I >\t-l!BRARY 1 ir" s S H I I* S " s- ^ $ &AVHaiB^ ^lOS-ANCElfx, J^ - I 3 '$. & I I I I ^r Shifting for Himself OR GILBERT GREYSON'S FORTUNE BY HORATIO ALGER, JR. AUTHOR OF "BOUND TO RISE," "SLOW AND SURE," "RISEN FROM THE RANKS," "JULIUS, THE STREET BOY," ETC., ETC., CHICAGO M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY SHIFTING FOR HIMSELF CHAPTER I. TWO SCHOOLFELLOWS. Dr. Burton's boarding school was in a ferment of hope and expectation. To-morrow was the end of the term, and vacation, so dear to the heart of every schoolboy, was close at hand. The school was not a large one. There were twenty- four boarding pupils, and an equal number of day scholars from the village of Westville, in which the school had been established twenty years before. It was favorably ' situated, being only forty miles from Jew York. Half the boarding scholars were from the city, and half from distant places. Generally two or three pupils were sent ' to college each year, and, as the principal was a thorough , [scholar, maintained a creditable, often a high rank. The school session was over, and the boys separated into [little knots. The day scholars mostly went home, carry- : | ing their books under their arms. Among the little knots we must direct particular atten- j tion to two boys, one a boarding scholar, the other a day j scholar.' The first was n-jlhprt. Greysnn, a handsome, spirited boy of sixteen; the oher, John Munford, of about j cr!O'7Q" ** 6 Two Schoolfellows. the same age, and much more plainly dressed. John was the son of a carpenter, of limited means, and had already begun to learn his father's business. But the father was sensible of the advantages of education, and had permitted his son to spend six months of each year at school, on condition that he would work the balance of the time. This arrangement seemed fair to John, and he took care, whether he studied or worked, to do both in earnest. "How do you feel about vacation, John ?" asked Gilbert. "I was in no hurry to have it come, Gilbert It is likely to be a very long vacation to me." "How so?" "I have got through my school life." "What ! Are you not coming back next term ?" asked Gilbert, with evident disappointment, for John was his most intimate friend. "Neither next term, nor any other term, Gilbert, I am sorry to say." "Have you finished your education, then?" "So far as school goes." "I am sorry for that. I shall miss you more than any one else." "We shall still meet, I hope. I shall be at work ; but ere will be times in the evening when we can see each other." "No doubt; but that won't be like sitting at the same desk, and studying together. You had better let me ask your father to send you one more year." John shook his head. "No, Gilbert, it ought not to be. My father is poor. Two Schoolfellows. 7 you know, and it has been a sacrifice to him to spare me half the year thus far. Now, I must go to work in ear- nest, and perfect myself in my trade, that I may relieve him of all expense on my account." "I suppose you are right, John; but I shall miss you none the less. Somehow I never could be reconciled to your becoming a carpenter. You are not cut out for it." "Don't you think I will make a good one ?" asked John, smiling. "I am sure you will; but that isn't the question. Do you think you are better fitted for that than for anything else?" "No, I don't" "Do you prefer that trade to any other business ?" "No ; but I can't choose for myself. I should rather be a teacher, or a lawyer ; but there is small chance for either.' For either I should be obliged to study years, and I cant afford to do that. A carpenter I am to be, and I will try to make a good one. Now, your case is different. You are going to school next year, I suppose ?" "Yes, I suppose so. That is as my guardian determines, and no letter has been received from him yet. I believe Dr. Burton is expecting one to-day or to-morrow." "You won't spend the summer here, I suppose, Gilbert?" "I am hoping to make a little tour, as I did last year.** "You went to the White Mountains then." "Yes, and had a jolly good time." "Where will you go this year?" "I want to go to Niagara, stopping on the way at Sara- 8 Two Schoolfellows. toga. I have estimated that I can do it for a hundred dollars the same that my last summer's trip cost me." "It must be splendid to travel," said John, enthusias- tically. "I mean to see something of the world some day, though I suspect that I shall be a pretty old boy before I am able to. I have no guardian to send me money. I must earn my money before I spend it." "I never earned a dollar in my life," said Gilbert. "I wonder how it would seem if I had to support myself, and make my own way in the world." "It would seem hard at first. It comes natural to me; but then I have been differently brought up from you." "I rather envy you, John," said Gilbert, thoughtfully. "You are so much more self-reliant, so much better able to take care of yourself." "It's the difference in the training, Gilbert. I've not doubt it's in you; but circumstances have never brought it out. You expect to go to Yale College a year hence, don't you?" "I expect to ; at least, that has been Dr. Burton's plan ; but my guardian has never expressed his opinion. He has simply given his consent to my pursuing the course preparatory to entrance. I presume I shall go, however." "What sort of a man is your guardian?" "I have never seen much of him. He lives in the city, you know ; but he never seemed to care to have me in his home much. He is a merchant, and appears to be wealthy. At any rate, he lives in a fine house uptown, and keeps up ft good style of living." ippiinted him your guardian?" Two Schoolfellows. 9 *1 don't know. I suppose my father." "Is your father living ?" "I don't know." "Don't know !" exclaimed John, opening his eyes. "It seems strange to you; but I cannot give any ex planation. My guardian tells me I shall know some time; meanwhile I am to ask no questions." "Did that satisfy you?" "No ; but when I pressed my question, I was silenced. 1 was told that I must be satisfied with being so well pro- vided for, without trying to penetrate into matters thai did not concern me." "I should think it did concern you." "So I do think ; but there is no use in thinking about it It would only perplex me to no purpose." "I can't put myself in your place at all. To me it seems so natural to have a father and mother and sister. How lonely you must feel !" "I have never been used to them. And that makes a difference. Sometimes, to be sure, I begin to think over the matter, and wish that I had ties like other boys ; but it doesn't last long. But here we are at your home." "Come in a minute, Gilbert." "I don't know if I ought I shall be late to supper, and the doctor wouldn't like that" "Take supper with us." "Yes, take supper with us," echoed John's mother, a pleasant, motherly-looking woman, who heard her son's words of invitation as he opened the door. Gilbert hesitated. io Two Schoolfellows. The little table spread for tea looked so much more comfortable and homelike than the long table at the doc- tor's, that he was strongly tempted. "We may not have as nice a supper as the doctor," con- tinued Mrs. Munford, "but you may not mind that for once." "You give the doctor's table too much credit," said Gilbert, smiling. "He doesn't mean to pamper any of tts, or make us gluttons. I would a great deal rather JBke supper here." "Then stay, Gilbert." "I will," said Gilbert, in a tone of quick decision. "If lie doctor scolds, why, let him." "He won't feel anxious about your not being back, will he?" asked Mrs. Munford. "No; he knows I can take pretty good care of myself. Besides, it will be a saving to him, all the more because I have a very good appetite." All laughed, for Dr. Burton, though on the whole a very worthy man, had the reputation of being what New Englanders call close. It was thought that he was more economical than he needed to be. At any rate, he had made his school profitable, and was assessed for a very considerable sum in the list of village property holders. "How do you do, Mary?" said Gilbert, offering his hand to a girl of ten, John's sister, who just then entered the room. "Pretty well," said Mary, shyly. "Don't blush so, Mary," said John, teasing her, as brothers are apt to do. Two Schoolfellows. II "I wasn't blushing," said Mary, indignantly. "Just because Gilbert spoke to you." "You are too bad, John," said his mother. "How soon will supper be ready, mother ?" asked John. "In half an hour. Why, are you very impatient ?" "No ; but I thought there might be time for Gilbert and me to have a catch in the yard." "I'll tell you of a better way of filling up your time." "What is that?" "I am almost out of wood. Can't you saw me up a Httle?" "I am afraid it will be dull to Gilbert to look on," said John. "I don't propose to look on. You shall saw and I will split." "I don't like to set a visitor to work," said Mrs. Mun- ford. "I didn't expect you to work for your supper." "I shall enjoy it all the more. Come along, John, You'll see what execution I will make with your wood pile." As the two boys passed out into the woodshed, Mrs. Munford saidjf "I like Gilbert. Though he is rich, he doesn't put on airs, but makes himself at home even vnong such plain people as we a CHAPTER IL THE GUARDIAN'S LETTER. When supper was over, the boys took a walk, bringing round by the large, square house occupied by Dr. Burton for his boarding school. They had got within a few rods when John observed one of the younger boys run- ning toward them. "There's little Evans," he said "He looks as if he had a message for you, Gilbert." "From the doctor, I suppose. I'm in for a scolding, probably." By this time Evans had reached them. "You're wanted, Greyson," he said. "Why weren't yoo home to supper?" "Is the doctor mad?" "I don't know. He seems anxious to see you." "All right. Then I'll go in. I must bid you good* night, John. Business before pleasure, you know, Of rather business after pleasure." "I hope the business won't be serious." "I hope not. Good-night" "Good-night, Gilbert/' There was a small room, about twelve feet square, which was known as Dr. Burton's study. There was a desk beside the window, and book shelves occupying the sides of the room. Hither it was that refractory or dis- obedient pupils were summoned, to receive admonition The Guardian's Letter. 13 from the principal. In his early experience as teacher he had employed a sterner sort of discipline, but later he had substituted words for blows very wisely, as I think. Gilbert went at once to the doctor's study. Dr. Burton was a tall, spare man, with strongly marked features, and on the whole rather a stern face. He looked toward the door as Gilbert opened it. "Good-evening, sir," said Gilbert. "You were absent from supper without notice or per- mission, Greyson/' the doctor began. "Yes, sir." "Where were you?" "I walked home with John Munford, and was invited to take supper there." "I should have had no objection, if you had asked me. John Munford is one of my most reliable pupils, both in study and deportment." Gilbert was pleased at this commendation of his friend. "I hope you will excuse me for absence without per- mission," he said, apologizing with a good grace. "You are excused, Greyson." Supposing that the interview was over, Gilbert bowed, tnd was about to leave the room, but was stopped by the doctor. "Stay," he said ; "I have something more to say to you." "What else have I done ?" thought Gilbert, in surprise, "Sit down," said the teacher. Gilbert seated himself. "How long have you been here, Greyson ?" "Six years, sir." 14 The Guardian's Letter, "In a year more you would be ready for college," said the doctor, musing. "Why does he say 'would'? Why not 'will'?" thought Greyson. "Am I to go to college?" asked Gilbert. "I thought it probable; but I have just learned that your guardian has other views for you." "Have you a letter from my guardian?" asked Gilbert, eagerly. "Yes; it only reached me this afternoon. Would you like to read it ?" "Very much, sir.'* "Here it is," said Dr. Burton, opening his desk, and drawing therefrom a letter inclosed in a buff envelope. Gilbert quickly reached out for it. This was the material portion of the letter, which Gil- bert read with hurried interest: "Circumstances will not permit my ward remaining with you another year. I may say plainly that, should he do so, I should be compelled to defray the expense out of my own pocket, and consideration for my own family will not justify me in doing that. I have never, as you know, promised positively that he should go to college. It was barely possible that funds would be forthcoming which would admit of such a course ; but it is now quite certain that there is no chance of it. "He has already, as I should judge from your letters, considerably more than an average education more, in- deed, than I had when I began my career and he oticrht to be satisfied with that. He has led an easy life hitherto. Now it is time that he did something for himself. Upon The Guardian's Lette*. 15 receipt of this letter, will you, as soon as may be, send him to me in New York? I will then confer with him as to bis future plans." This letter was signed Richard Briggs. Gilbert read it with a mixture of feelings. He was making an unpleasant discovery. Though he knew little about his own affairs, he had always cherished the idea / that he had considerable property, and that his path in life would be smoothed as only money can smooth it. He was not especially fond of money, nor did he ever presume on its supposed possession, but it was certainly comfort- able to think that he was not poor. Now it appeared that he had been all his life under a mistake. He was not a favored child of fortune, after all, but a poor boy as poor, very likely, as his friend, John Munford, from whom he had just parted. No wonder he looked, with some bewilderment, in the doctor's face when he had completed reading the letter. The doctor, though a stern man, felt for the boy's disap- pointment. He, too, had been under the impression that Gilbert was at least comfortably provided for. "Well, Greyson," he said, "I suppose this letter sur- prises you?" "Yes, sir, it does," answered Gilbert, slowly. "I al- ways supposed that I had money to depend upon." "I don't like to reflect upon your guardian, but it seems to me he ought to have apprised you beforehand of what you- had to expect." "I wish he had." l6 The Guardian's Letter "Do you feel very much disappointed ?" asked the doc- tor, eying his pupil with interest. "Considerably, sir. It is hard to fancy myself a poor boy, with my own way to make in the world." "It might have been worse. You have, as your guard- ian suggests, more than an average education." "Thanks to you, sir." "And to your own application," added the doctor, grati- fied by this tribute. "I am glad you think so, sir. I hope it will help me in life." ".Undoubtedly it will. Besides, you will have the in- fluence of your guardian to assist you. He will probably procure you a good place in some counting room. "I wish he had told me something about myself ; where the money came from which had paid my bills hitherto." Gilbert looked inquiringly at the doctor, as if to ask whether he could throw any light upon these points. But he was destined to be disappointed, for the doctor said: "He has not seen fit to take me into his confidence. I know no more than you do on this subject. Perhaps, in your approaching interview with him, he may give you information on the subject." "I will ask him, at all events," said Gilbert. "When do you think it best that I should leave, Dr. Burton?" "He wishes you to be sent 'as soon as may be,' " said the doctor, consulting the letter. "I should think you had better go to-morrow, or the next day." "I will go to-morrow," said Gilbert, promptJ v "Can ya'-i _,. ready so soon?" The Guardian's Letter. 17 "I will pack to-night, sir." "That shall be as you wish. If you would prefer to Wait till another day, you can, of course, do so." "Thank you, sir; but I want to see my guardian as soon as possible. Will you permit me, as the cars start early to-morrow, to go to-night and bid good-by to John Mun- ford?" Under ordinary circumstances Dr. Burton would have declined this application, but he felt that it was only nat- ural, and he gave the required permission without hesita- tion. John Munford was astonished when, on opening the front door, he saw the schoolfellow from whom he had so recently parted. "What's the matter, Gilbert?" he asked; "has anything happened?" "Yes," answered Gilbert "Get your hat and take walk with me. I'll tell you on the way." CHAPTER III. RICHARD BRIGGS. Gilbert told his story briefly. "So, you see," he said, in conclusion, "my position is like yours, after all. I am thrown upon my own exer- tions, and must face the world without the help of money." "I'm truly sorry," said John, in a tone of sympathy. "Thank you, John ; I knew you would be ; but do you know, I am not sure whether I am so very sorry my- self." "But it must be hard for you to give up the hope of wealth." "I needn't give up the hope," said Gilbert, "only if the hope is to be realized I shall have to make it for myself. As far as that goes, I am no worse off than you ; but tbex? is one advantage you have over me." "You are a better scholar than I am." "I don't mean that. You have a father, and mother, and sister to encourage you, while I have no one." "You have a friend, Gilbert; but he can't help you much." "I know that, old fellow. You have been my most in- timate friend for the last three years, and I hope and be- lieve that our friendship is going to last. But I can't help feeling alone in the world." "Why don't you ask your guardian about your father ?" "I mean to; but I don't believe he will tell me." Richard Briggs. 19 "Have you any idea what views he has for you?" "Not the slightest. I suppose he will provide me with a place somewhere." "Then you are entirely in the dark as to your pros- pects ?" "Entirely so." "I wish you would write to me, Gilbert, after you arc settled. I shall want to know all about it." "I will certainly write. In fact, you will be my only correspondent. You must write me about yourself, too." "There won't be much to write. My life will be un- eventful. But you may like to hear news of the village and the school, that is, after vacation is over. I'll write all that I think will interest you." "Thank you. You may be sure I shall want to hear. And now, John, I must bid you good-night, and good-by, for I am to start early in the morning, and have not yet packed my trunk." "Good-night, then. Take care of yourself, Gilbert." "The same to you, John." So the two boys parted, but they saw each other once more. As Gilbert was about to get into the cars, John came up hurriedly and gave him a farewell shake of the hand. "He's a capital fellow," thought Gilbert. "I hope he'll have good luck, and that we shall meet again soon." An hour and a half brought our hero to the city. He stepped upon the platform, and, getting upon a horse car, rode downtown to his guardian's office. He had a fb* Richard Briggs. check for ht trunk, but did not claim it at once, not feel- tng certain what would be his destination. In a busy street, not five minutes' walk from Wall Street, was the office of Richard Briggs. Gilbert had no trouble in finding it, for he had been, there before. Now, however, he had a new feeling as he entered the hand- somely fitted up room. He was no longer the wealthy ward, but as it appeared the humble dependent of the rich merchant whom he was to meet. The change was not an agreeable one, but he had made up his mind that he must face whatever was disagreeable in his position in a manly way. "Is Mr. Briggs in?" he inquired, of a clerk who was writing at a desk. "Ye ; but I don't know if he will see you." "He sent for me." "Oh! did he? Well, he's in there." The clerk- pointed to an inner room, partitioned off from the main office. Gilbert approached it, and as the door was partially open, entered, and, removing his hat, said : "Good-morn- ing, Mr. Briggs." Mr. Briggs was a short man, inclined to be corpulent, with marked features. He turned as he heard Gilbert's salutation. "So you received my letter," he said. "Dr. Burton did." "Yes, I wrote to him. It's all the same." "I thought I had better come up at once, sir." "Yon did right" Richard Briggi. 21 "I was rather surprised at what your letter contained. Dr. Burton let me read it." "You fancied yourself rich ?" said the merchant, coldly. "Yes, sir; I had always been led to suppose so." "I never told you so." "You did not tell me I was poor, and would have to make my own way." "You complain of that, do you ?" demanded Mr. Briggs, frowning. "I wish I had known it before." "It wasn't necessary to tell you. As to that, my judg- ment is, of course, superior to yours. You understand do you, that you must now go to work?" "I am re'ady, sir." "Have you improved your time while at school?" "Dr. Burton could tell you better than I as to that." "He would be more reliable, of course. Still, you must have some idea. Give me your own impressions. If you misrepresent, I shall find you out." "I shall not misrepresent, sir." "Of course not," said Mr. Briggs, ironically. "I suppose you were a model scholar." "No ; I was not ; but I think I did pretty well." "What do you know ?" "I can tell you how far I have been in my studies. I have been so far in Latin and Greek that in another year perhaps less I should be prepared for Yale C61* lege." "You won't- go there. You can't expect me to paj; your expenses." ~ *2 Richard Briggs. "I don't,"* said Gilbert, promptly. "I was only trying to give you an idea of what I knew." "Very well. Are you good in arithmetic?" "Yes, sir." "How far have you been?" "Through the book." "That is well. How do you write?" "Shall I give you a specimen of my writing, sir?" "Yes. Here is a pen. Write anything you like. You may copy the first three lines of this newspaper article." Gilbert did so. "That will do very well. You don't write rapidly enough, but you will in time. I shall get you a place as soon as possible. Where is your trunk?" "At the depot." "You can have it sent to my house. You will stay there till I can get you a boarding place or make some other arrangement for you. Do you know where I live ?" "Yes, sir." "Give your check to an expressman, and tell him to bring it round. Stay, here is my son. I will put you in his charge." A boy, about Gilbert's age, had just entered the office. He was the counterpart of his father, and no one could be likely to mistake the relationship. He glanced at Gil- bert, but did not speak. "Randolph, this is Gilbert Greyson," said his father. "Good-morning," said Randolph, curtly. "Father, I Srant five dollars." Richard Briggs, 23 "What for? It seems to me- you r always wanting drioney." "Everybody needs money,** said the son, pertly. "I want to go to a matinee this afternoon." "I want you to go with Gilbert ; he is going to stop with us a short time." "He's old enough to take care of himself," said Ran- dolph, unpleasantly. "I can get along by myself, ** said Gilbert, quickly. "I don't want to trouble your son." There was no great self-denial in this. It did not seem to our hero that he should particularly enjoy Randolph's companionship. "At any rate, you can go with him to the office oi Adams' Express. He wants to send for his trunk." "Will you give me the five dollars, then?" "Here it is. Don't come again for a week." "All right. Come along, whatever your name is." This last polite invitation was addressed to our hero^ who answered, shortly : "My name is Gilbert Greyson." "Well, come along. I'm in a hurry." When they had reached the street, Randolph's curiosity led him to say : "I thought you were at school." "So I was ; but your father sent for me." "He's your guardian, isn*t he?