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Frank the Telegraph Boy. 
 
THE 
 
 TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 BY 
 
 HORATIO ALGER, Jr., 
 
 AUTHOR OF "RAGGED DICK SERIES," "LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES,*' 
 "BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES," ETC., ETC. 
 
 THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 CHICAGO TORONTO 
 
FAMOUS ALGER BOOKS. 
 
 RAGGED DICK SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 6 vols. 12mo. Cloth, 
 Ragged Dick. Rough and Ready. 
 
 Fame and Fortune. Ben the Luggage Boy. 
 
 Mark the Match Boy. Rufus and Rose. 
 
 TATTERED TOM SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 12mo. 
 Cloth. First Series. 
 Tattered Tom. Phil the Fiddler. 
 
 Paul the Peddler. Slow and Sure. 
 
 TATTERED TOM SERIES. 4 vols. 12mo. Cloth. Second Series. 
 Julius. Sam's Chance. 
 
 The Young Outlaw, The Telegraph Boy. 
 
 CAMPAIGN SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols. 
 
 Frank's Campaign. Charlie Codman's Cruise. 
 
 Paul Prescott's Charge. 
 
 LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 12mo. 
 Cloth. First Series. 
 Luck and Pluck. Strong and Steady. 
 
 Sink or Swim. Strive and Succeed. 
 
 LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES. 4 vols. 12mo. Cloth. Second Series. 
 Try and Trust. Risen from the Ranks* 
 
 Bound to Rise. Herbert Carter's Legacy. 
 
 BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 12mo. 
 Cloth, 
 Brave and Bold. Shifting for Himself. 
 
 Jack's Ward. Wait and Hope. 
 
 PACIFIC SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 12m6\ 
 The Young Adventurer. The Young Explorers. 
 
 The Young Miner. Ben's Nugget. 
 
 ATLANTIC SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 
 
 The Young Circus Rider. Hector's Inheritance. 
 
 Do and Dare. Helping Himself. 
 
 WAY TO SUCCESS SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4vols. 12mo. 
 Cloth. 
 Bob Burton. Luke Walton. 
 
 The Store Boy Struggling Upward. 
 
 NEW WORLD SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth. 
 Digging for Gold. Facing the World. In a New World. 
 
 Other Volumes in Preparation. 
 
 Copyright by A. K. Loring, 1879. 
 
THREE YOUNG FRIENDS, 
 
 Lorin and Beatrice Bernheimer. 
 
 AND 
 
 Florine Arnold, 
 Ejjis &torg 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The "Telegraph Boy" completes the series 
 of sketches of street-life in New York in- 
 augurated eleven years since by the publi- 
 cation of "Ragged Dick." The author has 
 reason to feel gratified by the warm recep- 
 tion accorded by the public to these pictures 
 of humble life in the great metropolis. He 
 is even more gratified by the assurance that 
 his labors have awakened a philanthropic in- 
 terest in the children whose struggles and 
 privations he has endeavored faithfully to de- 
 scribe. He feels it his duty to state that 
 there is no way in which these waifs can 
 more effectually be assisted than by contrib- 
 uting to the funds of "The Children's Aid 
 Society," whose wise and comprehensive plans 
 for the benefit of their young wards have 
 already been crowned with abundant success. 
 
\rill PREFACE. 
 
 The class of boys described in the pres* 
 ent volume was called into existence only 
 a few years since, but they are already so 
 numerous that one can scarcely ride down 
 town by any conveyance without having one 
 for a fellow-passenger. Most of them reside 
 with their parents and have comfortable 
 homes, but a few, like the hero of this 
 story, are wholly dependent on their own 
 exertions for a livelihood. The variety of 
 errands on which they are employed, and 
 their curious experiences, are by no means 
 exaggerated in the present story. In its 
 preparation the author has been assisted by 
 an excellent sketch published perhaps a year 
 since in the "New York Tribune." 
 
 Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
 New Yobk, Sept. 1, 1879. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A YOUNG CARPET-BAGGER. 
 
 "Twenty-five cents to begin the world with!" 
 reflected Frank Kavanagh, drawing from his vest- 
 pocket two ten-cent pieces of currency and a 
 nickel. " That isn't much, but it will have to 
 do." 
 
 The speaker, a boy of fifteen, was sitting on 
 a bench in City-Hall Park. He was apparently 
 about fifteen years old, with a face not hand- 
 some, but frank and good-humored, and an ex- 
 pression indicating an energetic and hopeful 
 temperament. A small bundle, rolled up in a 
 handkerchief, contained his surplus wardrobe. He 
 had that day arrived in New York by a boat 
 from Hartford, and meant to stay in the city if 
 he could make a living. 
 
10 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 Next to him sat a man of thirty-five, shabbily 
 dressed, who clearly was not a member of any 
 temperance society, if an inflamed countenance 
 and red nose may be trusted. Frank Kavanagh'a 
 display of money attracted his attention, for, 
 small as was the boy's capital, it was greater 
 than his own. 
 
 "Been long in the city, Johnny?" he inquired 
 
 "I only arrived to-day," answered Frank. "My 
 name isn't Johnny, though." 
 
 "•It's immaterial. Johnny is a generic term," 
 said the stranger. "I suppose you have come 
 here to make your fortune." 
 
 "I shall be satisfied with a living to begin 
 with," said Frank. 
 
 ""Where did you come from?" 
 
 "A few miles from Hartford." 
 
 ' ' Got any relations there ? " 
 
 "Yes, — an uncle and aunt." 
 
 " I suppose you were sorry to leave them." 
 
 "Not much. Uncle is a pretty good man, but 
 he's fond of money, and aunt is about as mean 
 as they make 'em. They got tired of supporting 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 11 
 
 me, and gave me money enough to get to New 
 York." 
 
 "I suppose you have some left," said the 
 stranger, persuasively. 
 
 "Twenty-five cents," answered Frank, laughing. 
 "That isn't a very big capital to start on, is it?" 
 
 "Is that all you've got?" asked the shabbily 
 dressed stranger, in a tone of disappointment. 
 
 " Every cent." 
 
 " I wish I had ten dollars to give you," sa'd 
 the stranger, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; I wish you had," said Frank, 
 his e}'es resting on the dilapidated attire of his 
 benevolent companion. Judging from that, he was 
 not surprised that ten dollars exceeded the chari- 
 table fund of the philanthropist. 
 
 " My operations in Wall street have not been 
 fortunate of late," resumed the stranger ; " and I 
 am in consequence hard up." 
 
 "Do 3 r ou do business in Wall street?" asked 
 Frank, rather surprised. 
 
 " Sometimes," was the reply. " I have lost 
 heavily of late in Erie and Pacific Mail, but it 
 
12 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 is only temporary. I shall soon be on my feet 
 again." 
 
 " I hope so, sir," said Frank, politely. 
 
 "My career has been a chequered one," con 
 tinued the stranger. " I, too, as a mere boy, 
 came up from the country to make my fortune. 
 I embarked in trade, and was for a time success- 
 ful. I resigned to get time to write a play, — a 
 comedy in five acts." 
 
 Frank regarded his companion with heightened 
 respect. He was a boy of good education, and 
 the author of a play in his eyes was a man of 
 genius. 
 
 "Was it played?" he inquired. 
 
 "No; Wallack said it had too many difficult 
 characters for his company, and the rest of the 
 managers kept putting me off, while they were 
 producing inferior plaj T s. The American public 
 will never know what they have lost. But, enough 
 of this. Sometime I will read you the ' Mother- 
 in-law,' if you like. Have you had dinner?" 
 
 "No," answered Frank. "Do you know where 
 I can dine cheap ? " he inquired. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 18 
 
 M Yes," answered the stranger. "Once I boarded 
 at the Astor House, but now I am forced, by dire 
 necessity, to frequent cheap restaurants. Follow 
 me." 
 
 "What is your name, sir?" asked Frank, as 
 he rose from the bench. 
 
 "Montagu Percy," was the reply. "Sorry I 
 haven't my card-case with me, or I would hand 
 you my address. I think you said your name 
 was not Johnny." 
 
 " My name is Frank Kavanagh." 
 
 "A very good name. 'What's in a name?' 
 as Shakespeare says." 
 
 As the oddly assorted pair crossed the street, 
 and walked down Nassau street, they attracted 
 the attention of some of the Arabs who were 
 lounging about Printing-House square. 
 
 "I say, country, is that your long-lost uncle?" 
 asked a boot-black. 
 
 " No, it isn't," answered Frank, shortly. 
 
 Though he was willing to avail himself of Mr. 
 Percy's guidance, he was not ambitious of being 
 regarded as his nephew. 
 
14 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " Heed not their ribald scoffs," said Montagu 
 Percy, loftily. "Their words pass by me 'like 
 the idle wind,' which I regard not." 
 
 "Who painted }'our nose, mister?" asked another 
 boy, of course addressing Frank's companion. 
 
 " I will hand you over to the next policeman," 
 exclaimed Percy, angrily. 
 
 " Look out he don't haul you in, instead," 
 retorted the boy. 
 
 Montagu Percy made a motion to pursue his 
 tormentors, but desisted. 
 
 "They are beneath contempt," he said. "It is 
 ever the lot of genius to be railed at by the ignorant 
 and ignoble. They referred to my nose being red, 
 but mistook the cause. It is a cutaneous eruption, 
 — the result of erysipelas." 
 
 "Is it?" asked Frank, rather mystified. 
 
 "I am not a drinking man — that is, I indulge 
 myself but rarely. But here we are." 
 
 So saying he plunged down some steps into a 
 basement, Frank following him. Our hero found 
 himself in a dirty apartment, provided with a bar, 
 over which was a placard, inscribed: — 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 15 
 
 "FREE LUNCH. 
 
 " How much money have you got, Frank ? " 
 inquired Montagu Percy. 
 
 " Twenty-five cents." 
 
 " Lunch at this establishment is free," said 
 Montagu ; " but you are expected to order some 
 drink. What will you have?" 
 
 "I don't care for any drink except a glass of 
 water." 
 
 " All right; I will order for you, as the rules of 
 the establishment require it ; but I will drink your 
 glass myself. Eat whatever you like." 
 
 Frank took a sandwich from a plate on the counter 
 and ate it with relish, for he was hungry. Mean- 
 while his companion emptied the two glasses, and 
 ordered another. 
 
 "Can you pay for these drinks?" asked the bar- 
 tender, suspiciously. 
 
 "Sir, I never order what I cannot pay for." 
 
 "I don't know about that. You've been in here 
 and taken lunch more than once without drinking 
 anything." 
 
16 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " It may be so. I will make up for it now. 
 Another glass, please." 
 
 " First pay for what yoxx have already drunk." 
 
 " Frank, hand me your money," said Montagu. 
 
 Frank incautiously handed him his small stock of 
 money, which he saw instantly transferred to the 
 bar-tender. 
 
 "That is right, I believe," said Montagu Percy. 
 
 The bar-keeper nodded, and Percy, transferring his 
 attention to the free lunch, stowed away a large 
 amount. 
 
 Frank observed with some uneasiness the transfer 
 of his entire cash capital to the bar-tender ; but 
 concluded that Mr. Percy would refund a part after 
 they went out. As they reached the street he 
 oroached the subject. 
 
 " I didn't agree to pay for both dinners," he said, 
 uneasily. 
 
 "Of course not. It will be my treat next time. 
 That will be fair, won't it?" 
 
 ' ' But I would rather you would give me back 
 a part of my money. I may not see you 
 again." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 17 
 
 " I will be in the Park to-morrow at one 
 o'clock." 
 
 " Give me back ten cents, then," said Frank, 
 uneasily. " That was all the money I had." 
 
 " I am really sorry, but I haven't a penny about 
 me. I'll make it right to-morrow. Good-day, my 
 young friend. Be virtuous and you will be happy." 
 
 Frank looked after the shabby figure ruefully. He 
 felt that he had been taken in and done for. 
 His small capital had vanished, and he was adrift 
 in the streets of a strange city without a penny. 
 
18 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DICK RAFFERTT. 
 
 " I've been a fool," said Frank to himself, in 
 genuine mortification, as he realized how easily he 
 had permitted himself to be duped. "I ought to 
 have stayed in the country." 
 
 Even a small sum of money imparts to its pos- 
 sessor a feeling of independence, but one who is 
 quite penniless feels helpless and apprehensive. 
 Frank was unable even to purchase an apple from 
 the snuffy old apple-woman who presided over the 
 stand near by. 
 
 "What am I going to do?" he asked himself, 
 soberly. 
 
 "What has become of your uncle?" asked a 
 boot-black. 
 
 Looking up, Frank recognized one of those who 
 had saluted Percy and himself on their way to the 
 restaurant. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 19 
 
 "He isn't my uncle," he replied, rather resent- 
 fully. 
 
 "You never saw him before, did you?" continued 
 the boy. 
 
 "No, I didn't." 
 
 " That's what I thought." 
 
 There was something significant in the young 
 Arab's tone, which led Frank to inquire, " Do you 
 know him ? " 
 
 "Yes, he's a dead-beat." 
 
 " A what?" 
 
 "A dead-beat. Don't you understand English?" 
 
 " He told me that he did business on Wall street." 
 
 The boot-black shrieked with laughter. 
 
 "He do business on Wall street!" he repeated. 
 " You're jolly green, you are ! " 
 
 Frank was inclined to be angry, but he had the 
 good sense to see that his new friend was right. So 
 he said good-humoredly, " I suppose I am. You 
 see I am not used to the city." 
 
 " It's just such fellows as } t ou he gets hold of," 
 continued the boot-black. " Didn't he make you 
 treat?" 
 
20 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " I may as well confess it," thought Frank. 
 " This boy may help me with advice." 
 
 " Yes," he said aloud. " I hadn't but twenty-five 
 cents, and he made me spend it all. I haven't a 
 cent left." 
 
 "Whew!" ejaculated the other boy. "You're 
 beginnin' business on a small capital." 
 
 "That's so," said Frank. "Do you know any 
 way I can earn money ? " 
 
 Dick Rarferty was a good-natured boy, although 
 rough, and now that Frank had appealed to him for 
 advice he felt willing to help him, if he could. 
 
 " What can you do? " he asked, in a business-like 
 tone. "Have j t ou ever worked?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Frank. 
 
 "What can you do?" 
 
 " I can milk cows, hoe corn and potatoes, ride 
 horse to plough, and — " 
 
 " Hold up ! " said Dick. " All them things aint 
 goin' to do you no good in New York. People don't 
 keep cows as a reg'lar thing here.' 1 ' 
 
 " Of course I know that." 
 
 ' ' And there aint much room for plantin' com 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 21 
 
 and potatoes. Maybe you could get a job over in 
 Jersey." 
 
 " I'd rather stay in New York. I can do some- 
 thing here." 
 
 "Can you black boots, or sell papers?" 
 
 " I can learn." 
 
 " You need money to set up in either of them 
 lines," said Dick Rafferty. 
 
 "Would twenty -five cents have been enough?" 
 asked Frank. 
 
 " You could have bought some evening papers 
 with that." 
 
 " I wish somebody would lend me some money," 
 said Frank ; ' ' I'd pay it back as soon as I'd sold 
 my papers. I was a fool to let that fellow swindle 
 me." 
 
 " That's so," assented Dick ; " but it's no good 
 thinkin' of that now. I'd lend you the money my- 
 self, if I had it ; but I've run out my account at the 
 Park Bank, and can't spare the mone} 7 just at 
 present." 
 
 "How long have you been in business?" asked 
 Frank. 
 
22 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " Ever since I was eight year3 old ; and I'm goin 
 on fifteen now." 
 
 "You went to work early." 
 
 " Yes, I had to. Father and mother both died, 
 and I was left to take care of myself." 
 
 " You took care of yourself when you were only 
 eight years old?" asked Frank, in surprise. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then I ought to make a living, for I am fifteen, 
 — a year older than you are now." 
 
 " Oh, you'll get along when you get started," said 
 Dick, encouragingly. "There's lots of things to 
 do." 
 
 "Is there anything to do that doesn't require any 
 capital?" inquired Frank, anxiously. 
 
 "Yes, you can smash baggage." 
 
 "Will people pay for that?" asked Frank, with 
 a smile. 
 
 " Of course they will. You jest hang round 
 the ferries and steamboat landin's, and when a 
 chap comes by with a valise or carpet-bag, you 
 jest offer to carry it, that's all." 
 
 "Is that what you call smashing baggage?" 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 23 
 
 "Of course. "What did you think it was?" 
 
 Frank evaded answering, not caring to display 
 his country ignorance. 
 
 "Do you think I can get a chance to do that?' 
 he asked. 
 
 " You can try it and see." 
 
 " I came in by the Hartford boat myself, 
 to-day," said Frank. "If I'd thought of it, I 
 would have begun at once." 
 
 " Only you wouldn't have knowed the way any- 
 where, and if a gentleman asked you to carry his 
 valise to any hotel you'd have had to ask where 
 it was." 
 
 "So I should," Frank admitted. 
 
 "I'll show you round a little, if you want 
 me to," said Dick. "I shan't have anything to do 
 for an hour or two." 
 
 " I wish you would." 
 
 So the two boj-s walked about in the lower part 
 of the city, Dick pointing out hotels, public build- 
 ings, and prominent streets. Frank had a reten- 
 tive memorj', and stored away the information 
 carefully. Penniless as he was, he was excited 
 
24 THE TELEGRAPH BO 7. 
 
 and exhilarated by the scene of activity in which 
 he was moving, and was glad he was going to live 
 in it, or to attempt doing so. 
 
 " When I am used to it I shall like it much 
 better than the country," he said to Dick. " Don't 
 you?" 
 
 "I don't know about that," was the reply. 
 " Sometimes I think I'll go West ; — a lot of boys 
 that I know have gone there." 
 
 "Won't it take a good deal of money to go?" 
 asked Frank. 
 
 " Oh, there's a society that pays boys' expenses, 
 and finds 'em nice homes with the farmers. Tom 
 Harrison, one of my friends, went out six weeks 
 ago, and he writes me that it's bully. He's gone 
 to some town in Kansas." 
 
 "That's a good way off." 
 
 " I wouldn't mind that. I'd like ridin' in the 
 cars." 
 
 "It would be something new to you; but I've 
 lived in the country all my life, I'd rather stay 
 here awhile." 
 
 "It's just the way a feller feels," said Dick 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 25 
 
 philosophically. " I've bummed around so much 
 I'd like a good, stiddy home, with three square 
 meals a day and a good bed to sleep on." 
 
 "Can't jou. get that here?" asked Frank. 
 
 "Not stiddy. Sometimes I don't get but one 
 square meal a day." 
 
 Frank became thoughtful. Life in the city 
 seemed more precarious and less desirable than 
 he anticipated. 
 
 " Well, I must go to work again," said Dick, 
 after a while, 
 
 " Where are you going to sleep to-night?" 
 asked Frank. 
 
 " I don't know whether I'd better sleep at the 
 Astor House or Fifth avenue," said Dick. 
 
 Frank looked perplexed. 
 
 "You don't mean that, do you?" he asked. 
 
 " Of course I don't. You're too fresh. Don't 
 get mad," he continued good-naturedly, seeing the 
 flush on Frank's cheek. "You'll know as much 
 about the city as I do before long. I shall go 
 to the Newsboys' Lodgin' House, where I can 
 sleep for six cents." 
 
26 THE TELEGRAPH BOT. 
 
 " I wish I had six cents," said Frank. " If 
 I could only get work I'd soon earn it. You 
 can't think of anything for me to do, can 
 you?" 
 
 Dick's face lighted up. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I can get you a job, though 
 it aint a very good one. I wonder I didn't think 
 of it before." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Frank, anxiously. 
 
 " It's to go round with a blind man, solicitin' 
 contributions." 
 
 "You mean begging?" 
 
 " Yes ; you lead him into stores and countin' 
 rooms, and he asks for money." 
 
 "I don't like it much," said Frank, slowly, 
 " but I must do something. After all, it'll be he 
 that's begging, not I." 
 
 " I'll take you right round where he lives," 
 said Dick. " Maybe he'll go out this evenin'. 
 His other boy give him the slip, and he hasn' 
 got a new one yet." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 27 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 FRANK FINDS AN EMPLOYEE. 
 
 A stone's throw from Centre street stands a tall 
 tenement-house, sheltering anywhere from forty to 
 fifty families in squalid wretchedness. The rent 
 which each family pa} r s would procure a neat 
 house in a country town, with perhaps a little laud 
 beside ; but the city has a mysterious fascination 
 for the poorer classes, and j T ear after year many 
 who might make the change herd together in con- 
 tracted and noisome quarters, when they might have 
 their share of light and space in country neighbor- 
 hoods. 
 
 It was in front of this tenement-house that Dick 
 halted, and plunged into a dark entrance, admon- 
 ishing Frank to follow. Up creaking and dilapi- 
 dated staircases to the fourth floor the boys went. 
 
 " Here we are," said Dick, panting a little from 
 the rapidity of his ascent, and began a vigorous 
 tattoo on a door to the left. 
 
28 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " Is this where the blind gentleman lives?" asked 
 Frank, looking around him dubiously. 
 
 " He isn't much of a gentleman to look at," said 
 Dick, laughing. "Do you hear him?" 
 
 Frank heard a hoarse growl from the inside, which 
 might have been " Come in." At any rate, Dick 
 chose so to interpret it, and opened the door. 
 
 The boys found themselves in a scantily fur- 
 nished room, with a close, disagreeable smell per- 
 vading the atmosphere. In the corner was a low 
 bedstead, on which lay a tall man, with a long, 
 gray beard, and a disagreeable, almost repulsive, 
 countenance. He turned his eyes, which, contrary 
 to Frank's expectations, were wide open, full upon 
 his visitors. 
 
 "What do you want?" he asked querulously. 
 " I was asleep, and } t ou have waked me up." 
 
 "Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Mills," said Dick; 
 " but I come on business." 
 
 "What business can you have with me?" de- 
 manded the blind man. "Who are you?" 
 
 " I am Dick Rafferty. I black boots in the Park," 
 replied Dick. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOT. 29 
 
 " Well, I haven't got any money to pay for 
 blacking boots." 
 
 '* I didn't expect you had. I hear youi boy has 
 left you." 
 
 " Yes, the young rascal ! He's given me the slip. 
 I expect he's robbed me too ; but I can't tell, for 
 I'm blind." 
 
 "Do you want a new boy?" 
 
 " Yes ; but I can't pay much. I'm very poor. 
 I don't think the place will suit you." 
 
 "Nor I either," said Dick, frankly. " I'd rather 
 make a living outside. But I've got a boy with 
 me who has just come to the city, and is out of 
 business. I guess he'll engage with you." 
 
 " What's his name? Let him speak for himself." 
 
 "My name is Frank Kavanagh," said our hero, 
 in a clear, distinct voice. 
 
 "How old are you?" 
 
 "Fifteen." 
 
 "Do } 7 ou know what your duties will be?" 
 
 "Yes; Dick has told me." 
 
 "I told him you'd want him to go round on 
 a collecting tour with you every day," sail Dick. 
 
80 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " That isn't all. You'll have to buy my gro- 
 ceries and all I need." 
 
 "I can do that," said Frank, cheerfully, reflecting 
 that this would be much more agreeable than 
 accompanying the old man round the streets. 
 
 "Are you honest?" queried the blind man, 
 sharply. 
 
 Frank answered, with an indignant flush, " I 
 never stole a cent in my life." 
 
 "I supposed you'd say that," retorted the blind 
 man, with a sneer. " They all do ; but a good 
 many will steal for all that." 
 
 " If you're afraid I will, you needn't hire me," 
 said Frank, independently. 
 
 " Of course I needn't," said Mills, sharply ; " but 
 I am not afraid. If you take any of my money 
 I shall be sure to find it out, if I am blind." 
 
 "Don't mind him, Frank," said Dick, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "What's that?" asked the blind man, suspi- 
 ciously. "What are jon two whispering about?" 
 
 " I told Frank not to mind the way you spoke," 
 said Dick. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 81 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because, if he's honest, it don't matter." 
 
 " That's so," said Mills, partially satisfied. 
 ' Now what pay do you expect ? " 
 
 " I'll leave that to you," said our hero, who 
 felt that he was not in a position to make terms. 
 
 This answer seemed to please the blind man. 
 
 " Yes, yes, that is right. I can tell better in 
 a week what I can afford to pay you. I'll let you 
 come and try how you suit me." 
 
 "Am I to stay here?" asked Frank. 
 
 " Yes ; there's a bed in the other room. Go in 
 and see it." 
 
 The boys entered an inner room, where there 
 was a heap of rags on the floor, and no other 
 article. 
 
 "There's your bed, Frank," said Dick, pointing 
 to the rags. 
 
 "Have I got to sleep there?" asked Frank, in u 
 tone of dissatisfaction. 
 
 "Oh, it'll be comfortable enough," said Dick, 
 whose street life had cured him of fastidiousness, 
 if he had ever been troubled by that feeling. 
 
32 TBE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " If you'd slept on wharves and in empty wagons 
 as often as I have you wouldn't mind that." 
 
 " 1 guess I can stand it," said Frank, stifling 
 his dissatisfaction; "but I've always slept in a 
 bed." 
 
 " Oh, you'll like it well enough," said Dick, 
 carelessly. "Well, I must leave you now, I've 
 got to earn my supper." 
 
 "Do you want me now, sir?" asked Frank, of 
 his new master. 
 
 " Yes ; I want you to get me something to eat. 
 You can go with this boy, and he'll tell you 
 where to get it." 
 
 "What shall I buy, sir?" 
 
 "Buy a loaf of bread at the baker's, and a 
 bottle of ale." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 ' ' You can pay for it, and I will pay you when 
 you get back." 
 
 " I have no money," said Frank, embarrassed. 
 
 "No money!" snarled the blind man. 
 
 "No, sir; I only brought twenty-five cents witb 
 me, and that I have spent." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 33' 
 
 " Your friend will lend you some, then." 
 
 "Not much," answered Dick, laughing. -'I'm 
 dead-broke. Haven't you got any money, Mr. 
 Mills?" 
 
 "I have a little," grumbled the blind man; 
 " but this boy may take it, and never come 
 back." 
 
 "If you think so," said Frank, proudly, "you'd 
 better engage some other boy." 
 
 "No use; you're all alike. Wait a minute, 
 and I'll give 3-011 some money." 
 
 He drew from his pocket a roll of scrip, and 
 handed one to Frank. 
 
 " I don't think that will be enough,'* said 
 Frank. " It's only five cents." 
 
 "Are you sure it isn't a quarter?" grumbled 
 Mills. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "What do j t ou say, — you, Dick?" 
 
 " It's only five cents, sir." 
 
 "Is that twenty-five?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Then take it, and mind you don't loiter." 
 
34 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "And be sure to bring back the change." 
 
 ' ' Of course I will," said Frank indignantly, 
 resenting his employer's suspicion. 
 
 "What do you think of him, Frank?" asked 
 Dick, as they descended the stairs. 
 
 " I don't like him at all, Dick," said Frank, 
 decidedly. "I wish I could get something else 
 to do." 
 
 "You can, after a while. As you have no 
 capital you must take what you can get now." 
 
 " So I suppose ; but I didn't come to the city 
 f.*r this." 
 
 " If you don't like it you can leave in a few 
 days." 
 
 This Frank fully resolved to do at the first 
 favorable opportunity. 
 
 Dick showed him where he could buy the 
 articles he was commissioned to purchase ; and 
 Frank, after obtaining them, went back to the 
 tenement-house. 
 
 Mills scrupulously demanded the change, and 
 put it back into his pocket. Then he made Frank 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 35 
 
 pour out the ale into a glass. This he drank 
 with apparent zest, but offered none to Frank. 
 
 "Ale isn't good for boys," he said. "You can 
 cut the bread, and eat two slices. Don't cut then 
 too thick." 
 
 The blind man ate pome of the bread himself, 
 and then requested Frank to help him on with 
 his coat and vest. 
 
 " I haven't taken any money to-day," he said 
 " I must try to collect some, or I shall starve. 
 It's a sad thing to be blind," he continued, his 
 voice changiDg to a whine. 
 
 " You don't look blind," said Frank, thought- 
 fully. "Your eyes are open." 
 
 "What if they are?" said Mills, testily. "I 
 cannot see. When I go out I close them , because 
 the light hurts them." 
 
 Led by Frank, the blind man descended the 
 stairs, and emerged into the street. 
 
86 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PITT THE BLIND. 
 
 "Where shall I lead you?" asked Frank. 
 
 "To Broadway first. Do you know Broadway?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Be careful when we cross the street, or you 
 will have me run over." 
 
 " All right, sir." 
 
 " If any one asks you about me, say I am 
 your uncle." 
 
 " But you are not." 
 
 " What difference does that make, you little, 
 fool?" said the blind man, roughly. "Are you 
 ashamed to own me as your uncle?" 
 
 Frank felt obliged, out of politeness, to say 
 "No;" but in his own mind he was not quite 
 sure whether he would be willing to acknowledge 
 any relationship to the disagreeable old man 
 whom he was leading. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY, 37 
 
 They reached Broadway, and entered a store 
 devoted to gentlemen's furnishing goods. 
 
