Dan The Newsboy 19

Dan The Newsboy 19

"I prefer to leave that to you, sir."

 

"You can do so safely. The nephew is a disagreeable boy, who would not

suit me at all. He thinks more of dress than of duty, and, if I read him

aright, is lazy and incompetent. Nevertheless, Mr. Talbot has spoken to

me about taking him."

 

"Perhaps he doesn't know his nephew's faults."

 

"He knows them well enough, but is desirous of promoting his interests.

He won't look upon you very favorably when he learns that I have engaged

you."

 

"If you are satisfied, I won't care for that."

 

"Well spoken, my lad. And now for a few words in confidence," and Mr.

Rogers lowered his voice. "Our business is a large one, and the sums of

money handled are necessarily large. Three months since I ascertained

that somewhere in my establishment there was a leak. We are losing money

in some unexplained way. I believe that some one in whom I repose

confidence is betraying me."

 

Dan listened in earnest attention.

 

"Do you suspect any one, sir?" he asked.

 

"I suspect Mr. Talbot," he said, in the same low voice.

 

Dan started in surprise.

 

"It seems strange, perhaps, that I should speak so confidentially to

you--a mere boy--but I am impressed with the idea that you can help me."

 

"If I can, sir, I will," said Dan, earnestly.

 

"I don't doubt it. My first injunction is to say no word, even to your

nearest relations, of what I have told you."

 

"I won't, sir."

 

"Next, keep a watch over Mr. Talbot. I want to know what are his habits,

whether he uses money freely, with whom he associates. Can you, without

betraying to him that he is watched, find out some information for me on

these points?"

 

"I will try, sir."

 

"If you secure any information, never communicate it to me in the

office. Either come to my house, or write me there."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"You understand that I am employing you in a detective capacity, and

that your time will partly be taken up out of business hours. I intend

to pay you extra, according to results. Is that satisfactory?"

 

"Perfectly so, Mr. Rogers, but I am afraid you will be disappointed in

me."

 

"I will take my risk of that."

 

"Have you any directions to give me, sir, as to how to go to work?"

 

"No; I am nothing of a detective myself. I leave that to you. I might,

of course, employ a professional detective, but Talbot is sharp, and he

would suspect. You he will not suspect. He won't dream of my employing a

boy. That is all I have to say for the present. When can you come to

work?"

 

"I can come to-morrow morning. To-day we are going to move."

 

"To-morrow let it be, then. Good-morning, Dan."

 

Mr. Rogers shook hands with our hero, and walked away.

 

"I am afraid I have a hard job on my hands," thought Dan, "but I will do

my best."

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XVI.

 

DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

 

 

Dan's mother was much pleased with her new quarters. The large room,

occupied by Althea and herself, was bright and cheerful, and well

furnished. Besides the ordinary chamber furniture, there was a

comfortable arm-chair and a lounge. Mrs. Mordaunt felt that she would

not be ashamed now to receive a visit from some of her former friends.

 

She had anticipated some trouble about the preparation of meals, but

Mrs. Brown made a proposition which wonderfully removed all

difficulties.

 

"Mrs. Mordaunt," she said, "your family is about the same as mine. I

have a son who is employed in a newspaper office down town, and you have

two young children. Now, suppose we club together, and each pay half of

the table supplies. Then one day you can superintend the cooking--you

will only have to direct my servant Maggie--and the next day I will do

it. Then, every other day, each of us will be a lady of leisure, and not

have to go into the kitchen at all. What do you say?"

 

"The arrangement will be so much to my advantage that I can say only

one thing--I accept with thanks. But won't you be doing more than your

share? You will be furnishing the fuel, and pay Maggie's wages."

 

"I should have to do that at any rate. The plan is perfectly

satisfactory to me, if it suits you."

 

Mrs. Mordaunt found that the expense was not beyond her means. Her

income for the care of Althea was fifty dollars a month, and Dan paid

her four dollars a week out of his wages, reserving the balance as a

fund to purchase clothes. She went herself to market and selected

articles for the table, and, for the first time since her husband's

failure, found herself in easy circumstances.

 

There was no need now to make vests at starvation prices. She had

thought of continuing, but Dan insisted upon her giving it up entirely.

 

"If you want to sew, mother," he said, "you can make some of Althea's

clothes, and pay yourself out of the ten dollars a month allowed for her

clothes."

 

This was sensible and proper, and Mrs. Mordaunt decided to follow Dan's

advice. She lost no time in obtaining books for the little girl, and

commencing her education. Althea knew her letters, but nothing more. She

was bright and eager to learn, and gained rapidly under her new teacher.

 

Naturally, Dan and his mother were curious as to Althea's early

history, but from the little girl they obtained little information.

 

"Do you remember your mother, Althea?" asked Dan, one evening.

 

"Yes," said the little girl.

 

"When did you see her last?"

 

"Not long ago. Only a little while before you brought me here."

 

"Your mother isn't dead, is she?"

 

"No; but she's gone away."

 

"Why did she go away?"

 

"She is sick. That's what auntie told me. Poor mamma cried very much

when she went away. She kissed me, and called me her darling."

 

"Do you know where she went?"

 

"No; I don't know."

 

"Perhaps her lungs are affected, and she has gone to a warmer climate,"

suggested Mrs. Mordaunt. "She may have gone to Florida, or even to

Italy."

 

"Where is your father?" asked Dan, turning to Althea.

 

"Father is a bad man," said the child, positively. "He made mamma cry.

He went away a good while ago."

 

"And didn't he come back?"

 

"He came back once, and then mamma cried again. I think he wanted mamma

to give him some money."

 

Dan and his mother talked over the little girl's revelations, and

thought they had obtained a clew to the mystery in which the child's

history was involved. Althea's mother might have married a man of bad

habits, who wanted to get possession of her fortune, and rendered a

separation necessary. Ill health might have required her to leave home

and shift the care of the little girl upon strangers. It seemed rather

odd that she should have been handed over to utter strangers, but there

might have been reasons of which they knew nothing.

 

"We won't trouble ourselves about it," said Dan. "It's good luck for us,

even if it was bad luck for Althea's mother. I like the idea of having a

little sister."

 

Althea's last name was not known to her new protector. When Dan

inquired, he was told that she could pass by his name, so Althea

Mordaunt she became.

 

Both Dan and his mother had feared that she might become homesick, but

the fear seemed groundless. She was of a happy disposition, and almost

immediately began to call Mrs. Mordaunt mother.

 

"I call you mother," she said, "but I have a mamma besides; but she has

gone away."

 

"You must not forget your mamma, my dear," said the widow.

 

"No, I won't. She will come back some day; she said she would."

 

"And I will take care of you till she does, Althea."

 

"Yes," said the child, nodding. "I am glad I came to you, for now I have

a brother Dan."

 

"And I have a little sister," said Dan.

 

While Dan was away, and now he was away after supper regularly, Althea

was a great deal of company for Mrs. Mordaunt.

 

In the pleasant afternoons she took the little girl out to walk,

frequently to Union Square Park, where she made acquaintance with other

little girls, and had a merry time, while her new mother sat on one of the benches.