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.