 "Charity for a poor blind man 1 " whined Mills, 
 in the tone of a professional beggar. 
 
 "Look here, old fellow, you come in here too 
 often," said a young salesman. "I gave you 
 five cents yesterday." 
 
 " I didn't know it," said Mills. "I am a pool 
 blind man. All places are alike to me." 
 
 " Then your boy should know better. Nothing 
 for you to-day." 
 
 Frank and his companion left the store. 
 
 In the next they were more fortunate. A 
 nickel was bestowed upon the blind mendicant. 
 
 "How much is it?" asked Mills, when they 
 were on the sidewalk. 
 
 " Five cents, sir." 
 
 "That's better than nothing, but we ought to 
 do better. It takes a good many five-cent pieces 
 to make a dollar. When you see a well-dressed 
 lady coming along, tell me." 
 
 Frank felt almost as much ashamed as if he 
 were himself begging, but he must do what was 
 
38 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 expected of him. Accordingly he very soon 
 notified the blind man that a lady was close at 
 hand. 
 
 " Lead me up to her, and say, Can you spare 
 something for my poor, blind uncle ? " 
 
 Frank complied in part, but instead of ' ' poor, 
 blind uncle " he said " poor, blind man." Mills 
 scowled, as he found himself disobeyed. 
 
 "How long has he been blind?" asked the lady, 
 S} 7 mpathetically. 
 
 " For many j'ears," whined Mills. 
 
 "Is this your boy?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; he is my young nephew, from 
 the country." 
 
 "You are fortunate in having him to go about 
 with you." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am; I don't know what I should do 
 without him." 
 
 " Here is something for you, my good man," 
 said the lady, and passed on. 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am. May Heaven bless you ! " 
 
 "How much is it?" he asked quickly, when 
 the lady was out of hearing. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 39 
 
 14 Two cents," answered Frank, suppressing with 
 difficult}' an inclination to laugh. 
 
 "The mean jade! I should like to wring her 
 neck ! " muttered Mills. " I thought it was a 
 quarter, at least." 
 
 In the next store they did not meet a cordial 
 reception. 
 
 "Clear out, } r ou old humbug!" shouted the 
 proprietor, who was in ill-humor. " You ought 
 to be put in the penitentiary for begging about 
 the streets." 
 
 "I pray to God that you may become blind 
 yourself," said Mills, passionately. 
 
 " Out of my store, or I'll have you arrested, 
 both of 3 T ou ! " said the angry tradesman. " Here, 
 you boy, dou't j t ou bring that old fraud in 
 this store again, if you know what's best for your- 
 self." 
 
 There was nothing to do but to comply with 
 this peremptory order. 
 
 "He's a beast!" snarled Mills; "I'd like to 
 put his eyes out myself." 
 
 " You haven't got a very amiable temper," 
 
40 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 thought Frank. "I wouldn't like to be blind; 
 but even if I were, I would try to be pleasanter." 
 
 Two young girls, passing by, noticed the blind 
 man. They were soft-hearted, and stopped to 
 inquire how long he had been blind. 
 
 "Before you were born, my pretty maid," said 
 Mills, sighing. 
 
 " I have an aunt who is blind," said one of 
 the girls; "but she is not poor, like you." 
 
 " I am very poor," whined Mills ; "I have 
 not money enough to pay my rent, and I may 
 be turned out into the street." 
 
 " How sad ! " said the young girl, in a tone 
 of deep sympathy. " I have not much money, 
 but I will give you all I have." 
 
 " Ma} T God bless you, and spare your eyes ! " 
 said Mills, as he closed his hand upon the 
 money. 
 
 "How much is it?" he asked as before, when 
 they had passed on. . 
 
 " Twenty-five cents," said Frank. 
 
 " That is better," said Mills, in a tone of 
 satisfaction. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH EOT. 41 
 
 For some time afterwards all applications were 
 -efused ; in some cases, roughly. 
 
 "Why don't you work?" asked one man, bluntly. 
 
 "What can I do?" asked Mills. 
 
 "That's your lookout. Some blind men work. 
 I suppose you would rather get your living by 
 begging." 
 
 ' ' I would work my fingers to the bone if I 
 could only see," whined Mills. 
 
 ' ' So you say ; but I don't believe it. At any 
 rate, that boy of yours can see. Why don't you 
 set him to work?" 
 
 "He has to take care of me." 
 
 " I would work if I could get anything to do," 
 said Frank. 
 
 As he spoke, he felt his hand pressed forcibly 
 by his companion, who did not relish his answer. 
 
 "I cannot spare him," he whined. "He has 
 to do everything for me." 
 
 When they were again in the street, Mills de 
 manded, roughly, "What did you mean by saying 
 that?" 
 
 "What, sir?" 
 
42 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "That 30U wanted to go to work." 
 
 "Because it is true." 
 
 ' ' You are at work ; you are working for me," 
 said Mills. 
 
 "I would rather work in a store, or an office, 
 or sell papers." 
 
 "That wouldn't do me any good. Don't speak 
 in that way again." 
 
 The two were out about a couple of hours, and 
 very tiresome Frank found it. Then Mills indicated 
 a desire to go home, and the}' went back to the 
 room in the old tenement-house. Mills threw him- 
 self down on the bed in the corner, and heaved a 
 sigh of relief. 
 
 "Now, boy, count the money we have collected," 
 he said. 
 
 " There's ninety-three cents," Frank announced. 
 
 "If I had known it was so near a dollar we 
 would have stayed a little longer. Now, get me my 
 pipe." 
 
 "Where is it, sir?" 
 
 "In the cupboard. Fill it with tobacco, and 
 light it." 
 
THE TELE a RAPS B O 7. 48 
 
 "Are you not afraid of setting the bedding on 
 fire, sir?" 
 
 " Mind your own business. If I choose to set 
 it on fire, I will," snarled Mills. 
 
 "Very well, sir; I thought I'd mention it." 
 
 "You have mentioned it, and you needn't do it 
 again." 
 
 " What a sweet temper you've got ! " thought 
 Frank. 
 
 He sat down on a broken chair, and, having 
 nothing else to do, watched his employer. "He 
 looks very much as if he could see," thought 
 Frank ; for Mills now had his eyes wide open. 
 
 "What are you staring at me for, boy?" de- 
 manded his emplo} T er, rather unexpectedly. 
 
 ' ' What makes you think I am staring at you, 
 sir?" was Frank's natural question. "I thought 
 you couldn't see." 
 
 "No more I can, but I can tell when one is 
 staring at me. It makes me creep all over." 
 
 " Then I'll look somewhere else." 
 
 " Would you like to do some work, as you said? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
14 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Then take twenty -five cents, and buy some 
 evening papers and sell them ; but mind you 
 bring the money to me." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Frank, with alacrity. 
 
 Anything he thought would be better than sit- 
 ting in that dull room with so disagreeable a 
 companion. 
 
 " Mind you don't run off* with the money," 
 said the blind man, sharply. "If you do I'll 
 have you put in the Tombs." 
 
 " I don't mean to run away with the money," 
 retorted Frank, indignantly. 
 
 " And when you've sold the papers, come home." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 With a feeling of relief, Frank descended the 
 stairs and directed his steps to the Park, meaning 
 to ask Dick Rafferty's advice about the proper way 
 to start in business as a newsboy. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOT. 45 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 FRANK THROWS UP HIS SITUATION. 
 
 Frank found his friend on Park Row, and 
 made known his errand. 
 
 " So old Mills wants you to sell papers for 
 his benefit, does he ? " 
 
 " Yes, but I'd rather do it than to stay with 
 him." 
 
 "How much has he agreed to pay you?" 
 
 "That isn't settled yet." 
 
 "You'd better bring him to the point, or he 
 won't pay you anything except board and lodg- 
 ing, and mighty mean both of them will be." 
 
 " I won't say anything about it the first day," 
 said Frank. "What papers shall I buy?" 
 
 "It's rather late. You'd better try for Tele- 
 grams." 
 
 Frank did so, and succeeded in selling half a 
 dozen, yielding a profit of six cents. It was 
 
46 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 not a brilliant beginning, but he was late in the 
 field, and most had purchased their evening 
 papers. His papers sold, Frank went home and 
 announced the result. 
 
 "Umph!" muttered the blind man. "Give me 
 the money." 
 
 "Here it is, sir." 
 
 "Have you given me all?" sharply demanded 
 Mills. 
 
 " Of course I have," said Frank, indignantly. 
 
 "Don't you be impudent, or I will give you 
 a flogging," said the blind man, roughly. 
 
 "I am not used to be talked to in that way," 
 said Frank, independently. 
 
 "You've always had your own way, I suppose," 
 snarled Mills. 
 
 " No, I haven't ; but I have been treated 
 kindly." 
 
 " You are only a boy, and I won't allow you 
 to talk back to me. Do you hear ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then take care to remember." 
 
 " You've got a sweet disposition," thought 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 47 
 
 Frank. " I won't stay with you anv longer than 
 I am obliged to." 
 
 Several days passed without bringing any in- 
 cidents worth recording. Frank took a daily 
 walk with the blind man, sometimes in the 
 morning, sometimes in the afternoon. These 
 walks were very distasteful to him. The com- 
 panion of a beggar, he felt as if he himself 
 were begging. He liked better the time he spent 
 in selling papers, though he reaped no benefit 
 himself. In fact, his wages were poor enough. 
 Thus far his fare had consisted of dry bread 
 with an occasional bun. He was a healthy, 
 vigorous boy, and he felt the need of meat, or 
 some other hearty food, and ventured to intimate 
 as much to his employer. 
 
 "So you want meat, do you?" snarled Mills. 
 
 "Yes, sir; I haven't tasted any for a week." 
 
 " Perhaps you'd like to take your meals at 
 Delmonico's ? " sneered the blind man. 
 
 Frank was so new to the city that this well- 
 known name did not convey any special idea to 
 him, and he answered "Yes." 
 
48 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " That's what I thought ! " exclaimed Mills, 
 angrily. " You want to eat me out of house and 
 home." 
 
 " No, I don't ; I only want enough food to 
 keep up my strength." 
 
 " Well, you are getting it. I give you all I 
 can afford." 
 
 Frank was inclined to doubt this. He esti- 
 mated that what he ate did not cost his employer 
 over six or eight cents a day, and he generally 
 earned for him twenty to thirty cents on the 
 sale of papers, besides helping him to collect 
 about a dollar daily from those who pitied his 
 blindness. 
 
 He mentioned his grievance to his friend, Dick 
 Rafferty. 
 
 "I'll tell you what to do," said Dick. 
 
 " I wish you would." 
 
 "Keep some of the money you make by selling 
 papers, x. and buy a square meal at an eatin' 
 house." 
 
 " I don't like to do that ; it wouldn't be 
 honest." 
 
TBE TELEGRAPH BOY. 49 
 
 "Why wouldn't it?" 
 
 "1 am carrying on the business for Mr. Mills. 
 He supplies the capital." 
 
 "Then you'd better carry it on for youiself." 
 
 "I wish I could." 
 
 "Why don't you?" 
 
 " I haven't any money." 
 
 " Has he paid you any wages?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Then make him." 
 
 Frank thought this a good suggestion. He 
 had been with Mills a week, and it seemed fair 
 enough that he should receive some pay besides 
 a wretched bed and a little dry bread. Accord- 
 ingly, returning to the room, he broached the 
 subject. 
 
 " What do you want wages for?" demanded Mills, 
 displeased. 
 
 " I think I earn them," said Frank, boldly. 
 
 " You get board and lodging. You are better off 
 than a good many boys." 
 
 " I shall want some clothes, some time," said 
 Frank. 
 
50 THE TELEGRAPH ROY. 
 
 " Perhaps you'd like to have me pay you a dollai 
 a day," said Mills. 
 
 " I know you can't afford to pay me that. I will 
 be satisfied if you will pay me ten cents a day." 
 replied Frank. 
 
 Frank reflected that, though this was a very small 
 sum, in ten days it would give him a dollar, and 
 then he would feel justified in setting up a business 
 on his own account, as a newsboy. He anxiously 
 awaited an answer. 
 
 "I will think of it," said the blind man eva- 
 sively, and Frank did not venture to say more. 
 
 The next day, when Mills, led by Frank, was on 
 his round, the two entered a cigar-store. Frank was 
 much surprised when the cigar-vender handed him a 
 fifty-cent currency note. He thought there was some 
 mistake. 
 
 "Thank you, sir," he said; "but did you mean 
 to give me fifty cents ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the cigar-vender, laughing; " but I 
 wouldn't have done it, if it had been good." 
 
 "Isn't it good?" 
 
 "No, it's a counterfeit, and a pretty bad one. ] 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 51 
 
 might pass it, but it would cost me too much time 
 and trouble." 
 
 Frank was confounded. He mechanically handed 
 the money to Mills, but did not again thank the 
 giver. When they returned to the tenement-house, 
 Mills requested Frank to go to the baker's for a loaf 
 of bread. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Here is the money." 
 
 "But that is the counterfeit note," said Frank, 
 scrutinizing . the bill given him. 
 
 "What if it is?" demanded Mills, sharply. 
 
 "It won't pass." 
 
 " Yes, it will, if you are sharp." 
 
 "Do you want me to pass counterfeit money, Mr. 
 Mills?" 
 
 " Yes, I do ; I took it, and I mean to get rid 
 of it." 
 
 "But you didn't give anything for it." 
 
 " That's neither here nor there. Take it, and offer 
 it to the baker. If he won't take it, go to another 
 baker with it." 
 
 " I would rather not do it," said Frank, firmly 
 
52 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Rather not!" exclaimed Mills, angi/ly. "Do 
 you pretend to dictate to me?" 
 
 " No, I don't, but I don't mean to pass any coun 
 terfeit money for you or any other man," said Frank, 
 with spirit. 
 
 Mills half rose, with a threatening gesture, but 
 thought better of it. 
 
 "You're a fool," said he. "I suppose you are 
 afraid of being arrested ; but you have only to say 
 that I gave it to you, and that I am blind, and 
 couldn't tell it from good money." 
 
 " But you know that it is bad money, Mr. Mills." 
 
 " What if I do? No one can prove it. Take the 
 money, and come back as quick as you can." 
 
 "You must excuse me," said Frank, quietly, but 
 firmly. 
 
 "Do you refuse to do as I bid you?" de- 
 manded Mills, furiously. 
 
 "I refuse to pass counterfeit money." 
 
 •' Then, by Heaven, I'll flog you ! " 
 
 Mills rose and advanced directly towards Frank, 
 with his eyes wide open. Fortunately our hero was 
 near the door, and, quickly opening it, darted from 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 53 
 
 the room, pursued by Mills, his face flaming with 
 wrath. It flashed upon Frank that no blind man 
 could have done this. He decided that the man 
 was a humbug, and could see a little, at all events. 
 His blindness was no doubt assumed to enable 
 him to appeal more effectively to the sympathizing 
 public. This revelation disgusted Frank. He could 
 not respect a man who lived by fraud. Counterfeit 
 or no counterfeit, he decided to withdraw at once 
 and forever from the service of Mr. Mills. 
 
 His employer gave up the pursuit before he 
 reached the street. Frank found himself on the 
 sidewalk, free and emancipated, no richer than when 
 he entered the service of the blind man, except in 
 experience. 
 
 "I haven't got a cent," he said to himself, "but 
 I'll get along somehow." 
 
54 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FRANK GETS A JOB. 
 
 Though Frank was penniless lie was not cast 
 down. He was tolerably familiar with the lower 
 part of the city, and had greater reliance on him- 
 self than he had a week ago. If he had only had 
 capital to the extent of fifty cents he would have 
 felt quite at ease, for this would have set him 
 up as a newsboy. 
 
 "I wonder if I could borrow fifty cents of Dick 
 Rafferty," considered Frank. " I'll try, at any rate." 
 
 He ran across Dick in City-Hall Park. That 
 young gentleman was engaged in pitching pennies 
 with a brother professional. 
 
 " I say, Dick, I want to speak to you a 
 minute," said Frank. 
 
 "All right! Go ahead!" 
 
 "I've lost my place." 
 
 Dick whistled. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 55 
 
 "Got sacked, have you?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes ; but I might have stayed." 
 
 "Why didn't you?" 
 
 " Mills wanted me to pass a counterfeit note, 
 and I wouldn't." 
 
 "Was it a bad-looking one?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Then you're right. You might have got 
 nabbed." 
 
 " That wasn't the reason I refused. If I had 
 been sure there'd have been no trouble I wouldn't 
 have done it." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Dick, who did not under- 
 stand our hero's scruples. 
 
 " Because it's wrong." 
 
 Dick shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I guess you belong to the church," he said. 
 
 "No, I don't; what makes you think so?" 
 
 " Oh, 'cause you're so mighty particular. I 
 wouldn't mind passing it if I was sure I wouldn't 
 be cotched." 
 
 " I think it's almost as bad as stealing to buy 
 bread, or anything else, and give what isn't worth 
 
56 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 anything for it. Yon might as well give a piece 
 of newspaper." 
 
 Though Frank was unquestionably right he 
 did not succeed in making a convert of Dick Raf- 
 ferty. Dick was a pretty good boy, considering 
 the sort of training he had had ; but passing bad 
 money did not seem to him objectionable, unless 
 "a fellow was cotched," as he expressed it. 
 
 ""Well, what are you going to do now? " asked 
 Dick, after a pause. 
 
 " I guess I can get a living by selling papers." 
 
 "You can get as good a livin' as old Mills gave 
 you. You'll get a better bed at the lodgin'-house 
 than that heap of rags you laid on up there." 
 
 "But there's one trouble," continued Frank, "I 
 haven't any money to start on. Can you lend 
 me fifty cents ? " 
 
 " Fifty cents ! " repeated Dick. " What do you 
 take me for? If I was connected with Vander- 
 built or Astor I might set you up in business, 
 but now I can't." 
 
 "Twenty-five cents will do," said Frank. 
 
 " Look here, Frank," said Dick, plunging his 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 57 
 
 hands into his pocket, and drawing therefrom 
 three pennies and a nickel, "do you see them?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, it's all the money I've got." 
 
 " I am afraid you have been extravagant, Dick,'' 
 said Frank, in disappointment. 
 
 u Last night I went to Tony Pastor's, and when 
 I got through I went into a saloon and got an ice- 
 cream and a cigar. You couldn't expect a feller 
 to be very rich after that. I say, I'll lend you 
 five cents if }'ou want it." 
 
 " No, thank you, Dick. I'll wait till you are 
 richer." 
 
 " I tell you what, Frank, I'll save up my 
 mone}', and by day after to-morrow I guess I 
 can set you up." 
 
 "Thank 3 T ou, Dick. If I don't have the money 
 by that time myself I'll accept your offer." 
 
 There was no other boy with whom Frank felt 
 sufficiently well acquainted to request a loan, and 
 he walked away, feeling rather disappointed. It 
 was certainly provoking to think that nothing but 
 the lack of a small sum stood between him and 
 
58 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 remunerative employment. Once started he deter- 
 mined not to spend quite all his earnings, but to 
 improve upon his friend Dick's practice, and, if 
 possible, get a little ahead. 
 
 When guiding the blind man he often walked 
 up Broadway, and mechanically he took the same 
 direction, walking slowly along, occasionally stop- 
 ping to look in at a shop-window. 
 
 As he was sauntering along he found himself 
 behind two gentlemen, — one an old man, who 
 wore gold spectacles ; the other, a stout, pleasant- 
 looking man, of middle age. Frank would not 
 have noticed them particularly but for a sudden 
 start and exclamation from the elder of the two 
 gentlemen. 
 
 " I declare, Thompson," he said, " I've left 
 my. umbrella down-town." 
 
 "Where do you think you left it?" 
 
 " In Peckham's office ; that is, I think I left 
 it there." 
 
 "Oh, well, he'll save it for you." 
 
 " I don't know about that. Some visitor may 
 carry it away ." 
 
THE TELEORAPH BOY. 59 
 
 " Never mind, Mr. Bowen. You are rich 
 enough to afford a new one." 
 
 " It isn't the value of the article, Thompson," 
 said his friend, in some emotion. " That um- 
 brella was brought me from Paris by my son 
 John, who died. It is as a souvenir of him that I 
 regard and value it. I would not lose it for a 
 hundred dollars, nay, five hundred." 
 
 " If you value it so much, sir, suppose we 
 turn round and go back for it." 
 
 Frank had listened to this conversation, and 
 an idea struck him. Pressing forward, he said 
 respectfully, "Let me go for it, sir. I will get 
 it, and bring it to your house." 
 
 The two gentlemen fixed their eyes upon the 
 bright, eager face of the petitioner. 
 
 "Who are you, my boy?" asked Mr. Thompson. 
 
 " I am a poor boy, in want of work," an- 
 swered our hero promptly. 
 
 "What is your name?" 
 
 " Frank Kavanagh." 
 
 "Where do you live?" 
 
 " I am trying to live in the city, sir." 
 
60 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " What have you been doing ? " 
 
 " Leading a blind man, sir." 
 
 "Not a very pleasant employment, I should 
 judge," said Thompson, shrugging his shoulders. 
 "Well, have you lost that job?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "So the blind man turned you off, did he?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Your services were unsatisfactoiy, I suppose?" 
 
 " lie wanted me to pass counterfeit money for 
 him, and I refused." 
 
 " If that is true, it is to your credit." 
 
 "It is true, sir," said Frank, quietly. 
 
 "Come, Mr. Bowen, what do you say, — shall 
 we accept this bo3 r 's services? It will save you 
 time and trouble." 
 
 "If I were sure he could be trusted," said 
 Bowen, hesitating. " He might pawn the umbrella. 
 It is a valuable one." 
 
 " I hope, sir, you won't think so badly of me 
 as that," said Frank, with feeling. " If I were 
 willing to steal anything, it would not be a gift 
 from your dead son." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 61 
 
 "I'll trust you, my boy," said the old gen- 
 tleman quickly. " Your tone convinces me that 
 you may be relied upon." 
 
 " Thank you, sir." 
 
 The old gentleman drew a card from Ma 
 pocket, containing his name and address, and on 
 the reverse side wrote the name of the friend at 
 whose office he felt sure the umbrella had been 
 left, with a brief note directing that it be handed 
 to the bearer. 
 
 "All right, sir." 
 
 " Stop a moment, my boy. Have you got 
 money to ride?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " Here, take this, and go down at once in the 
 next stage. The sooner you get there the better." 
 
 Frank followed directions. He stopped the next 
 stage, and got on board. As he passed the City- 
 Hall Park, Dick Rafferty espied him. Frank- 
 nodded to him. 
 
 " How did he get money enough to ride in a 
 'bus?" Dick asked himself in much wonderment. 
 " A few minutes ago he wanted to borrow some 
 
62 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 money of me, and now he's spending ten cents 
 for a ride. Maybe he's found a pocket-book." 
 
 Frank kept on his way, and got out at "Wall 
 street. He found Mr. Peckham's office, and on 
 presenting the card, much to his delight, the 
 umbrella was handed him. 
 
 "Mr. Bowen was afraid to trust me with it 
 over night," said Mr. Peckham, with a smile. 
 
 " He thought some visitor might carry it off," 
 said Frank. 
 
 " Not unlikely. Umbrellas are considered 
 common property." 
 
 Frank hailed another stage, and started on his 
 way up-town. There was no elevated railway 
 then, and this was the readiest conveyance, as 
 Mr. Bowen lived on Madison avenue. 
 
TBS TELEGRAPH BOY. 68 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AN INVITATION TO DINNER. 
 
 "Mr. Bowen must be a rich man," thought 
 Frank, as he paused on the steps of a fine brown- 
 stone mansion, corresponding to the number on 
 his card. 
 
 He rang the bell, and asked, " Is Mr. Bowen 
 at home?" 
 
 " Yes, but he is in his chamber. I don't think 
 he will see you." 
 
 "I think he will," said Frank, who thought 
 the servant was taking too much upon herself, 
 "as I come by his appointment." 
 
 "I suppose you can come into the hall," said 
 the servant, reluctantly. " Is your business im 
 portant ? " 
 
 " You may tell him that the boy he sent for 
 his umbrella has brought it. He was afraid he 
 had lost it." 
 
64 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "He sets great store by that umbrella," said 
 the girl, in a different tone. " I'll go and tell 
 him." 
 
 Mr. Bowen came downstairs almost immediately 
 There was a look of extreme gratification upon his 
 face. 
 
 "Bless my soul, how quick you were!" he 
 exclaimed. "Why, I've only been home a few 
 minutes. Did you find the umbrella at Mr. Peck- 
 ham's office?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; it had been found, and taken care 
 of." 
 
 "Did Peckham say anything?" 
 
 ",He said you were probably afraid to trust it 
 with him over night, but he smiled when he 
 said it." 
 
 "Peckham will have his joke, but he is an ex- 
 cellent man. My boy, I am much indebted to 
 you." 
 
 " I was very glad to do the errand, sir," said 
 Frank. 
 
 "I think you said you were poor," said the old 
 man, thoughtfully. 
 
TBB TELEGRAPH BOt. 65 
 
 •' Yes, sir. When I met you I hadn't a cent 
 In the world." 
 
 "Haven't j t ou any way to make a living?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I could sell papers if I had enough 
 money to set me up in business." 
 
 "Does it require a large capital?" 
 
 " Oh, no, sir," said Frank, smiling, " unless you 
 consider fifty cents a large sum." 
 
 "Fifty cents!" repeated the old gentleman, in 
 surprise. " You don't mean to say that this small 
 sum would set you up in business?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I could buy a small stock of papers, 
 and buy more with what I received for them." 
 
 "To be sure. I didn't think of that." 
 
 Mr. Bowen was not a man of business. He 
 had an ample income, and his tastes were literary 
 and artistic. He knew more of books than of 
 men, and more of his study than of the world. 
 
 "Well, my boy," he said after a pause, "how 
 much do I owe you for doing this errand?" 
 
 " I leave that to you, sir. Whatever you think 
 right will satisfy me." 
 
 " Let me see, you want fifty cents to buy 
 
66 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 papers, and you will require something to paj 
 for your bed." 
 
 "Fifty cents in all will be enough, sir." 
 
 "I think I had better give you a dollar," said 
 the old gentleman, opening his pocket-book. 
 
 Frank's eyes sparkled. A dollar would do him 
 a great deal of good ; with a dollar he would 
 feel quite independent. 
 
 "Thank you, sir," he said. "It is more than 
 I earned, but it will be very acceptable." 
 
 He put on his hat, and was about to leave 
 the house, when Mr. Bowen suddenly said, w Oh, 
 I think 3 ? ou'd better stay to dinner. It will be 
 on the table directly. My niece is away, and if 
 you don't stay I shall be alone." 
 
 Frank did not know what to say. He was 
 rather abashed by the invitation, but, as the old 
 gentleman was to be alone, it did not seem so 
 formidable. 
 
 "I am afraid I don't look fit," he said. 
 
 " You can go upstairs and wash your face and 
 hands. You'll find a clothes-brush there also. 
 I'll ring for Susan to show you the way." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 67 
 
 He rang the bell, and the girl who had ad- 
 mitted Frank made her appearance. 
 
 "Susan," said her master, "you may show 
 this young gentlemen into the back chamber on the 
 third floor, and see that he is supplied with towels 
 and all he needs. And you may lay an extra 
 plate ; he will dine with me." 
 
 Susan stared first at Mr. Bowen, and then at 
 Frank, but did not venture to make any re- 
 mark. 
 
 "This way, young man," she said, and ascended 
 the front stairs, Frank following her closely. 
 
 She led the way into a handsonieby furnished 
 chamber, ejaculating, ""Well, I never!" 
 
 "I hope 3'ou'll find things to your satisfaction, 
 sir," she said, dryly. " If we'd known you were 
 coming, we'd have made particular preparations for 
 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, I think this will do," said Frank, smiling 
 for he thought it a good joke. 
 
 " I am glad you think it'll do," continued Susan. 
 " Things mayn't be as nice as you're accustomed 
 to at home." 
 
68 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Not quite," said Frank, good-humoredly ; "but 
 I shan't complain." 
 
 "That's very kind and considerate of you, I'm 
 sure," said Susan, tossing her head. "Well, I 
 never did ! " 
 
 " Nor I either, Susan," said Frank, laughing. 
 " I am a poor boy, and I am not used to this 
 way of living ; so if you'll be kind enough to 
 give me any hints, so I may behave properly at 
 the table, I'll be very much obliged to you." 
 
 This frank acknowledgment quite appeased Susan, 
 and she readily complied with our hero's request. 
 
 "But I must be going downstairs, or dinner will 
 be late," she said, hurriedly. " You can come 
 down when you hear the bell ring." 
 
 Frank had been well brought up, though not 
 in the cit}', and he was aware that perfect neat- 
 ness was one of the first characteristics of a gen- 
 leman. He therefore scrubbed his face and hands 
 till they fairly shone, and brushed his clothes with 
 great care. Even then they certainly did look 
 rather shabby, and there was a small hole in the 
 elbow of his coat ; but, on the whole, he looked 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 69 
 
 quite passable when he entered the dining- 
 room. 
 