** "So I thought; but he tells me I have no money, and must work for my living." "Oh, indeed!" said Randolph, superciliously. "Thafs quite a different matter.** 84 Richard Briggs. Gilbert didn't like his tone, but did not want to quarrel Jddthout cause. They walked on without further conversation. Presently Randolph said: "There's the express office. (Now you can look after yourself." He darted off, and Gilbert entered the office, not sorry ID be rid of his uncongenial companion. CHAPTER IV GILBERT MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. Having arranged about his trunk, Gilbert took one of the University Place cars at the Astor House, and rode up- town. Mrs. Briggs might not know of his coming, and the trunk might be refused. The house was a four-story brownstone front, with English basement, differing in nowise from the thou- sands of fashionable mansions to be seen in the upper part of the city. Gilbert rang the bell. "Is Mrs. Briggs at home?" he inquired of the servant* who answered the bell. "I don't know, sir. Ill see. Will you send youf name?" Gilbert drew out a neat visiting card bearing his name* The servant took it and carried it to her mistress. "Take a seat in the parlor, sir," she said, on her return* "Mrs. Briggs will be down directly." The large parlor was showily furnished, in the regu- lation style. There was a chilly splendor about it that carried with it no idea of comfort or home feeling. Gil- bert's attention was drawn to a family portrait near the front windows. There were three figures Mr. Briggs. Randolph and a lady, who was probably Mrs. Briggs. &be had a high forehead, a thin face* cold 26 Gilbert Makes a New Acquaintance. pinched lips. Gilbert privately decided that he should not like the original of that portrait. While he was examining it, Mrs. Briggs entered. "Mr. Greyson?" she asked, in a chilly way. "Yes, madam." "I believe I have not met you before. You are Mr. Briggs' ward or protege?" "Yes, madam." "I thought you were at a boarding school somewhere in the country." "So I have been, madam; but the term is at an end, and Mr. Briggs sent for me to come to the city." "Indeed! Have you seen Mr. Briggs this morning?" "Yes, madam. It is by his direction that I have or- idered my trunk brought here." The lady arched her eyebrows slightly. "Then you propose to favor us with a visit," she said. There was a slight emphasis on the word favor, which Gilbert felt to be a sneer. "I am at Mr. Briggs' disposal," he answered. "He or- dered me to come here first. I hope I may not give you any trouble." " "Oh ! no ; you will excuse my not remaining with you I have an engagement. I will tell the servants to receive your trunk, and put it in your room. Our lunch will be ready at one o'clock." "Thank you," said Gilbert, hastily; "I think I shall not be here at lunch. I want to go about the city." It was eleven o'clock; and he was sure he could not loll the time in that frigid parlor for two hours. Gilbert Makes a New Acquaintance. 27 "Very well," said Mrs. Briggs ; "then we shall see you at dinner. Our dinner hour is six." "Thank you, madam." "If you come earlier, you can ask to be shown to your room. Gilbert thanked her again. "Now, I must leave you. Good-morning/' Mrs. Briggs sailed out of the room, and Gilbert, fol- lowing her, let himself out into the street. "So that's what they call a city mansion," he said to himself. "I'd ten times rather be in my room at Dr. Burton's. I felt as if I was in danger of stifling in that showy parlor. I hope I am not going to live there." Gilbert had nowhere to go; but the city was a novelty, and he wandered about the streets, looking about him with the keen interest of a country visitor. A short walk brought him to the Fifth Avenue Hotel. He had heard of it often, but never seen the interior. Attracted by the curiosity, he went in. He took a seat near the door, and idly watched the people who were continually going out and coming in. Among the latter he soon saw a familiar face. Randolph Briggs lounged in, swinging a light cane. "Hello!" he said, noticing Gilbert; "you here?" "So it seems," said Gilbert. "You ain't going to stop here, are you ?" *For the present, I am staying at your house.** "Oh, yes; I forgot. Been up there?" "Yes." "Did you see mother?* 18 Gilbert Makes a New Acquaintance^ "For a few minutes.'* "Didn't she invite you to hinch ?" "Yes ; but I thought I should like to look round tht city a little." "What do you expect to do?" "I suppose I must get a place. As I have no prop* erty^I must do something to earn my living." "You don't expect to stay at our house, do you?" "I don't expect anything. I feel bound to be guided by your father." "You see, it would be awkward to have an office bojj at our table, meeting our friends." "I suppose so," said Gilbert, his lip curling. "It wouldn't be proper." "I suppose you know best." "Probably father will find you some cheap boarding bouse. That will be better for you, you know." "It's a pity you were not my guardian," said Gilbert "Why?" "Because you seem to understand so well what is bestt for me." Randolph looked puzzled. Was this penniless boy chaf- fing him, or was he in earnest? Randolph's vanity led him to think the latter. "Yes, of course I do. I've lived in the city all my fife. I ought to know what's what. Do you play billiards?* "No; I never learned." "There's a billiard room below. I thought we might have a an;u_ Gilbert Makes a New Acquaintance. 29 "I never played a game in my life." "Then there would be no fun for me. I guess I'll go in tnd get a drink. Are you thirsty?" "No, thank you." "I'm going to the theater afterward a matinee. I've Only got one ticket, but you can buy one at the door." "Thank you; 1 would rather walk about the streets this afternoon." Randolph lounged into the fearroem, ordered his drink, then lounged out again. He nodded carelessly to Gilbert as he went out. "See you by and by," he said. Gilbert bowed. "It doesn't strike me I shall like that boy," he said to himself. "I wonder if his father knows about his drink- fag." Gilbert amused himself for a little while longer watch- ing those who entered and departed from the great hotel. Then he went out into the street, and proceeded down Broadway. He made slow progress, for there was much to intertoi a stranger like himself in the busy life of the Street. At length it occurred to him that he would go to Central Park, of which he had heard a great deal. By this time he had strayed to Sixth Avenue and Fourteenth Street. At the same time with Gilbert a young girl of thirteen entered the car, and, as chance would have it, she and Our hero were seated side by side. Presently the conductor made his rounds^ 30 Gilbert Makes a New Acquaintanct First he presented his hand for the young girl's far*. She felt in her pocket, but apparently in vain. Her face flushed, and she looked very much embarrassed. "I think I forgot to bring my money," she murmured. "I will get out." "By no means," said Gilbert, promptly. "Permit me to pay your fare. For two," he said, handing the amount to the conductor. "You are very kind," said the young girl, looking re- lieved. "I live in Forty-eighth Street, and should not have liked to walk so far. I am sure I can't tell how I happened to forget my money; I am ever so much obliged to you." "Oh ! don't mention it," said Gilbert, privately thinking his new acquaintance one of the prettiest girls he had ever met. "Will you give me your name and residence," she asked, "that I may send you the money?" "With pleasure, on condition that you won't think of re- paying such a trifle," said Gilbert. He drew out a card, added his guardian's residence, and passed it to his companion. "At any rate," said the young girl, "you must call, and let mamma thank you for your politeness to me. This is mine." She handed Gilbert a petite card, with the name of "LAURA VIVIAN, "No. West Forty-eighth Street" Gilbert Makes a New Acquaintance. 31 "Thank you," said Gilbert M I will call, with pleasure, but not to receive thanks." After this the two young people continued to converse with a freedom upon which they would not have ven- tured if older and more conventional; and Gilbert was really sorry when bis fair companion arrived at her street and got out CHAPTER V. AT THE DINNER TABLR, At five o'clock Gilbert started from the park, where fit had sauntered about for several hours, and reached the house of Mr. Briggs half an hour or more before dinner. "Your room is ready," said the servant, who had re- ceived her instructions. "Shall I show you the way up?" "If you please. Has my trunk come ?" "Yes, sir." "The dinner hour is six, I believe." "Yes, sir. The bell will ring at that time." Gilbert understood that he was expected to remain in his room till dinner time. That, however, would have been his choice. He followed the servant to a small hall bedroom on the third floor, where he found his trunk awaiting him. He opened it, and, taking out his comb and brush, and a clean collar, made his dinner toilet. A new life had opened before him, and he could not help wondering what it would be like. In the midst of his meditations came the sound of the bell, and he went downstairs. Mr. Briggs was already present. "Well," said he, stiffly, "so you found your way here?* "Yes, sir." "Did you see Mrs. Briggs ?" "Yes, sir." ; "And how have you spent the day?* At the Dinner Table. 33 "I spent the afternoon at Central Park." "Was Randolph with you ?" "No, sir. It wasn't necessary; I found my way with- out any trouble." Here Mrs. Briggs entered. She nodded slightly to Gilbert, and said, in a chilly way: "Take that seat, Mr. Greyson." Gilbert seated himself, and Randolph, who entered di- rectly afterward, sat down opposite. "You were not with Gilbert to-day, Randolph," said his father. "No, sir." "Where were you?" "At the theater." "Humph ! you go to the theater too much." "How can you say so, Mr. Briggs?" said the mother, who, though her heart was cold to all beside, fairly idol- ized her son, and as a consequence foolishly indulged him. "This is the second time he has been this week." "The boy is young, and needs recreation." "It seems to me it is all recreation with him, and no jwrork. When I was a boy, I was lucky if I could go to * place of amusement once in three months." "You hadn't got a rich father," said Randolph. "I am not made of money," muttered Mr. Briggs, ^though you seem to think I am." "Really, Mr. Briggs," said his wife, "it is ridiculous to expect Randolph to spend as little as you did when you Were a boy. The circumstances are quite different." Mr. Briggs frowned, but did not answer. 34 At the Dinner Table. "What did you do with yourself?" asked Randolph, turning to Gilbert. "I went to Central Park. It is a beautiful place." "I never go there," said Randolph. "You meet only low persons there." "I saw many driving about in handsome carriages. Are they low ?" "Of course not. I meant only low persons walk there." "Randolph is right," said his mother. "Still I think I shall go again," said Gilbert. "Oh, it's different with you. You are a poor boy, ain't you?" said Randolph, bluntly. Gilbert colored a little. "I only know what your father has told me," said he. "Have you got any property of Gilbert's, father?" ^sked Randolph. "This is not the time to ask such questions," said his father, looking annoyed. "Why not? There is no company no one but our- selves." "Ahem!" said Mr. Briggs, clearing his throat; "there was a very small property, but it has all been spent on Gilbert's education." "Who left him the property?" asked Randolph, per- sistently. Gilbert was interested in the answer to this question, and he looked with eager inquiry at his guardian, hoping that he would reveal what he had so long desired to know. "You are very curious," said Mr. Briggs, displeased At the Dinner Table. 35 "There's no reason why you shouldn't tell me ; is there, father?" "No," answered his father, slowly. "The money wa* left him by his father, who was an old schoolmate of mine. He died in the West Indies, and sent me the money in trust for his son, to provide for him as long as it lasted. It was exhausted nearly a year since, but I kept Gilbert at school till now at my own expense. Now the time has come when he must shift for himself." "Rather hard on you, Gilbert," said Randolph. "I am willing to look out for myself," said Gilbert, quietly. "My father did all he could for me. I have a good education, thanks partly to you, Mr. Briggs, and I ought to be able to make my way." "Oh, you are welcome," said Mr. Briggs, rather un- comfortably. "You have done more than could have been expected, Mr. Briggs," said his wife. "Why did you not take the boy from school months ago?" "I wanted him to have a fair education." "It seems to me he was already sufficiently educated for his sphere in life," said the lady. "I don't believe in educating persons beyond their station." There was something in the lady's remarks which grated harshly upon the ear of our young hero. What right had Mrs. Briggs to assume that his station was in- ferior to hers ? The dislike which he had already begun to entertain for her was increased. He found it impossi- ble to like any of the family, but he had insight enough 36 At the Dinner Table 8 to see that in cold selfishness Mrs. Briggs exceeded her husband and son. "It seems to me," said Mr. Briggs, in answer to his wife's last remark, "that a good education is a good thing for anyone to possess, be he rich or poor." "You wouldn't advise a boy that was going to be a mechanic to study Latin or Greek, would you?" "If he liked it." "Then I can't agree with you," retorted the lady, sharply. "I consider it simply time and money thrown away." "Have you studied Latin and Greek, Gilbert?" asked Randolph. "Yes." "Have you gone far in them ?" "In a year I should have been ready to enter Yale College." "And after all, I suppose you will be a mechanic," "Why should I be?" demanded Gilbert. "You have no money." "I suppose there are other kinds of business I can learn." "Perhaps so." Apparently tiring of the subject, Randolph turned to his mother. "Has any invitation come for me ?" he asked. "Invitation to what?" "I hear that Laura Vivian is going to give a party. 1 didn't know but she might invite me." e Vivians do not visit us. I should be glad to At the Dinner Table e 37 become acquainted. They move in the very first society. Do you know Laura ?" "I knew her at dancing school. I used to dance with her sometimes. She was a great favorite. All the boys wanted her for a partner." "It is hardly likely she will invite you. I wish she would." "What is the name of the young lady?" asked Gilbert, interested. "Laura Vivian. What interest can you feel in her ?" "I made the young lady's acquaintance this afternoon," said Gilbert, quietly. "Laura Vivian? Impossible." "Doesn't she live in West Forty-eighth Street?" "Yes." "Then it is the same one, as you will see by this card." Here Gilbert produced the card referred to in the last chapter. "How on earth did you get acquainted with her?" ex- claimed Mrs. Briggs. "Who introduced you?" "I believe I introduced myself," said Gilbert, smiling. "I'll tell you all about it," and he recounted the circum- stances of his acquaintance. "She invited you to call?" exclaimed Randolph, en- viously. "Yes." "Do you mean to go?" "I shall go once, out of politeness." "She will think you want to be repaid your five cents," raid Mrs. Briggs, disagreeably. 38 At the Dinner Table. "I don't think she will," said Gilbert. "At any rate, I will take the risk." "Will you take me with you ?" asked Randolph. "I hardly think it would be proper," said Gilbert; "but if I have a second invitation, I may take the liberty of doing so." "Gilbert is right," said Mr. Briggs. Randolph was disappointed, and indulged in a sneer at a penniless boy like Gilbert calling on a young lady of high social position. But Gilbert did not choose to notice it CHAPTER VI. HOW GILBERT GOT ON. When dinner was over, Gilbert found that he was no! going to have the pleasure of Randolph's companionship. "Where are you going, Randolph?" asked his father, as Randolph was leaving the room. "I'm going out." "Perhaps Gilbert may like to go with you," suggested Mr. Briggs. "I've got an engagement," said Randolph, shortly. "When was it made?" "This afternoon." "Don't let me interfere with Randolph's engagements,** said Gilbert, hastily. "Won't you feel lonely?" asked Mr. Briggs. "Oh, no, sir. I shall take a walk down Broadway. There will be plenty to take up my attention." "Randolph can hardly be expected to give up his en- gagement," said Mrs. Briggs. "I am surprised, Mr. Briggs, that you should expect it." Mr. Briggs muttered something about politeness. Gilbert protested again that he could get along very well by himself, and the matter dropped. Presently he went out, and Mrs. Briggs, who had been waiting her opportunity, commenced an attack upon her husband. 40 How Gilbert Got On. "What are your plans for this boy, Mr. Briggs ?" she asked. "Are you going to support him in idleness?" "Certainly not. I shall find him a place as soon as I can." "What claim has he upon you, I should like to know ?" "He has only me to look out for him." "What of that?" "He was the son of my old schoolmate." "I have old schoolmates, too, and some, I suppose, are in want ; but I am not going to adopt their children." "This boy was especially recommended to me, and what property his father left was given in trust to me for him." "Well, it's all used up, isn't it?" "Yes." "Then your trust is at an end." "What are you driving at, wife?" "I want to know whether you expect this boy to remain in your house." "I see no objection." "I do. You will be pampering him at the expense of your own son." Mr. Briggs shrugged his shoulders. "I apprehend," he said, "that our household expenses Will not be increased materially by Gilbert's remaining here." "Clothes and board cost something. Besides, he 5c not a fit companion for Randolph." "Why not?" "He is a poor boy." How Gilbert Got On. 41 "He has the education and manners of a young gentle- man. It strikes me that he is quite the equal of Ran- dolph in these respects." "You are always ready to side against your own boj '" "I don't want to spoil him." "You seem to prefer this new boy." "Not at all. Must I be unjust to every other boy, be- cause I have a son of my own ?" "You know what I mean well enough." "The point seems to be that you don't want Gilbert ill the house." "No." "What shall I do with him?" "Let him shift for himself." Mr. Briggs shook his head. "The world would talk," said Mr. Briggs. "Let them talk !" said the lady, independently. "It isn't best to incur the reproach of your fellow men." "Well, get him a cheap boarding house; that's more suited to his station in life than a home like ours." "Let him stay here a few days, and I will see what I can do." Mrs. Briggs would have preferred to have Gilbert leave the next day, but decided to accept the concession made by her husband. He was placed in a difficult position, but did not venture to tell his wife all. The truth was, for I do not mean to make a mystery of it, he had wronged Gilbert most grievously. The sum of money placed in * hands i" *rusf for our hero had been not ^ * 42 How Gilbert Got On. but seventy-five thousand dollars. Gilbert's father, trust- ing all to the honor of his friend, had exacted no guaran- ties of good faith. So far as Mr. Briggs knew, no living person was aware of the amount of Gilbert's inheritance. There was no one, so far as he knew, to contradict his assertion that it had all been expended in the education of our hero. Yet it troubled him. He had made up his mind to wrong the boy, but he was not so hardened as to do it without some qualms of conscience. He meant to do something for him, get him a place, and give him a home in his own family ; but here, as we see, Mrs. Briggs had interfered with his plans. He could not make up his mind to throw Gilbert wholly upon his own resources, and he was disappointed at his wife's opposition. He was not wholly a bad man, but the temptation of appropriating Gilbert's money had been too great, and he had yielded. He had used it in his business, and a sudden call for it would have very much embarrassed him. Meanwhile Gilbert set out on his walk. The crowded city streets, which had interested him in the daytime, assumed a new charm in the evening. Walking slowly along, looking in at the brilliantly lighted windows, he did not feel the need of companionship. In fact, he was rather glad that Randolph was not with him, for he had already satisfied himself that they had very little in common. Half an hour had passed, when all at once he heard his name called. "Good-evening, Mr. Greyson," said a sweet voice. Turning quickly, he recognized Laura Vivian. How Gilbert Got On. 43 "Good-evening, Miss Vivian," he said, pleased at the meeting. "Papa," said Laura, "this is Mr. Greyson, who was so polite to me in the cars." Then for the first time Gilbert noticed that Laura was Accompanied by a pleasant-looking gentleman of middle H. ge. "I am glad to meet you, Mr. Greyson," said Mr. Vivian, cordially. "My daughter has told me that you extricated her from a dilemma." "It isn't worth mentioning, sir," said Gilbert. "I am ashamed to be thanked for such a little thing." "It was a trifle, no doubt, but a mark of kind attention, | no less. My daughter and I are out for a walk. If you | have no engagement, will you join us?" "With great pleasure, sir," said Gilbert; and he spoke sincerely. "Do you live in the city?" asked Mr. Vivian. "I have been at a boarding school hitherto, but I have now come to the city to live." "Do your parents reside here?" Gilbert looked sober. "I have no parents," he said. "Indeed !" said Mr. Vivian, in a voice of sympathy. "Indeed, I have no relatives that I am aware of; Mr. Richard Briggs, a merchant of this city, is my guardian.** "Richard Briggs ? I know of him." "I ought to say, however," added Gilbert, who did not wish to sail under false colors, "that I can hardly con- tinue to call him my guardian, as he informs me that my 44 How Gilbert Got On. little property has been all expended on my education, and that I am now penniless, and must work for my living." "I don't consider that a misfortune," said Mr. Vivian. "iJLwilLmake a man of you the sooner. But about thi* property, do you know how much it amounted to orig- inally?" "No, sir." "Hasn't Mr. Briggs ever rendered an account to you?" "No, sir. I have always supposed that I should be rich until within a week. Then, for the first time, I was told I must withdraw from school, and get a place." "Mr. Briggs has not treated you fairly in leaving you uninformed as to your real position," said Mr. Vivian, gravely. "I won't blame him, but I wish he had told me earlier.