on my native shore, but I don't believe in

nonsense. I would be content to live in Europe all my life, if my

uncle's fortune were once in my possession. I am his sole heir, but

he persists in holding on to his money bags, and limits me to a paltry

three thousand a year. I must see if I can't induce him to give me a

good, round sum on account--fifty thousand, at least--and then I can

wait a little more patiently till he drops off."

 

"When shall we reach port, captain?" he asked, as he passed that

officer.

 

"In four hours, I think, Mr. Wade."

 

"So this is my birthday," he said to himself.

 

"Thirty five years old to-day. Half my life gone, and I am still a

dependent on my uncle's bounty. Suppose he should throw me off--leave me

out in the cold--where should I be? If he should find the boy--but no,

there is no chance of that. I have taken good care of that. By the way,

I must look him up soon--cautiously, of course--and see what has

become of him. He will grow up a laborer or mechanic and die without

a knowledge of his birth, while I fill his place and enjoy his

inheritance."

 

At six o'clock the vessel reached the Quarantine. Most of the passengers

decided to remain on board one night more, but John Wade was impatient,

and, leaving his trunks, obtained a small boat, and soon touched the

shore.

 

It was nearly eight when John Wade landed in the city. It was half-past

eight when he stood on the steps of his uncle's residence and rang the

bell.

 

"Is my uncle is Mr. Wharton--at home?" he asked of the servant who

answered the bell.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"I am his nephew, just arrived from Europe. Let him know that I am here,

and would like to see him."

 

The servant, who had never before seen him, having only been six months

in the house, regarded him with a great deal of curiosity, and then went

to do his biding.

 

"My nephew arrived!" exclaimed Mr. Wharton, in surprise. "Why, he never

let me know he was coming."

 

"Will you see him, sir?"

 

"To be sure! Bring him in at once."

 

"My dear uncle!" exclaimed John Wade, with effusion, for he was a polite

man, and could act when it suited his interests to do so, "I am glad to

see you. How is your health?"

 

"I am getting older every day, John."

 

"You don't look a day older, sir," said John, who did not believe what

he said, for he could plainly see that his uncle had grown older since

he last saw him.

 

"You think so, John, but I feel it. Your coming is a surprise. You did

not write that you intended sailing."

 

"I formed the determination very suddenly, sir."

 

"Were you tired of Europe?"

 

"No; but I wanted to see you, sir."

 

"Thank you, John," said his uncle, pressing his nephew's hand. "I am

glad you think so much of me. Did you have a pleasant voyage?"

 

"Rather rough, sir."

 

"You have had no supper, of course? If you will ring the bell, the

housekeeper will see that some is got ready for you."

 

"Is Mrs. Bradley still in your employ, uncle?"

 

"Yes, John. I am so used to her that I shouldn't know how to get along

without her."

 

Hitherto John Wade had been so occupied with his uncle that he had not

observed Frank. But at this moment our hero coughed, involuntarily, and

John Wade looked at him. He seemed to be singularly affected. He started

perceptibly, and his sallow face blanched, as his eager eyes were fixed

on the boy's face.

 

"Good heavens!" he muttered to himself. "Who is that boy? How comes he

here?"

 

Frank noticed his intent gaze, and wondered at it, but Mr. Wharton's

eyesight was defective, and he did not perceive his nephew's excitement.

 

"I see you have a young visitor, uncle," said John Wade.

 

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Wharton, with a kindly smile. "He spends all his

evenings with me."

 

"What do you mean, sir?" demanded John Wade, with sudden suspicion and

fear. "He seems very young company for----"

 

"For a man of my years," said Mr. Wharton, finishing the sentence. "You

are right, John. But, you see, my eyes are weak, and I cannot use them

for reading in the evening, so it occurred to me to engage a reader."

 

"Very true," said his nephew. He wished to inquire the name of the boy

whose appearance had so powerfully impressed him but he determined not

to do so at present. What information he sought he preferred to obtain

from the housekeeper.

 

"He seemed surprised, as if he had seen me some where before, and

recognized me," thought Frank, "but I don't remember him. If I had seen

his face before, I think I should remember it."

 

"Don't come out, uncle." said John Wade, when summoned to tea by the

housekeeper. "Mrs. Bradley and I are going to have a chat by ourselves,

and I will soon return."

 

"You are looking thin, Mr. John," said Mrs Bradley.

 

"Am I thinner than usual? I never was very corpulent, you know. How is

my uncle's health? He says he is well."

 

"He is pretty well, but he isn't as young as he was."

 

"I think he looks older," said John. "But that is not surprising--at his

age. He is seventy, isn't he?"

 

"Not quite. He is sixty-nine."

 

"His father died at seventy-one."

 

"Yes."

 

"But that is no reason why my uncle should not live till eighty. I hope

he will."