 " Take that seat, my boy," said his host. 
 
 Frank sat down and tried to look as if he was 
 used to it. 
 
 "Take this soup to Mr. Kavanagh," said Mr. 
 Bowen, in a dignified tone. 
 
 Frank started and smiled slightly, feeling more 
 and more that it was an excellent joke. 
 
 • • 1 wonder what Dick Rafferty would say if ha 
 could see me now," passed through his mind. 
 
 He acquitted himself very creditably, however, 
 and certainly displayed an excellent appetite, much 
 to the satisfaction of his hospitable host. 
 
 After dinner was over, Mr. Bowen detained him 
 and began to talk of his dead son, telling anec- 
 dotes of his boyhood, to which Frank listened with 
 respectful attention, for the father's devotion was 
 touching. 
 
 " I think my boy looked a little like you," 
 said the old gentleman. " "What do you think, 
 Susan?" 
 
 "Not a mite, sir," answered Susan, promptly. 
 
70 THE TELEQRArn BOY. 
 
 ' When he was a boy, I mean." 
 " I didn't know him when he was a boy, Mr 
 Bowen." 
 
 " No, to be sure not." 
 
 "But Mr. John was dark-complected, and this 
 boy is light, and Mr. John's hair was black, and 
 his is brown." 
 
 "I suppose I am mistaken," sighed the old 
 man; "but there was something in the boy's face 
 that reminded me of John." 
 
 " A little more, and he'll want to adopt him," 
 thought Susan. " That wouldn't do nohow, though 
 he does really seem like a decent sort of a 
 boy." 
 
 At eight o'clock Frank rose, and wished Mr. 
 Bowen good-night. 
 
 " Come and see me again, my boy," said the 
 old gentleman, kindly. "You have been a good 
 deal of company for me to-night." 
 
 " I am glad of it, sir." 
 
 "I think you might find something better to do 
 than selling papers." 
 
 " I wish I could, sir." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 71 
 
 " Come and dine with me again this day week, 
 and I may have something to tell you." 
 
 "Thank you, sir." 
 
 Feeling in his pocket to see that his dollar was 
 Bale, Frank set out to walk down-town, repairing 
 to the lodging-house, where he met Dick, and 
 astonished that young man by the recital of his 
 adventures. 
 
 "It takes you to get round, Frank," he said. 
 1 ' I wonder I don't get invited to dine on Madison 
 avenue." 
 
 " I give it up," said Frank. 
 
72 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A NEWSBOY S EXPERIENCES. 
 
 Frank slept that night at the lodging-house, and 
 found a much better bed than he had been pro- 
 vided with by his late emplo} 7 er. He was up 
 bright and early the next morning, and purchased 
 a stock of morning papers. These he succeeded 
 in selling during the forenoon, netting a profit of 
 thirty cents. It was not much, but he was sat- 
 isfied. At any rate he was a good deal better 
 off than when in the employ of Mr. Mills. Of 
 course he had to economize strictly, but the ex- 
 cellent arrangements of the lodging-house helped 
 him to do this. Twelve cents provided him with 
 lodging and breakfast. At noon, in company 
 with his friend Dick, he went to a cheap restau- 
 rant, then to be found in Ann street, near Park 
 row, and for fifteen cents enjoyed a dinner of two 
 courses. The first consisted of a plate of beef, 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 73 
 
 with a potato and a wedge of bread, costing ten 
 cents, and the second, a piece of apple-pie. 
 
 "That's a good square meal," said Dick, in a 
 tone of satisfaction. "I oughter get one every 
 day, but sometimes I don't have the money." 
 
 " I should think you could raise fifteen cents 
 a day for that purpose, Dick." 
 
 " Well, so I could ; but then you see I save 
 my money sometimes to go to the Old Bowery, 
 or Tony Pastor's, in the evenin'." 
 
 " I would like to go, too, but I wouldn't give 
 up my dinner. A boy that's growing needs enough 
 to eat." 
 
 " I guess you're right," said Dick. " We'll go 
 to dinner together every day, if you say so." 
 
 " All right, Dick ; I should like your company." 
 
 About two o'clock in the afternoon, as Frank 
 was resting on a bench in the City-Hall Park, a 
 girl of ten approached him. Frank recognized her 
 as an inmate of the tenement-house where Mills, 
 his late employer, lived. 
 
 "Do you want to see me?" asked Frank, ob- 
 serving that she was looking towards him. 
 
74 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " You're the boy that went round with the 
 blind man, aint you?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " He wants you to come back."" 
 
 Frank was rather surprised, but concluded that 
 Mills had difficulty in obtaining a boy to succeed 
 him. This was not very remarkable, considering 
 the niggardly pay attached to the office. 
 
 "Did he send you to find me?" asked our 
 hero. 
 
 "Yes; he says you needn't pass that money if 
 you'll come back." 
 
 " Tell him that I don't want to come back," 
 said Frank, promptly. "I can do better working 
 for myself." 
 
 "He wants to know what you are doing," con- 
 tinued the girl. 
 
 "Does he? You can tell him that I am a 
 newsboy." 
 
 "He says if you don't come back he'll have 
 you arrested for stealing money from him. You 
 mustn't be mad with me. That's what he told 
 me to say." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH SOT. 75 
 
 " 1 don't blame you," said Frank, hotly ; " but 
 you can tell kim that he is a liar." 
 
 "Oh, I wouldn't dare to tell him that; he would 
 beat me." 
 
 "How can he do that, when he can't see where 
 you are ? " 
 
 " I don't know how it is, but he can go right 
 up to where you are just as well as if he could 
 see." 
 
 " So he can. He's a humbug and a fraud. 
 His e} 7 es may not be very good, but he can see 
 for all that. He pretends to be blind so as to 
 make money." 
 
 "That's what mother and I think," said the 
 girl. "So you won't come back?" 
 
 "Not much. He can hire some other boy, and 
 starve him. He won't get me." 
 
 " Aint you afraid he'll have you arrested for 
 stealing?" asked the girl. 
 
 "If he tries that I'll expose him for wanting 
 me to pass a counterfeit note. I never took a 
 cent from him." 
 
 "He'll be awful mad," said the little girl 
 
76 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " Let him. If he had treated me decently 1 
 would have stayed with him. Now I'm glad I left 
 him." 
 
 Mills was indeed furious when, by degrees, he 
 had drawn from his young messenger what Frank 
 fsad 2aid. He was sorry to lose him, for he was 
 tno most truthful and satisfactory guide he had 
 evei employed, and he now regretted that he had 
 driven him away by his unreasonable exactions. 
 He considered whether it would be worth while 
 to have Frank arrested on a false charge of theft, 
 but was restrained by the fear that he would him- 
 self be implicated in passing counterfeit money, 
 that is, in intention. He succeeded in engaging 
 another boy, who really stole from him, and 
 finally secured a girl, for whose services, how- 
 ever, he was obliged to pay her mother twenty 
 cents every time she went out with him. Mean 
 and miserly as he was, he agreed to this with 
 reluctance, and only as a measure of necessity. 
 
 As he became more accustomed to his new occu- 
 pation Frank succeeded better. He was a boy of 
 considerable energy, and was on the alert for cus- 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOT. 77 
 
 tonjers. It was not loug before his earnings 
 exceeded those of Dick Rafferty, who was inclined 
 to take things easily. 
 
 One evening Dick was lamenting that he could not 
 go to the Old Bowery. 
 
 " There's a bully play, Frank,''" he said. " There's 
 a lot of fightin' in it." 
 
 "What is it called, Dick?" 
 
 " ' The Scalpers of the Plains.' There's five men 
 murdered in the first act. Oh, it's elegant ! " 
 
 "Why don't you go, then, Dick?" 
 
 "Cause I'm dead-broke — busted. That's why. 
 I aint had much luck this week, and it took all my 
 money to pay for my lodgin's and grub." 
 
 ' ' Do you want very much to go to the theatre, 
 Dick?" 
 
 ' ' Of course I do ; but it aint no use. My credit 
 aint good, and I haint no money in the bank." 
 
 ' ' How much does it cost ? " 
 
 " Fifteen cents, in the top gallery." 
 
 "Can you see there?" 
 
 " Yes, it's rather high up ; but a feller with good 
 eyes can see all he wants to there." 
 
78 THE TELEGRAP3 BOY. 
 
 " I'll tell you what I'll do, Dick. You have been 
 a good friend to. rue, and I'll take you at my 
 expense." 
 
 '•You will? To-night?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You're a reg'lar trump. We'll have a stavin' 
 time. Sometime, when I'm flush, I'll return the 
 compliment." ■ 
 
 So the two boys weut. The}- were at the doors 
 early, and secured a front seat in the gallery. The 
 performance was well adapted to please the taste of 
 a bo}', and they enjoyed it exceedingly. Dick was 
 uproarious in his applause whenever a man was 
 killed. 
 
 " Seems to me you like to see men killed, Dick," 
 said his friend. 
 
 " Yes, it's kinder excitin'." 
 
 " I don't like that part so well as some others,' 
 said Frank. 
 
 "It's a stavin' play, aint it?" asked Dick, 
 greatly delighted . 
 
 Frank assented. 
 
 "I'll tell you what, Frank," said Dick; " I'd like 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 79 
 
 to be a hunter and roam round the plains, killin' 
 bears and Injuns." 
 
 " Suppose they should kill you? That wouldn't 
 suit you so well, would it?" 
 
 "No, I guess not. But I'd like to be a hunter, 
 wouldn't 3 r ou?" 
 
 " No, I would rather live in New York. I would 
 like to make a journey to the West if I had money 
 enough ; but I would leave the hunting to other 
 men." 
 
 Dick, however, did not agree with his more sen- 
 sible companion. Many boys like him are charmed 
 with the idea of a wild life in the forest, and some 
 have been foolish enough to leave good homes, and, 
 providing themselves with what they considered 
 necessary, have set out on a journey in quest of the 
 romantic adventures which in stories had fired their 
 imaginations. If their wishes could be realized 
 it would not be long before the romance would 
 fade out, and they would long for the good homes, 
 which they had never before fully appreciated. 
 
 When the week was over, Frank found that he 
 had lived within his means, as he had resolved to 
 
80 TBB TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 do ; but he had not done much more. He began 
 with a dollar which he had received from Mr. Bowen, 
 and now he had a dollar and a quarter. There was 
 a gain of twentj'-five cents. There would have 
 been a little more if he had not gone to the theatre 
 with Dick ; but this he did not regret. He felt that 
 he needed some amusement, and he wished to show 
 his gratitude to his friend for various kind services. 
 The time had come to accept Mr. Bowen's second 
 dinner invitation. As Frank looked at his shabby 
 clothes he wished there were a good pretext for 
 declining, but he reflected that this would not be 
 polite, and that the old gentleman would make 
 allowances for his wardrobe. He brushed up his 
 clothes as well as he could, and obtained a " boss 
 shine " from Dick. Then he started for the house on 
 Madison avenue. 
 
 "I'll lend you my clo'es if you want 'em," said 
 Dick. 
 
 " There are too many spots of blacking on 
 them, Dick. As I'm a newsboy, it wouldn't 
 look appropriate. I shall have to make mine 
 answer." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 81 
 
 " I'll shine up the blackin' spots if you want me 
 to." 
 
 "Never mind, Dick. I'll wait till next time for 
 your suit." 
 
82 THE TELEOIIAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 VICTOR DUPONT. 
 
 As Frank was walking on Madison avenue, a 
 little before reaching the house of Mr. Bowen he 
 met a boy of his own age, whom he recognized. 
 Victor Dupont had spent the previous summer 
 at the hotel in the country village where Frank 
 had lived until he came to the city. Victor was 
 proud of his social position, but time hung so 
 heavily upon his hands in the country that he 
 was glad to keep company wiih the village boys. 
 Frank and he had frequently gone fishing together, 
 and had been associated in other amusements, so 
 that they were for the time quite intimate. The 
 memories of home and past pleasures thronged 
 upon our hero as he met Victor, and his face 
 flushed with pleasure. 
 
 " Why, Victor," he said, eagerly, extending 
 his hand, "how glad I am to see you!" 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 83 
 
 Frank forgot that intimacy in the country does 
 not necessarily lead to intimacy in the city, and 
 he was considerably surprised when Victor, no 
 appearing to notice his offered hand, said coldly 
 " I don't think I remember you." 
 
 " Don't remember me ! " exclaimed Frank, 
 amazed. "Why, I am Frank Kavanagh ! Don't 
 you remember how much we were together last 
 summer, and what good times we had fishing 
 and swimming together?" 
 
 "Yes, I believe I do remember you now," 
 drawled Victor, still not offering his hand, or 
 expressing any pleasure at the meeting. " When 
 did } T ou come to the city?" 
 
 "I have been here two or three weeks," replied 
 Frank. 
 
 "Oh, indeed! Are you going to remain?" 
 
 " Yes, if I can earn a living." 
 
 Victor scanned Frank's clothes with a critical, 
 and evidently rather contemptuous, glance. 
 
 "What are you doing?" he asked. "Are you 
 in a store ? " 
 
 " No ; I am selling papers. " 
 
81 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 ' ' A newsboy ! " said Victor, with a curve of 
 the lip. 
 
 " Yes," answered Frank, his pleasure quite 
 chilled by Victor's manner. 
 
 "Are you doing well?" asked Victor, more 
 from cariosity than interest. 
 
 " I am making my expenses." 
 
 " How do you happen to be in this neighbor- 
 hood? I suppose you sell papers down-town." 
 
 "Yes, but I am invited to dinner." 
 
 "Not here — on the avenue!" ejaculated Victor. 
 
 " Yes," answered Frank, enjoying the other's 
 surprise. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 Frank mentioned the number. 
 
 " Why, that is next to my house. Mr. Bowen 
 lives there." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Perhaps you know some of the servants," 
 suggested Victor. 
 
 "I know- one," said Frank, smiling, for he read 
 Victor's thoughts ; " but my invitation comes from 
 Mr. Bowen." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 85 
 
 ' ' Did you ever dine there before ? " asked Vic- 
 tor, puzzled. 
 
 "Yes, last week." 
 
 "You must excuse my mentioning it, but I 
 should hardly think you would like to sit down 
 at a gentleman's table in that shabby suit." 
 
 "I don't," answered Frank; "but I have no 
 better." 
 
 " Then you ought to decline the invitation." 
 
 " I would, but for appearing impolite." 
 
 "It seems very strange that Mr. Bowen should 
 invite a newsboy to dinner." 
 
 " Perhaps if you'd mention what you think of 
 it," said Frank, somewhat nettled, " he would re- 
 call the invitation." 
 
 "Oh, it's nothing to me," said Victor; "but I 
 thought I'd mention it, as I know more of etiquette 
 than you do." 
 
 " You are very considerate," said Frank, with 
 a slight tinge of sarcasm in his tone. 
 
 By this time he had reached the house of Mr. 
 Bowen, and the two boys parted. 
 
 Frank could not help thinking a little about 
 
86 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 what Victor had said. His suit, as he looked 
 down at it, seemed shabbier than ever. Again 
 it occurred to him that perhaps Mr. Bowen had 
 forgotten the invitation, and this would make it 
 very awkward for him. As he waited for the 
 door to open he decided that, if it should appear 
 that he was not expected, he would give some 
 excuse, and go away. 
 
 Susan opened the door. 
 
 ' ' Mr. Bowen invited me to come here to 
 dinner to-night," began Frank, rather nervously. 
 
 " Yes, you are expected," said Susan, very much 
 to his relief. " Wipe your feet, and come right 
 in." 
 
 Frank obeyed. 
 
 " You are to go upstairs and get ready for 
 dinner," said Susan, and she led the way to the 
 same chamber into which our hero had been 
 ushered the week before.. 
 
 " There won't be much getting ready," thought 
 Frank. " However, I can stay there till I hear 
 the bell ring." 
 
 As he entered the room he saw a suit of 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 87 
 
 clothes and some underclothing lying on the 
 bed. 
 
 "They are for you," said Susan, laconically. 
 
 "For me!" exclaimed Frank, in surprise. 
 
 "Yes, put them on, and when } t ou come down 
 to dinner Mr. Bowen will see how they fit." 
 
 "Is it a present from him?" asked Frank, 
 overwhelmed with surprise and gratitude, for he 
 could see that the clothes were very handsome. 
 
 "Well, they aint from me," said Susan, "so 
 it's likely they come from him. Don't be too 
 long, for Mr. Bowen doesn't like to have any 
 one late to dinner." 
 
 Susan had been in the service of her present 
 mistress fifteen years, and was a privileged char- 
 acter. She liked to have her own waj r ; but had 
 sterling qualities, being neat, faithful, and indus- 
 trious. 
 
 " I wonder whether I am awake or dreaming," 
 thought Frank, when he was left alone. " I 
 shouldn't like to wake up and find it was all a 
 dream." 
 
 He began at once to change his shabby clothes 
 
88 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 for the new ones. He found that the articles 
 provided were a complete outfit, including shirt, 
 collar, cuffs, stockings ; in fact, everything that 
 was needful. The coat, pants, and vest were a 
 neat gray, and proved to be an excellent fit. In 
 the bosom of the shirt were neat studs, and the 
 cuffs were supplied with sleeve-buttons to corre- 
 spond. When Frank stood before the glass, com- 
 pletely attired, he hardly knew himself. He was 
 as well dressed as his aristocratic acquaintance, 
 Victor Dupont, and looked more like a city boy 
 than a boy bred in the country. 
 
 "I never looked so well in my life," thought 
 our young hero, complacently. " How kind Mr. 
 Bowen is ! " 
 
 Frank did not know it ; but he was indebted 
 for this gift to Susan's suggestion. When her 
 master told her in the morning that Frank was 
 coming to dinner, she said, " It's a pity the boy 
 hadn't some better clothes." 
 
 " I didn't notice his clothes," said Mr. Bowen. 
 "Are they shabby?" 
 
 " Yes ; and they are almost worn out. They 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOT. 89 
 
 don't look fit for one who is going to sit at 
 your table." 
 
 " Bless my soul ! I never thought of that. You 
 think he needs some new clothes." 
 
 " He needs them badly." 
 
 "I will call at Baldwin's,. and order some ready- 
 made ; but I don't know his size." 
 
 " He's about two inches shorter than } t ou, Mr. 
 Bo wen. Tell 'em that, and they will know. He 
 ought to have shirts and stockings, too." 
 
 "So he shall," said the old man, quite inter- 
 ested. " He shall have a full rig-out from top to 
 toe. Where shall I go for the shirts and things?" 
 
 Susan had a nephew about Frank's age, and she 
 was prepared to give the necessary information. 
 The old gentleman, who had no business to attend 
 to, was delighted to have something to fill up 
 his time. He went out directly after breakfast, 
 or as soon as he had read the morning paper, 
 and made choice of the articles already described, 
 giving strict injunctions that they should be sent 
 home immediately. 
 
 This was the way Frank got his new outfit. 
 
90 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 When our hero came downstairs Mr. Bowen was 
 waiting eagerly to see the transformation. The 
 result delighted him. 
 
 "Why, I shouldn't have known you!" he ex- 
 claimed, lifting both hands. "I had no idea new 
 clothes would change you so much." 
 
 "I don't know how to thank you, sir," said 
 Frank, gratefully. 
 
 " I never should have thought of it if it hadn't 
 been for Susan." 
 
 " Then I thank you, Susan," said Frank, offer- 
 ing his hand to the girl, as she entered the room. 
 
 Susan was pleased. She liked to be appreci- 
 ated ; and she noted with satisfaction the great 
 improvement in Frank's appearance. 
 
 "You are quite welcome," she said; "but it 
 was master's money that paid for the clothes." 
 
 "It was your kindness that made him think 
 of it," said Frank. 
 
 From that moment Susan became Frank's fast 
 friend. We generally like those whom we have 
 benefited, if our services are suitably acknowl- 
 edged. 
 
THB TELEGRAPH SOT. 91 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A NEW PROSPECT. 
 
 "Well, Frank, and how is your business?" 
 asked the old gentleman, when they were sitting 
 at the dinner-table. 
 
 " Pretty good, sir." 
 
 "Are you making j r our expenses?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; just about." 
 
 "That is well. Mind j r ou never run into debt. 
 That is a bad plan." 
 
 " I shan't have to now, sir. If I had had to 
 buy clothes for myself, I might have had to." 
 
 " Do you find the shirts and stockings fit 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; they are just right." 
 
 " I bought half a dozen of each. Susan will give 
 you the bundle when you are ready to go. If 
 they had not been right, they could have been 
 exchanged." 
 
92 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Thank you, sir. I shall feel rich TUth so 
 many clothes." 
 
 "Where do 3*011 sleep, Frank?" 
 
 " At the Newsboy's Lodging-House." 
 
 " Is there any place there where you can keep 
 your clothes?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Each boy has a locker to himself." 
 
 "That is a good plan. It would be better if 
 you had a room to yourself." 
 
 "I can't afford it yet, sir. The lodging-house 
 costs me only forty-two cents a week for a bed, 
 and I could not get a room for that." 
 
 "Bless my soul! That is very cheap. Really, 
 I think I could save money by giving up my 
 house, and going there to sleep." 
 
 "I don't think you would like it, sir," said 
 Frank, smiling. 
 
 " Probabty not. Now, Frank, I am going to 
 mention a plan I have for you. You don't want 
 to be a newsboy all your life." 
 
 "No, sir; I think I should get tired of it by 
 the time I was fifty." 
 
 " My friend Thompson, the gentleman who was 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 93 
 
 walking with me when we first saw you, is an 
 officer of the American District Telegraph Com- 
 pany. They employ a large number of boj'S at 
 their various offices to run errands ; and, in fact, 
 to do anything that is required of them. Probably 
 you have seen some of the boys going about the 
 city." 
 
 "Yes, sir; they have a blue uniform." 
 
 "Precisely. How would you like to get a 
 situation of that kind?" 
 
 " Very much, sir," said Frank, promptly. 
 
 " Would you like it better than being a news- 
 boy?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "My friend Thompson, to whom I spoke on 
 the subject, says he will take you. on in a few 
 weeks, provided you will qualify yourself for the 
 post." 
 
 " I will do that, sir, if you will tell me how." 
 
 " You must be well acquainted with the city 
 in all its parts, know the locations of different 
 hotels, prominent buildings, have a fair educa- 
 tion, and be willing to make yourself generally 
 
94 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 useful. You will have to satisfy the superinten- 
 dent that you are fitted for the position." 
 
 " I think my education will be sufficient," said 
 Frank, " for I always went to school till just be- 
 fore I came to the city. I know something 
 about the lower part of the city, but I will go 
 about every day during the hours when I am 
 not selling papers till I am familiar with all 
 parts of it." 
 
 " Do so, and when there is a vacancy I will 
 let you know." 
 
 "How much pay shall I get, sir, if they ac- 
 cept me?" 
 
 " About three dollars a week at first, and more 
 when you get familiar with your duties. No 
 doubt money will also be given you by some 
 who employ you, though you will not be allowed 
 to ask for any fees. Very likely you will get 
 nearly as much in this way as from your salary." 
 
 Frank's face expressed satisfaction. 
 
 "That will be bully," he said. 
 
 " I beg pardon," said the old gentleman, po- 
 litely. "What did you remark?" 
 
TME TELEGRAPH BOY. 95 
 
 "* That will be excellent," said Frank, blushing. 
 
 "I thought you spoke of a bully." 
 
 "It was a word I learned from Dick Raf- 
 fert} 7 ," said Frank, feeling rather embarrassed. 
 
 "And who is Dick Rafferty?" 
 
 " One of my friends at the Lodging-House." 
 
 "Unless his education is better than yours I 
 would not advise yon to learn any of his words." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir." 
 
 " You must excuse my offering you advice. It 
 is the privilege of the old to advise the young." 
 
 " I shall always be glad to follow your advice, 
 Mr. Bowen," said Frank. 
 
 " Good boy, good boy," said the old gentle- 
 man, approvingly. " I wish all boys were like 
 you. Some think they know more than their 
 grandfathers. There's one of that kind who lives 
 next door." 
 
 "His name is Victor Dupont, isn't it, sir?" 
 
 Mr. Bowen looked surprised. " How is it that 
 you know his name?" he asked. 
 
 "We were together a good deal last summer. 
 His family boarded at the hotel in the country 
 
96 THS TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 village where I used to live. He and I went 
 bathing and fishing together." 
 
 "Indeed! Have you seen him since you came 
 to the city?" 
 
 " I met him as I was on my way here this 
 afternoon." 
 
 "Did he speak to you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; though at first he pretended he 
 didn't remember me." 
 
 "Just like him. He is a very proud and con- 
 ceited boy. Did you tell him you were coming 
 to dine with me?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. He seemed very much surprised, as 
 I had just told him I was a newsboy. He said 
 he was surprised that you should invite a news- 
 boy to dine with 3 r ou." 
 
 "I would much rather have you dine with me 
 than him. What more did he say ? " 
 
 " He said he shouldn't think I would like to 
 go out to dinner with such a shabby suit." 
 
 "We have removed that objection," said Mr. 
 Bowen, smiling. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Frank; "I think Victor will 
 
THE TELEGRAPH SOT. 97 
 
 treat me more respectfully now when he meets 
 me." 
 
 ' ' The respect of such a boy is of very little 
 importance. He judges only by the outside." 
 
 At an early hour Frank took his leave, prom 
 ising to call again before long. 
 
 " Where can I send to you if you are wanted 
 for a telegraph boy?" asked Mr. Bowen. 
 
 " A letter to me addressed to the care of Mr. 
 O'Connor at the lodging-house will reach me," 
 said Frank. 
 
 "Write it down for me," said the old gentle- 
 man. "You will find writing materials on yonder 
 desk." 
 
 When Frank made his appearance at the lodg- 
 ing-house in his new suit, with two bundles, one 
 containing his old clothes, and the other his 
 extra supply of underclothing, his arrival made 
 quite a sensation. 
 
 "Have you come into a fortun'?" asked one 
 boy. 
 
 " Did you draw a prize in the Havana lot- 
 tery?" asked another. 
 
98 TBE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " Have you been playing policy ? " asked a 
 third. 
 
 "You're all wrong," said Dick Raffertj^. 
 " Frank's been adopted by a rich ' man upon 
 Madison avenue. Aint that so, Frank?" 
 
 " Something like it," said Frank. " There's a 
 gentleman up there who has been very kind to 
 me." 
 
 "If he wants to adopt another chap, spake a 
 good word for me," said Patsy Reagan. 
 
 " Whisht, Pats}', he don't want no Irish . bog- 
 trotter," said Phil Donovan. 
 
 " You're Irish yourself, Phil, now, and you 
 can't deny it." 
 
 "What if I am? I aint no bog-trotter — I'm 
 the son of an Irish count. You can see by my 
 looks that I belong to the gintry." 
 
 " Then the gintry must have red hair and 
 freckles, Phil. There aint no chance for you." 
 
 "Tell us all about it, Frank," said Dick. 
 " Shure I'm your best friend, and you might men- 
 tion my name to the ould gintleman if he's got 
 any more good clothes to give away." 
 
THE TELisxiRAPH BOY. 99 
 
 "I will with pleasure, Dick, if I think it will 
 do any good." 
 
 u You won't put on no airs because you're better 
 dressed than the likes of us ? " 
 
 " I shall wear my old clothes to-morrow, Dick. 
 I can't afford to wear my best clothes every 
 day." 
 
 " I can," said Dick, dryly, which was quite 
 true, as his best clothes were the only ones he 
 hud. 
 
 Bright and early the next morning Frank was 
 about his work, without betraying in any way the 
 proud consciousness of being the owner of two 
 suits. He followed Mr. Bowen's advice, and spent 
 his leisure hours in exploring the city in its various 
 parts, so that in the course of a month he knew 
 more about it than boys who had lived in it all 
 their lives. He told Dick his object in taking 
 these long walks, and urged him to join him 
 in the hope of winning a similar position ; but 
 Dick decided that it was too hard work. He pre- 
 ferred to spend his leisure time in playing marbles 
 or pitching pennies. 
 
100 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 Six weeks later Frank Kavanagh, through the 
 influence of his patron, found himself in the uni- 
 form of a District Telegraph Messenger. The 
 blue suit, and badge upon the cap, are familiar 
 to every city resident. The uniform is provided 
 by the company, but must be paid for by weekly 
 instalments, which are deducted from the wages 
 of the wearers. This would have seriously em- 
 barrassed Frank but for an opportune gift of ten 
 dollars from Mr. Bowen, which nearly paid the 
 expense of his suit. 
 
 Frank was emplo} r ed in one of the up-town 
 offices of the company. For the information of 
 such of my young readers as live in the country it 
 may be explained that large numbers of houses and 
 offices in the city are connected with the offices 
 of the District Telegraph by machines, through 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 101 
 
 which, at any time in the day or night, a mes- 
 senger may be summoned for any purpose. It 
 is only necessary to raise a knob in the box 
 provided, and a bell is rung in the office^ of the 
 company. Of course there is more or less tran- 
 sient business besides that of the regular sub- 
 scribers. 
 