* By this time they had reached a fashionable confec- tioner's. "Come in with us and have an ice cream," said Mr. Vivian. "Thank you, sir," said Gilbert, and the three entered and sat down at one of the small tables. At a table near by sat Randolph Briggs. Looking up by chance, he was astonished to see his father's penniles ward in such company. "By Jove !" he muttered, "that young beggar has more sheek than anyone I know of." He would have liked to have joined the party, but even he had not the assurance to force himself upon them. So he sat, watchful and envious, his jealousy excited by th* evident favnr w ith which Gilbert was regarded. How Gilbert Got On. 45 "If Mr. Vivian knew he hadn't a cent in the world, he Wouldn't be quite so cordial," he thought. But Mr. Vivian did know. The trouble was that Ran- dolph did not know him, or he would not have suspected him of such regard for wealth and its possession. CHAPTER VII. A SPITEFUL WOMAN. Randolph lost no time in going home to report what he had seen. Both his father and mother were surprised to see him back so soon. "I am glad you came home early," said his mother. "Did you see anything of Gilbert while you were out?" asked his father. "Do you suppose, Mr. Briggs, that Randolph is going to follow your beggarly ward?" demanded Mrs. Briggs, sharply. "He might have met him," said her husband, in an apologetic tone. "I did meet him," said Randolph, in so significant a tone that both his father and mother looked at him for an explanation. "Where do you think I saw him ?" continued Randolph. "In some low place," suggested his mother. "Not at all. He was eating an ice cream at Del- tnonico's." "Pretty well for a penniless boy !" said Mrs. Briggs. "I suppose he expects us to supply him with money to pay for his extravagant outlays." "Oh, he didn't pay for it himself. He got Mr. Vivian to treat him." "Mr. Vivian!" "Yes : he had picked up Mr. Vivian and Laura some- A Spiteful Woman. 47 where, and probably suggested going in to take an ice cream." "No doubt Mr. Vivian invited him," said Mr. Briggs, who did not allow dislike to run away with his common sense. "He is certainly the most forward and impudent boy I ever met," exclaimed Mrs. Briggs, whose annoyance arose largely from Gilbert's succeeding better with the Vivians than her own son. "Really, my dear," expostulated her husband, "I am sure you do the boy injustice." "Don't call me 'my dear,'" said Mrs. Briggs sconv fully. "I can't see what has got into you. You certainly must be willfully blind if you don't see through the art- fulness of that boy." "What has he done?" "He has wormed himself into the intimacy of Mr. Vivian ; that is what he has done." "Why shouldn't he? If Mr. Vivian is inclined to be- friend him, it will be a saving to me." "It won't be for long. Mr. Vivian will find him out, and cast him off." "I don't know that there is anything in particular to find out. He seems to me as good as the average of boys." "Well, Mr. Briggs, I can only say that you seem in- fatuated with him. I beg to say that I am not." "That is apparent," said her husband, smiling. "Moreover," added his wife, provoked, "I wish to tell you that it is disagreeable to me to have him in the house. 48 A Spiteful Woman. So the sooner you can find a boarding house for him the better." "Well, I will, if you insist upon it." "I do insist upon it." "Then I will try in a day or two to find him a home." "Mark my words, Mr. Briggs, you will find, sooner Or later, that my prejudice against him is not so foolish as you imagine. That boy will turn out badly." "I hope not." "It's all very well hoping ; but you'll see." Randolph now got up to go. "Where are you going, Randolph?" asked his mother. "I am going out a while ; I can't say where." "Why can't you be satisfied to stay at home?" "Oh, it's so stupid staying at home," said Randolph. "I want to go where there's something going on." "It isn't a very good plan for a boy of your age to spend his evenings about the street," said Mr. Briggs. "Why shouldn't he go out?" said Mrs. Briggs, in the spirit of opposition. "You haven't anything to say about your favorite being out." "The city is new to him. If he went out every evening^ like Randolph, I should think it a bad plan." "I suppose you would find some excuse for him." "Really," said Mr. Briggs, "I shall be quite as anxious to get him out of the house as you, if you keep up such an incessant attack." "If you are going to talk to me in this style, I will retire," said Mrs. Briggs, stiffly. Suiting the action to the word, she rose an/1 left tf* A Spiteful Woman. 49 room. Her husband made no op position. Indeed, in her present temper, he felt her withdrawal a relief. He set- tled himself down to the comfortable reading qf an even- ing paper, and had about completed its perusal when the bell rang, and Gilbert entered the room. "Well, Gilbert, did you have a pleasant time?" asked fjis guardian. "Yes, sir ; unexpectedly so. I met Mr. Vivian and his daughter, and went to Delmonlco's with them." "You found him an agreeable man, no doubt?" "Yes, sir ; he treated me very kindly for a stranger." "He has a high reputation," said Mr. Briggs. "Is he in business ?" v/ "Yes; he is an importer, and is generally considered very wealthy. He is a prudent, conservative man, who avoids dangerous risks, and so meets with few losses." "He has invited me to call next Friday evening at his house." "You had better go, by all means. His friendship may be valuable to you." "I am glad you approve of my going, for I am sure I thall enjoy it." "Now, Gilbert," said Mr. Briggs, clearing his throat, "as we have a good opportunity, I will say a few words about my plans for you." "I wish you would, sir. I am anxious to know what is to be my path in life." "I propose to get you into some store or counting room fa the city.* 50 A Spiteful Woman. "Yes, sir. That is what I should like." "And," continued Mr. Briggs, rather embarrassed, "it will probably be necessary for you to obtain a boarding place nearer the business part of the city than you would be here." "I should think it would be better," said Gilbert, who decidedly preferred a boarding house to an establishment presided over by Mrs. Briggs, who, he clearly saw, was not disposed to be his friend. "We have breakfast too late to admit of your getting downtown in time," continued Mr. Briggs, who seemed to want to justify himself in the eyes of his ward for the inhospitable proposal. "Yes, sir, I think it will be every way better," said Gil- bert, promptly. "What wages do you think I can get, sir?" "Why," said Mr. Briggs, hesitating, "beginners like you seldom command more than five dollars a week & first." Gilbert looked serious. "I suppose," he said, "this will not be encmgh to pay all my expenses." "Certainly not," said his guardian, "but you need not feel troubled about that. I will make up the balance necessary till you are far enough advanced to be self* upporting." "You are very kind, sir," said Gilbert, gratefully ; "but it appears that I have already cost you considerable." "Oh, that is of no consequence," said Mr. Briggs ; hur- A Spiteful Woman. 51 riedly. "I was your father's friend, and naturally I feel an interest in your progress." "Thank you, sir ; but I don't like to be a continued bur- den to you. Do you think it will be long before I can support myself?" "It will certainly be two years perhaps three/' "Of course I don't know anything about it, but I should think my services ought to be worth my board and clothes before that." "We must take things as we find them," said his guardian. "There are a dozen applicants for every place open to a boy, and while this state of things continues, employers will pay low wages. Besides, it is felt that a boy is paid partly in the knowledge of business he ac- quires." "I have no doubt you are right, sir; but how do poor boys manage who have no one to make up the deficiency ?" "Some of them have to live on five dollars a Week." "Couldn't I doit?" "I should not be willing to have you. You have been brought up as a gentleman, and could not get along as well as if you had always been poor." "I will trust to your judgment, sir; but I shall want you to keep an account of all you spend for me." "Why?" "Because some day I mean to repay it," said Gilbert, proudly. "You are too particular about this matter," said Mr* Briggs, uncomfortably. 52 A Spiteful Woman. "No, sir, I don't think so. I think I am old enough now to undertake my entire support." "I will see about it, then." This closed the conversation for the evening. Gilbert Jvas glad to have spoken to his guardian. Now he knew better what to look forward to. CHAPTER VIII. GILBERT GETS A PLACE. The next morning, about eight o'clock, the family were gathered about the breakfast table. Randolph was ten minutes late. He came in looking sleepy and cross. "Randolph," said his father, "what made you so late last evening ?" "I wasn't late." "You may not call half-past eleven late ; I do." "It wasn't more than half-past ten when I came in." "You are quite mistaken. I looked at my watch when I heard you coming upstairs." "It was rather late; but you needn't make such a fuss about it, Mr. Briggs," said his wife. "You have been out later than that yourself." "Whenever I have been late, I had a good reason for it Besides, there is some difference in age between Ran- dolph and myself." "At any rate, you needn't scold him before a stranger." "I do not consider Gilbert a stranger. Besides, what I say is partly meant for him. It is not wise for any boy of his or Randolph's age to remain out till nearly twelve." "I hope you are almost through; I am getting tired of the subject.'* Thus Mrs. Briggs gave Randolph indirect encourage- ment by taking his part against his fathf/ 54 Gilbert Gets a Place. Mr. Briggs shrugged his shoulders and was silent. Gil- bert felt rather uncomfortable. "Will you have some more coffee ?" asked Mrs. Briggs, in an icy tone. <( No, thank you," he said. "You may go downtown with me, Gilbert," said Mr. Briggs. "I will introduce you to a gentleman who will possibly give you a place." "Thank you, sir." "I hope, Mr. Briggs, you will bear in mind what I said last night," said his wife. She referred to his getting a boarding place for Gil- bert. "I have not forgotten it," he answered. Gilbert and his guardian took a University Place car, and they rode downtown together. Mr. Briggs obtained a seat, but Gilbert was compelled to stand, on account of the crowded state of the car. Seated beside Mr. Briggs was a business man of about bis own age. "Good-morning, Mr. Sands," he said, for it was an ac- quaintance. "Good-morning, Mr. Briggs. Is this young man your ton?" "No, he is under my charge, however. I have a son of about his age." "Is he at school?" "He has been till recently. I am looking for a place for him at present. It is time he commenced his business Gilbert Gets a Place. 55 "Indeed," said the gentleman, thoughtfully. "Are you thinking of any business in particular?" "No. I shall accept any good opening for him." "The fact is," said Sands, "I am looking for a boy to enter my own office. I was compelled yesterday to dismiss one who had been with me for six months, on account of dishonesty. I found he appropriated revenue stamps, and sold them. I don't know how long this has been going on, but probably I have been a considerable loser." "I don't think you will have any such difficulty with Gilbert, if you are inclined to take him," said Mr. Briggs. "I like his appearance, and will take him at once, if you say so. I have been in the habit of paying five dollars a week." "It is as much as I expected him to earn for the present. Gilbert, this gentleman is willing to give you a place in his office." Gilbert had already formed a favorable opinion of Mr. Sands, and he answered promptly : "I am very much obliged to him, and shall be glad to be in his employ." Mr. Sands looked pleased. "May I ask what is your business, sir?" continued Gil- bert. "I am a broker ; my office is at No. Wall Street." "I am afraid you will find me very ignorant of busi- ness," said Gilbert; ''but Ihope to learn rapidly." "There is nothing that will puzzle you at first. If you remain any leneth of time, there will be something to learn" 56 Gilbert Gets a Place. "I have assured Mr. Sands," said Mr. Briggs, "that he can rely upon your honesty. His last boy was dis- diarged for lack of that very necessary quality." "I don't think he will be disappointed in me, so far as that goes," said Gilbert, proudly. "I don't think I shall," said the broker, upon whom Gilbert's modest but manly bearing had produced a very favorable impression. "When shall you be ready to go to work ?" "At any time, sir." "Does that mean to-day?" "Yes, sir." "I will stipulate, however," said Mr. Briggs, "that Gilbert may be released at four o'clock. I want to select a boarding place for him, and that will give me time." "Oh, certainly," said the broker. "I can let him g3 earlier if you desire it." "No, it will not be necessary; I shall not myself be at leisure till that hour. You know my place of business, Gilbert, do you not?" "Yes, sir ; I have been there already, you know." '*! remember. Very well, go with Mr. Sands to hif Office, and come to me at four this afternoon." "Very well, sir." It seemed rather strange to Gilbert to find himseli ar ready in a situation. The transition from life at school had been very sudden. On the whole, he was not sorry for it. It kindled his ambition to think that he was going to make himself useful ; that he was to have a part in the busy scene around him. He only regretted that for Gilbert Gets a Plact, 57 Jme to come he could not hope to earn his living en- tirely; that for two or three years, perhaps, he was to be a source of expense to his guardian. "I will be as economical as I can," he thought. "I wiH cost him as little as possible, and when I am older I will pay back every cent I owe him, if I am lucky enough to have the means." Had Gilbert only known it, it was Mr. Briggs who was heavily in his debt, and the small sum which would be allowed him to help defray his expenses was already his own v It was just as well that he did not know it. It was better that he should feel entirely dependent upon his own exertions for support. To an active and ambi- tious boy it is a stimulus and an incentive to effort. "What is your whole name, Gilbert ?" asked Mr. Sands, pleasantly. "Gilbert Greyson, sir." "You have been at school until recently, Mr. Brigg$ tells me." "Yes, sir." "In the city?" "No, sir ; I was at Dr. Burton's classical school, in thfe town of Westville." "I have heard of it. Did you pursue a classical course?" "Yes, sir." "Then you know something of Latin and Greek?" "Yes, sir. In a year I should have been ready for Yale College." "Then you already have mor* than an average edu- cation." 58 Gilbert Gets a Place. "I hoped to have a better, .sir." "You need not stop learning because you left school. It happens that I myself pursued a course similar to yours, and left my studies for business when nearly ready for college." "Indeed, sir ?" said Gilbert, interested. "But I still keep up my Latin a little. Greek I have pretty much forgotten." By this time they had reached the office of Mr. Sands. It was not large, but was neat and well furnished. A clerk was at a desk, engaged in writing. There was, besides, in waiting a boy of about Gilbert's age, who ap- parently wished to speak to Mr. Sands. "You here, John?" demanded Mr. Sands. "Yes, sir," whined the boy. "Won't you take me back, sir?" The broker shook his head. "No, I cannot," he said. "You have deceived me, and I cannot trust you." "I won't do it again, sir." "I could not take you back now if I would," said the broker. "I have engaged this boy in your place." John scowled at Gilbert with a sense of personal injury, and left the office. CHAPTER IX. THE FIRST DAY IN BUSINESS. During the day Gilbert learned the way to the Stock Exchange, to the bank where his employer kept an ac- count, and to the post office. He was also sent on various errands to offices of other brokers and business men. In- deed, he was kept so busy that he found the day pass very rapidly. He made up his mind that he should like Mr. Sands, whose manner toward him was marked with kindness and consideration. It was not so, however, with the clerk who has already been mentioned. He was disposed to regard Gilbert as an unwelcome intruder into the office. His prejudice will be understood when the reader learns that he was a cousin of the boy who had been discharged. He had interceded to have John reinstated in his place; but Mr. Sands had been inexorable. "I should like to oblige you, Mr. Moore," said he, "but I cannot take back your cousin. I must have a boy in whom I can feel a reasonable degree of confidence." "John has reformed, sir. He will be strictly honest hereafter." "I hope he will, for his own sake ; but it is best for him to find some place where there will be fewer opportunities to steal." The clerk saw that it would be of no use to pursue th* 6o The First Day in Business. subject further, and was silent. But he made up his mind to dislike any boy that might come in his cousin's place. In his employer's presence he did not venture to mani- fest his feelings, but when Gilbert came back from an errand later in the day, Mr. Sands being absent at the Board, he said, irritably: "What made you so long?" "So long?" repeated Gilbert, in surprise. "I lost no time, Mr. Moore. I went directly to the office where I was sent, and as soon as my business was attended to I came directly back." "Oh, no doubt !" sneered Moore. "You didn't stop to play on the way, of course." "No, I didn't," said Gilbert, indignantly. "Then you stopped to hear a hand organ, or something of the kind," persisted Moore, in a disagreeable manner. "You are quite mistaken, Mr. Moore. You probably know where the office is, and must be aware that I had no time for any such delay." "Oh, you are a model boy, I have no doubt!" sneered the clerk. "I have great doubts on the subject myself," said Gil- bert, good-naturedly. "I never had that reputation." "Did you ever do anything wrong?" "No doubt I have." "I thought perhaps you were intending to pass yourself off as an angel." "I don't believe there are many angels in Wall Street," said Gilbert, in the same tone of good humor. "No mo- : your impudence !" said Moor .appishly. The First Day in Business. 6l feeling that Gilbert had the better of him in this little passage of words. "What have I said that is impudent ?" asked Gilbert, in astonishment. "No matter. Go to your work." "What a disagreeable fellow !" thought our hero. "1 don't think I shall enjoy having him over me. He seems determined to find fault." "Go over to Smith & Dixon's, and ask them for a Union Pacific First, on our account stay; here's an order." "All right, sir." "And don't be gone all day." "I shall be back as soon as I can," said Gilbert, coldly. "Mind you do !" said Moore, in an aggravating manner. It was a comfort to Gilbert that Mr. Moore did not venture to treat him in this way while Mr. Sands was in the office. Then, if he had occasion to speak, it was in a proper tone. But for two or three hours during the day the broker was absent at the Stock Exchange, and during this period the clerk saw fit to treat him with rudeness. This treatment, which commenced on the first day, was continued. Gilbert made little effort to con- ciliate Simon Moore this was the clerk's full name for he saw in advance that he would have small chance of succeeding. He was convinced of it when he dis- covered the relationship between Moore and his prede- cessor, and learned, moreover, that the clerk was a boarder- in his cousin's family. "I sha>! have to be very careful," tho^ht Gilbert, "or 62 The First Day in Business. Mr. Moore will get me into trouble of some kind. He wants to get rid of me, for some reason or other." Gilbert came to the only sensible determination: to do his duty as well and faithfully as he knew how, and trust to Providence for the issue. He decided not to trouble himself too much about the clerk's enmity, since he knew that he had done nothing to deserve it. At a little before four Gilbert left the office, and sought the counting room of Mr. Briggs. He found that gentle- man ready to go uptown. "Well, Gilbert " he said, "how do you like your first day in business?" "Very well, sir. I think I shall get on." "Then you don't find your duties hard?" "No, sir ; they are pleasant and easy." "You will find Mr. Sands very considerate and kind, 1 am sure." "I like him already, sir." "That is well," said Mr. Briggs, in a tone of satis- faction. "The next thing is to find you a boarding place.** "Yes, sir. I shall be very glad to get settled." "There will be little difficulty about that. If we start immediately, I can select a place for you this afternoon." They took the street car at the Astor House. "I have been thinking, Gilbert," said his guardian, "that Waverly Place or Clinton Place will be a good location for you. It is not so far but that on pleasant days you can walk to your place of business. This will save car- fare, which, though a small matter, is yet to be con- sidered where your income is so small/' The First Day in Business. 63 "How far is it, sir?" "About two miles from Wall Street." "I shan't mind that. When at school I used to walk ten miles sometimes, on holidays." "Mind, Gilbert, I only recommend it. I will see that you have money enough to get along comfortably, even if you choose to ride constantly." "I shall enjoy the walk when it is pleasant." "Clinton Place is the western portion of Eighth Street," said Mr. Briggs. "East Eighth Street is known as St. Mark's Place. There are numerous boarding houses there also, but I think you will like Clinton Place better. I suppose you are not very familiar with the streets yet?" "No, sir; but I shall get accustomed to them as soon as possible. I found this morning that it is a useful thing to know." About twenty minutes' ride brought the car to Clinton Place. "We will get out here," said Mr. Briggs. "As we pass through the street," he said, "we shall probably notice papers pasted on some of the houses, indicating that boarders or lodgers will be received. At some of these houses we will inquire." It was as Mr. Briggs had said. They had scarcely begun their walk toward Broadway when they saw such a paper on a neat-looking brick house. "Let us inquire here, Gilbert," he said. He went up the steps and rang the bell. On a servant appearing, he announced his business. This brought about an interview with the landlady. 