2016년 9월 18일 일요일

Mark the Match Boy 22

Mark the Match Boy 22


CHAPTER XVIII.
 
THE FIRST STEP.
 
 
To do Roswell Crawford justice, the idea of taking money from his
employer had never occurred to him until the day when it was suggested
to him by Ralph Graham. The suggestion came to him at an unfortunate
time. He had always felt with a sense of bitter injustice that his
services were poorly compensated, and that his employer was making
money out of him. Yet he knew very well that there was no chance of
an advance. Besides, he really felt the need of more money to keep up
appearances equal to Ralph Graham, and some other not very creditable
acquaintances that he had managed to pick up. So Roswell allowed
Ralph's suggestion to recur to his mind with dangerous frequency. He
was getting familiar with what had at first startled and shocked him.
 
But it was not at once that he brought his mind to the point. He was
not possessed of much courage, and could not help fearing that he would
get himself into a scrape. It needed a little more urging on the part
of Ralph.
 
"Well, Roswell," said Ralph, a few evenings after the conversation
recorded in the last chapter, "when are you going to take me to the
theatre?"
 
"I didn't know I was going to take you at all," said Roswell.
 
"Come, there's no use in crawling off that way. Didn't I take you to
Niblo's last week?"
 
"Yes."
 
"And didn't you promise to take me some night in return?"
 
"I should like to do it well enough," said Roswell, "but I never have
any money."
 
"You might have some if you chose."
 
"The way you mentioned?"
 
"Yes."
 
"I don't like to try it."
 
"Then you are foolish. It's what half the clerks do. They have to."
 
"Do you think many do it?" said Roswell, irresolutely.
 
"To be sure they do," said Ralph, confidently.
 
"But I am sure it would be found out."
 
"Not if you're careful."
 
"I shouldn't know how to go about it."
 
"Then I'll tell you. You're in the store alone some of the time, I
suppose."
 
"Yes, when Mr. Baker and Mr. Jones are gone to dinner."
 
"Where is the money kept?"
 
"There are two drawers. The one that has the most money in it is kept
locked, and Mr. Baker carries away the key with him. He leaves a few
dollars in another drawer, but nothing could be taken from that drawer
without being missed."
 
"Does he keep much money in the first drawer?"
 
"I expect so."
 
"Then," said Ralph, promptly, "you must manage to get into that."
 
"But how am I to do it?" asked Roswell. "Didn't I tell you that it was
kept locked, and that Mr. Baker took the key?"
 
"I can't say you are very smart. Roswell," said Ralph, a little
contemptuously.
 
"Tell me what you mean, then."
 
"What is easier than to get a key made that will fit the drawer?
All you'll have to do is to take an impression of the lock with
sealing-wax, and carry it to a locksmith. He'll make you a key for two
shillings."
 
"I don't know," said Roswell, undecidedly. "I don't quite like to do
it."
 
"Do just as you please," said Ralph; "only if I carry you to the
theatre I expect you to return the compliment."
 
"Well, I'll think of it," said Roswell.
 
"There is another way you can do," suggested Ralph, who was full of
evil suggestions, and was perhaps the most dangerous counsellor that
Roswell could have had at this time.
 
"What is it?"
 
"If you make any sales while you are alone you might forget to put the
money into the drawer."
 
"Yes, I might do that."
 
"And ten to one Baker would never suspect. Of course he doesn't know
every book he has in his store or the exact amount of stationery he
keeps on hand."
 
"No, I suppose not."
 
"You might begin that way. There couldn't be any danger of detection."
 
This suggestion struck Roswell more favorably than the first, as it
seemed safer. Without giving any decided answer, he suffered the
thought to sink into his mind, and occupy his thoughts.
 
The next day when about the middle of the day Roswell found himself
alone, a customer came in and bought a package of envelopes, paying
twenty-five cents.
 
With a half-guilty feeling Roswell put this sum into his pocket.
 
"Mr. Baker will never miss a package of envelopes," he thought.
 
He sold two or three other articles, but the money received for these
he put into the drawer. He did not dare to take too much at first.
Indeed, he took a little credit to himself, so strangely had his ideas
of honesty got warped, for not taking more when he might have done so
as well as not.
 
Mr. Baker returned, and nothing was said. As might have been expected,
he did not miss the small sum which Roswell had appropriated.
 
That evening Roswell bought a couple of cigars with the money he had
stolen (we might as well call things by their right names), and treated
Ralph to one.
 
"There's a splendid play on at Wallack's," said he, suggestively.
 
"Perhaps we'll go to-morrow evening," said Roswell.
 
"That's the way to talk," said Ralph, looking keenly at Roswell. "Is
there anything new with you?"
 
"Not particularly," said Roswell, coloring a little, for he did not
care to own what he had done to his companion, though it was from him
that he had received the advice.
 
The next day when Roswell was again alone, a lady entered the shop.
 
"Have you got La Fontaine's Fables in English?" she asked. "I have
asked at half a dozen stores, but I can't find it. I am afraid it is
out of print."
 
"Yes, I believe we have it," said Roswell.
 
He remembered one day when he was looking for a book he wanted to read,
that he had come across a shop-worn copy of La Fontaine's Fables. It
was on a back shelf, in an out of-the-way place. He looked for it, and
found his memory had served him correctly.
 
"Here it is," he said, handing it down.
 
"I am very glad to get it," said the lady. "How much will it be?"
 
"The regular price is a dollar and a quarter, but as this is a little
shop-worn you may have it for a dollar."
 
"Very well."
 
The lady drew out a dollar bill from her purse, and handed it to
Roswell.
 
He held it in his hand till she was fairly out of the door. Then the
thought came into his mind, "Why should I not keep this money? Mr.
Baker would never know. Probably he has quite forgotten that such a
book was in his stock."
 
Besides, as the price of a ticket to the family circle at Wallack's
was only thirty cents, this sum would carry in him and his friend, and
there would be enough left for an ice-cream after they had got through.
 
The temptation was too much for poor Roswell I call him poor, because I
pity any boy who foolishly yields to such a temptation for the sake of
a temporary gratification.
 
Roswell put the money into his vest-pocket, and shortly afterwards Mr.
Baker returned to the store.
 
"Have you sold anything, Roswell?" he inquired, on entering.
 
"Yes, sir. I have sold a slate, a quire of notepaper, and one of Oliver
Optic's books."
 
Roswell showed Mr. Baker the slate, on which, as required by his
employer, he had kept a record of sales.
 
Mr. Baker made no remark, but appeared to think all was right.

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