 Boys, on arriving at the office, seat themselves, 
 and are called upon in order. A boy just re- 
 turned from an errand hangs up his hat, and 
 takes his place at the foot of the line. He will 
 not be called upon again till all who are ahead 
 of him have been despatched in one direction or 
 another. 
 
 Frank was curious to know what would be his 
 first duty, and waited eagerly for his turn to 
 come. 
 
 At length it came 
 
 " Go to No. — Madison avenue," said the 
 superintendent. 
 
 A few minutes later Frank was ascending the 
 steps of a handsome brown-stone residence. 
 
 "Oh, you're the telegraph boy," said a colored 
 
102 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 servant. " You're to go upstairs into missus's 
 sitting-room." 
 
 Upon entering, Frank found himself in the pres- 
 ence of a rather stout lady, who was reclining on 
 a sofa. 
 
 He bowed politely, and waited for his instruc- 
 tions. 
 
 "I hope you are a trustworthy boy," said the 
 stout lady. 
 
 " I hope so', ma'am." 
 
 " Come here, Fido," said the lady. 
 
 A little mass of hair, with two red eyes peep- 
 ing out, rose from the carpet and waddled towards 
 the lady, for Fido was about as stout as his 
 mistress. 
 
 "Do you like dogs?" asked Mrs. Leroy, for 
 this was the lady's name. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," answered Frank, wondering what 
 that had to do with his errand. 
 
 "I sent for you to take my sweet darling out 
 for an airing. His health requires that he should 
 go out every day. I generally take him nryself, 
 but this morning I have a severe headache, and 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 103 
 
 do not feel equal to the task. My dear little 
 pet, will you go out with this nice boy?" 
 
 Fido looked gravely at Frank and sneezed. 
 
 "I hope the darling hasn't got cold," said Mrs 
 Leroy, with solicitude. "My lad, what is youi 
 name ? " 
 
 "Frank Kavanagh, ma'am." 
 
 "Will you take great care of my little pet, 
 Frank?" 
 
 " I will try to, madam. Where do you want him 
 to go?" 
 
 "To Madison Park. He always likes the park, 
 because it is so gay. When you get there you may 
 sit down on one of the benches and give him time to 
 rest." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. How long would you like me 
 to stay out with him ? " 
 
 "About an hour and a half. Have you a 
 watch ? " 
 
 " No ; but I can tell the time by the clock in 
 front of the Fifth-avenue Hotel." 
 
 " To be sure. I was going to lend you my 
 watch." 
 
104 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Shall I start now?" 
 
 " Yes. Here is the string. Don't make Fido 
 go too fast. He is stout, and cannot walk fast. 
 You will be sure to take great care of him?" 
 
 " Yes, madam." 
 
 " And you keep watch that no bad man car- 
 ries off my Fido. I used to send him out by one 
 of the girls, till I found that she ill-treated the 
 poor thing. Of course I couldn't stand that, so 
 I sent her packing, I can tell you." 
 
 " I will try to follow your directions," said Frank, 
 who wanted to laugh at the lady's ridiculous de- 
 votion to her ugly little favorite. 
 
 " That is right. You look like a good boy. I 
 will give you something for yourself when you 
 come back." 
 
 "Thank you, ma'am," said Frank, who was 
 better pleased with this remark than any the lady 
 had previously made. 
 
 Mrs. Leroy kissed Fido tenderly, and consigned 
 him to the care of our hero. 
 
 " I suppose," said Frank to himself, " that I 
 am the dog's nurse. It is rather a queer office ; 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 105 
 
 but as long as I am well paid for it I don't 
 mind." 
 
 When Fido found himself on the sidewalk he 
 seemed disinclined to move ; but after a while, by 
 dint of coaxing, he condescended to waddle along 
 at Frank's heels. 
 
 After a while they reached Madison Park, and 
 Frank, according to his instructions, took a seat, 
 allowing Fido to curl up at his side. 
 
 "This isn't very hard work," thought Frank. 
 " I wish I had a book or paper to read, to while 
 away the time." 
 
 While he was sitting there Victor Dupont came 
 sauntering along. 
 
 " Halloa ! " he exclaimed, in surprise, as he rec- 
 ognized Frank, " is that you? " 
 
 "I believe s it is," answered Frank, with a smile. 
 
 ' ' Are you a telegraph boy ? " 
 
 " Yes." • 
 
 " I thought you were a newsboy ? " 
 
 " So I was ; but I have changed my business." 
 
 "What are you doing here?" 
 
 "Taking care of a dog," said Frank, laughing. 
 
106 TIIE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Is that the dog?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " It's a beastly little brute. "What's its name?" 
 
 "Fido." 
 
 "Who does it belong to?" 
 
 Frank answered. 
 
 "I know," said Victor; "it's a fat lady living 
 on the avenue. I have seen her out often with 
 little pug. How do you feel, Fido?" and Victor 
 began to pull the hair of the lady's favorite. 
 
 " Don't do that, Victor," remonstrated Frank. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Mrs. Leroy wouldn't like it." 
 
 " Mrs. Leroy isn't here." 
 
 " I am," said Frank, emphatically, " and that 
 is the same thing." 
 
 Victor, by wa} r of reply, pinched Fido's ear, and 
 the little animal squeaked his disapproval. 
 
 " Look here, Victor," said Frank, decidedly, "you 
 must stop that." 
 
 "Must I?" sneered Victor, contemptuously 
 'Suppose I don't?" 
 
 " Then J shall punch you," said Frank, quietly. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 107 
 
 " You are impertinent," said Victor, haughtily. 
 " You needn't put on such airs because you are 
 nurse to a puppy." 
 
 " That is better than being a puppy myself," 
 retorted Frank. 
 
 " Do you mean to insult me?" demanded Victor, 
 quickly. 
 
 " No, unless you choose to think the remark 
 fits you." 
 
 "I have a great mind to give you a thrashing," 
 said Victor, furiously. 
 
 " Of course I should sit still and let you do it,'' 
 said Frank, calmly. "Fido is under my care, 
 and I can't have him teased. That is right, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 " I did wrong to notice you," said Victor. " You 
 are only a dog's nurse." 
 
 Frank laughed. 
 
 " You are right," he said. "It is new busi- 
 ness for me, and though it is easy enough I 
 can't say I like it. However, I am in the ser- 
 vice of the Telegraph Company, and must do 
 whatever is required." 
 
108 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 Victor walked away, rather annoyed because he 
 ^ould not tease Frank. 
 
 " The boy has no pride," he said to himself, " or 
 he wouldn't live out to take care of dogs. But, 
 •hen, it is suitable enough for him." 
 
 ' ' Is that dawg yours ? " asked a rough-looking 
 man, taking his seat on the bench near Frank. 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "How old is it?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Looks like a dawg I used to own. Let me take 
 him." 
 
 "I would rather not," said Frank, coldly. "It 
 belongs to a lady who is very particular." 
 
 "Oh, you won't, won't you?" said the man, 
 roughly. " Danged if I don't think it is my dawg, 
 after all ; " and the man seized Fido, and waa 
 about to carry him away. 
 
 But Frank seized him by the arm, and called 
 for help. 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked a park policeman 
 who, unobserved by either, had come up behind. 
 
 " This man is trying to steal my dog," said Frank 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOT. 109 
 
 "The dog is mine," said the thief, boldly. 
 
 "Drop him!" said the officer, authoritatively. 
 " I have seen that dog before. He belongs to 
 neither of you." 
 
 "That is true," said Frank. "It belongs to Mrs. 
 Leroy, of Madison avenue, and I am employed to 
 take it out for an airing." 
 
 "It's a lie!" said the man, sullenly. 
 
 " If }'Ou are seen again in this neighborhood," 
 said the policeman, "I shall arrest you. Now clear 
 out!" 
 
 The would-be thief slunk away, and Frank thanked 
 the officer. 
 
 "That man is a dog-stealer," said the policeman. 
 " His business is to steal dogs, and wait till a reward 
 is offered. Look out for hina ! " 
 
110 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAFIER XII. 
 
 A WAYWARD SON. 
 
 When Frank carried Fido back to his mistress, 
 he thought it his duty to tell Mrs. Leroy of the 
 attempt to abduct the favorite. 
 
 Mrs. Leroy turned pale. 
 
 "Did the man actually take my little pet?" she 
 asked. 
 
 u Yes, ma'am. He said it was his dog." 
 
 "The horrid brute! How could I have lived 
 without my darling?" and the lad} r caressed her 
 favorite tenderly. "How did you prevent him?" 
 
 "I seized him by the arm, and held him till a 
 policeman came up." 
 
 "You are a brave boy," said Mrs. Leroy, 
 admiringly. " But for you, Fido would have been 
 stolen." 
 
 "The policeman said the man was a professional 
 dog-stealer. He steals dogs for the reward which 
 is offered." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. Ill 
 
 "I was sure I could trust you with my pet," 
 said Mrs. Leroy. "You deserve a reward your- 
 self." 
 
 " I was only doing my duty, ma'am," said Frank, 
 modestly. 
 
 " It isn't everybody that does that." 
 
 Mrs. Leroy rose, and, going to her bureau, drew 
 an ivory portemonnaie from a small upper drawer ; 
 from this she extracted a two-dollar bill, and gave 
 it to Frank. 
 
 " This is too much," said Frank, surprised at the 
 size of the gift. 
 
 "Too much for rescuing my little pet? No, no, 
 I am the best judge of that. I wouldn't have 
 lost him for fifty times two dollars." 
 
 "You are very liberal, and I am very much 
 obliged to you," said Frank. 
 
 " If I send again for a boy to take out Fido, 
 I want you to come." 
 
 " I will if I can, ma'am." 
 
 For several days, though Frank was employed on 
 errands daily, there was nothing of an unusual char- 
 acter. About eleven o'clock one evening (for Frank 
 
112 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 had to take his turn at night work) he was sent to 
 a house on West Thirty-eighth street. On arriving, 
 he was ushered into the presence of a lady of middle 
 age, whose anxious face betrayed the anxiety that she 
 felt. 
 
 " I have a son rather larger and older than j 7 ou," 
 she said, " who, to my great sorrow, has been led 
 away by evil companions, who have induced him to 
 drink and play cards for money. I will not admit 
 them into my house, but I cannot keep him from 
 seeking them out. He is no doubt with them 
 to-night." 
 
 Frank listened with respectful sympathy, and 
 waited to hear what he was desired to do in the 
 matter. 
 
 "The boy's father is dead," continued Mrs. Vivian, 
 with emotion, " and I cannot fill his place. Fred is 
 unwilling to obey his mother. His companions have 
 persuaded him that it is unmanly." 
 
 " I would gladly obey my mother if I could have 
 her back," said Frank. 
 
 "Is your mother dead, then?" inquired Mrs. 
 Vivian, with quick sympathy. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 113 
 
 •' I have neither father nor mother," Frank 
 answered gravely. 
 
 " Poor boy ! And yet you do not fall into temp- 
 ation." 
 
 "I have no time for that, ma'am; I have to 
 earn my living." 
 
 " If I could get Fred to take a position it might 
 be a benefit to him," said Mrs. Vivian, thought- 
 fully. "But the question now is, how I may be 
 able to find him." 
 
 ' ' When did you see him last ? " asked Frank. 
 
 "About three o'clock this afternoon I gave him 
 sevent} T -five dollars, and sent him to pay a bill. 
 I was perhaps imprudent to trust him with such 
 a sum of money ; but for a few days past he has 
 been more stead} 7 than usual, and I thought it 
 would show my confidence in him if I employed 
 him in such a matter." 
 
 " I should think it would, ma'am." 
 
 " But I am afraid Fred fell in with some of 
 his evil companions, and let them know that he 
 was well provided with money. That would be 
 enough to excite their cupidity." 
 
114 TBE TELBGRAPB BOT. 
 
 "Who are the companions you speak of?" asked 
 Frank. 
 
 " Boys, or rather young men, for they are all 
 older than Fred, of lower social rank than him- 
 self. I don't attach any special importance to 
 that, nor do I object to them on that ground ; but 
 they are, I have reason to think, ill-bred and 
 disreputable. They know Fred to be richer than 
 themselves, and induce him to drink and play, in 
 the hope of getting some of his money. I have 
 sent for you to go in search of my son. If you 
 find him you must do your best to bring him 
 home." 
 
 " I will," said Frank. " Can you give me any 
 idea where he may be found ? " 
 
 Mrs. Vivian wrote on a card two places, — one 
 a billiard saloon, which she had reason to suspect 
 that her son frequented. 
 
 "Now," said Frank, " will you be kind enough 
 to describe your son to me, so that I may know 
 him when I see him?" 
 
 " I will show you his photograph," said Mrs. 
 Vivian. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 115 
 
 She opened an album, and showed the picture 
 of a boy of seventeen, with a pleasant face, fail 
 complexion, and hair somewhat curly. His fore- 
 head was high, and he looked gentlemanly and 
 refined. 
 
 "Is he not good-looking?" said the mother. 
 
 " He looks like a gentleman," said Frank. 
 
 " He would be one if he could throw off his 
 evil associates. Do you think you will know him 
 from the picture?" 
 
 "Yes, I think so. Is he tall?" 
 
 "Two or three inches taller than you are. You 
 had better take the picture with you. I have an 
 extra one, which you can put in your pocket to 
 help you identify him. By the way, it will be 
 as well that you should be supplied with money in 
 case it is necessary to bring him home in a cab." 
 
 Frank understood what the mother found it diffi- 
 cult to explain. She feared that her boy might 
 be the worse for drink. 
 
 She handed our hero a five-dollar bill. 
 
 " I will use it prudently, madam," said he, 
 " and account to you for all I do not nse." 
 
116 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "I trust you wholly," said the lady. "Now 
 go as quickly as possible." 
 
 Frank looked at the two addresses he had on 
 the card. The billiard-saloon was on the east 
 side of the city, in an unfashionable locality. 
 
 " I'll go there first," he decided. 
 
 Crossing to Third avenue he hailed a car, and 
 rode down-town. His knowledge of the city, 
 gained from the walks he took when a newsboy, 
 made it easy for him to find the place of which 
 he was in search. Though it was nearly midnight, 
 the saloon was lighted up, and two tables were 
 in use. On the left-hand side, as he entered, 
 was' a bar, behind which stood a man in his 
 shirt-sleeves, who answered the frequent calls for 
 drinks. He looked rather suspiciously at Frank's 
 uniform when he entered. 
 
 "What do you want?" he asked. "Have you 
 any message for me?" 
 
 "No," said Frank, carelessly. "Let me have a 
 glass of lemonade." 
 
 The bar-keeper's face cleared instantly, and he 
 set about preparing the beverage required. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 117 
 
 •'Won't you have something in it?" he asked. 
 
 "No, sir," said Frank. 
 
 " You boys are kept out pretty late," said the 
 bar-keeper, socially. 
 
 " Not every night," said Frank. "We take turns." 
 
 Frank paid ten cents for his lemonade, and, 
 passing into the billiard-saloon, sat down and 
 watched a game. He looked around him, but 
 could not see anything of Fred. In fact, all the 
 players were men. 
 
 Sitting next to him was a young fellow, who 
 was watching the game. 
 
 " Suppose we try a game," he said to Frank. 
 
 ' ' Not to-night. I came in here to look for a 
 friend, but I guess he isn't here." 
 
 " I've been here two hoars. What does your 
 friend look like?" 
 
 " That's his picture," said Frank, displaying the 
 photograph. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said his new acquaintance, "he is 
 here now. "His name is Fred, isn't it?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Frank, eagerly; " I don't see 
 him. Where is he?" 
 
118 THE TELEGRAPH BOY 
 
 " He's plaj'ing cards upstairs, but I don't be- 
 lieve he can tell one card from the other." 
 
 " Been drinking, I suppose," said Frank, be- 
 traying no surprise. 
 
 " I should say so. Do you know the fellows 
 he's with?" 
 
 "I am not sure about that. How long has 
 Fred been upstairs ? " 
 
 " About an hour. He was playing billiards till 
 he couldn't stand straight, and then they went 
 upstairs." 
 
 " Would you mind telling him that there is a 
 friend downstairs who wishes to see him, that 
 is, if you know the waj r ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I live here. Won't you come up with 
 me?" 
 
 " Perhaps I had better," said Frank, and fol- 
 lowed his companion through a door in the rear, 
 and up a dark and narrow staircase to the street 
 floor. 
 
 "It'll be a hard job to get him away," 
 thought Frank; "but, for his mother's sake, 1 
 will do my best." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A TIMELY RESCUE. 
 
 As Frank entered the room he hastily took in 
 the scene before him. Round a table sat three 
 young men, of not far from twenty, the fourth 
 side being occupied by Fred Vivian. They were 
 playing cards, and sipping drinks as they played. 
 Fred Vivian's handsome face was flushed, and he 
 was nervously excited. His hands trembled as he 
 lifted the glass, and his wandering, uncertain 
 glances showed that he was not himself. 
 
 " It's your play, Fred," said his partner. 
 
 Fred picked up a card without looking at it, 
 and threw it down on the table. 
 
 "That settles it," said another. "Fred, old 
 boy, you've lost the game. You're another five 
 dollars out." 
 
 Fred fumbled in his pocket for a bill, and it 
 was quickly taken from his hand before he could 
 
120 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 well see of what value it was. Frank, however, 
 quickly as it was put away, saw that it was a 
 ten. It was clear that Fred was being cheated 
 in the most barefaced manner. 
 
 Frank's entrance was evidently unwelcome to most 
 of the company. 
 
 " What are you bringing in that boy for, 
 John?" demanded a low-browed fellow, with a face 
 like a bull-dog. 
 
 " He is a friend of Fred," answered John. 
 
 " He's a telegraph boj'. He comes here a spy. 
 Fred don't know him. Clear out, boy ! " 
 
 Frank took no notice of this hostile remark, 
 but walked up to Fred Vivian. 
 
 "Fred," said he, thinking it best to speak as 
 if he knew him, "it is getting late, and }^our 
 mother is anxious about you. Won't you come 
 home with me?" 
 
 "Who are you?" asked Fred, with drunken 
 gravity. " You aint my mother." 
 
 " I come from your mother. Don't you know 
 me? I am Frank Kavanagh." 
 
 "How do, Frank? Glad to see you, ol' feller. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH MOT. 121 
 
 Take a drink. Here, you boy, bring a drink for 
 my frien', Frank Kavanagh." 
 
 The three others looked on disconcerted. They 
 were not ready to part with Fred yet, having 
 secured only a part of his money. 
 
 " You don't know him, Fred," said the one 
 who had appropriated the ten-dollar bill. ' ' He's 
 only a telegraph boy." 
 
 " I tell you he's my frien', Frank Kav'nagh," 
 persisted Fred, with an obstinacy not unusual in 
 one in his condition. 
 
 "Well, if he is, let him sit down, and have a 
 glass of something hot." 
 
 "No, I thank you," said Frank, coldly. "Fred 
 and I are going home." 
 
 " No, 3'ou're not," exclaimed the other, bring- 
 ing his fist heavily down upon the table. "We 
 won't allow our friend Fred to be kidnapped by 
 a boy of your size, — not much we won't, will 
 we, boys ? " 
 
 "No! no!" chimed in the other two. 
 
 Fred Vivian looked at them undecided. 
 
122 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " I guess I'd Letter go," he stammered. "There's 
 something the matter with my head." 
 
 "You need another drink to brace you up. 
 Here, John, bring up another punch for Fred." 
 
 Frank saw that unless he got Fred away be- 
 fore drinking any more, he would not be in a 
 condition to go at all. It was a critical position, 
 but he saw that he must be bold and resolute. 
 
 u You needn't bring Fred anything more," he 
 said. " He has had enough already." 
 
 " I have had enough already," muttered Fred, 
 mechanically. 
 
 "Boys, are we going to stand this?" said the 
 low-browed young man. " Are we going to let 
 this telegraph boy interfere with -a social party of 
 young gentlemen? I move that we throw him 
 downstairs." 
 
 He half rose as he spoke, but Frank stood his 
 ground. 
 
 " You'd better not try it," he said quietly, 
 " unless 3 7 ou want to pass the night in the 
 Btation-house." 
 
 "What do you mean, you young jackanapes?" 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 123 
 
 said the other angrily. " What charge can you 
 trump up against us ? " 
 
 " You have been cheating Fred out of his 
 money," said Frank, firmly. 
 
 " It's a lie ! We've been having a friendly game, 
 and he lost. If we'd lost, we would have paid." 
 
 "How much did he lose?" 
 
 "Five dollars." 
 
 " And you took ten from him." 
 
 " It's a lie ! " repeated the other ; but he looked 
 disconcerted. 
 
 "It is true, for I noticed the bill as you took 
 it from him. But it's not much worse than playing 
 for money with him when he is in no condition 
 to understand the game. You'd better give him 
 back that ten-dollar bill." 
 
 " I've a great mind to fling you downstairs, 
 you young scamp ! " 
 
 "You are strong enough to do it," said Frank, 
 exhibiting no trace of fear, " but I think you 
 would be sorry for it afterwards. Come, Fred." 
 
 Though Frank was so much younger and smaller, 
 there was something in his calm, self-possessed 
 
124 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 manner that gave him an ascendency over the n 2ak, 
 vacillating Fred. The latter rose, and, taking our 
 hero's arm, turned to leave the room. 
 
 " Let him go," said the leader, who had been 
 made uneasy by Frank's threat, and saw that it 
 was politic to postpone his further designs upon 
 his intended victim. "If he chooses to obey a 
 small telegraph bo} T , he can." 
 
 "Don't mind him, Fred," said Frank. "You 
 know I'm your friend." 
 
 ' ' My friend, Frank Kavanagh ! " repeated Fred, 
 drowsily. " I'm awful sleepy, Frank. I want to 
 go to bed." 
 
 " You shall go to bed as soon as you get 
 home, Fred." 
 
 "I say, boy," said the leader, uneasily, "that 
 was all a lie about the ten-dollar bill. You didn't 
 see straight. Did he, Bates?" 
 
 "Of course he didn't." 
 
 " One lies and the other swears to it," thought 
 Frank. 
 
 "Nothing will be done about it," he said, "if 
 you will let Fred alone hereafter. The money you 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 125 
 
 have won from hiin belongs to his mother, and, 
 unless j*ou keep away from him, she will order 
 your arrest." 
 
 " You're altogether too smart for a boy of your 
 size," sneered the other. "Take your friend away. 
 We don't care to associate with a milksop, who 
 allows himself to be ordered around by women 
 and children." 
 
 Fortunately Fred was too drowsy to paj^ heed 
 to what was being said ; in fact, he was very 
 sleep}', and was anxious to go to bed. Frank 
 got him into a cab, and in twenty minutes they 
 safely reached his mother's house in Thirty-eighth 
 street. 
 
 Mrs. Vivian was anxiously awaiting the return 
 of the prodigal. 
 
 "0 Fred," she said, "how could you stay away 
 so, when you know how worried I get? You have 
 been drinking, too." 
 
 "This is my friend, Frank Kavanagh," hiccoughed 
 Fred. 
 
 "Shall I go up and help put him to bed?" 
 asked Frank. 
 
126 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Does he require help?" asked Mrs. Vivian, 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 "He has been drinking a good deal." 
 
 " Yes, you may go up. I will lead the way to 
 his chamber. Afterwards I want to speak to 
 you." 
 
 "All right." 
 
 "Where did you find him?" asked Mrs. Vivian, 
 when Frank with some difficulty had prepared his 
 charge for bed. 
 
 ' ' In the billiard-saloon to which you directed 
 me. He was upstairs playing cards for money. 
 The}- were cheating him in the most outrageous 
 manner." 
 
 "I suppose they got all his money." 
 
 ' ' Not all ; but they would soon have done so. 
 Here is his pocket-book, which I just took from 
 his pocket." 
 
 "There are twenty dollars left," said Mrs. 
 Vivian, after an examination. "They must have 
 secured the rest. O my poor boy! Would thit 
 ! could shield you from these dangerous com- 
 panions ! " 
 
TtTB TELEGRAPH BOT. 127 
 
 •' 1 don't think they will trouble hirn again, Mrs. 
 Vivian. 
 
 "Why not? You do not know them." 
 
 " I told them that, if they came near him, here- 
 after, you would have them arrested for swindling 
 vour son out of money belonging to you." 
 
 "Will that have any effect upon them?" 
 
 " Yes, because they know that I am ready to 
 appear as a witness against them." 
 
 "Did Fred show any unwillingness to come 
 with you?" 
 
 "No; I made him think I was an old acquaint- 
 ance of his. Besides, he was feeling sleepy." 
 
 " You have acted with great judgment for so 
 young a lad," said Mrs. Vivian. " I wish Fred 
 had a companion like you to influence him for 
 good. Where do } t ou live?" 
 
 "At the Newsboys Lodging-IIouse. I cannot 
 afford to hire a room." 
 
 Mrs. Vivian looked thoughtful. 
 
 " Give me your name and address," she said. 
 
 These she noted down. 
 
 "I won't keep you any longer to-night," she 
 
128 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 said, " for you must be tired. " You will hear 
 from me again." 
 
 "Oh," said Frank, "I nearly forgot. Here is 
 Uie balance of the money you handed me for 
 expenses." 
 
 "Keep it for yourself," said Mrs. Vivian, "and 
 accept my thanks besides." 
 
 Though Frank had paid for the cab, there was 
 a balance of nearly two dollars in his hands 
 which he was very glad to keep. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FRANK MAKES AN EVENING CALL. 
 
 The next day Frank chanced to meet Mrs. 
 Vivian in the street. She recognized him at once. 
 
 " I see you are kept bus}'," she said, pleasantly. 
 
 "Yes," answered Frank. "Our business is 
 pretty good just now. How is your son?" 
 
 " He slept well, and woke much refreshed this 
 morning. He is a good boy naturally, but una- 
 ble to withstand temptation. I have decided to 
 send him to the country for a few weeks, to visit 
 a cousin of about bis own age. There he will 
 be secure from temptation, and will have a chance 
 to ride. I would have sent him away before, but 
 that it would leave me alone in the house. You 
 told me last evening that you had no boarding- 
 place." 
 
 " My only home is at the lodging-house," said 
 Frank. 
 
130 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " How would you like to occupy a room at 
 my house while my son is away ? " 
 
 " Very much," said Frank, promptly. 
 
 " I shall find it convenient to have you in the 
 house, and shall feel safer." 
 
 " I am afraid I shouldn't be a match for an 
 able-bodied burglar," said Frank, smiling. 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but you could summon a police- 
 man. When can you come and see me about 
 this arrangement?" 
 
 "I am off duty to-night." 
 
 "Very well; I will expect you. Fred will not 
 go away till to-morrow, and you will have a 
 chance to see him under more favorable circum- 
 stances than last evening." 
 
 " Thank you very much for your kind invita< 
 tion," said Frank, politely. 
 
 Mrs. Vivian bade him good-morning, very fa- 
 vorably impressed with his manners and deport- 
 ment. 
 
 Frank looked upon the proposal made him by 
 Mrs. Vivian as a piece of great good-fortune. 
 In his new position, excellent as were the beds 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BO 7. 13] 
 
 at the lodging-house, he found it incouvenient to 
 go there to sleep. Once or twice, on account of 
 the late hour at which he was released from 
 duty, he was unable to secure admittance, and 
 had to pa}' fifty cents for a bed at a hotel on 
 the European system. He had for some time 
 been thinking seriously of hiring a room ; but the 
 probable expense deterred him. At Mrs. Vivian's 
 he would have nothing to pay. 
 
 In the evening he changed his uniform for the 
 neat suit given him by Mr. Bowen, and about 
 eight o'clock rang the bell of the house in Thirty- 
 eighth street. 
 
 He was at once ushered into the presence of 
 Mrs. Vivian and her son. 
 
 "I am glad to see you, my young friend," 
 said Mrs. Vivian, glancing with approval at the 
 neat appearance of her young visitor. " Fred, 
 this is the young man who brought you home last 
 night." 
 
 "I am much obliged to you," said Fred Vivian, 
 offering his hand to Frank. " I am ashamed of 
 having been found in such a place." 
 
132 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " I don't think the young men with you were 
 very much your friends," said Frank; "I detected 
 one in cheating you." 
 
 "You mean at cards?" 
 
 " I don't mean that, though I presume they 
 did ; but you handed a ten-dollar bill to one of 
 them, and he took it as a five." 
 
 "Are you sure of that?" asked Fred, his face 
 flushing with indignation. 
 
 " Yes, I saw the number of the bill, though 
 he put it away very quickly." 
 
 " And I had been treating that fellow all the 
 afternoon ! I gave him a good dinner, too." 
 
 " Are you surprised at such treatment from 
 such a person?" asked his mother. "I should 
 have expected it." 
 
 " I will never notice the fellow again as long 
 as I live," said Fred, who seemed a good deal 
 impressed b} T his companion's treachery. " Why, 
 it's nothing better than robbery." 
 
 "You have given it the right name, Fred," said 
 his mother, quietly. 
 