64 The First Day in Business. "Do you wish a room for two?" she asked. "No, only for this boy." "We have a hall bedroom on the third floor, and ao fctic room," said the landlady. "We will look at the hall bedroom." It was a small room, about seven feet by nine, and tfaf furniture was very common. "You can't expect anything very luxurious, Gilbert," gaid Mr. Briggs. "Shall you be contented with this loom?" "Yes, sir," answered Gilbert, promptly. "What is your price, madam?" asked Mr. Briggs. "With board six dollars a week" "I think we will try it," he said. "Will you stay belt to-night, or come to-morrow, Gilbert?" Gilbert thought of Mrs. Briggs, and answered: "I wil begin now. I suppose I shall need to send for my trunk.** "I will send it by an expressman to-night, if possible.* "In the case of strangers," said the landlady hesitating "we expect something in advance.'*' "I will pay you a week in advance," said Mr. Briggs. He drew six dollars from his pocketbook, and handed il) to the smiling landlady. "Of course, sir," she said, apologetically, "it isn't nec- essary with a gentleman like you, but it is our custom." "Quite right, madam. I may as well tell you that |* will be responsible for this boy's board. Here is mjf card." Mr. Briggs was a well-known business man* wad M* name was familiar to the landlady. The First Day In Business. 65 "I am glad to have a friend of yours in my house," she said. "I hope the young gentleman will find everything satisfactory." "I don't think he will be hard to please. Good-evening, madam. Good-night, Gilbert. You must call and see us often." Mr. Briggs withdrew, and Gilbert sat down on the bed and tried to realize his new position. Less than a week had elapsed since he left school. Now he. had entered on a business career in New York. It made him feel years older, but he did not shrink from his new responsibilities He rather liked them. CHAPTER II THE NEW BOARDING HOUS8, Not long after Gilbert took possession of his room, tfif bell rang for dinner. As at most New York boarding houses, the last meal of the day was dinner, not supper. Gilbert heard an adjoining door open, and, leaving his own room, followed the occupants down to the dining room, which proved to be in the front basement The room was deep, and allowed of a long table, larga enough for the accommodation of sixteen boarders. Mrs, White, the landlady, did not herself sit down to the table, but superintended the servants, who acted as waiters. "Where shall I sit, Mrs. White?" asked Gilbert. "You may sit here, between Mr. Ingalls and Misi Brintnall." Neither of these persons bad appeared, but Gilbert took the seat pointed out. One by one the boarders entered, until the table was full. Gilbert looked about him with considerable curiosity. Mr. Ingalls proved to be a young man of twenty-five, who was employed in a wholesale stationery store in William Street. Miss Brintnall was an elderly looking young lady, who was engaged as teacher in one of the public schools of the city. Ker face was of a masculine type, and Gilbert was not surprised to hear that she was a strong advocate of woman's rights. Just opposite were seated Mr. and Mrs. Theophilui The New Boarding House. 67 Bower. He was clerk in a dry goods house, and had been but three months married. He was an inoffensive young man, with hair parted in the middle, who appeared to be very fond of his young wife, who wore long ringlets, and seemed quite a fitting match for her husband. Gilbert was rather amused by the manner in which they addressed each other. "Theophilus, my love, may I pass you the salt?" "Yes, my dear." Occasionally, that is, as often as opportunity offered, they would press each other's hands under the table, the pressure being accompanied by a languishing look, which nearly upset the gravity of Mr. Ingalls, who, in his en- deavors to suppress his merriment, once came so near choking that he had to leave the table. On the other side of Mr. Ingalls sat an actor at one of the city theaters, with his wife. He seldom engaged in general conversation, but spoke in low tones to his wife. Whether this sprang from natural reserve, or from his mind being preoccupied with his business, opinion was divided ; but the natural consequence was that he was unpopular. There were several other boarders, who will be referred to in due time. Among them may be mentioned Alphonso Jones, a man of thirty, whose seedy attire would seem to indicate limited means, but who lost no opportunity of boasting of his aristocratic connections, and his intimacy; with the best society. Mr. Ingalls was the first to notice his young neighbor. Mrs. White had introduced Gilbert to his right and left 68 The New Boarding Honse.' hand neighbors, but left him to make acquaintance Wttli the rest as he could. "Have you been long in the city, Mr. Greyson?" be triced. "No," said Gilbert, "but a few days." "I suppose you are on business?" "I am in a broker's office on Wall Street." "And I am in a wholesale stationery store not far from IWall Street. If you have no better company, we might go downtown together in the morning." "Thank you, I should like company." "That is, if you walk; I never ride except on stormy days," "Nor shall I. It's only two miles, I believe." "Scarcely that ; some think two miles a long walk. My brother, from Boston, who was here for a while, com- plained a good deal of the long distances in New York. In Boston business men have much less distance tc. travel." "I never was in Boston," said Gilbert. "Is it a pleasant City?" "It is the 'Hub of the Universe,' you know; so Dr. Holmes calls it, at any rate. Yes, it is a pleasant city, but tmall, of course, compared with New York. How did you happen to come to this boarding house?" "I saw a notice outside that boarders would be taken.* "I hope you will like it." "I hope so. I am not very difficult to suit." "You have not been long in your place of business, I oppose." The New Boarding House. 69 "No; I went there only to-day. I have always been at school till now." "Out of the city?" "Yes, at Dr. Burton's boarding school, at Westville." "I have heard of it." Then, lowering his voice, he said: "I see, Mr. Grey* son, you are looking at the happy couple opposite." "They seem very happy/' said Gilbert, smiling. "Oh, yes, they are wrapt up in each other. However, that is better than to quarrel all the time. Do you see that tall, thin man at the end of the table, and the lady at his side?" "Yes." "There isn't much love-making between them. They have a room adjoining mine, and I have the privilege of listening to some of their disputes." "Who are they?" "Maj. McDonald and his wife. He is Scotch, I believe. They married each other for their money, I hear, and then discovered that neither had any to speak of." The conversation was interrupted by Miss Brintnall, | who was expressing her views on woman's rights. "In my opinion," she said, "man is a cruel and de9-~~) potic tyrant. He monopolizes the good things of this life, and only throws an occasional crumb to poor, ill-used women. Women, for the same work, are paid less than half as much as men. Take myself, for example. I work just as hard as the principal of my school, yet he gets three dollars to my one. Now, I want to know where is the justice of that?" 70 The New Boarding House. vf* "Perhaps," suggested Mr. Bower, "he has a wife and children to support. You Jiagfip'jL you know. Miss Brintnall. Of course, you couldn't, you know," he added, with a simper. "I might have a husband and children to support, I suppose," said Miss Brintnall, severely. "If that is the case, Miss Brintnall," said Mr. Ingalls, Humorously, "you ought to let us know, that we may not cherish vain hopes." Miss Brintnall smiled ; she generally did smile on Mr. Ingalls, who was a favorite of hers. Indeed, it was gen- erally thought at the table that she would have had no objection to becoming Mrs. Ingalls, though the young man certainly had never given her any encouragement, 6ave by such jocular remarks as the foregoing. "You will have your joke, Mr. Ingalls," she said, good- humoredly ; "but to return to my argument. Is there any- one present that can deny the correctness of my state- ment, that man is a tyrant?'* "I can," said little Mrs. Bower, indignantly. "My Theophilus isn't a tyrant, are you, dear ?" "I hope not, my love," he answered, pressing her hand tinder the table. Mr. Ingalls came near swallowing a piece of meat the Hvrong way, and Miss Brintnall sniffed contemptuously. "There may be exceptions," she said, "but they only prove the rule; even in your own case, Mrs. Bower, you inay change your mind some years hence." "I never shall, I am sure. Shall I, Theophilus, dear.?" "No, my love." The New Boarding House. 71 Here Mr. Ingalls squeezed Gilbert's hand under the table, with a comic look, which proved very trying to our hero's gravity. Miss Brintnall received unexpected help from Mrs, McDonald. "I agree with you entirely, Miss Brintnall," said that lady, "and I don't believe there are any exceptions. .Men always try to domineer over women." "My experience is the other way," said the major. "Of course, I expected to hear you say so," said the lady, tossing her head. "Men are very forbearing, in my opinion," proceeded the major. "And very unselfish, I suppose," sneered his wife. "That's where you hit the nail on the head, ma'am." "I think," said Alphonso Jones, "it depends very much on social rank. I have the privilege of being intimately acquainted with some of our very highest families, and I can assure you that they are very harmonious. Among the lower orders, no doubt, men often act like brutes ; but it is from lack of refinement. My friends, the Tiptops, who have their villa at Newport, never exchange a rude word. I think you are too sweeping in your remarks, Miss Brintnall." "I have not the honor of knowing your grand friends Mr. Jones," said Miss Brintnall, sarcastically ; "but I COIL tend that human nature is everywhere the same. Money and rank don't change it. I think it very likely that some of your Fifth Avenue grandees beat their wives." 72 The New Boarding House. "Oh, Miss Brintnall!" exclaimed Mr. Bower and Mr. Jones, in chorus. "Yes, I do believe it. I won't take a word back." "I don't believe your husband will ever beat you, Miss Brintnall," said Mr. Ingalls, slyly. "I think not," said the teacher, decidedly. "I should allow him all the rights which he could fairly claim, but I would not let him infringe upon mine." "I woudn't marry her for a million dollars," whispered iMr. Bower to his wife. "Isn't she horrid ?" was the shuddering reply. Here some one started a new topic of conversation! And Miss Brintnall subsided. CHAPTER XI. A NEW ARRANGEMENT. About nine o'clock that evening Gilbert's trunk arrived. He received it with satisfaction, and unpacked it at once, putting a part of his clothing into the drawers of a small bureau, which, with the bedstead and one chair, took Ufl about all the space in his contracted chamber. Mr. Ingalls stepped in as he was unpacking. "You haven't got much extra room," he said. "No, I wish my room was larger," said Gilbert; "but it is as large as I can afford." "My room is at least twice as large, but by sharing it with another I pay no more than you do." "You are in luck; that is, if your roommate is agree- able." "We get along very well, but I expect to lose him in a week. He is to leave the city. If you would like to take his place, I shall be glad to have you." "Will it increase my board?" asked Gilbert. "How much do you pay now ?" "Six dollars." "No; you would pay the same as my roommate." "Then I will accept your offer with thanks." "I hope you won't have cause to repent it," said Mr. Ingalls. "If you do at any time I will let you off." "If you should marry Miss Brintnall," suggested Gil- bert, wfrh a smile, "you will have to give me warning." 74 A New Arrangement "No Miss Brintnall for me!" said Ingalls. "I don't jfwant to be a henpecked husband, or marry one who would insist on wearing the breeches." "The lady seems partial to you." "She is not only partial, but martial," said the young man, who was apt to indulge in poor jokes; "I would as soon marry an Amazon. When you get through un- packing, come to my room ; you may like to see it." "I have unpacked as much as I intend to to-night, I Will go with you now." Mr. Ingalls' room was square in shape, and of very good dimensions; it was better furnished also than Gil- bert's. It contained two single beds, side by side, a good closet, a sofa, a bureau, rocking chair and several ordinary chairs. Several fair engravings adorned the walls, and Gilbert felt that it would be decidedly pleasanter for him to share such a room as this with a pleasant companion than to reign sole master of a hall bedroom. "How do you like it?" asked Mr. Ingalls. "Very much better than mine. I shall be glad to change." "Then we will consider the arrangement decided upon. Can I offer you a cigarette ?" "No, thank you ; I never smoke." "That is where you are sensible ; I only indulge myself occasionally." They sat for half an hour and chatted. Gilbert wa! favorably impressed by his new friend, who, though ten years older than himself, proved a congenial companion. At ten o'clock he bade him good-night, and went to bed. A New Arrangement 75 His bed was not particularly soft or luxurious, but he dept soundly, and awoke in the morning refreshed. He jook an early breakfast, and walked downtown with Mr. Ingalls. When Mr. Moore, the bookkeeper, arrived, Gilbert was already at work. 'A new broom sweeps clean," sneered Moore, in an unpleasant tone. "Do you mean me ?'* asked Gilbert. "Yes; you are trying to make Mr. Sands think you a model." "I hope he won't think that, for he will find out his mistake.** "He will find out his mistake," said Moore ; "I predict that." "I intend to do my work faithfully,'* said Gilbert; "there will be no mistake about that." "I've heard boys talk that way -before. They don't deceive me." Just then Mr. Sands entered. He greeted Gilbert pleasantly. "So you are on hand in good season. I like to see that" "I shall try not to be late, sir." "Where do you board?'* "In Waverly Place.'* "That is convenient as regards distance. You may go to the post office for letters." As Gilbert started for the post office, a boy about hit own age came up and joined him. "Ar von Mr. Sands' new boy?" he asked. 76 A New Arrangement* "Yes," answered Gilbert. "You've got my place, then. I used to be thtrc. n "Did you? I am sorry to have interfered with you." "You won't like it. He is very hard to get along with.* "He doesn't look like it." "He discharged me for just nothing at all. That's what my cousin, the bookkeeper, says." "Is Mr. Moore your cousin ?" asked Gilbert, who begzui now to understand the cause of his own unpopularity with that official. "Yes ; he lives at our house." Gilbert said nothing, judging that it would be repeated. "I hope you will get another place," he said, politely. "I don't want another place. I want to be where my cousin is." Gilbert felt rather awkward. "That is natural," he said ; "I am sorry you are disap- pointed, but, of course, I am glad to get a place. I have to shift for myself, and it is necessary I should be earning money." "You won't stay long; old Sands will discharge you." "I hope not. If I do my duty faithfully, I don't see why he should." "That won't make any difference. Didn't I discharge my duty faithfully?" Gilbert did not know, and expressed no opinion. More- over, he thought he would not inquire, preferring to re- main neutral. Besides, he doubted whether he could fully ely on the correctness of John's statements. A New Arrangement. 77 "I don't want to lose my place," he said ; "but if I do, I hope you will get it back again." "Suppose you resign in my favor," suggested John, in an insinuating manner. "I would rather not," answered Gilbert, who felt that this request was decidedly cool. "Just as I thought," muttered John. "Mr. Sands would not thank me for meddling with what is not my business. If he chooses at any time to put you back and dismiss me, he'll do so without any fequest from me.~ John did not vouchsafe an answer, but walked off Sullenly. Nothing of any importance occurred during- the day, except that Gilbert found the bookkeeper as disagreeable as ever. It seemed impossible to suit him. This Gilbert Correctly attributed to his disappointment that his cousin had been superseded. About the hour of closing, Gilbert was surprised at the entrance of Mr. Briggs. "How are you getting on, Gilbert?" he inquired. "Very well, thank you, sir." "Do you think you shall like this place ?* "Yes, sir, I think so." "And you don't regret leaving school ?" "Yes, sir, I do; but that can't be helped, and I don't trouble myself with thinking of it." "You are right there; are you ready to go uptown?" "Yes, sir." "Come along with nv, the" 78 A New Arrangement When they were in the street, Mr. Briggs said: "I will tell you in a few words what I mean to do for you, so that you can have a fair understanding about money matters. I shall pay your board, and out of your wages you will be able to buy your clothes and provide for your other expenses." "But, Mr. Briggs," said Gilbert, "I shall be able to pay part of my board. I do not wish to be such a burden to you." "Say no more about it," said his guardian, hastily, "1 insist upon that arrangement." "But, sir, I shall want some time to repay you for the noney you spend on me." "When you are a rich man, I will permit you to do sa fill then, think nothing of it." "I am at least' very grateful to you for your kindness," said Gilbert. For some reason Mr. Briggs seemed uncomfortable whenever Gilbert spoke of gratitude, and tried to drop the subject. "Randolph spoke of calling to see you this evening/ he said. "Shall you be at home ?" "Yes, sir, I shall be glad to have him come." Gilbert was rather astonished at such a mark of atteiK tion on the part of the young aristocrat, but determined to treat him cordially, for bis lather's sake. CHAPTER XIL RANDOLPH'S CALL. Randolph had expressed to his father in the morning an intention of calling upon Gilbert. His motive was not interest in our hero's welfare, but curiosity to find out how he was situated, as, indeed, he freely acknowledged. "I woudn't call if I were you, Randolph," said his mother. "Why not?" asked her husband. "Gilbert will move in a different sphere," said MrSj Briggs, loftily. "I do not wish my son to form inti* > macies beneath him." "I don't intend to," said Randolph ; "I want to see what sort of a place he is in." "He will be likely to presume upon your condescension, and boast of you as one of his friends." Mr. Briggs understood Gilbert better. "No fear of that !" he said. "Gilbert is a boy. of spirit. He is not one to seek or accept patronage. His pride is quite as great as Randolph's." "What has he to be proud of, I should like to know," said Mrs. Briggs, with a sneer. "He is my ward," said Mr. Briggs, stiffly, "and it is quite proper that my son should pay him some attention.' "You seem to be infatuated over that boy," said ms wife, coldly. "I suppose you will want him invited to 'Randolph's birthday party next month." 80 Randolph's Call" "I certainly shall," said Mr. Briggs. "This is going rather too far," said his wife, angrify. "However that may be, he must be invited." "I should think I had some voice in that matter, Mr. Briggs." "Unless Gilbert Greyson is invited, there shall be no party at all," said Mr. Briggs, with decision. Mrs. Briggs felt that the fiat had gone forth. Her husband generally yielded to her, but sometimes he put hisT foot down, as the saying is, and was not to be moved. She felt very much annoyed, but Randolph offered her a way of yielding gracefully. "Oh, let the beggar come," he said. "He will be good fun. I want to see how he will behave." "Since you wish it, Randolph," said Mrs. Briggs, ad- dressing herself pointedly to her son, "I will make no further objection. It is your party, and you ought tci have your own way. But I shouldn't think it was neces- sary for you to call on the boy. He is at some cheap boarding house, I suppose." "Cheap, but perfectly respectable," said Mr. Briggs. "I want to see what a cheap boarding house is like," said Randolph ; and his mother said no more. At eight o'clock the servant brought up to Gilbert'! room a card bearing the name of Randolph Briggs. "It's a young gentleman that wants to see you," sl< explained. "I will go down and bring him up," said Gilbert. He hurried downstairs, and found Randolph waiting it the parlor. Randolph's Call. 81 "I am glad to see you, Randolph," he said, cordially; "will you stay here, or come up to my room?" "I would like to see your room," said Randolph. "It isn't much to see," said Gilbert, "but I shall be glad to have you come up." "It's a long way downtown," said Randolph. "All the better for me. I am nearer my place of business." Gilbert's room was on the third floor, back. He opened the door and invited Randolph in. "What a small place!" exclaimed Randolph, looking around him. "So it is," said Gilbert; "but I make it do." "And the furniture is extremely common," remarked his visitor critically. "That is true also," said Gilbert, laughing. "There does not seem to be much of it either; you have but one chair." 'Take that, if you please, and I will sit on the bed." Randolph sat down, but not till he had examined the chair carefully to see it if was clean. "I don't see how you can live in such a place." re- marked the young aristocrat. "Oh, I easily accommodate myself to it," said Gilbert; "but I hope soon to make a change for the better." "Indeed!" "Yes; a young man in the house has a large room; which he has agreed to share with me as soon as his pres- ent roommate leaves. That will probably be in a week. Then Fcan offt; "ou a better reception." 82 Randolph's CalL "What is the young man's name ?" "Ingalls. I believe he comes from Massachusetts." "Is he in business ?" "Yes; he is in a stationery store on William Street, Of course, he is a new acquaintance, but I think we shall get on well together." "What sort of boarders have you here?" asked Ran- dolph, curiously. "Rather a miscellaneous class. The gentlemen arc chiefly in business. There is one public school teacher a lady." "Of course there is nobody that moves in good society?" "I really don't know." "How much board do you pay?" "Six dollars." "Six dollars !" repeated Randolph, turning up his nose, "Some of the boarders pay considerably more, but my room, as you see, is small, and that makes it low for me." "What sort of a table have you?" "Plain, but as good as could be expected. Of course, it don't compare with yours." "I should say not." "But I find no fault with it. Everything is served neatly, and that is what I care most about." At this point Mr. Ingalls knocked at the door. "Excuse me," he said, when he saw Randolph ; "I didn't know you had company." "Come in," said Gilbert ; "or rather, if your roommate is out, let us adjourn to your room. We shall be more comfortable-" Randolph's Call. 83 "Certainly ; I shall be glad to have you." "Mr. Randolph Briggs, Mr. Ingalls," said Gilbert, by way of introduction. "I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Briggs," said the young man. Randolph bowed condescendingly. They went at once to the larger room. "This is much better," said Randolph, who seemed surprised to see a sofa. "Yes, I shall consider myself promoted when I get here." "Are you in business, Mr. Briggs ?" asked Mr. Ingalls. "Oh, no, I am preparing for college," said Randolph; "there is no need of my going into business." "I wish I could have gone to college," said Gilbert, regretfully. "It takes money to go to college," said Randolph, com- placently; "I intend to live in style when I go there." "I am afraid, Gilbert," said young Ingalls, "we must put off going till our wages are raised." "I must put it off forever," said Gilbert. "I have hopes of getting ready when I am fifty," said the young man; "perhaps Mr. Briggs will be a professor at that time." "I wouldn't teach," said Randolph, "though it is very respectable to be a professor. I shall be a man of for- tune." Mr. Ingalls glanced quietly at Gilbert. He was evi- dently amused by the self-importance of the young aris- tocrat. 