Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 34

Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 34

Mr. Carver, however, was destined to receive the first disagreeable

surprise. After parting from Grit he met Mr. Graves in the street.

 

"Good morning, Mr. Graves," he said, in his usual deferential manner,

for he was a worldly-wise man, though he had committed one fatal

mistake.

 

"Good morning, Mr. Carver," said the president of the bank gravely.

 

"Shall you have any errand for me this week?"

 

"I have something to say to you, Mr. Carver," said Mr. Graves, "and I

may as well take the present opportunity to do so. We have concluded to

dispense with your services, and you are at liberty to look elsewhere

for employment."

 

"You are going to dispense with my services!" repeated Carver, in

dismay.

 

"Such is the determination of the directors, Mr. Carver."

 

"But, sir, that is very hard on me. How am I to get along?"

 

"I hope you may find something else to do. We shall pay you a month's

salary in advance, to give you an opportunity of looking about."

 

"But, Mr. Graves, why am I treated so harshly? Can't you intercede for

me? I am a poor man."

 

"I feel for your situation, Mr. Carver, but I am compelled to say that I

do not feel disposed to intercede for you."

 

"Haven't I always served the bank faithfully?"

 

"I advise you to ask yourself that question, Mr. Carver," said the

president significantly. "You can answer it to your own conscience

better than I or any one else can do for you."

 

"What does he mean?" thought Carver, startled.

 

Then it occurred to the messenger that nothing had been discovered, but

that Mr. Graves, who had recently shown such partiality to Grit, wished

to create a vacancy for him.

 

"Are you going to put Grit Morris in my place?" he asked angrily.

 

"What makes you think so?" asked Mr. Graves keenly.

 

"I knew you were partial to him," answered Carver, who reflected that

it would not do to give the source of his information.

 

"I will at any rate answer your question, Mr. Carver. There is no

intention of putting Grit in your place. We have every confidence in his

fidelity and capacity, but consider him too young for the position."

 

"I was only going to say that Grit has another chance in Boston, so that

there will be no need to provide for him."

 

"Grit has a chance in Boston!" said Mr. Graves, in surprise.

 

"Yes; he has just started for the city."

 

"What sort of a chance is it?"

 

"He has received an offer to travel at the West, with a salary of twelve

dollars a week and expenses."

 

"That is strange."

 

"It is true. He showed me the letter."

 

"From whom did it come?"

 

"I don't remember."

 

Carver did remember, but for obvious reasons did not think it best to

acquaint Mr. Graves.

 

"That is remarkable," thought Mr. Graves, as he walked home. "Grit is a

smart boy, but such offers are not often made by strangers to a boy of

fifteen. I must speak to Clark about it."

 

He found Mr. Clark at his house. He was the quiet man who had been

employed by the bank as a detective, and who had come to report to the

president.

 

There was a look of intelligence as he listened to the news about Grit.

 

"I tell you what I think of it," he said. "The rascals have found out

the part which Grit took in circumventing them, and this letter is part

of a plot. They mean the boy mischief."

 

"I hope not," said Mr. Graves anxiously. "I am attached to Grit, and I

wouldn't have harm come to him for a good deal."

 

"Leave the matter in my hands. I will take the next train for Boston,

and follow this clue. It may enable me to get hold of this Johnson, who

is a dangerous rascal, because he has brains."

 

"Do so, and I will see you paid, if necessary, out of my own pocket."

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXIV.

 

GRIT REACHES BOSTON.

 

 

Full of hope and joyful anticipation, Grit left home and pursued his

journey to Boston. He had occasion to stop a couple of hours at

Portland, and improved it by strolling down to the pier of the little

steamers that make periodical trips to the islands in the harbor. Just

outside a low saloon he unexpectedly ran across his stepfather.

 

"How are you, Grit?" said Brandon affably.

 

There was a flush on Brandon's face, and an unsteadiness of gait which

indicated that he had succeeded in evading what is known as the Maine

law. To Grit it was not a welcome apparition. Still, he felt it due to

himself to be ordinarily polite.

 

"I am well," he answered briefly.

 

"And how's your mother?" asked Brandon.

 

"Quite well, thank you," Grit answered, as formally as if the question

had been asked by a stranger.

 

"Does she miss me much?" asked his stepfather, with a smile.

 

"She has not mentioned it," responded our hero coldly.

 

"I am sorry that circumstances compel me to be absent from her for a

time," continued Brandon.

 

"Oh, don't disturb yourself," said Grit. "She is quite used to being

alone. I think she mentioned that you talked of going to Europe."

 

Brandon frowned, and his bitter disappointment was thus recalled to his

mind.

 

"I don't know whether I shall or not," he answered. "It depends upon

whether my--speculation turns out well. Where are you going?"

 

Grit hesitated as to whether he should answer correctly. He was not

anxious to have Brandon looking him up in Boston, but it occurred to him

that he should be traveling at the West, and, therefore, he answered:

 

"I have heard of a chance in Boston, and am going to see about it."

 

"All right, Grit!" said Brandon. "You have my consent."

 

It occurred to Grit that he did not stand in need of his stepfather's

approval, but he did not say so.

 

"Yes, Grit, I send you forth with a father's blessing," said Brandon

paternally. "By the way, have you a quarter about you?"

 

Grit thought that a quarter was rather a high price to pay for Brandon's

blessing, but he was in good spirits, and this made him good-natured.

Accordingly, he drew a quarter from his pocket and handed it to his

stepfather.

 

"Thank you, Grit," said Brandon briskly, for he had felt uncertain as to

the success of his application. "I like to see you respectful and

dutiful. I will drink your good health, and success to your plans."

 

"You had better drink it in cold water, Mr. Brandon."

 

"That's all right," said Brandon. "Good-by!"

 

He disappeared in the direction of the nearest saloon, and Grit returned

to the depot to take the train for Boston.

 

"I don't know that I ought to have given him any money," thought Grit,

"but I was so glad to get rid of him that I couldn't refuse."

 

He reached Boston without further adventure, arriving at the Boston and

Maine depot in Haymarket Square about four o'clock.

 

"I wonder whether it is too late to call on Mr. Weaver to-night,"

thought Grit.

 

He decided that it was not. Even if it were too late for an interview,

he thought it would be wise to let his prospective employer understand

that he had met his appointment punctually.

 

"Carriage, sir?" asked a hackman.

 

Grit answered in the negative, feeling that to one in his circumstances

it would be foolish extravagance to spend money for a carriage. But this

was succeeded by the thought that time was valuable, and as he did not

know where Essex Street was, it might consume so much to find out the

place indicated in the letter that he might miss the opportunity of

seeing Mr. Weaver.