 " He ought to give the money back," said Fred. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 133 
 
 " Let it go, my son. I am willing to lose it, if it 
 severs all acquaintance between you and your un- 
 worthy companions." 
 
 "Have I ever met you before?" asked Fred, 
 turning to Frank. 
 
 ' ' Not before last evening." 
 
 ' ' I thought you spoke of yourself as an old 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " That was to induce you to come with me," 
 explained Frank. " I hope you will excuse the 
 deception." 
 
 " Certainly I will. I had been drinking so much 
 that it was quite necessary to treat me as a child ; 
 but I don't mean to be caught in such a scrape 
 again." 
 
 " May you keep that resolution, Fred ! " said his 
 mother, earnestly. 
 
 "I will try to, mother." 
 
 " My mother tells me that you are going to 
 take my place while I am in the country," said 
 Fred, turning to Frank. 
 
 "I shall be very glad to do so," said our 
 hero. "I nevei had such a good home before." 
 
164: THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 *' You «re a telegraph boy, are you not?" asked 
 Fred. 
 
 " Yes," answered Frank. 
 
 "Tell me about it. Is it hard work?" 
 
 " Not iard, but sometimes when I have been 
 kept pretty busy, I get tired towards night." 
 
 " I should think it would be rather good fun," 
 said Fred. 
 
 "Do you think you would like it?" asked his 
 mother, with a smile. 
 
 " I might like it for about half a day, but all 
 day would be too much for me. However, I am 
 too old for such a position." 
 
 Fred had no false pride, and though he knew 
 that Frank was in a social position considerably 
 below his own, he treated him as an equal. 
 Those who are secure of their own position are 
 much more likely to avoid ' ' putting on airs " 
 than those who have recently been elevated in 
 the social scale. Frank was destined that same 
 evening to see the contrast between true and falso 
 gentility. 
 
 It so happened that Victor Dupont, already men- 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 135 
 
 tioned, was an acquaintance and former school- 
 fellow of Fred Vivian. It also chanced that he 
 selected this evening for a call, as the Vivians 
 stood very high socially, being an old family. 
 Victor was rather proud of his acquaintance with 
 them, and took occasion to call frequently. 
 
 As he was ushered into the room he did not 
 at first recognize Frank in his new clothes. 
 
 " Victor, this is a friend of mine, Frank Kava- 
 nagh," said Fred, introducing his two visitors. 
 "Frank, let me introduce my old school-fellow 
 Victor Dupont." 
 
 " We are already acquainted," said Frank. 
 " Good-evening, Victor." 
 
 Victor stared in amusing astonishment at Frank. 
 
 "How do you happen to be here?" asked Victor, 
 brusquely. 
 
 "By Mrs. Vivian's kind invitation,' said Frank, 
 quite at ease. 
 
 "How do you two happen to know each other?" 
 asked Fred. 
 
 " We met in the country last summer," said 
 Frank, finding Victor did not answer. 
 
136 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " I suppose you had a very good time together," 
 said Mrs. Vivian. 
 
 " Our acquaintance was very slight," said Victor 
 superciliously. 
 
 " We must have gone fishing together at least 
 a dozen times," said Frank, quietly. 
 
 ' ' How in the world did the fellow thrust him- 
 self in here?" said Victor to himself. "They 
 can't know his low position." 
 
 In the amiable desire of enlightening the Vivians 
 Victor took an early opportunity to draw Fred 
 aside. 
 
 "Have you known Frank Kavanagh long?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Not very long." 
 
 "Do you know that he is a telegraph boy?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Fred, smiling. 
 
 " He used to be a newsboy, and sell papers in 
 the lower part of the city." 
 
 " I didn't know that," said Fred, indifferently. 
 
 " I must say that I am rather surprised to see 
 him here." 
 
 "Why?" asked Fred, with provoking calmness. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 137 
 
 " Oh, you know, he is much below us in a 
 social point of view." 
 
 "I know that he is a poor boy ; but some of 
 our most prominent men were once poor boys." 
 
 " I don't believe in mixing up different ranks." 
 
 " You didn't think so in the country last 
 summer." 
 
 " Oh, well, a fellow must have some company, 
 and there was no better to be had." 
 
 " You will probably be surprised to hear that 
 your old acquaintance is to live here while I am 
 in the country. I am going away to-morrow to 
 spend a few weeks with my cousin." 
 
 "Is it possible!" exclaimed Victor, in surprise 
 and annoyance. " Perhaps he is to be here as 
 an errand boy?" he suggested, evidently relieved 
 by the idea. 
 
 " Oh, no ; he will be treated in all respects as 
 one of the famiby." 
 
 " Hadn't you better tell j^our mother that he 
 was once a newsboy? She might recall the in- 
 vitation." 
 
 ' ' It would make no difference with her. It 
 
138 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 seems Lo 111c, Victor, you are prejudiced against 
 Frank." 
 
 "No, I an not; but I like to see newsboys 
 and telegraph messengers keep their place." 
 
 " Sc do I. I hope Frank will keep his place 
 till he can find a better one." 
 
 " That isn't what I meant. How can you as- 
 sociate with such a boy on an equality?" 
 
 "Because he seems well-bred and gentlemanly." 
 
 " I don't believe he gets more than three or 
 four dollars a week," said Victor, contemptuously. 
 
 " Then I really hope his wages will soon be 
 increased." 
 
 Victor saw that he could do Frank no harm, 
 and was forced, out of policy, to treat our hero 
 with more politeness than he wished. 
 
 When Frank rose to go, Mrs. Vivian desired 
 him to send round his trunk, and take possession 
 of his room the next day. 
 
 " She doesn't suspect that I never owned a 
 trunk," thought Frank. " I will buy one to- 
 morrow, though I haven't got much to put in 
 it." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 189 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AT "WALLACES THEATRE . 
 
 The next da y Frank devoted what small leisure 
 he had to the purchase of a trunk, in which he 
 stored his small supply of clothing, leaving out, 
 however, the clothes in which he made his first 
 appearance in the city. These he gave to his 
 friend, Dick Raffertj', to whom they were a wel- 
 come gift, being considerably better than those 
 he usually wore. Dick might, out of his earn- 
 ings, have dressed better, but when he had any 
 extra money it went for some kind of amuse- 
 ment. He was one of the steadiest patrons of 
 the Old Bowery, and was often to be seen in 
 the gallery of other places of amusement. He 
 was surprised to hear of Frank's intended removal 
 from the lodging-house. 
 
 "I say, Frank," he said, "you're gettin' on 
 fast. Here jon are, goin' to live in a tip-top 
 house up-town. You'll be a reg'lar swell." 
 
140 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " I hope not, Dick. I don't like swells ver^ 
 
 muck." 
 
 " You won't notice your old friends bhneby." 
 
 " That shows } T ou don't know me, Dick. I shall 
 
 be glad to notice you whenever we meet.'' 
 
 » 
 " I don't see why I can't be in luck too,' 
 
 said Dick. "I wish I could find some rich lady 
 
 to give me a room in her house." 
 
 " You'll have to get some new clothes first, 
 Dick." 
 
 " I know I aint got a genteel look," said 
 Dick, surveying his well-worn clothes, soiled and 
 ragged; "but it wouldn't be no use if I was to 
 dress in velvet." 
 
 " Unless 3'ou kept your face clean," suggested 
 Frank. 
 
 " A feller can't be washin' his face all the 
 time," said Dick. 
 
 " It's the fashion to have a clean face in good 
 society," said Frank, smiling. 
 
 " It must be a good deal of trouble," said 
 Dick. " Is my face very dirty ? " 
 
 " Not ver} T . There's a black spot on each 
 
THE TELEGRAPH HOT. 141 
 
 cheek, and one on the side of your nose, and 
 your chin looks a little shady." 
 
 " A feller can't keep very clean in my busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " I suppose it is rather hard," Frank admitted ; 
 " but you won't be a boot-black always, I hope." 
 
 " I'd just as lieves give it up for bankin', or 
 cashier of a savings-bank," said Dick. " Them's 
 light, genteel kinds of business, and don't dirty 
 the hands." 
 
 " Well, Dick, if I hear of an opening in eithei 
 line I'll let you know. Now I must go and buy 
 a trunk." 
 
 " I never expect to get as far as a trunk," 
 said Dick. " I shall feel like a gentleman when 
 I can set up one. It wouldn't be no use to me 
 now. I'd have to stuff it with rocks to make a 
 show." 
 
 "Poor Dick!" thought Frank as he left his 
 friend. " He takes the world too easy. He 
 hasn't any ambition, or he wouldn't be content 
 to keep on blacking boots when there are so 
 many better ways of making a living. If I ever 
 
142 THE TELEGRAPR BOY. 
 
 get a chance to give him a lift I will. He 
 aint much to look at, but he's a good-hearted 
 boy, and would put himself to a good deal of 
 trouble to do me a favor." 
 
 It was not much trouble to pack his trunk. 
 Indeed, he had scarcely enough clothing to fill it 
 one-third full. 
 
 "I may have to adopt Dick's plan, and fill it 
 with rocks," said Frank to himself. " Some day I 
 shall be better supplied. I can't expect to get on 
 too fast." 
 
 The room assigned to Frank was a small one ; 
 but it was neatly furnished, and provided with a 
 closet. The bed, with its clean white spread, 
 looked very tempting, and Frank enjoyed the 
 prospect of the privacy he would have in a room 
 devoted to his sole use. At the lodging-house, 
 though his bed was comfortable, there were sixty 
 to eighty boys who slept in the same room, and 
 of course he had no more rights than any other. 
 
 " 1 hope you like }'our room, Frank," said 
 Mrs. Vivian. 
 
 "It is the best I ever had," he replied. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 143 
 
 •'How early are you obliged to be on duty?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " At eight o'clock." 
 
 "I do not breakfast till that hour; but I will 
 direct the cook to have a cup of coffee and some 
 breakfast read}' for you at seven." 
 
 " Am I to take my meals here?" asked Frank, in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Certainly. Did } t ou think I was going to send 
 you out to a restaurant?" inquired Mrs. Vivian, 
 smiling. 
 
 "I am very much obliged to you ; but I am 
 afraid it will inconvenience the cook to get me 
 an early breakfast." 
 
 " I am glad to see you so considerate of others. 
 I can answer for Mary, however, who is very 
 obliging. You can get lunch outside, as I sup- 
 pose it will be inconvenient for you to leave your 
 duties to come so far as Thirty-eighth street." 
 
 "You are very kind to me, Mrs. Vivian," said 
 Frank, gratefully. 
 
 " I shall claim an occasional service of you 
 in return," said Mrs. Vivian. 
 
1 44 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " I hope you will," said Frank, promptly. 
 
 Two days after he had taken up his residence 
 in his new quarters Frank was called upon to 
 render a very agreeable service. 
 
 " I have two tickets for Wallack's theatre for 
 this evening," said Mrs. Vivian. " Will it be 
 agreeable for you to accompanj^ me?" 
 
 " I should like it very much." 
 
 "Then you shall be my escort. When Fred is 
 at home he goes with me ; but now I must de 
 pend on you. Have you a pair of kid gloves?" 
 
 Frank was obliged to confess that he had not 
 In fact he had never owned a pair in his life. 
 
 " I will give you a pair of mine. Probably 
 there is little difference in the size of our hands." 
 
 This proved to be true. 
 
 Somehow Frank in his new life seemed always 
 running across Victor Dupont. That young gentle- 
 man and his sister sat in the row behind Mrs. 
 Vivian and her youthful escort, but did not im- 
 mediately become aware of it. 
 
 " Why, Victor," said his sister, who had been 
 looking about her, "there is Mrs. Vivian in the 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. ' 145 
 
 next row. Who is that nice-looking boy with her? 
 It can't be Fred, for he is larger." 
 
 Victor turned his glance in the direction of Mrs. 
 Vivian. His surprise and disgust were about equal 
 when he saw the country-boy he had looked down 
 upon, faultlessly attired, with neat-fitting gloves, 
 and a rose in his button-hole and looking like a 
 gentleman. 
 
 "I never saw such cheek!" he exclaimed, in 
 disgust. 
 
 "What do vou mean, Victor?" asked his sister, 
 looking puzzled. 
 
 " Do you want to know who that boy is with 
 Mrs. Vivian?" 
 
 "Yes; he is very nice-looking." 
 
 "Then you can marry him if you like. That boy 
 is a telegraph messenger. I used to know him in 
 the country. A few weeks ago he was selling 
 papers in front of the Astor House." 
 
 "You don't say so!" ejaculated Flora Dupont, 
 'Aren't you mistaken?" 
 
 "I guess not. I know him as well as I know 
 you." 
 
146 THE TELEGRAPH B07. 
 
 "He is a good-looking boy, at any rate," said 
 Flora, who was less snobbish than her brother. 
 
 "I can't see it," said Victor, annoj'ed. "He 
 looks to me very common and vulgar. I don't 
 see how Mrs. Vivian can be willing to appear 
 with him at a fashionable theatre like this." 
 
 " It's a pity he is a telegraph bo} 7 , he is so 
 nice-looking." 
 
 Just then Frank, turning, recognized Victor and 
 bowed. Victor could not afford not to recognize 
 Mrs. Vivian's escort, and bowed in return. 
 
 But Victor was not the only one of Frank's 
 acquaintances who recognized him that evening. 
 In the upper gallery sat Dick Rafferty and Micky 
 Shea, late fellow-boarders at the lodging-house. 
 It was not often that these young gentlemen pat- 
 ronized Wallack's, for even a gallery ticket there 
 was high-priced ; but both wanted to see the popu- 
 lar play of "Ours," and had managed to scrape 
 together fifty cents each. 
 
 "Dick," said Micky, suddenly, "there's Frank 
 Kavanagh down near the stage, in an orchestra seat." 
 
 "So he is," said Dick. " Aint he dressed splen- 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 147 
 
 did though, wid kid gloves on and a flower in his 
 button-hole, and an elegant lady beside him? See, 
 she's whisperm' to him now. Who'd think he used 
 to kape company wid the likes of us?" 
 
 "Frank's up in the world. He's a reg'lar swell 
 now." 
 
 " And it's I that am glad of it. He's a good 
 fellow, Frank is, and he won't turn his back on 
 us." 
 
 This was proved later in the evening, for, as Frank 
 left the theatre with Mrs. Vivian, he espied his two 
 old friends standing outside, and bowed with a 
 pleasant smile, much to the gratification of the two 
 street boys, who were disposed to look upon their 
 old friend as one of the aristocracy. 
 
148 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 FRANK AS A DETECTIVE. 
 
 Of course Frank's daily duties were for the most 
 part of a commonplace character. They were 
 more varied, to be sure, than those of an errand- 
 boy, or shop-boy, but even a telegraph messenger 
 does not have an adventure every day. Twice in the 
 next three weeks our hero was summoned by Mrs. 
 Leroy to give her pet dog an airing. It was not 
 hard work, but Frank did not fancy it, though he 
 never failed to receive a handsome fee from the mis- 
 tress of Fido. 
 
 One day Frank was summoned to a fashionable 
 boarding-house in a side street above the Fifth- 
 avenue hotel. On presenting himself, the servant 
 said, "It's one of the boarders wants you. Stay 
 here, and I'll let him know 3'ou've come." 
 
 "All right!" said Frank. 
 
 " Come right up," said the girl, directly after, 
 speaking from the upper landing. 
 
THE TELECRAPn BOY. 149 
 
 Frank ascended the stairs, and entered a room on 
 the second floor. A gentleman, partially bald, with 
 a rim of red hair around the bare central spot, sat 
 iri a chair b} r the window, reading a morning paper 
 
 "So you're the telegraph boy, are you ?" he said. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " You are honest, eh? " 
 
 " I hope so, sir." 
 
 " Because I am going to trust you with a consid- 
 erable sum of mone}-." 
 
 " It will be safe, sir." 
 
 " I want you to do some shopping for me. Are 
 you ever employed in that way ? " 
 
 " I was once, sir." 
 
 "Let me see, — I want some linen handkerchiefs 
 and some collars. Are you a judge of those 
 articles ? " 
 
 "Not particularly." 
 
 " However, I suppose 3'ou know a collar from a 
 pair of cuffs, and a handkerchief from a towel," 
 said the stranger, petulantly. 
 
 " I rather think I can tell them apart," said Frank. 
 
 " Now let me see how many I want," said the 
 
150 THE TELEGRAPH BOT. 
 
 stranger, reflectively. " I think half-a-dozen hand- 
 kerchiefs will do." 
 
 "How high shall I go?" asked Frank. 
 
 "You ought to get them for fifty cents apiece, I 
 should think." 
 
 " Yes, sir, I can get them for that." 
 
 "And the collars — well, half-a-dozen will do. 
 Get them of good qualitj', size 15, and pay what- 
 ever is asked." 
 
 "Yes, sir; do yon want anything more?" 
 
 " I think not, this morning. I have a headache, 
 or I would go out myself," explained the stranger. 
 "I live up the Hudson, and I must go home this 
 afternoon by the boat." 
 
 " Do you want me to buy the articles at any par- 
 ticular store ? " inquired Frank. 
 
 " No ; I leave that to your judgment. A large 
 store is likely to have a better assortment, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 " Very well, sir." 
 
 "Come back as soon as you can, that's all." 
 
 " You haven't given me the monej' yet, sir," 
 said Frank. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY 151 
 
 "Oh, I beg pardon! That is an important 
 omission." 
 
 The stranger drew out a pocket-book, which ap 
 peared to be well filled, and extracted two bills 
 of twenty dollars each, which he passed to Frank. 
 
 " This is too much, sir," said the telegraph 
 boy. "One of these bills will be much more 
 than sufficient." 
 
 "Never mind. I should like to have them both 
 changed. You can buy the articles at different 
 places, as this will give you a chance to get 
 change for both." 
 
 " I can get them changed at a bank, sir." 
 
 "No," said the stranger, hastily, "I would 
 rather you would pay them for goods. Shop- 
 keepers are bound to change bills for a cus- 
 tomer." 
 
 " I don't see what difference it makes to you 
 as long as they are changed," . thought Frank. 
 However it was not his business to question his 
 employer's decision. 
 
 Sixth avenue was not far distant, and as Frank 
 was left to his own choice he betook himself 
 
152 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 hither on his shopping tour. Entering a large re- 
 tail store, he inquired for gentleman's linen hand- 
 kerchiefs. 
 
 "Large or small?" asked the girl in attend- 
 ance. 
 
 "Large, I should think." 
 
 He was shown some of good quality, at fifty 
 cents. 
 
 "I think they will do," said Frank, after ex- 
 amination. " I will take half-a-dozen." 
 
 So saying he drew out one of the twenty-dollar 
 bills. 
 
 "Cash!" called the saleswoman, tapping on the 
 counter with her pencil. 
 
 Several small boys were flitting about the store 
 in the service of customers. One of them made 
 his appearance. 
 
 "Have you nothing smaller?" asked the girl, 
 noticing the denomination of the bill. 
 
 "No," answered Frank. 
 
 She put the bill between the leaves of a small 
 blank book, and handed both that and the goods 
 to the boy. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 153 
 
 Frank sat down on a stool by the counter to 
 wait. 
 
 Presently the cash-boy came back, and the pro- 
 prietor of the store with him. He was a portly 
 man, with a loud voice and an air of authority. 
 To him the cash-boy pointed out Frank. 
 
 " Are you the purchaser of these handkerchiefs?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Frank, rather surprised 
 at the question. 
 
 " And did you offer this twenty-dollar bill in 
 payment ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Where did you get it? Think well," said the 
 trader, sternly. 
 
 "What is' the matter? Isn't the bill a good 
 one ? " asked Frank. 
 
 "You have not answered my question. How- 
 ever, I will answer yours. The bill is a coun- 
 terfeit." 
 
 Frank looked surprised, and he understood at 
 a flash why he had been trusted with two of 
 these hills when one would answer. 
 
154 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "I have nothing to do with that," said the 
 telegraph boy. " I was sent out to buy some 
 articles, and this money was given me to pay for 
 them." 
 
 " Have you got any other money of this de- 
 scription?" asked the trader, suspiciousty. 
 
 " Yes," answered Frank, readily. " I have an- 
 other twenty." 
 
 " Let me see it." . 
 
 " Certainly. I should like to know whether that 
 is bad too." 
 
 The other twenty proved to be a fac-simile of 
 the first. 
 
 "I must know where you got this money," 
 said the merchant. "You may be in the service 
 of counterfeiters." 
 
 "You might know, from my uniform, that I am 
 not," said Frank, indignantly. " I once lost a 
 place because I would not pass counterfeit 
 money." 
 
 "I have a detective here. You must lead him 
 to the man who supplied you with the money." 
 
 "I am quite willing to do it," said our hero. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 156 
 
 '* He wanted to make a tool of me. If I can 
 put him into the hands of the law, I will." 
 
 " That boy is all right," said a gentleman 
 standing by. " The rogue was quite ingenious in 
 trying to work off his bad money through a 
 telegraph messenger." 
 
 "What is the appearance of this man?" asked 
 the detective as they walked along. 
 
 " Rather a reddish face, and partly bald." 
 
 "What is the color of the hair he has?" 
 
 "Red." 
 
 "Very good. It ought to be easy to know 
 him by that description." 
 
 "I should know him at once," said Frank, 
 promptly. 
 
 "If he has not changed his appearance. It is 
 easy to do that, and these fellows understand it 
 well." 
 
 Reaching the house, Frank rang the bell, the 
 detective sauntering along on the opposite side of I he 
 street. 
 
 " Is Mr. Stanley at home?" asked Frank. 
 
 " I will see." 
 
156 the TELRnntpn nor. 
 
 The girl came down directly, with the information 
 that Mr. Stanley had gone out. 
 
 "That is queer," said Frank. "He told me to 
 come right back. He said he had a headache, too, 
 and did not want to go out." 
 
 As he spoke, his glance rested on a man who was 
 lounging at the corner. This man had black hair, 
 and a full black beard. By chance, Frank's eye fell 
 upon his right hand, and with a start he recognized 
 a large ring with a sparkling diamond, real or imita- 
 tion. This ring he had last seen on Mr. Stanley's 
 hand. He crossed the street in a quiet, indifferent 
 manner, and imparted his suspicions to the detective. 
 
 " Good ! " said the latter ; " 3-011 are a smart boy." 
 
 He approached the man alluded to, who, confident 
 in his disguise, did not budge, and, placing his hand 
 on his shoulder, said, " Mr. Stanley, I believe." 
 
 " You are mistaken," said the man, shrugging his 
 shoulders in a nonchalant way, with a foreign accent, 
 " I am M. Lavalctte. I do not know your M. Stan- 
 
 ley." 
 
 " I am afraid you are fbigetful, monsieur. I beg 
 pardon, but do you wear a wig?" and with a quick 
 
THE TELEGRAPn BOY. 157 
 
 movement he removed the stranger's hat, and, dis- 
 lodging his black wig, displayed the rim of red hair 
 
 " This is an outrage ! " said the rogue, angrily ; " 
 will have you arrested, monsieur." 
 
 " I will give 3'ou a chance, for here is an officer," 
 said the detective. 
 
 "I give this man in charge for passing counter- 
 feit money," said the detective. " The next time, 
 Mr. Stanley, don't select so smart a telegraph boy. 
 He recognized you, in spite of your disguise, by 
 the ring upon your finger." 
 
 The rogue angrily drew the ring from his finger, 
 and threw it on the sidewalk. 
 
 "Curse the ring!" he said. "It has betrayed 
 me." 
 
 It only remains to add that Stanley was convicted 
 through Frank's testimony. He proved to be an 
 old offender, an^ the chief of a gang of counter 
 feitera. 
 
158 THE TELEGRAPH MOT 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 FRANK MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 Frank was more fortunate than the generality of 
 the telegraph boys in obtaining fees from those who 
 employed him. He was not allowed to solicit gifts, 
 but was at libert} r to accept them when offered. In 
 one way or another he found his weekly receipts 
 came to about seven dollars. Out of this sum he 
 would have been able to save monej 7 , even if he 
 had been obliged to pay all his expenses, that is 
 03 T the exercise of strict economy. But, as we know, 
 he was at no expense for room or board, with the 
 exception of a light lunch in the middle of the day. 
 Making a little calculation, he found that he could 
 save about four dollars a week. As it had only 
 been proposed to him to sta}' at Mrs. Vivian's 
 while Fred was in the country, it seemed prudent 
 to Frank to " make hay while the sun shone," and 
 save up a little fund from which he could hereafter 
 draw, in case it were necessary. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. \o6 
 
 So when lie had saved ten dollars he presented 
 himself at the counter of the Dime Savings-Bank, 
 then located in Canal street, and deposited it, receiv- 
 ing a bank-book, which he regarded with great 
 pride. 
 
 " I begin to feel like a capitalist," he said to him- 
 self. " I am rather better off now than I was 
 when I led round old Mills, the blind man. I 
 wonder how he is getting along." 
 
 As Frank entered Broadway from Canal street, 
 by a strange coincidence he caught sight of the 
 man of whom he had been thinking. Mills, with 
 the same querulous, irritable expression he knew 
 well, was making his way up Broadway, led by a 
 boj 7 younger than Frank. 
 
 " Pity a poor blind man ! " he muttered from time 
 to time in a whining voice. 
 
 " Look out, you young rascal, or you will have 
 mo off the sidewalk," Frank heard the blind man 
 say; "I'll have a reckoning with you when I 
 get home." 
 
 The boy, who was pale and slight, looked fright- 
 ened. 
 
160 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "I couldn't help it, Mr. Mills," he said. "It 
 was the crowd." 
 
 " You are getting careless, that's what's the 
 matter," said Mills, harshly. " You are looking in 
 at the shop windows, and neglect me." 
 
 " No, I am not," said the boy, in meek remon- 
 strance. 
 
 "Don't you contradict me!" exclaimed the blind 
 man, grasping his stick significantly. " Pity a poor 
 blind man ! " 
 
 " What an old brute he is ! *' thought Frank ; " I 
 will speak to him." 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Mills?" he said, halting 
 before the blind man. 
 
 "Who are you?" demanded Mills, quickly. 
 
 " You ought to know me ; I am Frank Kavanagh, 
 who used to go round with you." 
 
 "I have had so many boys — most of them good 
 for nothing — that I don't remember you." 
 
 " I am the boy who wouldn't pass counterfeit 
 money for you." 
 
 "Hush!" said the blind man apprehensively, 
 lest some one should hear Frank. " There was 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 161 
 
 some mistake about that. I remember you now. 
 Do you want to come back? This boy doesn't 
 attend to his business." 
 
 Frank laughed. Situated as he was now, the pro- 
 posal seemed to him an excellent joke, and he waa 
 disposed to treat it as such. 
 
 " Why, the fact is, Mr. Mills, 3*011 fed me on such 
 rich food that I shouldn't dare to go back for fear 
 of dyspepsia." 
 
 " Or starvation," he added to himself 
 
 "I live better now," said Mills. " I haven't had 
 any boy since, that suited me as well as you." 
 
 ' ' Thank you ; but I am afraid it would be a long 
 time before I got rich on the wages } T ou would 
 give me." 
 
 " I'll give you fifty cents a week," said Mills, 
 " and more if I do well. You can come to-day, 
 if you like." 
 
 " You are very kind, but I am doing better 
 than that," said Frank. 
 
 u What are } T ou doing, — selling papers?" 
 
 " No ; I have given that up. I am a tek> 
 graph boy." 
 
162 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "How much do you make?" 
 
 " Seven dollars last week." 
 
 " Why, you will be rich," said the blind man, 
 enviously. " I don't think I get as much as that 
 myself, and I have to pa}^ a boy out of it." 
 
 His poor guide did not have the appearance of 
 being very liberally paid. 
 
 "Then j r ou won't come back?" said Mills, quer- 
 ulously. 
 
 " No, I guess not." 
 
 " Come along, boy! " said Mills, roughly, to his 
 little guide. " Are you going to keep me here 
 all day?" 
 
 " I thought you wanted to speak to this boy." 
 
 " Well, I have got through. He has deserted 
 me. It is the wa} r of the world. There's nobody 
 to pity the poor, blind man." 
 
 " Here's five cents for old acquaintance' sake. 
 Mr. Mills," said Frank, dropping a nickel into, 
 the hand of the boy who was guiding him. 
 
 "Thank you! May you never know what it is 
 to be blind ! " said Mills, in his professional 
 tone. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 1G3 
 
 " If I ain, I hope I can see as well as you," 
 thought Frank. " What a precious old humbug 
 he is, and how I pity that poor boy ! If I had 
 a chance I would give him something to save 
 him from starvation." 
 
 Frank walked on, quite elated at the change in 
 his circumstances which allowed him to give money 
 in charity to the person who had once been his 
 employer. He would have given it more cheer- 
 fully if in his estimation the man had been more 
 worthy. 
 
 Frank's errand took him up Broadway. He 
 had two or three stops to make, which made it 
 inconvenient for him to ride. A little way in 
 front of him he saw a boy of fourteen, whom he 
 recognized as an errand-boy, and a former fellow- 
 lodger at the Newsboy's Lodging-House. He was 
 about to hurry forward and join John Riley, — for 
 this was the bo3''s name, — when his attention was 
 attracted, and his suspicions aroused, by a man 
 who accosted Jchn. . He was a man of about 
 thirty, rather showily dressed, with a gold chain 
 dangling from his vest. 
 