84 Randolph's Call. "Do you like your place,' Gilbert ?" asked Randolph' "Pretty well." "You haven't got any ice water here, have you ?" "I will go down and order some." While Gilbert was gone, Randolph said : "I am glad Gilbert has got a place, for he is poor and needs it. My father has done a great deal for him; but then, he can afford it, for he is a rich man. I have no friends in this neighborhood; but I thought I would come down to see how he was getting along." "Gilbert ought to be very grateful," said Mr. Ingalls, dryly. "I think so, too. It is not every poor boy who has a rich man to help him." Here Gilbert re-entered with the water, and shortly after Randolph left. "What do you think of him, Mr. Ingalls?" asked Gil- bert. "He seems to think a good deal of himself," said the young man. "He referred to you in a very patronizing way." Gilbert laughed. "His mother has spoiled him," he said ; "she is the most disagreeable woman I ever saw. If Randolph had been brought up differently, he might not show so much foolish pride. I like his father best of the three." Gilbert little suspected that the man whom he praised bad been, thus far in life, his wors* enemy. CHAPTER XIII. GILBERT CALLS ON THE VIVIANS. As the boarders rose from the dinner table on Friday, Alphonso Jones addressed Gilbert. "Let us take a walk," he proposed. "Thank you," said Gilbert; "but I have an engage- ment." "I suppose there is a lady in the case," said Alphonso^ slyly. "There is a young lady where I am going," answered Gilbert. "So I thought. I suppose you wouldn't be willing to mention names ?" "Oh, yes. I am going to call on Mr. Vivian, in West Forty-eighth Street." "What ! Mr. Vivian, the great merchant ?" asked Jones^ surprised. "I believe he is an extensive importer." "That's the One I mean. How in the world did you get acquainted?" "I haven't been long acquainted," said our hero. Alphonso Jones was a young man who, in England, would be called a tuft hunter. He aspired to be on visit- ing terms in families of high social position ; but thus far had not met with much success. This did not prevent him from boasting continually of intimacy in quarters where he was not even acquainted. He did *v)t dreajcr 86 Gilbert Calls on the Vivians. that his little imposture was easily seen through by most of those who knew him, but was complacent in the thought that he was classed with that aristocracy which he admired from a distance. "Don't you know the Vivians, Mr. Jones?" asked Mr. Ingalls. "I thought you knew everybody that was worth knowing." "So I do," said Alphonso, with an air of importance "that is, nearly everybody. I met the Vivians, I believe, at Saratoga, but did not have a chance to cultivate their acquaintance. Greyson, will you do me a favor?" "What is it?" asked Gilbert. "Let me accompany you this evening to Mr. Vivian's. You can introduce me as your friend, in case they do not remember our former meeting." "I should like to oblige you, Mr. Jones," said Gilbert, "but my own acquaintance is too limited to allow me to take such a liberty." "Just as you say, of course," said Alphonso, crestfallen. "I dare say I shall soon meet them at some fashionable party." "So it will really not make much difference," suggested Ingalls. "Oh, very little," said Mr. Jones, nonchalantly. "I thought perhaps Mr. Greyson might like the company of one who was used to society. I think, on the whole, I will call on my friends, the Montmorencys, this evening." "Where do they live, Mr. Jones ?" asked Mr. Ingalls. "They occupy an elegant mansion on Fifth Avenue/* Alphonso, consequentially. Gilbert Calls on the Vivians. 87 "Couldn't you take me along with you?" asked Mr. Ingalls, demurely. "I fear not," said Alphonso. "The fact is, Mr. Ingalls, the Montmorencys are very exclusive, and have expressly said to me more than once: 'We are always glad to have you drop in, Mr. Jones, for we look upon you as one of ourselves; but bring no strangers. Our circle is already extensive, and we cannot add to it.' Very sorry, of course." "So am I, Mr. Jones," said Mr. Ingalls. "I should like to know a few high-toned people. How fortunate you are in knowing so many ! What is the number of the Montmorencys' house ?" "I always forget numbers," said Alphonso, rather con- fused for the whole story of the Montmorencys was a fiction "but, of course, the house is familiar to me. It's on Murray Hill." "That fellow is a humbug, Gilbert," said Ingalls, as he and his roommate entered their own apartment. "He pretends to have a great many fashionable friends; but t's all a sham. Some day I'm going to teach him a ^esson." "How?" "Introduce a friend of mine, a good amateur actor, as a French count. Fancy his delight at making such a>6 aristocratic acquaintance !" "Let me know when the time comes," said Gilbert, laughing. "You shall assist me in it. I hope you will have a pleasant call this evening." 88 Gilbert Calls on the Vivians. "I have no doubt of it." Gilbert dressed himself carefully, and at half-past seven Started on his visit. The evening was pleasant, and he decided to walk. Just opposite the Hoffman House he fell in with Randolph Briggs. "Hello, Gilbert," called out Randolph, "where are you bound to our house ? I don't believe you'll find anybody at home." "I am bound elsewhere," said Gilbert. "Where ?" asked Randolph, curiously. "To Mr. Vivian's." "To call upon Laura?" "My call will not be exclusively upon her," said Gilbert. "Take my advice and don't go," said Randolph, actu- ted by jealousy. "Why not ?" Gilbert asked, quietly. "They might look upon it as an intrusion." "I don't think they will, as I was specially invited for this evening." "Out of politeness. Probably they have forgotten all about it." "It appears to me, Randolph, that you take a good deal of interest in this matter," said Gilbert, amused. "Oh, I care nothing about it ; only as a friend I thought I would just mention that it might be thought rather presumptuous to take advantage of the accident that made . you acquainted with Laura, to force yourself upon the *> J family. If I were a poor boy like you, I would be careful I p v I to associate with my own class." Gilbert was provoked at Randolph's insolence, . as he Gilbert Calls on the Vivians. 89 rightly considered it, and answered, coldly : "I will think of your advice, Mr. Briggs. I appreciate your motives in offering it." "What does he mean ?" thought Randolph, following with his eyes his father's ward. "I believe the fellow is angry with me. Poor and proud, I dare say. The Vivians will soon get tired of him." But though he tried to console himself with this reflec- tion, it chafed Randolph not a little that Gilbert should be invited to a house which he could not hope to enter. Gilbert kept on his way to Mr. Vivian's house, arriving about eight o'clock. "Is Mr. Vivian at home?" he inquired of the servant who answered his summons. "He went out for half an hour; will you come in and wait for him?" "Is Miss Laura in?" "I believe she is." "Then you may hand her my card, if you please." Gilbert was ushered into the parlor. He did not have to wait long. Laura entered and cordially offered her hand. "I am very glad to see you, Gilbert Mr. Greyson, I mean." "Never mind about Mr. Greyson," said Gilbert, smiling. "Call me Gilbert, if you don't mind." "Then I will," said Laura, frankly. "Do you know, 1 plready begin to look upon you as an old friend." "I *m very glad of that, Miss Laura." 90 Gilbert Calls on the Vivians. "My father went out for half an hour, as the servant probably told you. He bade me keep you till his return." "Thank you; I shall be very glad to stay." "I met a friend of yours on Fifth Avenue yesterday, Gilbert.'* "Who was it?" "Randolph Briggs." Gilbert smiled. "I don't know how far he is my friend," he said ; ' 'though he told me this evening he was, and as a friend he ventured to give me some advice." "Indeed?" said Laura, looking the curiosity she felt. "Would you like to hear what it was?" "I certainly should, for it doesn't strike me that Ran- dolph Briggs is particularly qualified to give advice to anybody." "He advised me not to come here." "Not to come here! Why not?" exclaimed Laura, im* petuously. "He said I was only invited out of compliment, and that my visit would probably be considered an intrusion." "I wonder how he dared to say such things!" said Laura, indignantly. "What can he know of our feelings? Why, he isn't on visiting terms here himself!" "I suppose he meant it for my good," said Gilbert. "I am glad you didn't take his advice, Gilbert." "I didn't care to deprive myself of a pleasure. B& sides, I thought I could soon judge for myself whether you looked upon me as an intruder." Gilbert Calls on the Vivians. 91 "What do you think about it?" asked Laura. "You have been here long enough to decide." "I think I will stay a little longer." Just then a boy of ten opened the door of the parlor. "Laura," he said, "mother wants you to brine Mr. Greyson into the library." CHAPTER XIV. A PLEASANT EVENING. Gilbert was presented to a pleasant-looking lady, whom Laura introduced as her mother. "I am glad to see you, Mr. Greyson," she said, cor- dially; "I supposed Laura would bring you in here at once, but it seemed to be her intention to monopolize you." "We had important business to talk over, mamma." "Very important, no doubt. How do you like the city Mr. Greyson?" "I think I shall like it after I am better acquainted," Gilbert answered. "You haven't introduced me, Laura," said her brother Fred, in an aggrieved tone. "Gilbert," said Laura, "let me introduce to your favor- able notice my brother Fred, who, in his own opinion, is a model of all the virtues." "I am glad to meet him. I never saw a model boy be- fore," said Gilbert, pleasantly. "I never pretended to be a model boy," said Fred. "Laura's only chaffing." "Where did you pick up that word, Fred?" said his mother. "Isn't it a good word, mamma? It's just what she does." "Fred has just commenced Latin," said Laura, "but I A Pleasant Evening. 93 am afraid, from his own story, that it is just wearing out his constitution." "I don't see any good in it," said Fred. "Do you know Latin, Mr. Greyson?" "I have studied it some." "How far have you been ?" "I have read Caesar and Virgil." "Oh, then you know a lot about it I'm only in the sec- ond declension." "You don't like it, then?" "Not much. I don't see how anybody could ever talk such stuff." "You will be more interested in it as you get on further. That was the way with me. I wasn't in love With it at first." "I hope so," said Fred. Here Mr. Vivian entered, and greeted Gilbert cor- dially. "I told Laura to keep you," he said. "What have you been doing since we met ?" "I have got a place, or rather Mr. Briggs got one for me." "What sort of a place?" "I am with Mr. Sands, a stockbroker. His office is on Wall Street." "I know of him, though I don't personally know him. How do you like your new situation ?" "I have not been there long enough to decide. I like Idr. Sands." "Afe you still an inmate of Mr. Briggs' house ?" 94 A Pleasant Evening. "No, sir ; I am boarding on Clinton Place, near Broad" way." "You find that more convenient to your office ?" "Yes, sir." "Then you have fairly got started in your business career. I hope you may be successful." "Thank you, sir." "I believe you told me that your money, of which Mr. Briggs had charge, has been entirely expended on your education ?" "Yes, sir." "Are you compelled, then, to live on your weekly wages ?" "I don't think I could do that very well, as they only amount to five dollars a week. Mr. Briggs offered to pay my board, and let me use this for other expenses. ] don't like to have him do it, but he insists upon it." "That seems kind," said Mr. Vivian. "Was it your idea, or his, to go to a boarding house ?" "I suspect," said Gilbert, hesitating, for he was not clear whether he ought to tell this, "that it was Mrs. Briggs' idea. From the first she has not seemed to like me." "I don't like her looks,'* said Laura; "I have seen her ! several times. You know, papa, she was at the same hotel with us at Saratoga. She looks cross." "You must not speak too hastily against people, Laura, 1 * said Mrs. Vivian. "I suspect Laura only shares the general feeling," said A Pleasant Evening.; 95 Mr. Vivian. "Mrs. Briggs is by no means a favorite in society." "Nor Randolph, either," added Laura. "I thought he was a beau of yours, Laura," said her father, slyly. "He never was, papa. I used to meet him at dancing school, and I have danced with him there ; but that is the end of our acquaintance. If he bows to me I bow back, but I don't care to know any more of him." "Can't we have a little music, Laura?" asked her father. "I only play a little. Do you play, Gilbert?" "No, Miss Laura." "Or sing?" "A little." "Then I'll make a bargain; I will play if you Witt sing." "I hardly feel prepared to sing in company. 11 "This isn't company. You needn't mind any 01 us. Fred, open the folding doors, will you?" The piano was in the parlor adjoining. The doors were thrown open, and Laura sat down to the piano. Two or three songs were selected, and Gilbert sang to Laura's accompaniment. He had a good voice, and a correct ear, and the double performance paesed off smoothly. "Doesn't your brother sing ?" asked Gilbert. "Fred? He don't know one tune from another; be- sides, he don't like the piano. The hand organ is hi* favorite instrument." 96 A Pleasant Evening-. "I mean to buy one when I am rich enough," said Fred. "Shall you go around with it?" asked Laura; "or only keep it in the parlor for the entertainment of visitors?" "You may laugh as much as you like," said Fred ; "but a hand organ, that is, a good one, sounds splendid." "Did you ever see such a barbarian? Gilbert, what else do you sing?" The evening slipped away almost before they were aware. To Gilbert, it was positively delightful. Not that he was in love with Laura, but, never having had a sister, it was an agreeable novelty to him to meet a young girl so frank and attractive as Laura. "I hope you will come again soon, Mr. Greyson," said Mrs. Vivian, when our hero rose to take his leave. "Yes, do come," said Laura. "I shall consider it a privilege to call/' said Gilbert, with sincerity. "By the way," said Mr. Vivian, "I have taken several tickets for a concert in Steinway Hall next Wednes- day evening. I have a spare one for you, Mr. Greyson, if you have no engagement." "I shall be very glad to accept one, sir." "Then come up to dinner that evening ; we dine at six. iWe will all go together." "Am I to go?" asked Fred. "There will be a ticket for you, if you would like to go, though I am afraid you won't enjoy the classical music you will hear." A Pleasant Evening. 97 *No matter," said Fred, "I'll go, though I'd rather go to a circus." "If there were only a hand organ, Fred would enjoy 5t," suggested Laura. "Well, Gilbert, what sort of a time did you have?" asked Mr. Ingalls, when his roommate returned. "Delightful! I am going to dine there next Wednes- day." "It seems to me you are making a favorable impres- sion in that quarter." "I hope so." A knock was heard at the door. "Come in," said Mr. Ingalls. Mr. Alphonso Jones opened the door and entered. "Excuse my late intrusion, gents," he said. "And bow did you find the Vivians, Mr. Greyson?" "Very well, thank you." "They are very high-toned people." "I presume so, but I am not much of a judge," said Gilbert. "Probably," said Mr. Ingalls, "you do not know as many of that class as Mr. Jones. Did you find the Montmorencys well, Mr. Jones?" "Quite so, thank you. Mrs. Montmorency has had a bad cold ; but she has quite recovered now. They talk Of going to Europe next summer." "Do they, indeed ? How you will miss them !" "To, be sure. However, I have many other friends in 98 A Pleasant Evening. the first circles whom I can visit. I suppose, Mr. Grey- son, the Vivians have a fine house ?" "It seems very comfortable." "The Montmorencys live in a perfect palace. I wish you could see it." "I wish I could, Mr. Jones," said Mr. Ingalls; "but you wouldn't take me, you know." "I couldn't, Mr. Ingalls, as I explained to you. They, We so exclusive." "I wonder visiting such fine houses doesn't make you dissatisfied with your own home." "Oh ! my tastes are very plain," said Alphonso. " 'Mid pleasures and palaces though I may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.' " "Some of your own poetry, Mr. Jones?" asked Mr. Ingalls, demurely. "No, it's Shakespeare or Byron," answered Jones; "I (forget which. Good-evening, gents." "Would you like to know where Mr. Jones spent the evening, Gilbert?" asked his roommate. "On Fifth Avenue?" "No. Mr. Tarbox followed him, and saw him enter a billiard saloon on the Bowery. Jones is a first-class hum- bug." CHAPTER XV. AT STEINWAY HALL. Simon Moore, the bookkeeper in the broker's office where Gilbert was employed, was a young man, some- what under thirty. He understood his business very well, and thus far had given satisfaction to Mr. Sands. Personally, however, he was not agreeable. He was ir- ritable and exacting, and had not been liked even by his cousin John, when the latter was office boy. Now, how- ever, that John had been discharged, the bookkeeper, as we have seen, made common cause with him, and John came to look upon him as a friend. In this Moore was not altogether disinterested. John's mother, who was his aunt, kept a boarding house, and found it difficult to meet her expenses. John's wages, though small, were important to her, and now that she ^was deprived of this resource, her nephew feared that he might be called on for assistance. It was in order to save his own purse that he desired to reinstate John in his old place. The readiest method that occurred to him was to prejudice Mr. Sands against Gilbert. "Are you going out this evening, Cousin Simon?" aske^ John one evening. "I may go out by and by." "May I go with you?" "If you want to." Simon Moore was not always wflfing to "be troubled ioo At Steinway Hall. with his cousin, but this evening he chanced to be in a pleasanter humor than usual. "I have tickets to a concert, John," he said. "Would you like to go?" "Very much," answered John, readily. "The tickets were given me by a friend of mine, who is on the Times" explained Moore. "Where is the concert, Cousin Simon?" "At Steinway Hall." It was, in fact, the same concert to which Gilbert was invited by Mr. Vivian. The bookkeeper was not remarkable for his liberality, and John had been not a little surprised at receiving the invitation, until he learned that the tickets had cost his cousin nothing. Eight o'clock found them in their seats at Steinway Hall. The concert did not commence punctually, and they had some time to look about them. "Do you see anyone you know, Cousin Simon ?" asked John. "Yes," said the bookkeeper, "I see a particular friend of yours." "A particular friend of mine !" repeated John, puzzled. "Where?" "Five rows in front of this. There, near the center of the hall." "I don't see anybody I know." "It is Gilbert Greyson, your successor in our office." "It is he, I declare. He is talking to a pretty girl At Steinway Hall. XOX "That girl is the daughter of Mr. Vivian, tin, great importer." "You don't say so. How on earth did he come to know her?" "I can't say," answered Moore, coldly. "He is a very forward, pushing fellow. That may explain it." "I hate him," said John. "I don't love him overmuch myself," said Moore. John and his cousin were not the only acquaintances who recognized Gilbert on that evening. Randolph and his mother sat two rows behind the Vivians. Mr. Briggs had intended to come, but had a headache. He had suggested that the extra ticket be sent to Gilbert; but Mrs. Briggs had decisively objected. "I don't care about having that boy seen with us in Steinway Hall," she said. "Why not?" asked Mr. Briggs. "I don't fancy him. Besides, he would be presuming on our kindness." "I don't think he is the kind of boy to do that," said Mr. Briggs, who understood Gilbert much better than his wife. "It is a pity the ticket should not be used." "If it were in a different part of the house, away from our seats, I should not care particularly," said Mrs. Briggs. "If he went with us, he might be thought to be a near relative.'* "I don't think he would do us any discredit, either in appearance or in manners," said her husband. "You are simply infatuated with that boy, Mr. Briggfc. I am sure Randolph doesn't want his company." 