 

"We all hope so," said the housekeeper; but she knew, while she spoke,

that if, as she supposed, Mr. Wharton's will contained a generous legacy

for her, his death would not afflict her much. She suspected also that

John Wade was waiting impatiently for his uncle's death, that he might

enter upon his inheritance. Still, their little social fictions must be

kept up, and so both expressed a desire for his continued life, though

neither was deceived as to the other's real feeling on the subject.

 

"By the way, Mrs. Bradley," said John Wade, "how came my uncle to engage

that boy to read to him?"

 

"He was led into it, sir," said the housekeeper, with a great deal of

indignation, "by the boy himself. He's an artful and designing fellow,

you may rely upon it."

 

"What's his name?"

 

"Frank Fowler."

 

"Fowler! Is his name Fowler?" he repeated, with a startled __EXPRESSION__.

 

"Yes, sir," answered the housekeeper, rather surprised at his manner.

"You don't know anything about him, do you?"

 

"Oh, no," said John Wade, recovering his composure. "He is a perfect

stranger to me; but I once knew a man of that name, and a precious

rascal he was. When you mentioned his name, I thought he might be a son

of this man. Does he say his father is alive?"

 

"No; he is dead, and his mother, too, so the boy says."

 

"You haven't told me how my uncle fell in with him?"

 

"It was an accident. Your uncle fell in getting out of a Broadway stage,

and this boy happened to be near, and seeing Mr. Wharton was a rich

gentleman, he helped him home, and was invited in. Then he told some

story about his poverty, and so worked upon your uncle's feelings that

he hired him to read to him at five dollars a week."

 

"Is this all the boy does?"

 

"No; he is cash-boy in a large store on Broadway. He is employed there

all day, and he is here only in the evenings."

 

"Does my uncle seem attached to him?" asked John.

 

"He's getting fond of him, I should say. The other day he asked me if

I didn't think it would be a good thing to take him into the house and

give him a room. I suppose the boy put it into his head."

 

"No doubt. What did you say?"

 

"I opposed it. I told him that a boy would be a great deal of trouble in

the family."

 

"You did right, Mrs. Bradley. What did my uncle say?"

 

"He hinted about taking him from the store and letting him go to school.

The next thing would be his adopting him. The fact is, Mr. John, the boy

is so artful that he knows just how to manage your uncle. No doubt he

put the idea into Mr. Wharton's head, and he may do it yet."

 

"Does my uncle give any reason for the fancy he has taken to the boy?"

demanded John.

 

"Yes," said the housekeeper. "He has taken it into his head that the

boy resembles your cousin, George, who died abroad. You were with him, I

believe?"

 

"Yes, I was with him. Is the resemblance strong? I took very little

notice of him."

 

"You can look for yourself when you go back," answered the housekeeper.

 

"What else did my uncle say? Tell me all."

 

"He said: 'What would I give, Mrs. Bradley, if I had such a grandson?

If George's boy had lived, he would have been about Frank's age. And,"

continued the housekeeper, "I might as well speak plainly. You're my

master's heir, or ought to be; but if this artful boy stays here long,

there's no knowing what your uncle may be influenced to do. If he gets

into his dotage, he may come to adopt him, and leave the property away

from you."

 

"I believe you are quite right. The danger exists, and we must guard

against it. I see you don't like the boy," said John Wade.

 

"No, I don't. He's separated your uncle and me. Before he came, I used

to spend my evenings in the library, and read to your uncle. Besides,

when I found your uncle wanted a reader, I asked him to take my nephew,

who is a salesman in the very same store where that boy is a cash-boy,

but although I've been twenty years in this house I could not get him to

grant the favor, which he granted to that boy, whom he never met till a

few weeks ago."

 

"Mrs. Bradley, I sympathize with you," said her companion. "The boy

is evidently working against us both. You have been twenty years in my

uncle's service. He ought to remember you handsomely in his will. If

I inherit the property, as is my right, your services shall be

remembered," said John Wade.

 

"Thank you, Mr. John," said the gratified housekeeper.

 

"That secures her help," thought John, in his turn.

 

"She will now work hard for me. When the time comes, I can do as much or

as little for her as I please."

 

"Of course, we must work together against this interloper, who appears

to have gained a dangerous influence over my uncle."

 

"You can depend upon me, Mr. John," said Mrs. Bradley.

 

"I will think it over, and tell you my plan," said John Wade. "But my

uncle will wonder at my appetite. I must go back to the library. We will

speak of this subject again."

 

 

 

CHAPTER XII

 

A FALSE FRIEND

 

 

When John Wade re-entered the library, Frank was reading, but Mr.

Wharton stopped him.

 

"That will do, Frank," he said. "As I have not seen my nephew for a long

time, I shall not require you to read any longer. You can go, if you

like."

 

Frank bowed, and bidding the two good-evening, left the room.

 

"That is an excellent boy, John." said the old gentleman, as the door

closed upon our hero.

 

"How did you fall in with him?" asked John. Mr. Wharton told the story with which the reader is already familiar.