164 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Johnny," he said, addressing the errand-boy 
 ' ' do you want to earn ten cents ? " 
 
 " I should like to," answered the boy, " but I 
 am going on an errand, and can't spare the 
 time." 
 
 " It won't take five minutes," said the young 
 man. "It is only to take this note up to Mr. 
 Conant's room, on the fourth floor of this 
 building." 
 
 They w r ere standing in front of a high build- 
 ing occupied as offices. 
 
 The boy hesitated. 
 
 "Is there an answer?" he asked. 
 
 "No; j'ou can come right down as soon as 
 the letter is delivered." 
 
 " I suppose I could spare the time for that," 
 said John Eiley. 
 
 "Of course you can. It won't take you two 
 minutes. Here is the ten cents. I'll hold yoxxx 
 bundle for you while you run up." 
 
 "All right!" said the errand-boy, and, suspect- 
 ng nothing, he surrendered his parcel, and taking 
 the note and the dime, ran upstairs. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOT. 165 
 
 No sooner was he out of sight than the j'oung 
 man began to walk off rapidly with the bundle. 
 It was an old trick, that has been many times 
 played upon unsuspecting bo} T s, and will continue 
 to be played as long as there are knavish ad- 
 venturers who prefer dishonest methods of getting 
 a living to honest industry. 
 
 In this case, however, the rogue was destined 
 to disappointment. It may be stated that he had 
 been present in the dry-goods store from which 
 the parcel came, and, knowing that the contents 
 were valuable, had followed the boy. 
 
 No sooner did Frank understand the fellow's 
 purpose than he s pursued him, and seized him by 
 the arm. 
 
 "What do you want of me?" demanded the 
 rogue, roughly. "I am in a hurry and can't be 
 detained." 
 
 " I want you to give me that bundle which you 
 are trying to steal from my friend, John Riley." 
 
 The rogue's countenance changed. 
 
 "What do you mean?" he demanded, to gain 
 time. 
 
166 THE TELEGRAPH B07. 
 
 " I mean that I heard your conversation with 
 him, and I know your game. Come back, or I 
 will call a policeman." 
 
 The young man was sharp enough to see that 
 he must give up his purpose. 
 
 "There, take the bundle," he said, tossing it 
 into Frank's arms. " I was only going for a 
 cigar ; I should have brought it back." 
 
 "When John Riley came downstairs, with the 
 letter in his hand, — for he had been unable to 
 find any man named Conant in the building, — he 
 found Frank waiting with the parcel. 
 
 " Holloa, Frank ! Where's that man that" sent 
 me upstairs? I can't find Mr. Conant." 
 
 " Of course you can't. There's no such man 
 in the building. That man was a thief; but for 
 me he would have carried off your bundle." 
 
 "What a fool I was!" said the errand-boy. "I 
 won't let myself be fooled again." 
 
 " Don't give up a bundle to a stranger again," 
 said Frank. " I'm only a country boy, but I 
 don't allow myself to be swindled as easily as 
 you." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 167 
 
 "I wish that chap would come here again," 
 said Johnny, indignantly. "But I'v& come out 
 best, after all," he added, brightening up. " I've 
 made ten cents out of him." 
 
168 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVm. 
 
 A RICH WOMAN'S SORROW. 
 
 One day Frank was summoned to a handsome 
 residence on Madison avenue. 
 
 " Sit down in the parlor," said the servant, 
 " and I will call Mrs. Graham." 
 
 As Frank looked around him, and noted the 
 evidences of wealth in the elegant furniture and 
 rich ornaments profuseby scattered about, he thought, 
 "How rich Mrs. Graham must be! I suppose she 
 is very happy. I should be if I could buy every- 
 thing I wanted." 
 
 It was a boy's thought, and betrayed our hero's 
 inexperience. Even unlimited means are not sure to 
 produce happiness, nor do handsome surroundings 
 prove wealth. 
 
 Five minutes later an elderly lady entered the 
 room. She was richly dressed, but her face wore 
 a look of care and sorrow. 
 
TIIE TELEGRAPH BOY. 169 
 
 As she entered, Frank rose with instinctive 
 politeness, and bowed. 
 
 "You are the telegraph boy," said the lady, 
 inquiringly. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. Graham looked at him earnestly, as if to 
 read his character. 
 
 "I have sent for you," she said, at length, "to 
 help me in a matter of some delicacy, and shall 
 expect }ou not to speak of it, even to your 
 employers." 
 
 " They never question me," said Frank, promptly. 
 " You may rely upon my secrecy." 
 
 Frank's statement was correct. The business 
 entrusted to telegraph messengers is understood to 
 be of a confidential nature, and they are instructed 
 to guard the secrets of those who make use of 
 their services. ■ 
 
 " I find it necessary to raise some money," 
 continued the lady, apparently satisfied, "and am 
 not at liberty, for special reasons, to call upon 
 m} T husband for it. I have a diamond ring of 
 considerable value, which I should like to have 
 
1 70 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 you carry, either to a jeweller or a pawnbroker, 
 and secure what advance you can upon it." 
 
 " And I believed she had plenty of money," 
 thought Frank, wondering. 
 
 " I will do the best I can for you, madam," 
 said our hero. 
 
 Mrs. Graham drew from her pocket a small 
 box, containing a diamond ring, which sparkled 
 brilliantly in the sunshine. 
 
 " It is beautiful," said Frank, admiringly. 
 
 "Yes, it cost originally eight hundred dollars," 
 said the lady. 
 
 " Eight hundred dollars ! " echoed Frank, in 
 wonder. He had heard of diamond rings, and 
 knew they were valuable, but had no idea they 
 were so valuable as that. 
 
 "How much do you expect to get on it?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Nothing near its value, of course, nor is that 
 necessary. Two hundred dollars will be as much 
 as I care to use, and at that rate I shall be 
 able the sooner to redeem it. I believe I will 
 tell you why I want the money." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 171 
 
 " Not unless you think it best," said Frank. 
 
 "It is best, for I shall again require your 
 services in disposing of the rnone} T ." 
 
 The lady sat down on the sofa beside Frank, 
 and told him the story which follows : — 
 
 " I have two children," she said, " a daughter 
 and a son. The son has recently graduated from 
 college, and is now travelling in Europe. My 
 daughter is now twenty-six years of age. She 
 was beautiful, and our social position was such 
 that my husband, who is a proud man, confidently 
 anticipated that she would make a brilliant match. 
 But at the age of nineteen Ellen fell in love 
 with a clerk in my husband's employ. He was 
 a young man of good appearance and character, 
 and nothing could be said against him except 
 that he was poor. This, however, was more than 
 enough in Mr. Graham's eyes. When Lawrence 
 Brent asked for the hand of our daughter, my 
 husband drove him from the house with insult, 
 and immediately discharged him from his employ 
 Ellen was high-spirited, and resented this treat- 
 ment of the man she loved. He soon obtained 
 
172 THE TKLEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 a place quite as good as the one he had lost, 
 and one day Ellen left the house and married 
 him. She wrote to us, excusing her action, and 
 I would gladly have forgiven her ; but her father 
 was obdurate. He forbade my mentioning her 
 name to him, and from that da} r to this he has 
 never referred to her. 
 
 "I am now coming to the business in which 
 3 r ou aje to help me. For } r ears m} r son-in-law 
 was able to support his wife comfortably, and 
 also the two children which in time came to 
 them. But, a year since, he became sick, and 
 his sickness lasted till he had spent all his savings. 
 Now he and his poor family are living in wretched 
 lodgings, and are in need of the common neces- 
 saries of life. It is for them I intend the monej 
 which I can secure upon this ring." 
 
 Frank could not listen without having his sym- 
 pathies aroused. 
 
 " I o shall be still more glad to help you," he 
 said, " now that I know how the money is to 
 be used." 
 
 "Thank you," said the lad}\ "You are a good 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 173 
 
 bo}', and I see that I can trust you implic- 
 itly." 
 
 She handed Frank the box, enjoining upon him 
 to be careful not to lose it. 
 
 "It is so small that it might easily slip from 
 your pocket," she said. 
 
 " I shall take the best care of it," said Frank. 
 "Where would you advise me to go first?" 
 
 " I hardly know. If I wished to sell it I 
 would carry it to Tiffany ; but it was purchased 
 there, and it might in that case come to my 
 husband's ears. There is a pawnbroker, named 
 Simpson, who, I hear, is one of the best of his 
 class. You may go there first." 
 
 "How much shall I say you want on it?" 
 asked Frank. 
 
 " Don't mention my name at all," said the 
 lady, hastily. 
 
 I suppose I shall have to give some name," 
 said Frank, "in order that the ticket may be 
 made out." 
 
 ' ' What is your own name ? " 
 
 " Frank Kavanagh." 
 
174 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Have you a mother living?" 
 
 "No," said Frank, gravely. 
 
 "Then let the ticket be made out in your 
 name." 
 
 " If you wish it." 
 
 "Shall I bring the money to you, Mrs. Gra- 
 ham?" 
 
 "No; my husband might be at home, and it 
 would arouse his suspicions. At twelve o'clock 
 I will meet you at Madison Park, at the corner 
 opposite the Union League Club House. You can 
 then report to me your success." 
 
 "Very well," said Frank. 
 
 He went at once to the pawnbroker mentioned 
 by Mrs. Graham, But for his uniform he would 
 have been questioned closely as to how he came 
 by the ring ; but telegraph boys are so often 
 employed on similar errands that the pawnbroker 
 showed no surprise. After a careful examination 
 he agreed to advance two hundred dollars, and 
 gave Frank the money and the ticket. When 
 Frank gave his own name, he said, " That a 
 your name, is it not?" 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 175 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "But the ring does not belong to you?" 
 
 " No ; it belongs to a lady who does not wish 
 her name known." 
 
 "It is all the same to us." 
 
 " That was easily done," thought Frank. "Now 
 I must go and meet Mrs. Graham." 
 
 "Have you got the money?" asked Mrs. Gra- 
 ham, anxiously, as Frank made his appearance 
 
 "Yes," replied Frank. 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 " The amount you asked for." 
 
 ' ' That is well. Now I shall be able to relieve 
 my poor daughter. I cannot bear to think of 
 her and her poor children suffering for the lack 
 of bread, while I am living in luxury. I wish 
 Mr. Graham was not so unforgiving." 
 
 "Will you take the money now?" asked Frank. 
 
 "I wish you to take fifty dollars to my 
 daughter." 
 
 " I will do so with pleasure. What is her 
 address ? " 
 
 Mrs. Graham drew out a card, on which she 
 
176 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 had pencilled her daughter's address. It proved 
 to be a tenement-house on the east side of the 
 city, not far from Fourteenth street. 
 
 " I wish I could go myself," said Mrs. Gra- 
 ham, sadly ; " but I do not dare to do so at 
 present. Give Ellen this money, with my best 
 love ; and say to her that a month hence I will 
 again send her the same sum. Tell her to keep 
 up good courage. Brighter days may be in store." 
 
 ' ' I will be sure to remember," said Frank, in 
 a tone of sympathy. 
 
 The errand was to his taste ; for he was about 
 to carry help and comfort to those who needed 
 ix>tk. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 177 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A MESSENGER OP GOOD TIDINGS. 
 
 There stands a large tenement-house on East 
 Fourteenth street, five stories in height, and with 
 several entrances. Scores of barefooted and 
 scantily attired children play in the halls or on 
 the sidewalk in front, and the great building is 
 a human hive, holding scores of families. Some 
 of them, unaccustomed to live better, are toler- 
 ably content with their squalid and contracted 
 accommodations ; but a few, reduced by gradual 
 steps from respectability and comfort, find their 
 positions very hard to bear. 
 
 On the third floor three small rooms were oc- 
 cupied by Mr. and Mrs. Robert Morgan, and 
 their two children. She was the daughter of Mrs. 
 Graham, and had been reared in affluence. How 
 she had incurred her father's displeasure has al- 
 ready been told. He had been taken sick some 
 
178 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 months before, his little stock of money had 
 melted away, and now he was unable even to 
 pay the small expenses of life in a tenement- 
 house. 
 
 Just before Frank made his appearance there 
 was sadness in the little houshold. 
 
 "How much money is there left, Ellen?" asked 
 Robert Morgan. 
 
 " Seventy-five cents," she answered, in a tone 
 which she tried to make cheerful. 
 
 " And our week's rent will become due to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 "I may hear from mother," suggested Mrs. 
 Morgan. 
 
 " If you don't, I don't know what will become 
 of us all. We shall be thrust into the street. 
 Even this squalid home will be taken from us." 
 
 " Don't get discouraged, Robert." 
 
 " Isn't there enough to make me despondent, 
 Ellen? I can see now that I did very wrong to 
 marry you." 
 
 "Do you regret our marriage, then, Robert?" 
 asked his wife. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 179 
 
 " Only because it has brought you poverty and 
 discomfort." 
 
 " I have not yet regretted it." 
 
 "How different a position you would have oc- 
 cupied if I had not dragged you down ! You 
 would still be living in luxury." 
 
 " I should not have you and these dear 
 children." 
 
 " And will they compensate you for what has 
 come upon you?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered, emphatically. 
 
 "You have more philosophy than I have, 
 Ellen." 
 
 "More trust, perhaps. Do you know, Robert, 
 I think we are on the eve of good fortune?" 
 
 " I hope so, but I see no prospects of it." 
 
 Just then there was a knock at the door. 
 
 Thinking that it might be some humble neigh- 
 bor, on a borrowing expedition, Mrs. Morgan 
 opened the door. Before her stood our hero in 
 his uniform. 
 
 "Is this Mrs. Robert Morgan?" asked Frank. 
 
 " Yes," she answered. 
 
180 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " I come from your mother." 
 
 " From my mother? Robert, do you hear that?' 
 said the poor woman, in a voice of gladness. 
 " Here is a messenger from my mother. Didn't 
 I tell you there was good luck in store for us ? " 
 
 Mr. Morgan did not answer. He waited anx- 
 iously to hear what Frank had to communicate. 
 
 " Your mother sends you her love, and fifty 
 dollars," continued Frank. "She hopes to call 
 soon herself." 
 
 "Fifty dollars!" exclaimed Ellen Morgan, in 
 delight. "It is a fortune." 
 
 "Thank Heaven!" ejaculated her husband, in 
 great relief. 
 
 " A month hence you may expect a similar 
 sum," said Frank. " I suppose T shall bring it. 
 Shall I find you here ? " 
 
 Ellen Morgan looked at her husband. 
 
 "No," said he. "Let us get out of this 
 neighborhood as soon as possible. Can't you find 
 a respectable place to-day ? " 
 
 "Yes" said his wife. "I shall be glad to 
 move. T saw some neat rooms on West Twentieth 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 181 
 
 street on Monday. The}' will cost us but little 
 more, and will suit us better." 
 
 "I will send my mother my new address," 
 she said to Frank. 
 
 "■Then you may send it under cover to me, 
 and I will see that she gets it privately," sail 
 Frank, who had received instructions to that effect 
 from Mrs. Graham. 
 
 When Frank had left the room the little house- 
 hold seemed quite transformed. Hope had entered, 
 and all looked more cheerful. 
 
 "We are provided 'for, for two months, Rob- 
 ert," said his wife. " Is not that a piece of good 
 luck?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed it is," he answered heartily. 
 "Before that time I can get to work again, and 
 with health and employment I shall not need 
 to ask favors of any one." 
 
 "I wish father were as forgiving as mother," 
 said Ellen Morgan. 
 
 " Your father is a hard man. He will never 
 forgive you for marrying a poor man. He would 
 punish you by starvation." 
 
182 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "He is very proud," said Mrs. Morgan. "1 
 was an only daughter, you know, and he had 
 set his heart upon my making a brilliant mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " As you might have done." 
 
 "As I did not care to do. I preferred to 
 make a happy marriage with the man of my 
 choice." 
 
 " You are a good wife, Ellen." 
 
 " I hope you will always find me so, Robert." 
 
 "I should have sunk utterly if you had been 
 like some women." 
 
 In the afternoon Mrs. Morgan went out, taking 
 one of her children with her. She went to the 
 rooms on West Twentieth street, and, finding 
 them still vacant, secured them, paying a month's 
 rent in advance, as her mother's timely gift 
 enabled her to do. Before the next evening they 
 were installed in their new home, and Mrs. Mor- 
 gan sent a note to her mother, under cover to 
 Frank, apprising her of the removal. 
 
 Two daj's later Frank received a summons to 
 the house on Madison avenue. He obeyed, think- 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 183 
 
 ing he should probably be sent with some mes- 
 sage to Mrs. Morgan. 
 
 He found Mrs. Graham in a state of nervous 
 excitement. 
 
 "My husband has been stricken with paralysis," 
 she said. "It is terribly sudden. He went out 
 yesterday, apparently in vigorous health. He was 
 brought home pale and helpless." 
 
 "Can I do anything for him or you?" asked 
 Frank. 
 
 " Yes ; you can go at once to my daughter, 
 and summon her to her father's bedside." 
 
 Frank was surprised, remembering how obdu- 
 rate Mrs. Graham had described her husband to 
 be. 
 
 "You look surprised," she said; "but sickness 
 often produces a great change in us. My hus- 
 band's pride has given way. His affection has 
 returned ; and it is at his request that I send 
 for Ellen." 
 
 Frank had come to feel a personal interest in 
 the family, and he gladly set out for the modest 
 home in West Twentieth street. He felt that it 
 
184 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 was pleasant to be a messenger of reconcilia 
 tion. 
 
 Mis. Morgan recognized him at once, and re- 
 ceived him cordially. 
 
 "Do you come from my mother?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes. She wishes you to come home at once. 
 
 "But— my father." 
 
 " Your father is very sick ; and he joins in 
 the request." 
 
 "It has come at last, — the time I have looked 
 forward to for so long," said Ellen Morgan, clasp- 
 ing her hands. " Robert, do you feel equal to 
 looking after the children while I am gone?" 
 
 " Yes, Ellen. Go at once. God grant that your 
 father's heart ma} r be softened, for your sake. 
 For myself I am content to live in poverty ; but 
 I don't like to see you suffer." 
 
 " What is the matter with father? Did my 
 mother tell you?" 
 
 Frank explained, and thus gave her fresh cause 
 for anxiety. 
 
 On reaching her father's chamber she was 
 shocked by his changed appearance ; but her heart 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 185 
 
 was gladdened by the wan single that lighted up 
 his face, assuring her that she was welcome 
 From the doctor she received the assurance that 
 her father was in no immediate danger. Indeed, 
 he expressed a confident hope that Mr. Graham 
 would rally from his present attack, and be able 
 to go about his business again, though caution 
 would be required against undue excitement or 
 fatigue. 
 
 The doctor's prediction was verified. Mr. Gra- 
 ham recovered ; but his old pride and obduracy 
 did not come back. He became reconciled to his 
 son-in-law, and provided him a well-paid position 
 in his own mercantile establishment, and provided 
 rooms in the Madison-avenue mansion for the little 
 famil} 7 whom Frank had first visited in the squalid 
 tenement-house in Fourteenth street, and the glad 
 voices of children made the house no longer lonely. 
 
 "You must call and see us often," said Ellen 
 Morgan to our hero. "I shall always remember 
 you as the messenger who brought us good tidings 
 a' the darkest hour in our fortunes. We shall 
 always welcome you as a friend." 
 
186 THE TELKGRAVIl BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A. NEW JOB, AND A LETTER FROM HOME. 
 
 One morning an elderly gentleman entered the 
 office in which Frank was employed, and sought 
 an interview with the superintendent. 
 
 "I want a smart boy for detective work," he 
 said. "Have you one you can recommend?" 
 
 The superintendent, cast his eyes over the line 
 of boys, and called Frank. Our hero's recogni- 
 tion of the disguised counterfeiter by his ring had 
 given him a reputation for shrewdness. 
 
 " I think this boy will suit 3 T ou," he said. " Do 
 you wish him to go with 3'ou now?" 
 
 " Yes ; I may want him a week. 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 Frank accompanied the gentleman into the street 
 
 "Have you no other clothes except this uni- 
 form?" asked Mr. Hartley. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 187 
 
 "Then go and put them on. Then report to 
 me at No. — Broadway." 
 
 "All right, sir." 
 
 " It is fortunate I have a good suit," thought 
 Frank. 
 
 He was not long in exchanging his uniform for 
 the neat suit given him by Mr. Bo wen. Thus 
 attired, he presented himself in Mr. Hartley's 
 counting-room. The merchant surveyed him with 
 approval. 
 
 "You will enter my service as errand-boy," 
 he said. "You will be sent to the post-office, 
 the bank, and on similar errands, in order not to 
 excite suspicion of the real object of your pres- 
 ence. Keep your eyes open, and I will take an 
 opportunity of explaining to }*ou later what T 
 wish you to do." 
 
 Frank bowed. 
 
 " Mr. Haynes," said the merchant, calling a 
 thin, sallow young man, "I have engaged this boy 
 as an errand-boy. Has any one been to the 
 post-office this morning?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
188 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Then he will go." 
 
 Elayues regarded Frank with disfavor. 
 
 " I have a nephew who would have liked the 
 position," he said. 
 
 "Too late now," said the merchant, curtly. 
 
 " What is } r our name, boy? " asked Hajmes, coldly. 
 
 "Frank Kavauagh." 
 
 "How did Mr. Hartley happen to engage you?" 
 asked the subordinate. 
 
 " A gentleman recommended me," Frank an- 
 swered. 
 
 " I had already mentioned my nephew to him. 
 I am surprised he said nothing to me about 
 engaging a boy." 
 
 Frank said nothing, feeling no particular inter- 
 est in the matter. As he was onty filling tem- 
 porarily the position of errand boy, it made little 
 difference to him whether he was acceptable to 
 Mr. Haynes or not. 
 
 In the course of the day Mr. Hartley handed 
 Frank a card, containing the street and number 
 of his residence, with a pencilled invitation to call 
 that evening. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 182 
 
 Of course Frank did so. 
 
 Seated alone with the merchant in his back 
 parlor, the latter said, " I have invited you here 
 because I could not speak with you freely at the 
 store. How do you like Mr. Hayncs?" 
 
 Frank was surprised at the abruptness of the 
 question. 
 
 "I don't like him," he answered, candidly. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 1 ' There is no good reason that I know of," 
 said Frank; "but I think his manner is disa- 
 greeable." 
 
 " Our instincts are often to be trusted," said 
 the merchant, thoughtfulby. " I confess that I 
 myself don't like Haynes, nor do I feel implicit 
 confidence in him, though he has been eight years 
 in the service of our house. He is outwardly 
 very circumspect, and apparently very faithful, but 
 there is something in his eye which I don't like." 
 
 Frank had noticed this, but Mr. Hartley's re- 
 mark called fresh attention to its furtive, crafty 
 expression. 
 
 Frank's curiosity was aroused, naturally enough. 
 
190 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 He wondered what Mr. Haynes had to do with 
 his mission. He did not have long to wait for 
 information. 
 
 " I will come to the point," said Mr. Hartley, 
 after a pause. " I am an importing merchant, 
 and deal, among other articles, in silks. During 
 the last year I have discovered that some one is 
 systematically robbing me, and that parts of my 
 stock have been spirited away. The loss I have 
 sustained is already considerable, and unless the 
 leakage is put a stop to, I may as well give up 
 business. You can now guess why I have en- 
 gaged you. No one will suspect an errand boy 
 of being a detective, while a man would very 
 probably excite distrust, and put the rogue on his 
 guard." 
 
 Frank listened attentively to his employer. 
 
 " Do you suspect any one in particular, Mr. 
 Hartley?" he asked. 
 
 " It must be some one in my employ," he 
 said. " The man who, more than any other, has 
 facilities for robbing me is the man of whom I 
 have spoken to you." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 191 
 
 "Mr. Haynes?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Haynes. He holds an important 
 position, and enjoys special privileges. On the 
 other hand, so far as I can learn, he lives in a 
 sober, inexpensive wa} T , quite within his salary, 
 which is liberal. He is prominently connected 
 with an up-town church, and it seems very im- 
 probable that he would be guilty of robbery, 
 or breach of trust ; yet there have been such 
 cases before. At any rate, I cannot wholly di- 
 vest myself of suspicion." 
 
 "What do you wish me to do?" asked Frank 
 
 " To watch Mr. Haynes carefully, both in and 
 out of the store, to ascertain whether he has any 
 unexplained expenses, or any questionable com- 
 panions. I want to know how he spends his time 
 out of the office. It may be that the result of 
 my investigation will be to his credit. It may 
 be that he is aii that he seems, — a reputable 
 member of the church and of society, with nothing 
 against him but an unpleasant manner. Should 
 this be the case, I shall be glad to correct my 
 suspicions, and give him back my confidence. In 
 
192 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 that case, we must look elsewhere for the rogue 
 who is robbing me." 
 
 " Have you any particular instructions to give 
 me? " asked Frank. 
 
 " No, only to follow Haynes, and find out all 
 you can about him. Use great care in doing it, 
 not to arouse his or any one else's suspicion. I will 
 find an opportunity for you to make your reports." 
 
 "Very well, sir." 
 
 When Frank got home, he found a letter 
 awaiting him from his country home. It was in 
 answer to one which he had written to his uncle, 
 Deacon Pelatiah Kavanagh, in reference to a trunk 
 which had belonged to his father. 
 
 This is the letter: — 
 
 My dear Nephew, — I am glad to learn that you are 
 making a living in the city. It is much better that you 
 should earn your own living than to be a burden upon 
 me, though of course I would not see you suffer. But a 
 man's duty is to his own household, and my income from 
 the farm is very small, and Hannah and I agreed that 
 we had little to spare for others. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH SOY. 103 
 
 There is ao old trunk, belonging to your deceased 
 father, in the attic. It contains some old clothes, which 
 may be made over for you, and so save you expense. 
 I would use them myself, and allow you for them, but 
 your father was a much smaller man than I, and his 
 clothes would not fit me. I will send the trunk by express 
 to the address which you gave me. Of course I shall 
 expect you to pay the express, as I have no interest in 
 it, or its contents. 
 
 Your cousin Jonathan has left school, and is working 
 on the farm. I feel so glad that he has no ex- 
 travagant tastes, but inherits the careful and economica 1 
 habits of his mother and myself. I am sure he will never 
 waste or squander the little property which I hope tc 
 leave him. 
 
 " I don't believe he will," thought Frank, " for 
 he is about as mean as his mother, and that is 
 saying a good deal." 
 
 Your aunt and I hope that you will steer clear of the 
 temptations of the city. Do not seek after vain amuse- 
 ments, but live a sober life, never spending a cent un 
 necessarily, and you will in time become a prosperous 
 man. I would invite you to come and stop with us over 
 
194 THE TELEGRAPH EOT. 
 
 Sunday, but for the railroad fare, which is high. It wiL 
 be better to save your money, and put off the visit till 
 Jol can afford it. 
 
 Your uncle, 
 
 Pelatiah Kavanagh. 
 
 Reading this letter, it would hardly be sup- 
 posed that the writer owned ten thousand dollars 
 in stocks, bonds, and mortgages, over and above 
 an excellent farm. Such, however, was the 
 worldly position of the man who sent Frank to 
 the city in quest of a living, because he could 
 not afford to provide for him. With some men 
 prudence is a virtue ; with Deacon Pelatiah 
 Kavanagh it was carried so far as to be a posi 
 tive defect. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Frank's fikst discovert. 
 
 So far as Frank could observe, Mr. Haynes was 
 an active, energetic salesman. He appeared to 
 understand his duties thoroughly, and to go about 
 them in a straightforward manner. So far as his 
 personal habits were concerned, they seemed ir- 
 reproachable. He was neatly but plainly dressed, 
 wore no jewehy, and carried a plain silver watch, 
 which, when new, probably did not cost over 
 twenty dollars. 
 
 Frank had no difficulty in ascertaining where he 
 lived. It was in a brick house, on "Waverley 
 place, very unpretentious and certainly not fashion- 
 able. In order to find out how much he paid 
 for his accommodations Frank visited the house 
 on pretence of being in search of board. 
 
 "We have a hall bed-room on the third floor, 
 at five dollars a week, including board," said the 
 landlady. "How would that suit 3 r ou?" 
 
196 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " I may have a friend board with me," said 
 Frank. " In that case we should need a large 
 room. Have you any vacant?" 
 
 " There is the front room on the third floor. 
 We would let it to two gentlemen at eleven 
 dollars for the two." 
 
 "Isn't the back room cheaper?" inquired our 
 hero. 
 
 " Yes ; but it is occupied by a business gentle- 
 man." 
 
 "Can you tell me his name? I may be ac- 
 quainted with him." 
 
 " His name is Haynes." 
 
 "How much does he pay?" 
 
 "He pays eight dollars a week, and has the 
 room alone." 
 