102 At Steinway Hall. "No, I don't," said Randolph. "Like mother, like son," thought Mr. Briggs; but for the sake of peace, he did not think it best to press the matter. Soon after Randolph and his mother took their seats, the former discovered Gilbert sitting nearly in front of him. "He's here, after all, mother," he exclaimed, in a low "Who is here, Randolph?" "Gilbert Greyson. Don't you see him?" "He's with the Vivians, too!" ejaculated Mrs. Briggs* unpleasantly surprised. "That boy doesn't appear to have a particle of shame." "He needn't be ashamed of his company. I wish I jwere in his place." "I don't mean that. He probably hinted to Mr. Vivian to take him, and he couldn't very well refuse." "Very likely," said Randolph. "He's got plenty of cheek." Both mother and son could see that Gilbert and Laura Vivian were conversing pleasantly, judging from the smiles on the faces of each. "Mr. and Mrs. Vivian are not very wise in permitting such an intimacy between their daughter and a penniless boy," said Mrs. Briggs, frowning. "Some people are Irery unwise." "I dare say he pretends he is rich, and boasts of father's kcing his guardian," suggested Randolph. "I dare say you are correct," said Mrs. Briggs. "If ( At Steinway Hall. 103 knew Mrs. Vivian, I would correct that wrong impres- sion." Here the music commenced, and the two were silent. Randolph cared very little for the music, which was too classical to suit his taste. He did not expect to like it, but he went because he knew that the audience would be a fashionable one, and he liked to be seen on such occa- sions. Gilbert had more musical taste, and appreciated the greater part of what he had heard. When the concert was over, he thanked Mr. Vivian cor- dially for the invitation. "I have had a very pleasant evening, thanks to you, sir," he said. "I am glad you have enjoyed it," said Mr. Vivian, kindly. "Come and see us soon." "Thank you, sir." Just after this parting, Gilbert fell in with Mrs. Briggs and Randolph. "Good-evening, Mrs. Briggs," he said, politely. "Good- evening, Randolph. Where were you sitting? I did not see you." "We saw you," said Randolph. "You were nearly in front of us." "Did Mr. Vivian invite you to come?" asked Mrs. Briggs, coldly. "Yes, madam." "You are making the most of your chance meeting with them." There was something unpleasant in her tone, and Gil- bert detected it. 104 At Steinway Hall. "They have been very kind and polite to me," he an- swered, in a reserved tone. "I would not advise you to presume upon it too far," continued Mrs. Briggs. "I don't intend to, madam," said Gilbert, stiffly. "I don't think I have." "You seemed very attentive to Laura," said Randolph, with a characteristic sneer. "It was my duty to be polite," said Gilbert. By this time they had reached the street, and Gilbert said : "Good-evening." Neither Mrs. Briggs nor Randolph invited him to call, though the fact that Mr. Briggs was still his guardian would have made such an invitation only an act of ordi- nary politeness. As he made his way toward Fourth Avenue, Gilbert brushed against Simon Moore and John; but having his mind occupied, he did not notice them. "There he goes !" said John, enviously. "I wish I had as much cheek as that fellow has." "You've got a fair amount, John," said his cousin, dryly. "I didn't know it," said John, aggrieved. "Never mind, John," said the bookkeeper, with un- wonted good humor. "Suppose we go in somewhere and have oysters. I feel hungry." "So do I," said John, briskly. "I know a bully place near by." "If it's a good place, you can lead me there. While We are discussing the oysters, I have a little plan to At Steinway Hall. 105 tell you about, that may give you back your place at our office." "Goodl" said John. "You're a true friend, Cousin Simon." Ten minutes later they were sitting in a curtained compartment, in a saloon famous for the excellence of its oysters. In the next compartment, two minutes previous, Mr. Sands, the broker, had taken his seat and given his order; but of this neither John nor his cousin had the slightest suspicion. CHAPTER XVI. A PLOT AGAINST GILBERT. The next day Mr. Sands received an unexpected sum- mons to Washington. A brother, who was clerk in one of the departments, was seriously ill, and he was sum- moned to his bedside. "How long shall you be absent, sir?" inquired Simon IMoore. "I cannot say ; it will depend on how I find my brother. Keep me apprised of what is going on by letter, and, if necessary, by telegraph." "Yes, sir," said Simon, cheerfully ; "you may rely upon me." "Where is Gilbert?" "Gone to the post office." "I have sometimes thought, Mr. Moore, that you were prejudiced against the boy." "I was at first, sir," said Moore; "but on the whole he seems faithful, and disposed to do his duty." Mr. Sands smiled slightly, but this Mr. Moore did not Observe. "I think well of him myself," he said. "If he does well, he won't have reason to complain of me," said the bookkeeper. Again Mr. Sands smiled, but said nothing. Just as lie was leaving the office for the cars, Gilbert returned. "I wish, Gilbert, you would accompany me to the A Plot Against Gilbert. 107 Courtlandt Street Ferry," said his employer. "I am going to Washington this afternoon." "Indeed, sir !" "I am summoned to my brother's sick bed." "When did you hear of his sickness, sir?" asked Gil- bert, in a sympathizing tone. "A week since; but last evening I learned, by a tele- gram, that he is dangerously sick." By this time they were on their way to the ferry. "You may take my valise, Gilbert," said the broker, "if you are willing." "Certainly, sir," said Gilbert, politely. "I hope you Hvill find your brother better." "I certainly hope so. He would be a great loss to his family. By the way, how are you getting on with Mr. Moore?" "I hardly know, sir," said Gilbert. "I don't think lie likes me." "Have you done anything to offend him?" "Not that I am aware of. I have always treated him jwith respect " "That is right. If you get into any trouble with him while I am away, come to me after I return, and tell me ell about it." Gilbert looked surprised, but, of course, promised to do so. "I shall try not to get into any disturbance," he said. "I hope you won't, but I fancy you will," said his em- ployen "I hope you don't think I am quarrelsome, Mr. Sands." io8 A Plot Against Gilbert, "No; that is not my reason. I will say no more at present, except to request you, if anything happens, to give me a truthful and detailed account of it when I return." "Thank you, sir, I will," said Gilbert, who, though puzzled, felt that his employer was friendly toward him. Gilbert waited till the boat started, and then returned to the office. He regretted Mr. Sands' absence, for some- thing told him that Mr. Moore would make it very dis- agreeable for him while he was gone. Indeed, the book- keeper was not long in showing his state of feeling to- ward our hero. As Gilbert entered, he looked up sharply from his desk. "So you are back at last?" he said, unpleasantly. "Yes, sir," answered Gilbert. "I thought you intended to remain away all day." "Mr. Sands desired me to go to the ferry with him.** "He didn't desire you to stop to play on the way home." "Did you see me playing on the way home?" de- manded Gilbert, provoked. "How could I, when I was at work in the office?" "Has anyone reported to you that I stopped to play?* "No." "Then why do you charge me with it ?" "Look here, young man, I advise you not to try any ol your impudence on me !" said Simon Moore, who, know- ing himself in the wrong, was all the more angry. " T tell you, once for all, that I won't stand it." A Plot Against Gilbert 109 "I don't intend to be impudent, Mr. Moore; but I do expect decent treatment from you." "You are showing your hand pretty quick, young man. No sooner does Mr. Sands leave the city, than you begin to put on your airs. I shall take care to report your con- duct to him." "I have neither done nor said anything that I am ashamed to have reported to him." "Shut up !" said Moore, sharply. Gilbert saw that there was no use in prolonging the dis- pute, and quietly went about his duties. While he was absent on an errand, a little later, his predecessor, John, looked in the door, and, seeing his cousin alone, entered. "Good-morning, Cousin Simon," he said. "Where is Mr. Sands?" "Gone to Washington." "He has ? How long will he be gone ?* "A week, perhaps." John's eyes sparkled. "That's favorable for us, isn't it?" he said. Simon Moore nodded significantly. "You are right there," he said. "When he gets back, Gilbert Greyson won't be here." "You'll do what we were talking about last evening?" "Yes, I shall have plenty of chances while Sands ia mway." "Can't you manage it to-day?" "No, it would look suspicious; I don't want Mr. Sands to suspect anything." "How soon, then?" Iio A Plot Against Gilbert "Say day after to-morrow. In order to avert sus- picion, I will in my letter of to-morrow speak a good word for Gilbert say he's doing better than I anticipated, or something of that sort. The next day the explosion will come." "You'll bounce Gilbert?" "Yes, I'll take that upon myself, and explain to Sandi when he returns. Ten to one he won't interfere then." "And you'll take me in Gilbert's place?" "Yes, I'll do that, too. But you must do better than you did last time. The fact is, John, you were lazy and careless. I was sorry to have you go, as you are my cousin; but I couldn't blame Mr. Sands much." "Oh! I'll turn over a new leaf, Cousin Simon," said John, readily. "You shan't have anything to complain of." "I hope not." Here Gilbert returned from his errand, and the con- versation necessarily closed. Gilbert nodded politely to John, though he took no par- ticular fancy to him. "So the boss is away ?" said John, sociably. "Yes, he has been called away." "I suppose you are glad of it?" "Why should I be?" "When the cat's away, the mice can play, you know." "This mouse does not care about playing," said Gilbert, smiling. "Gilbert is a model boy," said Simon Moore, with a sneer. A Plot Against Gilbert. in *'I never set up for one," said John, in a tone of con- gratulation. "I should say not," sneered the bookkeeper, who could not abstain from criticising even his ousin, in whose favor he was intriguing to oust Gilbert from his position. "How- ever, I'll say this for you, that you are not a hypocrite." "And I never want to be," said John, virtuously. Of course, Gilbert understood that here was another hit at him ; but he was discreet enough to understand that it would do him no good to notice it. Presently John turned to go. "Is there anything I can do for you, Cousin Simon?* he asked. "Not to-day," answered the bookkeeper, significantly. "You can look round again in a day or two." "All right." As John left the office, a small bootblack approached him. "Shine yer boots?" he asked. "Get out of my way!" said John, crossly, at the same time lifting his foot and kicking the boy. "What did you do that for?" asked the boy, angrily. "Because I pleased." "Then take that;" and. the knight of the brush Swiftly touched John's cheek with the dirty brush, leav- ing a black mark upon his assailant's cheek. John would have renewed the attack, but a chorus of laughter at his appearance drove him back into the office to wash off the black mark. 112 A Plot Against Gilbert "I'll wring his neck when I get a chance," muttered John, angrily. "He wouldn't have touched you, if you had let him alone," said Gilbert. "Why did you kick him?" "Because I pleased. Mind your business, or I kick you, too." ".You'd better not," said Gilbert, quietly. CHAPTER XVIt. THE PLOT SUCCEEDS. The third day was rainy, and Gilbert wore a thin over- coat, which, on arriving at the office, he took off and hung tip. At ten o'clock the rain ceased, and he did not feel the need of wearing it when sent out on errands. About eleven o'clock John sauntered into the office. "You may go round to the post office, Gilbert," said the bookkeeper. "Very well, sir." Gilbert put on his coat and went out. "Isn't it about time, Cousin Simon?" asked John, sig- nificantly. "Yes," said Moore. "How shall we manage?" The bookkeeper took from his pocket a ten-dollar bill ftnd handed it to John. "That is Gilbert's coat," be said. "Put this bill into me of the pockets/' John obeyed. "I guess that will fix him," he said, in a tone of satis- faction. "I'll manage the rest," said the bookkeeper. "Stay found here till Gilbert gets back, and we'll bring mat- ters to a crisis." Just as John was placing the bill in Gilbert's coat H4 The Plot Succeeds. pocket, the little bootblack '^mentioned at the close of the last chapter thrust his head into the doorway. "Shine yer boots ?" he asked. "Clear out, you vagabond!" said the bookkeeper, ir- ritably. Tom, for that was his name, looked inquisitively about him and retired. He saw that there was no chance for business. He recognized John as the one who had kicked him the day before. "I wonder what he was putting into the coat," he thought ; but dismissed the thought as not concerning hint till afterward. "Did he notice what I was doing ?" thought John, witK momentary uneasiness. "But, of course, he wouldn't understand," he felt, with quick relief. A few minutes elapsed, and Gilbert returned, bringing home the mail. "All right!" said Moore; "wait a minute, and I shall want to send you out again." "Oh ! by the way, Gilbert," he said, after a moment's pause, "have you seen anything of a ten-dollar bill? I laid one on the desk an hour ago, and now it has dis- appeared." "I haven't seen it, sir." "Won't you look on the floor ? It may have dropped. 1 * Gilbert searched, but, of course, unsuccessfully. "That is strange," said the bookkeeper. "I remember distinctly placing the bill on the desk; have you seen it, John?" "No, Cousin Simon." The Plot Succeeds. 115 "It is very mysterious," mused the bookkeeper. "I hope you don't suspect me of taking it, Cousin Simon," said John, who had been instructed what to say. "Of course not." John began to turn his pockets inside out. "I want you to search me," he said ; "if you don't, you may think I took it, after all." "I never thought of such a thing, John," said Simon Moore. "I am sure Gilbert and I would prefer to be searched," persisted John, looking toward Gilbert as he spoke. Gilbert colored, for it was not agreeable to him to fall under suspicion, but he answered, quietly: "I am quite ready to be searched." "I don't think it at all necessary," said Simon Moore; "but if you boys insist upon it, I will do it. It is cer- tainly strange that the bill should have disappeared, and left no trace behind. Gilbert, will you search John, and then he shall search you." "If you desire it, Mr. Moore," said Gilbert; "but I don't believe John took the bill, and I am sure I didn't." Gilbert proceeded to search John, the latter assisting him. A jackknife, a couple of keys, a handkerchief and twenty-five cents in money were all that he found. "I'm not very rich," said John, smiling. "I don't mind saying that the ten dollars would be very acceptable, but I haven't got it ; .are you satisfied ?" "Yes," said Gilbert, "you haven't got it, and I didn't think you had ; you may search me now-" Xi6 The Plot Succeeds. John conducted the search carelessly, for he knew, be- forehand, what the result would be." "I don't find it," he said. "Where can the bill be? Are you sure you didn't put it back into your own pocket, Cousin Simon?" "Quite sure. By the way, Gilbert, didn't you wear an overcoat?" "Yes, sir ; there it is, hanging up." "John, you had better examine that, also, that the search may be thorough." "Certainly," said Gilbert, little dreaming of what was in Store for him. John plunged his hand into one pocket and found noth- ing; then into the other, and drew out the ten-dollar bill. "What's this ?" he asked, pretending to be surprised. "Let me see it," said Gilbert, overcome with surprise. "Let me see it," said Simon Moore, sharply. "It's a ten-dollar bill," said John, looking at it more Closely. "It's the note I missed," said the bookkeeper, taking it Into his hands. "What have you to say to this, Grey- son?" he demanded, sternly. "I have this to say," said Gilbert, a little pale, as was natural, "that I don't know anything about that bill, or how it came in my coat pocket." "I suppose not," sneered the bookkeeper. "I am willing to swear to it," said Gilbert, recovering Ilis firmness. "A boy that steals money cannot expect to be be- lieved, even upon oafh," said the bookkeeper. The Plot Succeeds. 117 "Do you believe I took that money, John ?" asked Gil- bert. "You mustn't ask me," said John. "I didn't think you'd do such a thing, Gilbert, but it looks mighty sus- picious." "I never stole a penny in my life," said Gilbert, hotly. "Do you claim this money as yours?" asked the book- keeper. "No, I don't." , "Then how came it in your pocket? It couldn't have got there without hands." A light dawned upon Gilbert's mind ; a suspicion of the truth flashed upon him. "It is true," he said, significantly. "Somebody must have put it into my pocket." "And that somebody was yourself,*' said Moore, sharply. "Of course it was," chimed in John. Gilbert looked slowly from one to the other. There was something in their faces that revealed all to him. "I think I understand," he said. "You two have formed a conspiracy to ruin me. I see it now." "If you speak in that way again," said Moore, in a rage, "I will kick you out of the office." "I should like to have you refer the matter to Mr. Sands," said Gilbert, betraying no alarm. "He will do me justice." "I ought to refer the matter to the nearest policeman,** Said the bookkeeper, in a menacing tone. "Do -so* if you like," said Gilbert, though he shrank The Plot Succeeds. with natural reluctance from being arrested, innocent as he knew himself to be. "I am not without powerful friends, as you will find." "Don't have him arrested, Cousin Simon," said John, with apparent compassion. "He has given up the money. Discharge him, and let him go." This was what Simon Moore had already determined to do. He knew very well that in any legal investiga- tion John and he would incur suspicion, and for prudential reasons, he preferred not to court any such publicity. "I ought to arrest you," he said, turning to Gilbert ; "but I will have pity on your youth, hoping that this will be your last offense. I shall, of course, discharge you, since I should not be justified in retaining you under the cir- cumstances. I will report to Mr. Sands why I was com- pelled to dispense with your services. I will pay you your wages up to to-day, and you need not come here again." "Don't trouble yourself about that, Mr. Moore," said Gilbert, with dignity. "I shall report to Mr. Sands when he returns, and abide by his judgment." "You had better not," said Moore. "I advise you for your own good. Mr. Sands will still have it in his power to arrest you; your best course will be to leave {he city, and go to some place where you are not known." "I shall remain in the city, and can be found, if wanted," aaid Gilbert, boldly. "The day will come, Mr. Moore, when my innocence will be known by all." Moore shrugged his shoulders. "I have heard such things before," he said. "Y jfc can The Plot Succeeds. 119 go. John, I will employ you temporarily, in Gilbert's place." "I understand your object now, Mr. Moore," said Gilbert, looking significantly at John. "Begone, or I will yet have you arrested," said the bookkeeper, angrily. Gilbert put on his coat and hat, and walked out of the CHAPTER XVIII, AN HUMBLE FRIEND. Just outside the office from which he had been dis charged, Gilbert was accosted by Tom, the bootblack. "Shine yer boots?" Gilbert shook his head. "Only five cents, mister that's half price." "That's cheap enough," said Gilbert; "but I've just lost iny place, and I cannot afford to pay even that." "Been bounced?" asked Tom. "Yes." "What for?" Gilbert hesitated. He did not like to admit that he had keen suspected of dishonesty; still, he was innocent, and had nothing to be ashamed of in the matter. He accord- ingly related what had happened. Tom whistled. "Did you say the money was found in your pocket?" he asked. "In the pocket of my overcoat," he replied. "And was your coat hanging up?" "Yes." "Then I know how the money got there." "You know how the money got into my pocket?" re* peated Gilbert, in surprise. "Yes, the other boy put it there." "What other boy the boy that's in the office?* An Humble Friend. 121 "Yes; his name is John." "How did you happen to see him do it?" asked Gil- bert, eagerly. "I went to the door to see if the bookkeeper didn't want a shine; just as I was looking in, I see that boy, John, go to a coat, and put a bill into the pocket. I thought it was his coat, and wondered what made him keep his money loose in that way. Did he say you put it there?" "Yes." "He wanted you bounced that's what's the matter.'* "You are right; he wanted the place himself, and now he's got it." "Just you go back and tell the bookkeeper all about it, and I'll stand by you," suggested Tom. Gilbert shook his head. "It won't do," he said. "John is Mr. Moore's cousin, and I feel sure they are both in the plot ; they would say you were lying." "Let 'em say it," said Tom. "Ill punch their heads if they do." Gilbert smiled at the zeal of his humble friend. "I ara afraid that would do neither of us any good," he said. "Won't you do nothin', then ?" asked Tom, disappointed. "Will you stay bounced?" "Yes, till Mr. Sands comes back." "Is he the boss?" "Yes; he is now in Washington, and may not return for several days. When he comes back, I sb p11 want you to tell him all you saw." - "I'll -do it," said Tom. 122 An Humble Friend. ''What is your name ? Where can I find you, if I want you ?" "I hang out at the Newsboys' Lodge. My name it Tom Connor." "Thank you, Tom; I'm very glad I met you. Your testimony will be valuable to me. Don't say anything about it to anybody else at present. I want to surprise them." "All right." "I think I will have a shine, after all," said Gilbert, wishing to repay his new friend by a little patronage. "I'll make your boots shine so you can see your face in *em," said Tom, dropping on his knees, and proceeding to his task energetically. "That will save me the expense of a looking-glass," said Gilbert. "So it will," said Tom. When the last was completed, Gilbert drew ten cents from his pocket, and extended it toward Tom, but, to his surprise, the bootblack did not offer to take it. "Never mind," said he, "I don't want no pay." "Why, not ? You have earned it," said Gilbert, won- dering at the refusal. "You're bounced, and ain't got no money to spare. I'll wait till you've got your place again." "You are very kind," said Gilbert, grateful for the con- siderate sympathy of his humble present; "but I am not so badly off as some, for I have no board to pay. You'd better take the money." "I'll take five cents," said Tom; "that'll be enough. An Humble Friend. 123 I'd rather work for you for nothin' than for that other feller for full price." "You don't like him, then ? Did he ever employ you ?" "He kicked me yesterday; but I got even with him," he added, in a tone of satisfaction. "How did you get even with him?" "I blacked his face for him," said Tom, brandishing the brush. Gilbert laughed. "He didn't fancy that, I suppose?" "He had to go back and wash his face," said Tom, laughing at the recollection. "Well, Tom, good-by," said Gilbert, preparing to go. "I'll hunt you up when Mr. Sands gets back." "You'll find me round here somewhere; this is where I stand." Gilbert walked away, feeling considerably more cheer- ful and hopeful than before his interview with Tom. Now he felt that he had at hand the means of his vin- dication, and his idleness would only be temporary. He was shocked at the meanness and wickedness of John and the bookkeeper in forming such a conspiracy against him, He was already learning the lesson of distrust, and tha* is never a pleasant lesson for any of us. Fortunately, we need not distrust everybody. He must be indeed un- fortunate who does not find some true friends to keep up his faith in humanity. Our hero had found one, who, though but a bootblack, was likely to be of essential serv- ice to him. It is said that ill news travels fast. That very evening 124 An Humble Friend. Mrs. Briggs learned that Gilbert had lost his situation, and from what cause. It happened in this way. Randolph, chancing to be downtown, it occurred to him to call upon Gilbert. His call was made about half an hour after Gilbert had been discharged. He entered the office, and, looking about, saw John, who appeared to be employed. He asked, in some surprise: "Does not Gilbert Greyson work here?" "No," answered John, promptly. "Not now." "How is that?" "He was discharged this morning. Can I do anything for you?" "Discharged!" exclaimed Randolph, much surprised. "What was he discharged for?" Here Simon Moore took part in the conversation. "Are you a friend of Gilbert Greyson?" he asked. "Ye-es," answered Randolph, in a tone of hesitation. "That is, he's an acquaintance of mine." "If you feel interested in him, I have unpleasant news for you." Randolph pricked up his ears. "What has happened ?" he inquired. "To be brief, I am afraid your friend is not strictly honest." "You don't say so !" exclaimed Randolph, really amazed. "He hasn't run off with any money, has he?" "He isn't very much interested in him," the bookkeeper said to himself, shrewdly. "He doesn't say anything ip his defense." An Humble Friend. 