Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 27

Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 27

"Oh, yes!"

 

"It is a right smart place, as a Philadelphian would say. You never

heard of Townsend's Woolen Mill, I dare say?"

 

"No, I never have."

 

"It is one of the largest mills in Fall River. I own a controlling

interest in it. I assure you I wouldn't take a hundred thousand dollars

for my interest in it."

 

"You ought to be in very easy circumstances," said Grit politely, though

it did occur to him to wonder why the owner of a controlling interest in

a large woolen mill should be attired in such a rusty suit.

 

"I am," said the stranger complacently. "Daniel Townsend's income--I am

Daniel T., at your service--for last year was twelve thousand three

hundred and sixty-nine dollars."

 

"This gentleman seems very communicative," thought Grit.

 

"Your income was rather larger than mine," he said.

 

"Ho, ho! I should say so," laughed Mr. Townsend. "Are you in any

business, my young friend?"

 

"I am connected with navigation," said Grit.

 

"Indeed?" observed Townsend, appearing puzzled. "Do you find it a paying

business?"

 

"Tolerably so, but I presume woolen manufacturing is better?"

 

"Just so," assented Townsend, rather absently.

 

At this point Grit rose from the table, having finished his breakfast.

 

"Mr. Townsend seems very social," thought our hero, "but I think he is

given to romancing. I don't believe he has anything more to do with a

woolen mill in Fall River than I have."

 

Grit reached the station in time, and took his seat in the train. He

bought a morning paper, and began to read.

 

"Ah, here you are, my young friend!" fell on his ears just after they

passed Saco, and Grit, looking up, saw his breakfast companion.

 

"Is the seat beside you taken?" asked Mr. Daniel Townsend.

 

Grit would like to have said "yes," but he was compelled to admit that

it was unengaged.

 

"So much the better for me," said the woolen manufacturer, and he sat

down beside our hero.

 

He had with him a small, well-worn valise, which looked as if in some

remote period it had seen better days. He laid it down, and, looking

keenly about, observed Grit's parcel, which, though commonplace in

appearance, contained, as we know, thirty thousand dollars in government

bonds.

 

"It is rather a long ride to Boston," said Mr. Townsend.

 

"Yes; but it seems shorter when you have something to read," answered

Grit, looking wistfully at his paper, which he would have preferred

reading to listening to the conversation of his neighbor.

 

"I never care to read on the cars," said Mr. Townsend. "I think it is

injurious to the eyes. Do you ever find it so?"

 

"I have not traveled enough to be able to judge," said Grit.

 

"Very likely. At your age I had traveled a good deal. My father was a

rich merchant, and as I was fond of roving, he sent me on a voyage to

the Mediterranean on one of his vessels. I was sixteen at that time."

 

"I wonder whether this is true, or not," thought Grit.

 

"I enjoyed the trip, though I was seasick on the Mediterranean. It is

really more trying than the ocean, though you might not imagine it.

Don't you think you would enjoy a trip of that sort?"

 

"Yes; I am sure I would," said Grit, with interest.

 

"Just so; most boys of your age are fond of traveling. Perhaps I might

find it in my way to gratify your wishes. Our corporation is thinking of

sending a traveler to Europe. You are rather young, but still I might be

able to get it for you."

 

"You know so little about me," said Grit sensibly, "that I wonder you

should think of me in any such connection."

 

"That is true. I don't know anything of you, except what you have told

me."

 

"That isn't much," thought Grit.

 

"And it may be necessary for me to know more. I will ask you a few

questions, and report your answers to our directors at their meeting

next week."

 

"Thank you, sir; but I think we will postpone discussing the matter this

morning."

 

"Is any time better than the present?" inquired Townsend.

 

Grit did not care to say much about himself until after he had fulfilled

his errand in the city. He justly felt that with such an important

charge it was necessary for him to use the greatest caution and

circumspection. Still, there was a bare possibility that the man beside

him was really what he claimed to be, and might have it in his power to

give him a business commission which he would enjoy.

 

"If you will call on me at the Parker House this evening," said Grit, "I

will speak with you on the subject."

 

"Whom shall I inquire for?" asked the Fall River manufacturer.

 

"You need not inquire for any one. You will find me in the reading-room

at eight o'clock."

 

"Very well," answered Mr. Townsend, appearing satisfied.

 

The conversation drifted along till they reached Exeter.

 

Then Mr. Townsend rose in haste, and, seizing Grit's bundle instead of

his own, hurried toward the door.

 

Grit sprang after him and snatched the precious package.

 

"You have made a mistake, Mr. Townsend," he said, eyeing his late seat

companion with distrust.

 

"Why, so I have!" ejaculated Townsend, in apparent surprise. "By Jove!

it's lucky you noticed it. That little satchel of mine contains some

papers and certificates of great value."

 

"In that case I would advise you to be more careful," said Grit, who did

not believe one word of the last statement.

 

"So I will," said Townsend, taking the satchel. "I am going into the

smoking-car. Won't you go with me?"

 

"No, thank you."

 

"I have a spare cigar," urged Townsend.

 

"Thank you again, but I don't smoke."

 

"Oh, well, you're right, no doubt, but it's an old habit of mine. I

began to smoke when I was twelve years old. My wife often tells me I am

injuring my health, and perhaps I am. Take the advice of a man old

enough to be your father, and don't smoke."

 

"That's good advice, sir, and I shall probably follow it."

 

"Well, good day, if we don't meet again," said Townsend.

 

Mr. Townsend, instead of passing into the smoking-car, got off the

train. Grit observed this, and was puzzled to account for it,

particularly as the train started on, leaving him standing on the

platform.

 

A few minutes later the conductor passed through the train, calling for

tickets.

 

Grit looked in vain for his, and, deciding that he should have to pay

the fare over again, he felt for his pocketbook, but that, too, was

missing.

 

He began to understand why Mr. Townsend left the train at Exeter.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXVII.

 

A FRIEND IN NEED.

 

 

The conductor waited while Grit was searching for his ticket. He was not

the same one who started with the train, so that he could not know

whether our hero had shown a ticket earlier in the journey.

 

"I can't find my ticket or my money," said Grit, perplexed.

 

"Then you will have to leave the train at the next station," said the

conductor suspiciously.

 

"It is very important that I should proceed on my journey," pleaded

Grit. "I will give you my name, and send you the money."

 

"That won't do, youngster," said the conductor roughly. "I have heard of

that game before. It won't go down."

 

"There is no game about it," said Grit. "My ticket and pocketbook have

been stolen."

 

"Of course," sneered the conductor. "Perhaps you can point out the

thief."

 

"No, I can't, for he has left the train. He got out at Exeter."

 

"Very likely. You can take the next train back and find him."

 

"Do you doubt that I had a ticket?" asked Grit, nettled by the

conductor's evident incredulity.

 

"Yes, I do, if you want the truth. You want to steal a ride; that's

what's the matter."