 " I suppose his room is not likely to become 
 vacant soon ? " 
 
 "Oh, dear, no. He has been with us for sev- 
 eral years. We should be sorry to lose him. 
 Last Christmas he gave my daughter a present 
 of a nice silk-dress pattern." 
 
 Frank was struck by this information. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 197 
 
 " I don't believe he paid aitything for the silk," 
 thought he. " I wish I eould find out." 
 
 He had learned all he cared for, and left, say- 
 ing he might call again. 
 
 " His expenses seem very moderate for a man 
 in his position," thought Frank. "I wonder if 
 he makes any investments." 
 
 Fortune favored our hero in the prosecution of 
 his inquiry. Keeping Haynes in sight, as was his 
 custom, he observed that the latter, in pulling out 
 a handkerchief from the breast-pocket of his coat, 
 had brought with it a letter also. Frank, quickly 
 and unobserved, picked it up, and when he was 
 alone looked at the address. It was directed to 
 James Haynes, at his residence in Waverley place. 
 On the envelope was the printed address of a 
 real-estate broker in Brooklyn. 
 
 Frank knew that there was at that time consid- 
 erable speculation in Brooklyn real estate, and he 
 examined the letter. It ran thus : — 
 
 We have found a corner lot, with several lots adjoining, 
 near Prospect Park, which may be obtained for five 
 thousand dollars, half cash. We have no hesitation in 
 
198 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 recommending the purchase, heing convinced, from the 
 tendencies of the market, that the huyer will double his 
 money in a comparatively short time. If you are engaged 
 at other times, come over on Sunday afternoon, and we 
 will show you the property. The house you purchased 
 of us last year is worth fully a thousand dollars more 
 than the price you gave. 
 
 ' ' I wonder how much he gave," said Frank to 
 himself. 
 
 The letter was signed "Henderson & Co., No. 
 — Fulton street." 
 
 Our hero was elated by the discovery he had 
 made, and he sought an interview with Mr. 
 Hartley. 
 
 "Have you discovered anything?" asked the 
 merchant, noticing the eager look of his young 
 detective. 
 
 Without attaching especial importance to the 
 fact, Frank answered, "I have found out that 
 Mr. Haynes owns a bouse in Brooklyn." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Hartley, quickly. "But," be 
 continued more slowl}-, "be might buy one with the 
 money saved from his salary." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 199 
 
 "He is also thinking of buying some lots near 
 Prospect Park." 
 
 "How did you learn this?" asked the mer- 
 chant, surprised. 
 
 " I would rather not tell you," said Frank, who 
 was not quite sure whether Mr. Hartley would 
 sanction his examination of a private letter. "You 
 may be sure that it is true." 
 
 "Very well; I will rest contented with that 
 assurance. I will leave } r ou to work in your own 
 way. Your information is important, for it seems 
 to show that Mr. Haynes has made investments 
 be3'ond his ability, if he were dependent upon his 
 savings alone." 
 
 "That is what I thought," said Frank. "I 
 must try to find out where he gets this extra 
 inoney." 
 
 " If you do that, and prove my suspicions cor- 
 rect, I will make you a handsome present, beside? 
 paying the company regular rates for your ser 
 vices." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I will try to earn your gifts.' 
 
200 the rELuuiiAi'n boi. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 FOLLOWING DP A CLUE. 
 
 This is not a detective story, and I shall not, 
 therefore, detail the steps by which our young 
 hero succeeded in tracing out the agency of 
 Ha3"nes in defrauding the firm by which he was 
 employed. It required not one week, but three, 
 to follow out his clues, and qualify himself to make 
 a clear and intelligible report to Mr. Hartley. 
 He had expressly requested the merchant not to 
 require any partial report, as it might interfere 
 with his working unobserved. Towards the end 
 of the third week he asked an interview with Mr. 
 Hartle}*. 
 
 "Well, Frank," said the merchant, familiarly, 
 "who is the rogue?" 
 
 " Mr. Haynes," answered our hero. 
 
 " You speak confidentl}'," said his employer ; 
 " but surmise will not do. I want proof, or I 
 cannot act." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 201 
 
 "I will tell you what I have discovered," said 
 Frank ; " and I leave you to judge for yourself." 
 
 " Have you a customer in Hartford named 
 Davis ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes ; and a very good customer. He is fre 
 quent in his orders, and makes prompt payments 
 [ wish I had more like him." 
 
 " If you had more like him you would soon be 
 bankrupt," said Frank, quietly. 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Mr. Hartley, in 
 genuine surprise. " How can a customer who 
 buys largely, and pays promptly, be undesirable?" 
 
 " Did you know that Mr. Davis is a brother- 
 in-law of Mr. Haynes?" 
 
 " No ; but even if he is I have to thank Mr. 
 Haynes for securing me so excellent a customer." 
 
 Hartley spoke confidently, evidently believing 
 that Frank was on the wrong tack. 
 
 "I have noticed," said Frank, " that when goods 
 are packed to go to Mr. Davis, Mr. Haynes per- 
 sonally superintends the packing, and employs one 
 particular man to pack." 
 
 "What then?" 
 
202 TBE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " I think he has something to conceal." 
 
 " I don't understand what he can have to con- 
 ceal. If Davis is his brother-in-law, it is natural 
 that he should feel a special interest in filling hia 
 orders." 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder if Mr. Haynes were a 
 partner as well as a brother-in-law of Mr. Davis." 
 
 Mr. Hartley looked surprised. 
 
 " That may be true ; though I don't know why 
 you should conjecture it. Admitting that you are 
 right, I don't know that I have any right to 
 object. I should like it better, however, if I were 
 frankly told by Mr. Hajmes of this circumstance." 
 
 " I will tell you what I think I have discov- 
 ered," continued Frank. " The cases that are 
 shipped to Mr. Davis not only contain the goods 
 he has ordered, but valuable silks that he has 
 not ordered, and does not propose to pay for." 
 
 " I see, I see," exclaimed Mr. Hartley, a light 
 dawning upon him for the first time. " I was 
 stupid not to comprehend your meaning earlier. 
 What warrant have you for suspecting this ? " 
 
 "First, your steady losses of goods; next, the 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 203 
 
 ease with which Mr. Haynes, in his position of 
 trust, could carry out this plan. Why should he 
 superintend the packing of Mr. Davis's goods, 
 alone of all } T our customers?" 
 
 "There is weight in what you say, Frank. 
 You are certainly an extraordinary boy. You 
 have shown so much shrewdness that I now ask 
 your advice. What steps shall I take to ascertain 
 whether Mr. Haynes is really guilty of what we 
 suspect him?" 
 
 "There is an order now being filled for Mr. 
 Davis," answered Frank. "When the order is 
 filled, can't you open the case, and find out 
 whether the contents correspond exactly to the 
 
 bill?" 
 
 " The very thing. To facilitate matters I will 
 send Mr. Haynes to Brooklyn on a confidential 
 errand. Fortunately there is a matter that will 
 give me a good excuse for doing so. Go back 
 to your post, and when Mr. Ha3^nes appears to 
 be at liberty send him to me." 
 
 Half an hour later Mr. Haynes entered the 
 counting room of his employer. 
 
204 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "You sent for me, sir?" he said, a little 
 uneasily ; for, when conscience accuses, the mind 
 is always apprehensive. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Haynes," said the merchant, in his 
 usual tone. " Have you any objection to go to 
 Brooklyn for me, on a confidential errand?" 
 
 " None in the world, sir," said Haynes, relieved. 
 " I shall be glad to take the trip this fine morn- 
 ing. It is almost too pleasant to remain in-doors." 
 
 " Thank you ; I will give you your instructions, 
 and shall be glad to have you go at once." 
 
 It is not necessary to our story that we should 
 know the nature of the errand on which Haynes 
 was sent. It served the purpose of getting him 
 out of the way. 
 
 When the suspected clerk was fairly on his way 
 Mr. Hartlej' went to the packing-room, and looked 
 about him till he discovered the case addressed to 
 
 H. L. DAVIS & CO., 
 Hartford, Conn. 
 
 " Open this case," said he to one of the work 
 men. " There was a mistake recently in sending 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 205 
 
 some goods to Davis, and I wish to compare 
 these with the bill." 
 
 "I think they are all right, sir," said the man 
 addressed. "Mr. Haynes saw them packed." 
 
 " Mr. Haynes will not be responsible for any 
 mistake," said Mr. Hartley. " I would rather see 
 for myself." 
 
 The case was opened, and the merchant dis- 
 covered about two hundred dollars' worth of silk, 
 which was not included in the bill. 
 
 " Go and call Mr. Hunting," said Mr. Hartley, 
 quietly. 
 
 Mr. Hunting filled one of the most important 
 positions in the establishment. To him his em- 
 ployer explained the nature of his discovery. 
 
 " Mr. Hunting," he said, " I wish you to see 
 and attest the fraud that has been attempted upon 
 me. This case was packed under the special 
 charge of Mr. Haynes." 
 
 *•' Is it possible that Mr. Haynes knew of this?" 
 exclaimed his fellow-clerk. 
 
 " Davis is his brother-in-law," said Mr. Hartley, 
 significantly. 
 
2UG THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 • w Uas Liiis been going on long, do you think, 
 sir?" 
 
 " For several years, I suspect. Mr. Ha}^nes 
 has, no doubt, found it very profitable." 
 
 "Shall I close up the case again, sir? ' asked 
 the workman. 
 
 " Yes, but it is not to go. You may await 
 my further orders." 
 
 The silk was taken out, and replaced in the 
 silk department. 
 
 " So much has been saved, at least," said the 
 merchant. 
 
 " When Mr. Haynes comes back," he said to 
 the usher, " send him to me." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOS. 207 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 BROUGHT TO BAT. 
 
 Mb. Haynes had a private reason for accepting 
 readily the commission to visit Brooklyn. It oc- 
 curred to him at once that it would give him an 
 excellent chance to. call on his real-estate agent, 
 and confer with him upon future investments. 
 For James Haynes had the comfortable conscious- 
 ness that he was a prosperous man. Month by 
 month, and year by year, he was adding largely 
 to his gains, and while he was still a young man 
 he would be rich, if all went well. 
 
 Of course this meant if his peculations re- 
 mained undiscovered. "Why should they not be? 
 He plumed himself on the skill with which he 
 managed to rob his employer. He was no vulgar 
 bungler to break into the store, or enter into an 
 alliance with burglars. Not he ! The property he 
 took was carried off openly before Mr. Hartley's 
 
208 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 very eyes, and he knew nothing of it. He did 
 not even suspect that he was being robbed. Thi? 
 is what Mr. Haynes thought ; but, as we know, 
 he was mistaken. Even now he was in a net ; 
 but did not know it. 
 
 After attending to Mr. Hartley's commission 
 Haynes went to see his broker. The conversation 
 he had with the broker was of a very encouraging 
 character. He was congratulated upon his invest- 
 ments, and assured that they would pay him 
 handsomely. 
 
 James Haynes returned from Brooklyn in a very 
 pleasant mood. 
 
 "A year or two more of life as a clerk, and 
 I will throw off the yoke," he said to himself. 
 " I must be worth at least fifteen thousand dol- 
 lars now, apart from an} T rise in the value of 
 my investments. When I reach twenty-five thou- 
 sand I will resign my position, and go to Europe. 
 I shall than possess an income adequate to my 
 simple wants." 
 
 "Is Mr. Hartley in the counting-room?" he 
 asked, as he reentered the store. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 209 
 
 "Yes, sir, and he wishes to see you." 
 
 "Of course he wants to see me, — to hear my 
 report." 
 
 The merchant looked up as Haynes entered 
 the counting-room. 
 
 "So you are back?" he said, gravely. 
 
 "Yes, sir; I was detained a little, but I ful- 
 filled my commission." 
 
 "That is well." 
 
 Here Haynes made his report. Mr. Hartley 
 listened with an abstracted air, for his thoughts 
 were upon the defalcation of the man before him. 
 
 Finishing his statement, James Haynes turned 
 to leave the office, but his employer called him 
 back. 
 
 " Wait a minute, Mr. Haynes," he said, gravely. 
 " I wish to ask you one or two questions." 
 
 " Certainly, sir." 
 
 " I believe we have transactions with a party 
 in Hartford, with the firm-name of H. L. Davis 
 & Co.?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Haynes, starting and flushing 
 a little. 
 
210 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Is Mr. Davis a relative of yours?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I wonder where he heard that?" 
 llaynes asked himself. " Is there any trouble? 
 Is he behind in his payments?" inquired the 
 clerk. 
 
 "No; he has always settled his bills with 
 commendable promptness." 
 
 " I insisted on that," said Haynes, in a satis- 
 fied tone. "I didn't want you to lose by any 
 connection of mine." 
 
 " And you are quite sure that I have lost 
 nothing by Mr. Davis?" demanded the merchant, 
 regarding Haynes intently. 
 
 The latter changed color. 
 
 "How is that possible," he inquired, "since 
 he has met his pa3 T ments promptly ? " 
 
 " You have personally seen to the packing of 
 Mr. Davis's goods, I believe, Mr. Haynes ? " 
 
 "Well — generally," stammered the rather dis- 
 concerted clerk. 
 
 "At all events, you did so this morning?" 
 
 " Ye-es." 
 
 " After you started for Brooklyn, I had the 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 211 
 
 case opened, and found some patterns of silk not 
 included in the bill." 
 
 " I suppose, there was a mistake," said Haynes, 
 turning pale. 
 
 1 ' You think this has not happened before ? " 
 
 " I am sure of it." 
 
 " Mr. Haynes," said his employer, sternly, 
 "you may as well drop the mask of innocence. 
 I have been robbed systematically for the last 
 three years, and I now understand how it was 
 done. You and Davis, between you, have plun- 
 dered me in an exceedingly ingenious manner. It 
 will go hard with you before a jury." 
 
 "You won't have me arrested!" exclaimed 
 Haynes, his pallor indicating his dismay. 
 
 "Why should I not?" 
 
 " You could prove nothing." 
 
 " I will take my chance of that. Have you 
 nothing more to say?" 
 
 44 1 — though I do not admit that your charge 
 is correct — I am willing to make over to you 
 the greater part of my property, to avoid the 
 scandal of a trial." 
 
212 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " That will not do, Mr. Haynes. Were I to 
 accept this upon such a ground, you could 
 rightfully bring against me a charge of black- 
 mail." 
 
 "What, then, are your terms?" asked Haynes, 
 sullenly. 
 
 " You must write out a confession of your 
 guilt, which I shall put among my private papers, 
 and not make public unless necessary, and in ad- 
 dition you must make over to me property to the 
 amount of ten thousand dollars. It will not make 
 up my losses, but I will accept it as restitution 
 in full." 
 
 Against this James Haynes most strongly 
 protested, alleging that the sum demanded was 
 far beyond the amount of his purloinings ; but 
 finally he yielded, being privately resolved to 
 make his brother-in-law pay one-half of the for- 
 feiture. 
 
 "You will leave my service at the end of the 
 week, Mr. Haynes," said his employer, " and 
 during next week you must attend to the trans- 
 fer." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 213 
 
 "How did he find out?" said Haynes to him- 
 self, as with grave face he went about the duties 
 of the place he was so soon to leave. " If I 
 could find out, 1 would have my revenge." 
 
214 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 AN OPEN ENEMT. 
 
 Frank remained with Mr. Hartley till the guilty 
 clerk left the establishment. This was at the 
 special request of the merchant, who did not care 
 to let Mr. Haynes suspect who had been instru- 
 mental in bringing his guilt to light. 
 
 " I suppose you have no further use for me, 
 now, Mr. Hartley?" said the telegraph boy. 
 
 " Not at present, Frank," said his employer, 
 kindly. 
 
 " Then I will report for duty at the telegraph 
 office." 
 
 " Wait a moment. You have done me a great 
 service." 
 
 " I am glad of that sir," answered Frank, 
 modestly. 
 
 " You have shown uncommon shrewdness and 
 intelligence." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 215 
 
 Frank looked gratified, and expressed his thanks 
 for the compliment. 
 
 "I want to make you a present, in addition 
 to the wages which you receive from the office," 
 said Mr. Hartley. 
 
 " Thank you, sir." 
 
 Mr. Hartley drew from his desk a five-twenty 
 government bond, of one hundred dollars, and 
 handed it to our hero. 
 
 "Do you mean all this for me?" asked Frank, 
 quite overwhelmed by the magnitude of the gift. 
 
 "It is not more than you deserve. I might 
 have given you the money value of the bond ; but 
 I give it to you in this shape, because I hope 
 you will keep it as an investment. It will yield 
 you six dollars interest annually in gold. I hope 
 the time will come when you will have more in- 
 terest in the same way." 
 
 " I hope I shall, sir. I shall feel quite rich 
 now." 
 
 " You are richer in the qualities which have 
 won }'ou this acknowledgment. How do you like 
 the telegraph service ? " 
 
216 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "Very well, sir, for the present. It is much 
 better than being a newsboy." 
 
 " Exactly ; but there are positions you would 
 prefer ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir; I would like to be in some mercantile 
 business, where I might work my way up. In a 
 few years I shall be too old for a telegraph boy, 
 and then I shall be out of place." 
 
 " I will relieve your fears on that score. In 
 six months I shall make some changes in the list 
 of employees. When that time comes I will find 
 a place for you." 
 
 "There is nothing I should like better, sir," 
 said Frank, his face flushing with pleasure. 
 
 "I am satisfied that you will make a useful 
 and intelligent clerk. Until I want you, remain 
 where you are. The discipline of your present 
 office will do you no harm, but will help qualify 
 you for usefulness and success in the mercantile 
 career." 
 
 "Thank you, sir. Now I have something to 
 look forward to I shall work much more cheer- 
 fullv." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOS. 217 
 
 Frank went back to the office, and resumed 
 his ordinary duties. One day he was riding down 
 Broadway in a stage, when he became sensible 
 that he had attracted the attention of a gentle- 
 man sitting opposite. This led him to scan the 
 face of the man who was observing him. He at 
 once recognized Mr. Haynes. 
 
 The stage was not full, and the latter came 
 over, and took a seat next to the telegraph 
 boy. 
 
 "Isn't your name Frank Kavanagh?" he asked, 
 abruptly. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Were you not for a short time in the employ 
 of Mr. Hartley?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Frank, feeling embarrassed, for 
 he knew that he was suspected. 
 
 " I infer from your uniform that you have left 
 Mr. Hartley." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Why did you leave him?" asked Haynes, 
 sharply. 
 
 ' ' Because he had no further occasion for my 
 
218 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 services. Why did you leave him?" asked 
 Frank, in turn. 
 
 James Haynes colored, and looked angry. How- 
 ever, he answered the question. 
 
 " I have other business views," he said, briefly. 
 
 " So have I." 
 
 The next question was also of an embarrassing 
 character. 
 
 "Were you a telegraph boy before you entered 
 Mr. Hartley's employ ? " 
 
 " I was," answered Frank. 
 
 "Were you detailed for duty there?" 
 
 Our hero thought that he had answered ques- 
 tions enough • by this time, and signified as much 
 to his questioner. 
 
 "If I had been," he said, "I shouldn't be 
 permitted to inform a stranger." 
 
 " I have particular reasons for asking the ques- 
 tion," said Haynes. 
 
 "Then you can ask Mr. Hartley, or the super- 
 intendent of my office. Good-morning, sir, I get 
 out here." 
 
 Frank pulled the strap, and got out. But he 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 219 
 
 was not rid of his questioner. Haynes got out too, 
 arid walked beside our hero. 
 
 "I believe," he said, sternly, "that you were 
 sent for to act as a spy on me." 
 
 "What makes you think so?" asked the tele- 
 graph boy, looking him in the eye. 
 
 " There was a difficult}' between Mr. Hartley and 
 nryself, occasioned by a base and groundless charge, 
 concocted by some enemy. I believe that you had 
 something to do with this." 
 
 "I have brought no groundless charge against 
 any one," said Frank. 
 
 " Did you make any report to Mr. Hartley in 
 regard to me?" 
 
 " I must refer you to Mr. Hartley for informa- 
 tion," said Frank. " I have an errand in here ; " 
 and he entered a store in the lower part of 
 Broadway. 
 
 " There is no doubt about it," thought Haynes. 
 
 "That boy was a spy upon me. I have learned 
 all I cared to. I owe you a debt of gratitude 
 for this, Frank Kavanagh, and mean to pay the 
 debt." 
 
220 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 When Frank came out he thought it possible 
 that Haj^nes might be waiting for him ; but thfl 
 disgraced clerk was gone. 
 
 " I suppose he would injure me if he had a 
 chance," thought the telegraph boy. "I won't give 
 him the chance if I can help it." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH. BOY. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 WHAT THE OLD TRUNK CONTAINED. 
 
 Mention has been made of an old trunk be- 
 longing to Frank's father, which had been for- 
 warded to him from the country by his Uncle 
 Pelatiah. It may be mentioned here that our 
 hero's father had been agent of a woollen mill 
 in a large manufacturing town. For a consider- 
 able number of years he had been in receipt of 
 a handsome salarj T , and had lived in good style, 
 but still within his income. He was naturally 
 supposed to possess a comfortable property. 
 
 His death was sudden. He was thrown from a 
 carriage, and, striking his head upon the curb- 
 stone, was picked up senseless, and died uncon- 
 scious. Upon examining into his affairs his ad- 
 ministrator was unable to find any property be- 
 yond what was needed to pay the few debts he 
 left behind him. So it came about that Frank 
 
222 THE TELEGRAPH. BOY. 
 
 was left a penniless orphan. His Uncle Pelatiah 
 was his nearest relative, and to him he was sent. 
 Pelatiah Kavanagh was not a bad man, nor was 
 he intentionally unkind ; but he was very close. 
 All his life he had denied himself, to save money ; 
 and in this he had been ably assisted by his 
 wife, who was even closer and meaner than her 
 husband. It may readily be supposed that it was 
 very disagreeable to both husband and wife to 
 have a penniless nephew thrown upon their care 
 and protection. 
 
 " How could your brother be so thoughtless and 
 inconsiderate as to use up all his money, and 
 leave his son destitute? Didn't he have a hand- 
 some income ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Pelatiah. "He got two thousand 
 dollars a year, and maybe more." 
 
 " You don't say so ! " ejaculated his wife. 
 " He'd ought to have saved two-thirds of it. I 
 declare it's scandalous for a man to waste his 
 substance in that way." 
 
 " My brother was alius free with his money. 
 He wasn't so keerful as you and I be." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 223 
 
 "I should think not, indeed. We dont begin 
 to spend half as much as he did, and now he 
 comes upon us to support bis child." 
 
 " It don't seem right," said Pelatiah. 
 
 "Right? It's outrageous!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Kavanagh, energetically. " I declare I have no 
 patience with such a man. It would only be 
 right to send this boy Frank to the poor-house." 
 
 " The neighbors would talk," protested Pela- 
 tiah, who was half inclined to accept his wife's 
 view, but was more sensitive to the criticism of 
 the community in which he lived. 
 
 "Let 'em talk!" said his more independent 
 " helpmate. It isn't right that this boy should 
 use up the property that we have scraped to- 
 gether for his cousin Jonathan." 
 
 "We must keep him for a while, Hannah; but 
 I'll get rid of him as soon I can consistently." 
 
 With this Mrs. Kavanagh had to be satisfied ; 
 but, during her nephew's stay of two months in 
 the farm-house, she contrived to make him un- 
 comfortable by harsh criticisms of his dead father, 
 whom he had tenderly loved. 
 
224 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " You must have lived very extravagant," she 
 said, " or your father would have left a hand- 
 some property." 
 
 " I don't think we did, Aunt Hannah." 
 
 "You father kept a carriage, — didn't he?" 
 
 " Yes ; he had considerable riding to do." 
 
 "How much help did he keep?" 
 
 " Only one servant in the kitchen, and a stable- 
 boy." 
 
 " There was no need of a boy. You could 
 have done the work in the stable." 
 
 " I was kept at school." 
 
 " Oh, of course ! " sneered his aunt. " You must 
 be brought up as a young gentleman. Our 
 Jonathan never had any such chances, and now 
 you're livin' on him, or about the same. I sup- 
 pose you kept an extravagant table too. What 
 did you generally have for breakfast?" 
 
 So Aunt Hannah continued her catechising, 
 much to Frank's discomfort. She commented 
 severely upon the wastefulness of always having 
 pastry for dinner. 
 
 " We can't afford it," she said, emphatically ; 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 225 
 
 " but then again we don't mean to have our 
 Jonathan beholden to anybody in case your uncle 
 and I are cast off sudden. What did you aave 
 for dinner on Sunday?" 
 
 "Meat and pudding and ice-cream, — that is, in 
 warm weather." 
 
 "Ice-cream!" ejaculated Aunt Hannah, holding 
 up both hands. " No wonder your father didn't 
 leave nothin'. Why, we don't have ice-cream 
 more'n once a year, and now we can't afford to 
 have it at all, since we've got another mouth to 
 feed." 
 
 ' ' I am sorry that you have to stint yourself on 
 my account," replied Frank, feeling rather un- 
 comfortable. 
 
 " I suppose it's our cross," said Mrs. Kavanagh, 
 gloomily; "but it does seem hard that we can't 
 profit by our prudence because of your father's 
 wasteful extravagance." 
 
 Such remarks were very disagreeable to our yonng 
 hero, and it was hard for him to hear his father 
 so criticised. He supposed they must have lived 
 extravagantly, since it was so constantly charged 
 
226 THE TELEGMAPH BOT. 
 
 by those about him, and he felt puzzled to ac- 
 count for his father's leaving nothing. When, aftei 
 two months, his uncle and aunt, who had delib- 
 erated upon what was best to be done, proposed 
 to him to go to New York and try to earn his 
 own living, he caught at the idea. He knew 
 that he might suffer hardships in the new life 
 that awaited him, but if he could support himself 
 in any way he would escape from the cruel taunts 
 to which he was now forced to listen every day. 
 How he reached the city, and how he succeeded, 
 my readers know. "We now come to the trunk, 
 which, some time after its reception, Frank set 
 about examining. 
 
 He found it was filled with clothing belonging 
 to his father. Though a part were in good con- 
 dition it seemed doubtful whether they would be 
 of much service to him. It occurred to him to 
 examine the pockets of the coats. In one he 
 found a common yellow envelope, bearing his 
 father's name. Opening it, he found, to his great 
 astonishment, that it was a certificate of railroad 
 stock, setting forth his father's ownership of one 
 
the teleghapr boy. 227 
 
 hundred shares of the capital stock of the said 
 railway. 
 
 Our hero was greatly excited by his discovery 
 This, then, was the form in which his father had 
 invested his savings. What the shares were worth 
 he had no idea ; but he rejoiced chiefly because 
 now he could defend his father from the charge 
 of recklessly spending his entire income, and sav- 
 ing nothing. He resolved, as soon as he could 
 find time, to visit a Wall-street broker, by whom 
 he had occasionally been employed, and inquire 
 the value of the stock. Two days afterwards the 
 opportunity came, and he availed himself of it at 
 once. 
 
 " Can you tell me the value of these shares, 
 Mr. Glynn?" he asked. 
 
 " They are quoted to-day at one hundred and 
 ten," answered the broker, referring to a list of 
 the day's stock quotations. 
 
 " Do you mean that each share is worth & 
 hundred and ten dollars?" asked Frank, in ex- 
 citement. 
 
 " Certainly. " 
 
228 THE TELEGRAPH. BOY. 
 
 " Then the whole are worth five thousand five 
 hundred dollars ? " 
 
 ' ' Rather more ; for the last semi-annual divi- 
 dend has not been collected. To whom do they 
 belong?" 
 
 "They did belong to my father. Now I sup- 
 pose they are mine." 
 
 " Has your father's estate been administered 
 upon ? " 
 
 ' ' Yes ; but these shares had not then been 
 found." 
 
 "Then some legal steps will be necessary before 
 j t ou can take possession, and dispose of them. I 
 will give you the address of a good lawyer, and 
 advise you to consult him at once." 
 
 Frank did so, and the lawyer wrote to Uncle 
 Pelatiah to acquaint him with the disco very. 
 The news created great excitement at the 
 farm. 
 
 " Why, Frank's a rich boy ! " ejaculated Aunt 
 Hannah. 
 
 " And my brother wasn't so foolishly extrava 
 gant as we supposed." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 229 
 
 "That may be; but with his salary we could 
 have saved more." 
 
 " Perhaps we might ; but these shares are worth 
 almost six thousand dollars. That's a good deal 
 of money, Hannah." 
 
 " So it is, Pelatiah. I'll tell you what we'd better 
 do." 
 
 "AVhat?" 
 
 "Invite Frank to come back and board with 
 us. He can afford to pay handsome board, and 
 it seems better that the money should go to us 
 than a stranger." 
 
 "Just so, Hannah. He could board with us, 
 and go to school." 
 
 " You'd better write and invite him to come. 
 1 alius liked the boy, and if we could have 
 afforded it, I'd have been in favor of keepin' him 
 for nothing." 
 
 "So would I," said his uncle; and he probably 
 believed it, though after what had happened it 
 will be rather difficult for the reader to credit 
 it. 
 