125 "No; but I am afraid he would if the theft had not been detected so soon." "What was it money ?" "A ten-dollar bill, which I laid casually on the desk, suddenly disappeared. It was found, after a little search, in the pocket of your friend's coat." "He isn't my friend, he is only an acquaintance," said Randolph. "I don't know much about him. I didn't think he'd steal, though. Did he own up?" "Not he; he was too brazen. Mr. Sands was absent from the city, but I did not hesitate to discharge him at once. In our business a boy must often be trusted with sums of value, and I should not feel safe in continuing to employ him." "I suppose you're right," said Randolph. "I wonder what father'll say. "Well, I guess I'll be going," he continued. "I didn't expect to hear such news of Gilbert." "We regret it very much," said the bookkeeper, hypo- critically. "Of course," said Randolph. "Serves him right. He shouldn't have made such a fool of himself." "That fellow don't care much about Gilbert, John," said Simon Moore, after Randolph's departure. "That's so," said John. "If he has no warmer friends than that, we shan't have any applications to take him back." "I hope not," said John. "What do you think Mr. Sands will say when he finds me here?" "If I tell him you have done your duty, and done all 126 An Humble Friend. I required, he'll probably keep you. You must do better than you did last time. No fooling away your time in the streets when you are sent on an errand. It won't do." "There won't be any trouble about me," said John, con- fidently. CHAPTER XIX. A DOMESTIC DISCUSSION. Randolph hurried home to tell his mother what he had heard about Gilbert's loss of employment. He knew well enough her feeling toward his father's ward to feel sure that it would be welcome intelligence. "Detected in stealing money!" ejaculated Mrs. Briggs, triumphantly. "J ust wnat I predicted all along. I am not often deceived about character." "I never heard you predict it, mother," said Randolph. "It was only because I did not like to speak against the boy," said Mrs. Briggs, only slightly discomfited. "I (read it in his face the first day he came here. I saw he Was sly and underhanded." "Well, I didn't," said Randolph, who was less malig- nant than his mother. "I never thought he would do such a thing. I didn't like him, of course, but, still, I thought he was honest." "I have lived longer in the world than you, Ran- dolph," said Mrs. Briggs, sagaciously, "and I know that appearances are deceitful. I am not so easily taken in as your father. He has been infatuated over this dis- reputable boy. I hope the knowledge of the boy's base- ness will cure him." "I suppose we needn't invite Gilbert to my party, now ?" "No,' of course not," said Mrs. Briggs, with emphasis. 128 A Domestic Discussion. "It would be an insult to you to invite a boy convicted of theft." "Father may insist upon it," said Randolph. "Not unless he is bereft of his senses," said Mrs. Briggs. "He has made a point of it till now; but, of course, this will change his wishes." Randolph did not reply; but, notwithstanding his mother's assurance, he felt some doubts on the subject His father was, in general, yielding and easily managed; but, as is often the case with such men, he was, at times, unexpectedly firm. This conversation took place just before dinner. It was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Briggs, who went up- stairs at once to prepare for dinner. Fifteen minutes later they met around the dinner table. By arrangement with Randolph, Mrs. Briggs had reserved to herself the pleasure of imparting to her husband the news she had heard. "I have heard some news to-day, Mr. Briggs," she com- menced, in a premonitory tone. "Indeed, my dear! Pleasant news, I hope." "I don't think it will be pleasant to you, though, I must confess, it is only what I have all along anticipated." "You speak in enigmas, Mrs. Briggs. Will you kindly be a little more explicit?" "You are aware, Mr. Briggs, that I have always had a very unfavorable opinion of your protege, the Grey son boy?" "You certainly have not concealed your opinion of him," A Domestic Discussion. 129 her husband, shrugging his shoulders. "Yes, I may say that I know your opinion of him." "I suppose you call it prejudice," continued the lady. "Well, it certainly seems like it, not being founded on the knowledge of anything to his detriment." "That was not necessary. There is such a thing at reading character. I judged him by his face." "He seems to me to have a very frank, attractive face." "As you read it," said his wife, contemptuously. "Well, this paragon of yours has lost his place." "He has?" inquired Mr. Briggs, in evident surprise. "Yes, he has, and I am not surprised to hear it." "Do you know why he was discharged?" "He was detected in theft stealing a large sum of money !" answered Mrs. Briggs, triumphantly. She expected that her husband would be overwhelmed at this disclosure; out he asked, quite calmly: "How do you know this? Who is your informant?" "Randolph." "What do you know of this, Randolph?" asked his father. Randolph gave his father an account of his visit to the office of Mr. Sands, and the information given him there. "What dd you say to that ?" demanded Mrs. Briggs, in exultation. "Does that change your opinion of your par- agon?" "I think there is some mistake somewhere," said Mr. Briggs. "Why should there be any mistake ?" she asked. 'Da YOU think Randolph would tell a lie ?" 130 A Domestic Discussion. "There are other ways 6 v f accounting for the mistake. I have no idea that Gilbert is guilty of what is charged against him." "Really, this is absurd. You are perfectly infatuated with this boy," said Mrs. Briggs, angrily. "Mistakes have occurred before," said her husband, with provoking calmness. "I will investigate the matter." "I don't see what investigation is needed. The boy hai stolen the money. The bookkeeper told Randolph so." "The bookkeeper may be mistaken." "Not much chance of that." "Or he may have taken the money himself and charged it upon Gilbert." "Really, Mr. Briggs, you are very perverse," said his wife, impatiently. "Because I am not ready to believe Gilbert a thief be* fore he is proved so." "After he has been proved so." "There would be no need of trials or juries if you were a judge, my dear," said Mr. Briggs, smiling. "You would be for sentencing the unfortunate defendant as soon as the charge had been brought against him." "Cherish your delusion as to the boy's innocence as much as you like, Mr. Briggs; but there is one thing which you will certainly concede." "What is that?" "Gilbert Greyson must not be invited to Randolph'! party." "Why not?" "A common thief impossible P A Domestic Discussion. 131 "But, suppose he is wrongfully accused?" "It is enough that he is accused, and probably guilty." "I will investigate the matter, Mrs. Briggs. If I am convinced that the boy is innocent, he shall be invited." Mrs. Briggs was about to make an indignant protest, when the servant, who had answered the doorbell, opened the door and ushered in the innocent cause of the heated discussion Gilbert Greyson. CHAPTER XX. A FEMALE FOE. There was a moment of embarrassing silenee after ':K entrance of Gilbert. Mrs. Briggs, as she afterward ex- pressed it, was paralyzed with astonishment at the ef- frontery of the boy. Randolph waited with curiosity to hear what his parents would say, while Mr. Briggs was silent merely because he was taken by surprise. He was the first to speak, and his tone, though a little embarrassed, was yet not without kindness. "Good-evening, Gilbert," he said. "Won't you sit down and have some dinner?" Mrs. Briggs looked daggers at her husband. How CQuld he dream of extending such an invitation to Gil- bert, under the circumstances. "No, thank you," said Gilbert, "I have already dined." "Then take a seat. We shall soon be through dinner." "This is an unusual time to call," said Mrs. Briggs, frigidly, breaking silence for the first time. "What difference does it make?" interposed her hus- band. "Gilbert is not a stranger, to stand on ceremony." "So it appears," returned his wife, in the same un- pleasant tone. "I ought to apologize for calling during your dinner hour," said Gilbert, "but I wished particularly to con- sult you about my affairs." Of course this was addressed to Mr. Briggs. Mrs, A Female Foe. 133 Briggs was, perhaps, the last person in the range of his acquaintance whom our hero would have cared to consult "Anything new with you?" asked his guardian, in at tone of slight embarrassment. "Yes," answered Gilbert, frankly ; "I am in trouble." Mrs. Briggs glanced meaningly at Randolph, as if tO say: "Now, it's coming." "You would, perhaps, wish to speak to me alone," said Mr. Briggs. "Oh ! if you have any secrets, Randolph and I can with- draw," said Mrs. Briggs, with unnecessary offense. She would have been deeply disappointed to be excluded from the conference between- Gilbert and her husband. Our hero, however, relieved her of her apprehensions. "Though I am in trouble," he said, "I have nothing to be ashamed of, and am perfectly willing to speak before all of you." Mr. Briggs here glanced at his wife with a relieved air. Gilbert spoke as if confident of his own innocence. It produced no such effect on Mrs.. Briggs. "He's going to brazen it out," she said to herself. "Go on, then," said Mr. Briggs, kindly. "What is your trouble?" "I have been charged with theft, and dismissed from my situation," said Gilbert, candidly. "Do you call that nothing to be ashamed of?" de- manded Mrs. Briggs, sharply. Gilbert met her hostile gaze with unflinching calmness. "No," he said ; "it is nothing for me to b* Ashamed of* for the charge is false." 134 A Female Foe. "What evidence have* we of that except your own as- sertion?" demanded Mrs. Briggs. "That is enough for me," said Mr. Briggs. "It is not enough for me," said his wife. "I will give you an account of the affair so far as I understand it," said Gilbert. "Fortunately, I have a wit- ness who is able to confirm my words." Gilbert's statement need not be repeated, as the facts are already known to us. "So you expect us to believe the testimony of this boot- black," said Mrs. Briggs, scornfully "a highly respectable witness, indeed." "I suppose a bootblack may speak the truth, madam," said Gilbert. "I dare say he would say whatever he was instructed to say for twenty-five cents, perhaps less." "You are determined to believe me guilty, Mrs. Briggs," said Gilbert, quietly, betraying no anger; "I expected it, for I know you are prejudiced against me." "I certainly don't believe the very extraordinary story you have told us," retorted the lady. "You charge a bookkeeper, of high standing, with entering into a con- spiracy against you. It is absurd upon its face." "How do you know the bookkeeper is of high stand- ing?" asked Mr. Briggs. "Because Mr. Sands would not have any other." "Gilbert has the same guaranty of high standing," said ; her husband, smiling. "He has been employed by Mr. Sands." A Female Foe. 135 "That is different. He took him upon your recommen- "Would I be likely to recommend any boy not of high standing ?" "Your levity seems to be ill-timed, Mr. Briggs," said his wife, coldly. "I thought it my duty to come to you and tell you at once," said Gilbert. "Knowing that you could not conceal it from us, for we knew it already," said Mrs. Briggs, who could not forbear another sneer. "You knew it already!" exclaimed Gilbert, with un- mistakable astonishment. "Has Mr. Moore already sent you word of it?" "No; Randolph happened to call at the office for you just after your discharge. He brought us the news." "I am much obliged to Randolph for his call," said Gilbert ; "I am only sorry that it occurred at such an un- fortunate time." "It was unfortunate for you, no doubt," said Mrs. Briggs. "When I return there, I hope you will call again," said our hero, turning to Randolph. Mrs. Briggs was exasperated by our hero's coolness. "Have you the effrontery to fancy you will be taken back after such a crime?" she demanded. "I have committed no crime, Mrs. Briggs. The charge is false, as I shall prove to Mr. Sands when he returns from Washington. He is a just man, and understand* that the bookkeeper is prejudiced against me." 136 A Female Foe. "When will Mr. Sands return?" asked Mr. Briggs. "In a few days. He has gone to the sick bed of his brother. I shall wait till he returns before taking any steps to clear myself." "It is probably your best course. I hope all will come Out right." "I think it will," said Gilbert. "Now, let me bid you good-evening." "Why not stay the evening?" said Mr. Briggs, in a friendly tone. "Thank you very much, but I will wait till I am cleared of this charge. I came up to-night because I wanted you to know about it." "I will accompany you to the door," said Mr. Briggs. When they were in the hall, he said : "Next Wednes- day Randolph is to have a birthday party. I shall b glad to see you here." "Thank you, sir," said Gilbert, gratefully. "I thank you all the more, because it shows that you believe in my innocence. But all the same, I would rather not accept. I shall still be resting under this false charge, and Mrs, Briggs evidently believes me guilty." "Women are apt to be prejudiced," said Mr. Briggs, apologetically. "Still, the prejudice would make it unpleasant for me to come." "Perhaps you are right, Gilbert. At any rate, you are manly and independent, and I respect you for it. Come round to my office if anything turns up in which you need iny advice." A Female Foe. 137 "Thank you, sir." When Mr. Briggs returned to the dining room, his wif accosted him. "Well, you had a secret conference with your promising protege," she said. "Not secret. I am willing to tell you all that passed between us." "Well?" "I invited Gilbert to attend Randolph's party next Wednesday." "Good heavens! Mr. Briggs," exclaimed the lady, an- grily; "this is a little too much. Of course the boy snapped at it. He has more effrontery than any boy I ever knew." "He declined the invitation," said Mr. Briggs. "He said that while resting under this charge he was un- ivilling to be present on such an occasion." "Then he has more decency than I gave him credit for," said Mrs. Briggs, relieved. "Knowing his guilt, he would find it embarrassing." "Permit me to differ with you, Mrs. Briggs. One thing more. I have only given Gilbert a verbal invitation. Let me request you to send him a personal invitation with the rest." "What necessity is there for that? Has he not de- clined to come?" "He must receive a" formal invitation, nevertheless," said her husband, sternly, "or there shall be no party." "Your father is so infatuated with that boy," said Mrs. Briggs, aft her husband had left the 138 A Female Foe. J3ut she sent the invitation. She knew by her hus- band's tone that he was fully in earnest. She was still a little afraid that Gilbert would accept, and was only quite freed from apprehension when she received a note from him regretting that he could not be present. CHAPTER XXI. ALPHONSO JONES. "Would you like a little fun this evening, Gilbert* asked his roommate, on the succeeding morning. "Yes," said Gilbert; "I always enjoy fun, and es- pecially now when I have lost my place, since it will help me to forget my bad luck. Is there anything up?" "Yes; we are going to play a practical joke on Al- phonso Jones. We are going to gratify his taste for as- sociating with the aristocracy." "What is your plan?" "I have discovered, in Bleecker Street, a stylish bar- ber, who has a smattering of French. In fact, he has served me more than once. He has entered into our plot, and agreed to personate a French count the Count de Montmorency." "Good!" said Gilbert, laughing. "When are the two to be brought together?" "This very evening, in our room. I shall dispatch a note to Mr. Jones during the day, inviting him to meet my illustrious visitor. Hayward and Kennedy are in the secret, and will be present also. Of course you will be with us, but you must keep on a straight face." "Never fear for me," said Gilbert. "I will take earc not to let the cat out of the bag." In conformity with the plan, Mr. Alphonso Jones re- ceived, during the day, the following note : 140 Alphonso Jones. "DEAR MR. JONES : I shall be glad if you will !avor me with your company this evening, in my room. I have been fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of an illustrious French nobleman, Count Ernest de Montmo- rency, who, in the most condescending manner, has ac- cepted an invitation to spend this evening with me. You will find him very affable and agreeable, notwithstanding his superiority in social rank. I feel 'a little diffident about receiving him, not being so well up in the usages of fash- ionable society as you are I rely on you to help me out. I have invited Hayward and Kennedy, also, to be present. Greyson will, of course, be with us. If you have any other engagement, break it for my sake. Yours truly, "W. INGALLS." The face of Jones was overspread with smiles as he read this epistle, and he felt at least a foot taller. He could conceive of nothing more glorious than to be in- troduced to a foreign nobleman. Once in his life it had been his privilege to make the acquaintance of a brigadier general, who had given him two fingers to shake, and said : "I am glad to meet you, sir." Most of the fash- ionable acquaintances, of whom he boasted, had no ex- istence save in his imagination, but this general was a reality; he was only a general of volunteers, but that made no difference to Alphonso; he had managed hun- dreds of times to make capital of his greatness in some such way as this : "My friend, Gen. Smith, remarked to me one day ;" or, "speaking of brave men reminds me of my intimate friend, Gen. Smith.'* But even Gen. Smith was not for a moment to be compared to the Count Ernest de MontmorenjC^ there was something peculi-^y high- Alptonso Jones. 141 toned in the name, Alphonso thought. So thought Mr. Ingalls, or he would have invented some other. Alphonso was anxious to communicate to some one else the honor in store for him; he would like to have gone to his employer at once, and said : "Mr. Simpson, I am to meet the Count de Montmorency this evening." This, however, even to Alphonso, seemed rather an abrupt and uncalled-for announcement, and he had to consider how best to manage the matter, for he was determined that Mr. Simpson should know it. It was not entirely easy, but finally a bright and satisfactory idea dawned upon the happy Jones. He went up to the desk, behind which his employer, a stout, practical man of business, was sitting, and coughed, by the way of arresting his attention. "Eh! Mr. Jones; did you wish to speak to me?" in- quired Mr. Simpson. "Yes, sir," said Alphonso ; "would you be kind enough to let me leave the store half an hour earlier than usual ?" "If you have a good reason, Mr. Jones ; are you sick ?" "No, sir; my health is excellent, thank you. The fact is, sir, I have an invitation to meet the noble count, Count Ernest de Montmorency, this evening, and " "The what?" exclaimed his employer, arching his brows. "A French nobleman, sir the Count Ernest de Mont- morency," repeated Alphonso, trying not to betray too Strongly his inward exultation. "What time are you going to meet him?" "This ^venine:, sir, but I wish time to dress properly." 142 Alphonso Jones. "Well, I don't know that I have any objection," said the merchant, deliberately. "Where is this count stop- ping ?" "I don't know exactly, sir ; but probably at the Brevoort House or the Clarendon." "Very well, you can go. Business is not pressing, and you can be spared. But, hark you, Mr. Jones, one word of advice." "Certainly, sir." "If this count wants to borrow money of you, don't lend him." "I am sure "he wouldn't ask such a thing," said Al- phonso, shocked at the idea. "Why, he possesses a beau- tiful chateau and an immense estate in France!" Here Alphonso drew upon his imagination for what he considered to be probable enough. "They all say so," said the practical Simpson, "even when they haven't twenty-five cents to bless themselves with. My advice may be needed, after all." Alphonso was rather disgusted by this caution, which seemed so derogatory to the character and position of a nobleman; but he, after some reflection, attributed it to Mr. Simpson's disappointment in not himself enjoying the privilege of being invited to meet the count. "Mr. Kidder," he said to a fellow clerk, "what do you think of my necktie ?" "It looks well enough why?" "I was wondering whether it would do to wear this evening ?" "What's up this evening?" Alphonso Jones. 143 "I am invited to meet the Count Ernest de Mont- morency, as you will see by this note." "Strange Ingalls didn't invite me," said Kidder. "When did he pick up the count?" "Really, Mr. Kidder, that is a singular way of speak- ing picking up the count," protested Alphonso. "I have no great respect for French counts," said Kid- der. "They don't generally amount to much." "He's jealous, too," said Alp'honso to himself, compla- cently. "It is clear he envies me my invitation." "What do you think I ought to wear, Mr. Kidder?" he asked. "Dress suit and white tie, of course." "So I think. I'm really sorry I can't take you with me, Kidder." "Oh ! I couldn't go to-night. I've got a ticket to the theater." "I'd rather meet the count than go to forty theaters," thought Alphonso. "Wouldn't it be a splendid thing if he should take a fancy to me, and invite me to visit him at his chateau in la belle France?" Alphonso made so many mistakes during the remainder of the day that he might have been spared considerably ooner without detriment to the business. CHAPTER XXn. COUNT ERNEST DE MONTMORENCY. At eight o'clock Alphonso knocked at the door of Mr. Ingalls' room. He was got up with the utmost magnifi- cence which he could command. With his dress coat, white tie and imitation diamond pin, he made an imposing appearance. "I am glad to see you, Mr. Jones," said Mr. Ingalls. "Count Ernest de Montmorency, permit me to introduce my friend, Mr. Alphonso Jones." The count, a little man, with a waxed mustache of ex- traordinary size, a long nose, and pale, watery eyes, rose, and bowed profoundly. "I am most happy, Monsieur Jones, to have ze honor of making your acquaintance," he said. "My lord count, the honor is on my side," returned Alphonso, with an elaborate bow, which he had learned in dancing school. "Mr. Jones," said Ingalls, "will you take the chair next to the count? Our distinguished friend is desirous of making some inquiries about fashionable society in America." "I shall be most happy," replied Alphonso, immensely flattered, "to give the noble count any information in my power." "I understand from Monsieur Ingalls you do go muctt in society.." said the count. Count Ernest de Montmorency. 