Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 4
"Oh, yes, I suppose it is. So's a ditch-digger engaged in a creditable
employment, but you don't treat him as an equal."
"I should be willing to treat Grit as an equal. He is very good-looking,
don't you think so, Phil?"
"Good-looking! So is a cow good-looking."
"I've seen some cows that were very good-looking," answered Marion, with
a mischievous smile. "I suppose Grit and you are well acquainted."
"Oh, I know him to speak to him," returned Phil loftily. "Of course, I
couldn't be intimate with such a boy."
"I was thinking," said Marion, "it would be nice to invite him round to
the house to play croquet with us."
"Invite Grit Morris?" gasped Phil.
"Yes, why not?"
"A boy like him!"
"Why, wouldn't he behave well?"
"Oh, I suppose he would, but he isn't in our circle."
"Then it's a pity he isn't. He's the most agreeable boy I have met in
Chester."
"You say that only to provoke me."
"No, I don't. I mean it."
"I won't invite him," said Phil doggedly. "I am surprised that you
should think of such a thing."
"Propriety, Miss Marion, propriety!" said the young lady, in a tone of
mock dignity, turning up the whites of her eyes. "That's just the way my
governess used to talk. It's well I've got so experienced a young
gentleman to look after me, and see that I don't stumble into any
impropriety."
Meanwhile, Grit sat in his boat, waiting for a return passenger, and as
he waited he thought of the young lady he had just ferried over.
"I can't see how such a fellow as Phil Courtney can have such a nice
cousin," he said to himself. "She's very pretty, too! She isn't
stuck-up, like him. I hope I shall get the chance of rowing them back."
He waited about ten minutes, when he saw a gentleman and a little boy
approaching the river.
"Are you the ferry-boy?" asked the gentleman.
"Yes, sir."
"I heard there was a boy who would row me across. I want to go to
Chester with my little boy. Can you take us over?"
"Yes, sir; I shall be happy to do so."
"Are you ready to start?"
"Yes, sir, just as soon as you get into the boat."
"Come, Willie," said the gentleman, addressing his little boy, "won't
you like to ride over in the boat?"
"Oh, yes, papa," answered Willie eagerly.
"I hope you are well acquainted with rowing, and careful," said Mr.
Jackson, for this was his name. "I am rather timid about the water, for
I can't swim."
"Yes, sir, I am as much at home on the water as on the land. I've been
rowing every day for the last three years."
The gentleman and his little boy sat down, and Grit bent to his oars.
CHAPTER IV.
A BOY IN THE WATER.
Mr. Jackson was a slender, dark-complexioned man of forty, or
thereabouts. He was fashionably dressed, and had the air of one who
lives in a city. He had an affable manner, and seemed inclined to be
social.
"Is this your business, ferrying passengers across the river?" he asked
of Grit.
"Yes, sir," answered the young boatman.
"Does it pay?" was the next inquiry--an important one in the eyes of a
city man.
"Yes, sir; I make more in this way than I could in any other."
"How much, for instance?"
"From five to seven dollars. Once--it was Fourth of July week--I made
nearly ten dollars."
"That is a great deal more than I made at your age," said Mr. Jackson.
"You look as if you made more now," said Grit, smiling.
"Yes," said the passenger, with an answering smile. "I am afraid I
couldn't get along on that sum now."
"Do you live in the city?" asked Grit, with a sudden impulse.
"Yes, I live in what I regard as the city. I mean New York."
"It must be a fine place," said the young boatman thoughtfully.
"Yes, it is a fine place, if you have money enough to live handsomely.
Did you ever hear of Wall Street?"
"Yes, sir."
"I am a Wall Street broker. I commenced as a boy in a broker's office. I
don't think I was any better off than you at your age--certainly I did
not earn so much money."
"But you didn't have a mother to take care of, did you, sir?"
"No; do you?"
"Yes, sir."
"You are a good boy to work for your mother. My poor boy has no mother;"
and the gentleman looked sad. "What is your name?"
"Grit."
"Is that your real name?"
"No, sir, but everybody calls me so."
"For a good reason, probably. Willie, do you like to ride in the boat?"
"Yes, papa," answered the little boy, his bright eyes and eager manner
showing that he spoke the truth.
"Grit," said Mr. Jackson, "I see we are nearly across the river. Unless
you are due there at a specified time, you may stay out, and we will row
here and there, prolonging our trip. Of course, I will increase your
pay."
"I shall be very willing, sir," said Grit. "My boat is my own, and my
time also, and I have no fixed hours for starting from either side."
"Good! Then we can continue our conversation. Is there a good hotel in
Chester?"
"Quite a good one, sir. They keep summer boarders."
"That was the point I wished to inquire about. Willie and I have been
staying with friends in Portville, but they are expecting other
visitors, and I have a fancy for staying a while on your side of the
river--that is, if you live in Chester."
"Yes, sir; our cottage is on yonder bluff--Pine Point, it is called."
"Then I think I will call at the hotel, and see whether I can obtain
satisfactory accommodations."
"Are you taking a vacation?" asked Grit, with curiosity.
"Yes; the summer is a dull time in Wall Street, and my partner attends
to everything. By and by I shall return, and give him a chance to go
away."
"Do people make a great deal of money in Wall Street?" asked Grit.
"Sometimes, and sometimes they lose a great deal. I have known a man who
kept his span of horses one summer reduced to accept a small clerkship
the next. If a broker does not speculate, he is not so liable to such
changes of fortune. What is your real name, since Grit is only a
nickname?"
"My real name is Harry Morris."
"Have you any brothers or sisters?"
"No, sir; I am an only child."
"Were you born here?"
"No, sir; I was born in Boston.
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