 The letter was written, but Frank had no desire 
 
23U THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 to return to the old farm,' and the society of hia 
 uncle's fajaily. 
 
 "I have got used to the city," he wrote, "and 
 have made a good many friends here. I don't 
 know yet whether I shall take a business posi- 
 tion, or go to school ; but, if the latter, the schools 
 here are better than in the country. I hope to 
 come and see you before long ; but, I would pre- 
 fer to live in New York." 
 
 " He's gettin' uppish," said Aunt Hannah, who 
 was considerably disappointed, for she had made 
 up her mind just how much they could venture 
 to charge for board, and how this would increase 
 their annual savings. 
 
 " I suppose it's natural for a bo} T to prefer the 
 city," said his uncle. 
 
 "If the boy has a chance to handle his money 
 there won't be much of it left by the time he's 
 twenty-one," said Aunt Hannah. " You ought to 
 be his guardian." 
 
 "He has the right to choose his own guardian," 
 said Uncle Pelatiah. " He'll take some city man 
 likely." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 231 
 
 Frank did, in fact, select the lawyer, having 
 learned that he was a man of high reputation 
 for integrity. He offered it to Mr. Bowen ; but 
 that gentleman, while congratulating his young 
 friend upon his greatly improved prospects, said 
 that he was a man of books rather than of 
 business, and would prefer that some other per- 
 son be selected. 
 
 The next thing was to resign his place as 
 telegraph boy, 
 
 " We are sorry to lose you," said the super- 
 intendent. "Your are one of our best boys. 
 Do you wish to go at once?" 
 
 ' ' No, sir ; I will stay till the end of the 
 month." 
 
 "Very well. We shall be glad to have you." 
 
 Three weeks yet remained till the close of the 
 month. It was not loag, but before the time 
 had passed Frank found himself in a very un- 
 pleasant predicament, from no fault of his own, 
 but in consequence of the enmity of the clerk 
 whom he had been instrumental in displacing. 
 
232 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A TRAP, AND WHO FELL INTO IT. 
 
 No one rejoiced more sincerely at Frank's good 
 luck than Mrs. Vivian. Her interest in our hero 
 had increased, and while at first she regarded 
 herself as his patroness she had come now to look 
 upon him as a member of the family. Fred had 
 already returned, and Frank, bearing in mind 
 that he had only been invited to remain during 
 his absence, proposed to find another home, but 
 Mrs. Vivian would not hear of it. 
 
 " No," she said, " Fred needs a } r oung com- 
 panion, and I prefer you to any one I know 
 of." 
 
 As Fred was of his mother's opinion, Frank 
 readily agreed to stay. He occupied a room ad- 
 joining the one assigned to Fred, and during his 
 hours of leir.ure the two were constantly to- 
 gether. 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 235 
 
 ' ' I shall be glad when you leave the telegraph 
 office," said Fred. " Then we can be together 
 more." 
 
 "You may get tired of me." 
 
 "If I do I will let you know." 
 
 Two days afterwards Frank was riding down 
 town in a Sixth-avenue car. Until he had taken 
 his seat he was not aware that James Haynes 
 was a passenger. When a lady who sat between 
 them got out, Haynes moved up, so as to sit 
 next to our hero. 
 
 " I see you are still in the telegraph service," 
 he said. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Frank, briefly. 
 
 " I wonder Mr. Hartley didn't offer you a 
 permanent position in his employ," said Haynes, 
 with a sneer. " Spies are useful sometimes." 
 
 " He may give me a position sometime," said 
 Frank, not regarding the sneer. 
 
 "You earned it," said Haynes, unpleasantly. 
 
 "Thank you," said Frank, knowing that Haynes 
 would be provoked by his appearing to accept 
 the compliment in good faith. 
 
234 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 Haynes scowled, but said no more. lie drew 
 a morning paper from his pocket, and appeared 
 to be absorbed in reading it. 
 
 At Canal street Frank rose to leave the car. 
 He had not yet reached the door, when Hajmes 
 sprang to his feet, followed him quickly, and, 
 grasping him by the arm, said, " Not so fast 
 young man ! Give me back my pocket-book." 
 
 Frank was struck with amazement. 
 
 "What do you mean?" he asked, indignantly. 
 
 "I mean that } T ou have relieved me of my 
 pocket-book. Gentlemen," turning to his fellow- 
 passengers, " I demand that this boy be searched." 
 
 " You can search me if you like," said Frank. 
 "You know very well that your accusation is 
 false." 
 
 " I shall be satisfied if you produce what is 
 in your pockets." 
 
 " That's fair," said a passenger. 
 
 Our hero thrust his hand into his pocket. To 
 his dismay he drew out a Russia-leather pocket- 
 book, of which he knew nothing. 
 
 " That is my pocket-book, gentlemen," said 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 235 
 
 Haynes, triumphantly. "I can tell you exactly 
 what is in it. You will find two five-dollar bills, 
 a two and a one. Be kind enough to examine 
 it, sir." 
 
 The pocket-book was examined, and, of course, 
 Haynes was correct. 
 
 Suspicious glances were directed at poor Frank. 
 Innocent as he was, he was so overwhelmed by 
 the suddenness of the charge, and the apparent 
 proof of it, that he looked confused and embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 "You are beginning early, my boy," said a 
 tall gentleman, in a white cravat, — a clergyman. 
 "It is well that you are checked in the beginning 
 of a guilty career." 
 
 "Sir," said Frank, "I am as innocent as you 
 are. This man is my enemy, and he must have 
 put the pocket-book in my pocket. He threatened 
 some .time since to get me into a scrape." 
 
 " That story is rather too thin," said Haynes, 
 looking around him with a sneer. " You won't 
 find any one here quite verdant enough to believe 
 it." 
 
236 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " There you are mistaken," said a gentleman 
 who was seated directly opposite to Haynes and 
 Frank. " / believe it." 
 
 Haynes scowled at him malignantly. 
 
 " I really don't think it very important what 
 you believe, sir. The boy is evidently a profes- 
 sional thief, and you may belong to the same 
 gang for aught I know. I propose to give him 
 in charge to the next policeman we meet." 
 
 " Do so," said the stranger, coolh r . " I shall 
 be present at his trial, and offer some important 
 testimony." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Haynes, uneasily. " Maj T I ask 
 what it is?" 
 
 "Certainly. I saw you thrust the wallet into 
 the boy's pocket! Of that I am willing to make 
 oath." 
 
 James Haynes turned pale. There was a sudden 
 change in public opinion. It was he who now 
 had become an object of suspicion. 
 
 " Young man," said the clergyman, solemnly, 
 "what could have induced you to enter into such 
 a wicked conspiracy against the poor boy?" 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 237 
 
 " Mind your own business ! " said Haynes, rudely. 
 " It is a lie." 
 
 "It is the truth," said the volunteer witness, 
 calmly. 
 
 Here a policeman became visible from the car- 
 window, leisurely walking his beat on the western 
 sidewalk. 
 
 " There's a policeman," said Frank's new friend. 
 "Call him, and have the boy arrested." 
 
 ' ' He would be cleared by false testimony," 
 said Haynes, sullenly. " I have my money back, 
 and will let him go." 
 
 " Then," said the stranger, rising, and displaying 
 the badge of a detective, " I shall arrest 3 T ou on 
 a charge of conspiracy." 
 
 Haynes was fairly caught in his own trap. 
 
 " This is a put-up job, gentlemen," he said. 
 " Am I to be robbed first, and arrested after- 
 wards for exposing the thief?" 
 
 He looked about him appealingly ; but in 
 vain. Public sentiment was wholly against him 
 now. 
 
 " you ould villain ! " said a stout Irish 
 
238 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 woman, " to try to ruin the poor b'ye. Hangin's 
 too good for you." 
 
 This was rather an extreme sentiment ; but 
 Haynes saw that he was in peril. He gave an 
 unexpected spring, and, reaching the platform, 
 sprang out, running up a side street. 
 
 "Do you know him?" asked the detective of 
 Frank. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " How do you account for his hostility to 
 
 you 
 
 v» 
 
 Frank briefly recounted the story already known 
 to the reader. 
 
 " He can easily be found then." 
 
 " I hope you will not arrest him, sir," said 
 Frank. " He has been pretty well punished already, 
 and I don't think he will trouble me again." 
 
 "If he does, send for me," and the detective 
 handed Frank his card and address. 
 
 " It is fortunate for me," said the telegraph 
 boy, " that you saw him put the mone} r in my 
 pocket." 
 
 "You would have experienced some inconven- 
 
THE TELEGRAPH DOT. 239 
 
 ieuce ; but the story you have told me would 
 have cleared you with the jury." 
 
 " My young friend," said the clergyman, " 1 owe 
 you an apology. I too hastily assumed that } t ou 
 were guilty." 
 
 " It looked like it, sir. You were quite justified 
 in what you said. Mr. Haynes did not appear 
 to relish your remarks to him," added Frank, 
 laughing. 
 
 " His crime was greater and meaner than the 
 one charged upon you. To steal is certainly a 
 grave offence, — yet sometimes it is prompted by 
 necessitj- ; but a deliberate attempt to fasten a 
 false charge upon a fellow-creature is vastly more 
 atrocious." 
 
 "So it is, sir," said the old Irish woman, nod- 
 ding assent vigorously. " I quite agree wid your 
 honor. It is owtracious." 
 
 The passengers smiled at the old woman's 
 mistake; but it was clear that they agreed with 
 her in sentiment. 
 
 Meanwhile the car had been speeding along, and 
 was near its terminus. Frank bethought himself 
 
240 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 that he had been carried considerably beyond his 
 destination. 
 
 He pulled the bell, and, as he got out, he said, 
 " Thank you all for taking my part." 
 
 "We don't quite deserve that," said one of the 
 passengers, after Frank had left the car. " I was 
 at first of opinion that the boy was guilty." 
 
 " We have been saved from doing a great in- 
 justice," said the clergyman. " It should be a 
 lesson to all of us not to be too hast} 7 in our 
 judgments." 
 
 James Haynes in his hurried exit from the car 
 fully believed that he would be pursued and ar- 
 rested. He was relieved to find his fears ground- 
 less. But he was disappointed at the failure of 
 his scheme. He had carefully prepared it, and 
 for several days he had been in readiness to 
 carry it into execution whenever he should meet 
 Frank. This morning had brought the opportu- 
 nity ; but it had miscarried. 
 
 " But for that cursed detective I would have 
 carried the thing through," he muttered. " He 
 spoiled all. I hate that boy ! " 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOT. 241 
 
 But, though revengeful, Haynes was prudent 
 He gave up the thought of injuring Frank be. 
 cause he saw that it would be dangerous to 
 himself. He did not remain long in New York, 
 but soon ioiued his confederate in Hartford. 
 
242 THE TELEGRAPH BOY'. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 FRANK BECOMES A GOOD SAMARITAN. 
 
 The close of the month came, and Frank laid 
 aside his uniform. He was a telegraph boy no 
 more. 
 
 The superintendent shook hands with him cor- 
 dially, and bade him good-by. 
 
 " Come and see us sometimes," he said. " I 
 wish you all success. Your services have been 
 very satisfactory, and you have gained an ex- 
 cellent reputation." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said Frank. "I have tried 
 to do my duty. Good-by, boys!" 
 
 He shook hands with all his 3*oung comrades, 
 with whom he was very popular. They knew of 
 his good fortune, and were disposed to regard 
 him as very rich. Six thousand dollars in a 
 boy's eyes is a fortune. 
 
 " Now you're rich, Frank, I suppose you won't 
 notice the likes of us," said Johnny O'Connor. 
 
THE TELEGRAP/I BOY. 243 
 
 " I hope you don't think as badly of me as 
 that, Johnny," said Frank, earnestly. " I am not 
 rich ; but, even if I were, I should always be 
 glad to meet any of you. If I am ever able to 
 do a favor to any of you I will." 
 
 "I believe you, Frank," said Johnny. "You 
 was always a good feller." 
 
 "Where's Tom Brady?" asked Frank, looking 
 about him. "Is he out on an errand?" 
 
 "Tom's sick," said the superintendent. "He's 
 got a fever." 
 
 " It's bad for him," said Johnny, " for his 
 mother and sister depended on Tom's wages. 
 Poor Tom felt bad because he had to give up 
 work." 
 
 "Where does he live?" asked Frank, with 
 quick sympathy. 
 
 " No. — East Fourteenth street," answered 
 Johnny. "I know, because I live in the same 
 block." 
 
 " I'll go and see him." 
 
 Frank's heart was not hardened by his own 
 prosperity. He knew wha'. it was to be pooi^ 
 
211 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 and could enter into the feelings of the unfor- 
 tunate telegraph boy. 
 
 Half an hour found him in front of a large 
 tenement-house, in front of which were playing 
 children of all ages, most of them showing in 
 their faces that unhealthy pallor which so gener- 
 ally marks a tenement-house population. 
 
 "Do you know where Mrs. Brady lives?" asked 
 Frank of a girl of twelve. 
 
 "Which Brady is it?" asked the girl. "There's 
 three lives here." 
 
 " It's Tom Brady's mother," answered our hero. 
 
 "Is it Tom, the telegraph bo}^?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "I'll show you then. Tom's been sick for some 
 time." 
 
 ' I know it. I have- come to see him." 
 'Do you know Tom?" asked the girl, in some 
 surprise ; for Frank, having laid aside his uniform, 
 was handsomely d/essed, and looked like the son 
 of a rich man. 
 
 " Yes, Tom is a friend of mine. I am sorry 
 he's sick." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 245 
 
 Up two flights of rickety stairs Frank followed 
 the girl, who halted before a door. 
 
 " That's the place," said his young guide, and 
 disappeared down the stairs, sliding down the 
 banisters. Young ladies in the best society do 
 not often indulge in this amusement, but Mary 
 Murphy knew little of etiquette or conventionality. 
 
 In answer to Frank's knock, the door was 
 opened by Mrs. Brady, a poorly clad and care- 
 worn woman. 
 
 "What is 3 r our wish, young gentleman?" she 
 said. 
 
 "I've come to see Tom. How is he?" 
 
 "Do you know my Tom?" asked Mrs. Bvady, 
 in surprise. 
 
 "Yes; is he very sick?" 
 
 " The poor boy has got a fever." 
 
 "Can I see him?" 
 
 "If you'll come into such a poor place, sir. 
 We're very poor, and now that Tom's wages is 
 stopped I don't know how we'll get along at 
 all." 
 
 "Better than you think, perhaps, Mrs. Brady," 
 
246 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 said Frank, cheerfully. "Why, Tom, what made 
 you get sick?" 
 
 He had entered the room, and reached the bed 
 on which the sick boy was lying. 
 
 Tom looked up in surprise and pleasure. 
 
 " Is it }'Ou, Frank?" he said. "I'm glad you've 
 come to see me. But how did you find me 
 out?" 
 
 " Johnny O'Connor told me where you lived. 
 How long have you been sick ? " 
 
 " Three days. It's rough on a poor boy like 
 me. I ought to be earning money for my 
 mother." 
 
 " We'll miss Tom's wages badly," said Mrs. 
 Brad}" ; " I can't earn much myself, and there's 
 three of us to feed, let alone the rint." 
 
 "How did you get off, Frank?" asked Tom. 
 
 "I've left the office." 
 
 "Was this young gentleman a telegraph boy?"' 
 asked Mrs. Brad} 7 , in surprise. 
 
 "Yes," said Tom; "but he's come into a for- 
 tune, and now he won't have to work." 
 
 " I'm sure I'm glad of his srood luck, and it's 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 247 
 
 a great condesciasion for a rich young gentleman 
 to come and see my Tom." 
 
 " I have come into some money, but not a 
 fortune, Mrs. Brady," said Frank ; " but it does not 
 make me any better than when I was a poor 
 telegraph boy." 
 
 Evidently Mrs. Brady was not of this opinion, 
 for she carefully dusted with her apron the best 
 chair in the room, and insisted on Frank's seat- 
 ing himself in it. 
 
 "Have }'ou had a doctor, Mrs. Brady?" asked 
 Frank. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "What does he say?" 
 
 " He says that Tom will be sick for three or 
 four weeks, and I don't know what we'll do with- 
 out his wages all that time." 
 
 "That's what troubles me," said Tom. "I 
 wouldn't mind it so much if I'd get my pay 
 reg'lar while I'm sick." 
 
 "Then you needn't be troubled, Tom," said 
 Frank, promptly, " for you shall get it regu- 
 larly." 
 
248 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 " They won't give it to me," said Tom, in- 
 credulously. 
 
 "They won't, but I will." 
 
 ' ' Do you mean it, Frank ? " 
 
 " Certainly I do. I will give you a week's 
 pay this morning, and I will call every week, 
 and pay you the same." 
 
 "Do 3 t ou hear that, mother?" said Tom, joy- 
 fully. 
 
 "God bless you, young gentleman, for your 
 kindness to us ! " said Mrs. Brady, gratefully. 
 
 "Oh, it isn't much," said Frank; " I can spare 
 it well enough. I have had such good luck my- 
 self that I ought to do something for those who 
 need it." 
 
 "You're a good feller, Frank," said Tom, 
 warmly. " I'll get well quick now. If you ever 
 want anybody to fight for you, just call on Tom 
 Brady." 
 
 " I generally do my own fighting, Tom," said 
 Frank, laughing, "but I'll remember your offer. 
 When you are well, you must come and spend 
 an evening with me." 
 
THE TELEGliAPH. BOY. 249 
 
 " I'm sure he'll be proud to do the aaine," 
 said Mrs. Brady. 
 
 " I must bid you good-by, now, Tom. Keep a 
 ' stiff upper lip,' and don't be down-hearted. We 
 must all be sick sometimes, you know, and you'll 
 soon be well." 
 
 "I won't be down-hearted now," said Tom, 
 " with my wages comiu' in reg'lar. Remember 
 me to the boys, Frank." 
 
 "I will, Tom." 
 
 When Frank reached home he found a large, 
 overgrown boy, with big red hands, and clothes 
 of rural cut, who apparently did not know what 
 to do with his legs and arms, waiting to see 
 him. 
 
 It was his cousin Jonathan. 
 
250 THE TELEGRAPH. BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A COUNTRY COUSIN. 
 
 Jonathan was a loose-jointed, heavily built, and 
 awkward bo} T of seventeen, bearing not the slight- 
 est resemblance to his cousin Frank. Still he 
 was a relation, and our hero was glad to see 
 him. 
 
 "How are 3 r ou, Jonathan?" said Frank, cor- 
 dially. "I wasn't expecting to see you. Are 
 all well at home?" 
 
 " They're pooty smart," answered Jonathan. 
 " I thought I'd come down and look round a 
 little." 
 
 " I shall be glad to show you round. Where 
 would you like to go? — to Central Park? 
 
 " I don't care much about it," said the coun- 
 try cousin. " It's only a big pasture, dad says. 
 I'd rather go round the streets. Is there any 
 place where I can buy a few doughnuts? I feel 
 kinder empty." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 25 i 
 
 "Do you prefer doughnuts to anything else?" 
 asked Frank, with a smile. 
 
 "I hear they're cheap, — only a cent apiece," 
 answered Jonathan, " and I calc'late five or six 
 will be enough to fill me up." 
 
 " You needn't mind the expense, cousin ; I 
 shall pay for your dinner." 
 
 Jonathan's heavy face lighted up with satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 "I don't care if you do," he said. "I hear 
 you've got a lot of money now, Frank." 
 
 "I shall have enough to make me comfortable, 
 and start me in business." 
 
 " I wish I had as much money as you," said 
 Jonathan, longingly. 
 
 " You are all right. Some time you will have 
 more than I." 
 
 " I don't know about that. Dad keeps me 
 awful close." 
 
 "You have all you want, don't you?" 
 
 " I've got some money in the bank," said 
 Jonathan, "but I'd like to put in more. I 
 lever thought you'd have more money than I." 
 
252 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 "You used to tell me I ought to go to the 
 poor-house," said Frank, smiling. 
 
 " That's because you was livin' on dad, you 
 know," explained Jonathan. "It wasn't fair to 
 me, because he wouldn't have so much to leave 
 me." 
 
 In the country Frank had not found much 
 satisfaction in the company of his cousin, who 
 inherited the combined meanness of both parents, 
 and appeared to grudge poor Frank every mouth- 
 ful he ate ; but in the sunshine of his present 
 prosperity he was disposed to forgive and forget. 
 
 Frank led the way to a restaurant not far 
 away, where he allowed his cousin to order an 
 ample dinner, which he did without scruple, since 
 he was not to pa} T for it. 
 
 "It costs a sight to live in the city," he said, 
 as he looked over the bill of fare. 
 
 "It costs something in the country, too, Jona- 
 than." 
 
 " I wish you'd come and board with dad. 
 He'd take you for five dollars a week, and it 
 will cost you more in New York." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 253 
 
 " Yes, it will cost me more here." 
 
 "Then you'll come, won't you? You'll be com- 
 pany for me." 
 
 Frank doubted whether Jonathan would be 
 much company for him. 
 
 "You didn't use to think so, Jonathan." 
 
 "You couldn't pay your board then." 
 
 " Now that I can I prefer to remain :n v he 
 city. I mean to go to school, and get a good 
 education." 
 
 " How much do you have to pay for board 
 here?" 
 
 " I can't tell what I shall have to pa}*. At 
 present I am staying with friends, and pay 
 nothing." 
 
 " Do }'ou think they'd take me for a week the 
 same way?" asked Jonathan, eagerly. "I'd like 
 to stay a week first-rate if it didn't cost nothing." 
 
 " I shouldn't like to ask them ; but some time 
 I will invite you to come and pay me a visit 
 of a week ; it shall not cost you anything." 
 
 " You're a real good feller, Frank," said Jon- 
 athan, highly pleased by the invitation. "I'll 
 
254 THE TRLEQKAPH BOY. 
 
 come any time you send for me. It's pretty high 
 payin' on the railroad, but I guess I can come." 
 
 Frank understood the hint, but did not feel 
 called upon to pay his cousin's railway fare in 
 addition to his week's board. 
 
 "What do you think of that?" asked Jonathan, 
 presently, displaying a huge ring on one of his 
 red fingers. 
 
 " Is that something you have bought in the 
 city ? " asked Frank. 
 
 "Yes," answered his cousin, complacently. "I 
 got it at a bargain." 
 
 "Did you buy it in a jewelry store?" 
 
 " No ; I'll tell you how it was. I was goin' 
 along the street, when . I saw a well-dressed fel- 
 ler, who looked kinder anxious. He come up to 
 me, and he said, ' Do you know any one who 
 wants to buy a splendid gold ring cheap?' 
 Then he told me he needed some money right 
 off to buy vittles for his family, bein' out of 
 work for a month. He said the ring cost him 
 fifteen dollars, and he'd sell it for three. I wasn't 
 goin' to pay no such price, and I finally beat 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOV. 255 
 
 him down to a dollar," said Jonathan, chuckling. 
 "I guess that's doing pretty well for one day 
 He said any jeweller would pay me six or 
 seven dollars for it." 
 
 "Then why didn't he sell it to a jeweller him 
 self, instead of giving it to you for a dollar?" 
 
 "I never thought of that," said Jonathan, look- 
 ing puzzled. 
 
 "I am afraid it is not so good a bargain as 
 you supposed," said Frank. 
 
 Great drops of perspiration came out on Jona- 
 than's brow. 
 
 "You don't think it's brass, do you?" he 
 gasped. 
 
 " Here is a jewelry store. We can go in and 
 inquire." 
 
 They entered the store, and Frank, calling at- 
 tention to the ring, inquired its probable value. 
 
 " It might be worth about three cents," said 
 the jeweller, laughing. "I hope } r ou didn't give 
 much more for it." 
 
 "I gave a dollar," said Jonathan, in a voice 
 which betrayed his anguish. 
 
256 THE 1EZEGHAPJ2 £01. 
 
 " Of whom did you buy it?" 
 
 "Of a man in tne street." 
 
 "Served you right, then. You should have 
 gone to a regular jewelry store." 
 
 " The man said it cost him fifteen dollars," 
 said Jonathan, sadly. 
 
 "I dare say. He was a professional swindler, 
 ao doubt." 
 
 "I'd like to give him a lickin'," said Jonathan, 
 wrathfully, as they left the store. 
 
 "What would you do if you was me?" he 
 asked of his cousin. 
 
 ' ' Throw it away." 
 
 ' ' I wouldn't do that. Maybe I can sell it up 
 in the country," he said, his face brightening up 
 
 ' ' For how much ? " 
 
 " For what I gave." 
 
 " But that would be swindling." 
 
 " No, it wouldn't. I have a right to ask as 
 much as I gave. It's real handsome if it ia 
 brass." 
 
 ' I don't think that would be quite honest, 
 J lathan." 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 257 
 
 " You wouldn't have me lose the dollar, would 
 
 you? That would be smart." 
 
 " I would rather be honest than be smart." 
 Jonathan dropped the subject, but eventually 
 
 he sold the ring at home for a dollar and a 
 
 quarter. 
 
258 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 After he had accompanied his cousin to the 
 depot, where he took the cars for home, Frank 
 met Victor Dupont, on Madison avenue. 
 
 "Where's your uniform?" he asked. 
 
 " T have taken it off." 
 
 ' ' Aint you a telegraph boy any longer ? " 
 
 "No, I have left the office." 
 
 " They turned you off, I suppose," said Victor, 
 with a sneer. 
 
 " They would like to have had me stay longer,' 
 said Frank, with a smile. 
 
 Victor shrugged his shoulders incredulously. 
 
 "Are you going back to your old business of 
 selling papers?" he asked. 
 
 "I think not." 
 
 ' ' What are you going to do for a living ? " 
 
 '* I am much obliged to you for your interes* 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 259 
 
 in my affairs, Victor ; I don't mean to go to work 
 al all at present, — I am going to school." 
 
 " How are you going to pay your expenses, 
 then?" asked Victor, in surprise. 
 
 " I have had some money left me." 
 
 ' ' Is that so ? How much ? " 
 
 "Some thousands of dollars, — enough to support 
 me while I am getting an education." 
 
 "Who left it to you?" 
 
 " My father left it, but I have only just 
 received it." 
 
 "You are awfully lucky," said Victor, evidently 
 annoyed. "Are you going to live with the 
 Vivians?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "I shouldn't think you would. It would be 
 imposing upon them." 
 
 " Thank you for your kind advice. "Won't you 
 take me to board at your house ? " 
 
 "We don't take boarders," said Victor, haughtily. 
 
 It so happened that Frank entered himself as 
 a scholar at the school where Victor was a 
 student, and was put in the same class. Frank at 
 
260 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 once took a higher place, and in time graduated 
 with the highest honors, while Victor came out 
 nearly at the foot. 
 
 Frank did remain with the Vivians ; they would 
 not hear of his leaving them, nor would they 
 permit him to pay any board. 
 
 " You are a companion for Fred," said Mrs. 
 Vivian, "and you exert a good influence over 
 him. Having your company, he does not wish to 
 seek society outside. You must let me look upon 
 you as one of my boys, and accept a home 
 with us." 
 
 Against this, Frank could urge no objection. 
 He was offered a home far more attractive than 
 a boarding-house, which his presence made more 
 social and attractive. Having no board to provide 
 for, the income of his little property was abundant 
 to supply his other wants, and, when he left 
 school, it was unimpaired. 
 
 It was a serious question with our hero whether 
 he would continue his studies through a collegiate 
 course. He finally decided in the negative, and 
 accepted a good position in the mercantile estab- 
 
THE TELEGRAPH BO 7. 261 
 
 lishment of Mr. Hartley. Here he displayed such 
 intelligence and aptitude for business that he rose 
 rapidly, and in time acquired an interest in the 
 firm, and will in time obtain a junior partnership. 
 It must not be supposed that all this came 
 without hard work. It had always been Frank's 
 custom to discharge to the utmost of his ability 
 the duties of any position in which he was placed. 
 To this special trait of our hero, most of his 
 success was owing. 
 
 Our hero had the satisfaction of giving a place 
 to his companion in the telegraph office, Tom 
 Brady, who was in time able to earn such a 
 salary as raised his mother and sister above 
 want. Frank did not forget his old street com- 
 rade, Dick Rafferty, but gave him a position as 
 porter, Dick's education not being sufficient to 
 qualify him for a clerkship. He even sought out 
 old Mills, the blind man, to whom he had small 
 reason to feel grateful ; but found that the old 
 man had suddenly died, leaving behind him, to 
 the surprise of every one who knew him, several 
 Vundred dollars in gold and silver, which were 
 
262 THE TELEGRAPH BOY. 
 
 claimed by a sister of the deceased, to whom 
 they were most acceptable. 
 
 Here end the experiences of the Telegraph Boy. 
 He has been favored above most of his class ; 
 but the qualities which helped him achieve success 
 are within the reach of all. Among the busy little 
 messengers who flit about the city, in all directions, 
 there are some, no doubt, who will in years to 
 come command a success and prosperity as great 
 as our hero has attained. In a republic like our 
 own, the boy who begins at the bottom of the 
 ladder may in time reach the highest round. 
 
 THE EKD. 
 
II