145 *A little, your lordship," said Mr. Jones, modestly. "I tm intimate in some of our leading families." "You have some fine watering places, n'est ce pas?" "Yes, my lord count Newport, Saratoga and Long Branch are all fashionable." "You have visit zem all ?" "Oh ! yes," answered Alphonso, who had once stopped Over night at Saratoga, and made a day's excursion to Long Branch. "I meet so many of my fashionable friends there, that it is very pleasant for me." "Sans doute, and which do you prefare?" "Saratoga, my lord count. It is the most high-toned, in my opinion. My frienas, the Vernons, of Madison Avenue, always go there." "I once did know a Marquis de Varnon in my own country. "A relation of my friends," said Alphnso, confidently, "How long has your lordship been in America ?" "Tree week, zat is all." "Have you been in New York all the time ?" "No, Monsieur Jones. I did visit Boston and Philadel- phia, but New York is one fine city, ze best of all; it re- minds me of Paris." "Paris is a very beautiful city, I have always heard, my lord count." "Oh! tres magnifique. Zere is no city like it. Have you visited Paris, Monsieur Alphonse ?" He is getting intimate, thought Mr. Jones, elated, or fce would not call me by my first name. "No, your lordship, I have not had that great pleasure." 146 Count Ernest de Montmorency. "When you come," said the count, affably, "you must come to my chateau in Normandy, and stay one month." This was beyond Alphonso's most sanguine hopes. To be invited to visit a foreign nobleman at his chateau was An unlooked-for honor. "You overwhelm me with your kindness, my lord *unt," said Alphonso, in a nutter of delight. "I hope some day to accept your honorable invitation." "I think you will have zer good time. My sister, the Countess Marie de Montmorency, will be charmed to see you. She adores Americans." Alphonso was in the seventh heaven of delight. In- stantly he pictured the highborn Countess Marie falling in love with him, marrying him, and thus giving him at place in the aristocratic circles of France. Perhaps, in that case, family influence would procure him a title, also* It was the happiest moment of his life. "Nothing would delight me more than to make the ac quaintance of your august family, my lord count," he said, his voice partly tremulous with joy. "When do you propose to return to la belle France?" "What, you do speak my language, Monsieur AK phonse?" "Only a little, your lordship," said Mr. Jones, modestljy "Oui, monsieur, un peu" '"Comment votts portes vous, Monsieur Alphonsef* "Tres beaucoup bien" answered Alphonso, proudly. "What an accent 1" exclaimed the count, raising botV hands. "You do speak like one native." Count Ernest de Montmorency. 147 "I think I should soon learn it if I were in la belle prance," said Alphonso, much pleased. "Gentlemen," said Mr. Ingalls, "I don't like to interrupt you, but permit me to offer you a glass of wine." Glasses were handed to the company. "Mr. Jones, will you propose the count's health?" asked the host. Alphonso rose, and placed one hand on his heart. "Gentlemen," he commenced, "I feel ahem! deeply honored, and and happy on this auspicious occasion. We are assembled, sir, to do honor to an illustrious peer of the realm. The noble Count Ernest v'e Montmorency honors us with his high-toned presence. We all hope that he may enjoy his visit, and return in safety to his aristocratic relations, his honorable mother, and his sis- ter, the noble Countess Marie de Montmorency. I pro- pose the health of the noble count" The toast was drunk with enthusiasm. "Mr. Jones, you are quite an orator," said Mr. Ingalls. "You have ze great talent for speaking, Monsieur Alphonse. You should go to Congress." "My lord count, you flatter me," said Mr. Jones, de- ciding that this was, by all odds, the proudest moment of his life. "Not at all, Mr. Jones," said Mr. Ingalls. "I nev* heard a neater speech, did you, Hayward ?" "Never," said Hayward. So poor Alphonso was fooled to the top of his bent, and 248 Count Ernest de Montmorency. when the company separated, and he retired to his humble apartment, he was visited by the most ravishing dreams, in which he stood at the altar with the highborn Countess Marie de Montmorency, clad in sumptuous attire, wear* Ing on his breast the cross of the Legion of Honor, CHAPTER XXIII. THE LITTLE FLOWER GIRL. Gilbert found it very irksome to be without employ ment; besides, he was anxious to be vindicated, as soon as possible, from the malicious charge which had been made against him. He felt himself fortunate, however, in one respect; he was subjected to no privations, having his board and lodging paid by his guardian. Had Mr. Briggs suspected him, he was proud enough to have left his boarding place, and relied upon his own exertions. From the force of habit, and partly to fill up his time, Gilbert continued to go downtown daily. One day he met Mr. Vivian on Broadway, below the Astor House. "Good-morning, Gilbert," said the merchant, pleasantly. "Are you out on business?'* "No, sir," answered Gilbert. "I am out of business just at present." "I thought you were in the office of a stockbroker." "So I was; but I have lost my place." "Through no fault of your own, I am sure." "No, sir. I should not have lost my place if Mr. Sands had been in the city. During his absence the bookkeeper, who has a dislike to me because I superseded his cousin, discharged me." "Come up this evening to my house, Gilbert. Then I shall be at leisure, and you can tell me all the detaUf of the affair." 150 The Little Flower GirL "Thank you, sir." "I am sure he won't credit the charge against me," thought Gilbert, and this thought encouraged him not a little. Gilbert continued his walk. As he was passing Trinity Church yard, he was accosted by a little girl, of, perhaps, eight years of age. "Won't you buy some flowers, sir ? only five cents." Gilbert shook his head mechanically. Then he glanced at the little girl, and his sympathy was aroused. She was poorly dressed, with a fragile figure, and thin, pale face, which yet only lacked the roundness and rosy hue of health to be uncommonly pretty. She did not repeat her request, but she looked sad and depressed. Gilbert paused and spoke to her. "Have you sold many flowers to-day, little girl?" he Asked. "No, sir; only three bunches," she replied. "Where do you get them?" "I sell them for a woman." "How much does she give you for selling them ?" "Two cents a bunch." "Then you have only made six cents to-day. How long have you been standing here ?" "Ever since eight o'clock," said the little girl, wearily. "Don't you get tired being on your feet so long ?' "I wouldn't care for that if the people would only buy my flowers." "You are too young to be sent out in this way. Haven't you got a father to take care of you?" The Little Flower Girl. 151 "Papa used to take care of me when he was well, and did not let me come out; but now he is sick, and we have no money, and I have to leave him," said the little girl, sadly. "Poor child !" said Gilbert, compassionately. "You are unfortunate. Where does your father live?" "On Pearl Street, in a tenement house," said the little flower girl; "but I am afraid we will be turned out be- cause we cannot pay the rent" "What is your name?" "Emma Talbot." "Then, Emma, if you like, I will go around and see your father with you. Perhaps I can help him, or get some of my friends to help him. Can you come now?" "When I have sold this bunch of flowers, sir." "As it is the last you have got, I will take it; so we needn't wait." "Oh! thank you, sir," said the child, brightening up. "If you won't mind, I will stop and buy a roll at the baker's for papa." "Certainly, Emma. I have plenty of time. Wait; take my hand while we cross the street; you must be careful, or you may be run over." "I wait for the policeman generally," said the little girL "I should be afraid to cross alone." "You are quite right to be careful." The little girl took his hand confidingly, and together they crossed the City Hall Park. It was a new sensation to Gilbert to have the charge of a little girl. He had al- ways been thrown among boys, and^ never having had a X52 The Little Flower GirL jister, was very ignorant of girls, and the tastes of girls. For the first time, as he held Emma's hand, it occurred to him that he would like to have a little sister, whom he could pet and protect. As he was crossing the park, he met his successor, John, Sauntering along at a snail's pace. John had been sent out on an errand, but had fallen into his old way of joitering and wasting the time which belonged to his em- ployer. When he caught sight of Gilbert he started in Surprise at his young companion. "Hello, Greyson!" he said, by way of opening a con- rersation. "Good-morning," said Gilbert, coldly. "Is that your sister?" asked John, looking hard at Emma. "No," answered Gilbert, shortly. "Ho! ho!" laughed John. "I understand." I am glad you do." You've got a place as a girl's nurse. That's good." You are very witty," said Gilbert. "How much wages do you get?" continued John. "I think I had better not tell you, or you might get up ft conspiracy to deprive me of my position." "What do you mean by that?" asked John, uncom- fortably. "You know well enough what I mean. You know that you got your present place by dishonorable means. But \ don't think you'll keep it long." "You'd better take care what you say," blustered John. "My cousin may have you arrested yet" The Little Flower Girl. 153 "He is quite at liberty to do so," answered oilbert, tmterrified. "I don't think he will find it prudent, though." "Why not?" "Because it might come out who really put the monej; in my coat pocket." "You did it yourself." "You are mistaken. I have found out who did put it in." "Who?" "I don't think you need any information on that point.* "Look here," said John, angrily, "you'd better not tell any lies to Mr. Sands when he conies back." "I have no occasion to do so." "You'd better leave the city, or Mr. Sands may have you arrested." "I will risk that." "I guess you can get a place in Philadelphia," said John. "I'll get my cousin to give you a recommendation, if you'll promise to go there." "How can he recommend me after discharging me for theft?" "He'll think this will be a lesson to you. Shall I ask him ?" "No, thank you. I don't intend to leave the city at present." "I'm afraid that chap will make trouble for me yet," muttered John to himself, as Gilbert walked away with the little girl ; "but he can't prove anything. I guess roe and cousjn Simon will be more than a match for him " CHAPTER XXIV. EMMA'S FATHER. Gilbert kept on his way with the little girl. After a short walk, she paused in front of a miserable tenement house on Pearl Street. "This is where we live," she said; "will you go up- etairs, sir?" "If you think I shall not be intruding on your father," said Gilbert, with instinctive delicacy. "He will be glad to see a kind face," said Emma, simply. "Then, if you will lead the way, I will follow," said our hero. They clambered up three flights of stairs, and then Emma opened a door and ushered her companion into a small barely furnished room. On a pallet on the floor was stretched a man of fifty, pale and emaciated, with eyef preternaturally bright; his face was turned toward tht wall, and he did not see Gilbert. "Is that you, Emma?" he asked. "Yes, papa; how do you feel now?" asked the little girl. "Much the same, my child; did you sell your flowers?" "Yes, papa, and I have brought you a fresh roll. I have brought some one with me, too." Mr. Talbot turned his head, and looked at Gilbert, not without surprise. Emma's Father. 155 "I hope you won't look upon me as an intruder, sir," Said Gilbert; "your little girl told me you would not, or I would not have ventured to call." "I am glad to see you," said the sick man, "though this is but a poor place to receive company in." "I understand your situation, sir," said Gilbert; "you have been sick and unfortunate." "You are right ; I was unfortunate first, and sick after- ward. Emma, will you give the young gentleman a chair ?" "Oh! don't trouble yourself," said Gilbert, taking a chair for himself. Mr. Talbot proceeded: "Five years since, I removed to Chicago, with my little girl, in the hope that in that growing and prosperous Western city I might, at least, earn a comfortable living. I was not wholly without means I had about a thousand dollars but misfortune pursued me. I was once burned out, lost my situation by the failure of the firm that employed me, and the end of it all was, that a year ago I found myself bankrupt. Then I decided to come to New York, hoping to succeed better here. I managed, while I was well, to earn a pre- carious living by copying for lawyers I am a bookkeeper by vocation but, a month since, I was stricken down by a fever, from which I am only just recovering. How we have got along I can hardly tell you. When I became sick I had but a dollar in my pocketbook, yet we have continued to live. My little Emma," he continued, look- ing proudly at the little girl, "has been a great help to me. She has managed to earn a little, and has attended 156 Emma's Father. upon me by night and by ..day. I don't know what I could have done without her." "I ought to work for you now, papa," said the child, simply ; "all my life you have been working for me." "She is a perfect little woman, though only ten years old," said the father. "Poor child ! her life has been far from bright. I hope the future has some happier days in store for both of us." "Only get well, sir," said Gilbert, cheerfully, "and the happier days will begin." "I hope so; but even in health I found it hard to gel along." At this moment there was a knock at the door. Emma went to the door, and opened it. A short, stout, coarse-featured woman entered, and looked about her with the air of one who had come to engage in battle. "Take a seat, Mrs. Flanders," said the sick man. "Much obliged to you, sir," said the woman, not to be placated by this politeness ; "but I can't stop. I come 00 business. I suppose you know what it is." "I suppose it is the rent," said Mr. Talbot, uneasily. "Yes, it is the rent," said Mrs. Flanders. "I hope yoo are ready to pay it." "How can you expect it, Mrs. Flanders? You knout how long I have been sick and unable to earn anything." "That is not my fault, Mr. Talbot," said the woman, sharply. "I'm a widow woman, and have to look out {or myself. When I let you this room, I told you yow Emma's Father. 157 must pay me prompt, for I had to pay prompt. Have you forgot that?" "No, I have not forgotten it, and I am very sorry that circumstances have been so against me. Wait patiently, and I will pay you yet." "Wait patiently !" repeated the woman, angrily. "Haven't I been waiting patiently for a month ? To-mor- row I have to pay my rent, and I must be paid what you owe me." "We have but a few cents in the house," said Mr. Tal- bot. "How much have you got, Emma?" "Four cents, papa." "Give them to Mrs. Flanders; it is all we have." "Four cents !" exclaimed the landlady, shrilly ; "do you tnean to insult me?" "I don't feel much like insulting anybody," said Mr. Talbot, wearily. "Once more, do you intend to pay me my rent or not ?" demanded the virago. "I can't at present. In time " "Stuff and nonsense! then out you budge to-day. 1 Can't afford to keep you here for nothing." "Oh, Mrs. Flanders," pleaded Emma, in terror. "It will kill my father to go out, sick as he is. Let us stay here a little longer." "It won't do," said the woman; "I'm not so soft as that comes to. If you won't pay the rent, you must budge." Gilber- " id listened to this dialogue with mingled pain 158 Emma's Father. and indignation. It was his first practical acquaintance with poverty and the world's inhumanity. He could re- main silent no longer. "How much is your bill, madam ?" he asked. "Rent for four weeks, at a dollar a week four dollars." "I will pay it," said Gilbert, glad that the amount was not beyond his resources. The little girl impulsively seized his hand and car- ried it to her lips. "Oh, how kind you are!" she said. "Are you sure it will not inconvenience you?" asked Mr. Talbot. "Oh! no, sir/' "Then I will accept the loan with thanks. You are a friend in need." The landlady took the money with avidity, for she had considered the debt a bad one. "Thank you, young man," she said; adding, in an apologetic tone : "You may think me hard, but I have to be. I have to live myself." Gilbert listened coldly, for he was disgusted with the woman's coarse and brutal manners. "And I hope you'll get well soon, sir," she said, turn- ing to Mr. Talbot ; but he did not answer her. "It is the way of the world," he remarked, after Mrs. Flanders had gone out. "Poverty has few friends." "When you are well, sir, I will mention you to a friend, who may give you some work," said Gilbert. "Meanwhile, I will call again in a day or two.** Emma's Father. 159 "You will always be welcome," said Mr. Talbot, grate- fully. "You have done me a great service." When Gilbert went out, he realized that his generosity might cause him inconvenience, for he had but a dollaf remaining in his pocketbook, and was earning nothing. CHAPTER XXV. GILBERT IN A TIGHT PLACE. Gilbert called upon the Vivians the same evening. He was received with as much cordiality as on his first visit. "Now," said Mr. Vivian, laying down the evening pa- per, which he had been reading at Gilbert's entrance, "tell me how you came to lose your place." Gilbert told his story in the fewest possible words. "It's a great shame," said Fred, indignantly; "I'd like to put a head on that bookkeeper." "I sympathize with you, Fred," said Laura ; "but I think you might have expressed yourself differently." "Your sister is right, Fred," said Mr. Vivian; "you must not be too ready to employ street phrases." "That's what I mean, anyway," said Fred. "Do you think your employer will do you justice when he returns?" asked Mr. Vivian. "Yes, sir. Mr. Sands is an excellent man, and he knows very well that Mr. Moore is prejudiced against me." "Then you expect to be taken back?" "Yes, sir." "If anything should occur to prevent, come at once and let me know." "Thank you, sir " Before the evening was over Gilbert managed to in- troduce thr .cubi": 4 : of the little flower girl whom he had Gilbert in a Tight Place. l6l Befriended. He gave an account of the father's sick- ness, and the little girl's devotion. Fred and Laura were much interested, and asked many questions, which Gilbert answered as well as he could. "You think these people really worthy of assistance, Gilbert?" asked Mr. Vivian. "Yes, sir, I have no doubt of it." "You know there are many impostors, who live by; working on the sympathies of the benevolent?" "Yes, sir; but in this case I have no hesitation at all. I am sure Mr. Talbot and the little girl deserve help." "In that case," said the merchant, "I am willing to do something for them." He drew from his pocket a ten-dollar bill and handed it to Gilbert. "It may be best," he suggested, "not to give them this money all at once, but a dollar or two at a time, in order to insure its careful use." "Thank you, sir," said Gilbert, joyfully; "this money will be like a fortune to them. I will see that your wishes are carried out." "Papa," said Fred, "may I give Gilbert my five-dollar gold piece for the little girl and her father?*' "Not at present, Fred ; though I am glad you feel like offering it. When this money is expended, Gilbert will let us know, and then we will see what else is to be done." "You are a dear, good boy, to offer the money," said Laura, giving her brother an unexpected kiss ; "you have 162 Gilbert in a Tight Place. a good heart, though you don't always keep your facfc and hands clean." "A fellow can't always be washing his face and hands," said Fred. "You needn't kiss me if you are afraid of the dirt." Laura laughed. "I will risk it this time," she said. "Won't you play me a game of checkers, Gilbert?" asked Fred. "What am I to do while you two are playing?" asked Laura. "Oh ! you can be umpire," said Fred. "I should be sure to decide against you," said Laura. "That's because you like Gilbert," said Fred, who was just at the age when a boy is apt to make disconcerting speeches. Laura blushed a little, and so did Gilbert "I think we both like him," said Laura. "I do," said Fred. "Thank you both," said Gilbert. "I suppose there isn't such a thing as three playing a game of checkers. That would bring us all in." "No," said Laura; "but we can play the Mansion ol Happiness, if Fred is willing." "I don't mind," said Fred. "That's good fun, too." So the game referred to was brought out, and an hour was consumed in this way. Fred, to his great delight, was the victor each time, and was disposed to exult over his vanquished opponents. "Never mind, Fred; it will b our turn next time,* said Laura. Gilbert In a Tight Place. 163 At half-past nine Gilbert set out for home. He felt that he had passed a pleasant evening, and was cheered by the thought that his discharge had not alienated these true friends from him. Two days later he went to the office of Mr. Briggs. He was accustomed to make a weekly call, when Mr. Briggs would give him money to pay his week's board. "Is Mr. Briggs in ?" he asked, after looking about him in vain for that gentleman. "Mr. Briggs will not be in for a long time," said the clerk addressed. "He has gone to Europe." "Gone to Europe!" exclaimed Gilbert, in genuine as- tonishment. "Business of importance called him very suddenly," said the clerk. "How long is he to be gone?" "It is uncertain. From two to three months, I should say." "Did he leave any letter or message for me Gilbert Grey son ?" The clerk shook his head. "Nothing at all," he answered. Gilbert left the office in great perplexity. How was he to pay the week's board now due, he asked himself, with less than a dollar in hand, and no income ? CHAPTER XXVI. THE COUNT'S SECRET. On the morning after Alphonso Jones had enjoyed his memorable interview with the Count Ernest de Montmo- rency, he bore himself in a loftier and more consciously superior manner than usual. He felt that he was en- titled to a larger measure of consideration, on account of his intimacy with one of the nobility. "The count must have seen something in me, or he Nvould not have invited me to visit him at his chateau," re- flected Alphonso. It was natural that Mr. Jones should wish his friends to be aware of his social distinction. "Good-morning, Mr. Kidder," he said, in a patronizing manner, to his fellow clerk. "How did you enjoy the theater last evening?" "Very well. The play was a good one, and well per- formed." "I also passed the evening in a very agreeable man- ner," remarked Alphonso, complacently. "Where were you ?" "In Mr. Ingalls' room." "Oh! yes, I forgot. What company did he have in? Didn't you say something of a French count being ex- pected?" " T he " iint Ernest de Montmorenc v "*as present," The Count's Secret. '65 said Alphonso, dwelling with unction on the hig ing syllables. "How did you like him?" asked Kidder, who had re- ceived a brief note from Mr. Ingalls, letting him into the secret. "I never met a more high-toned gentleman," said Mr. Jones, enthusiastically. "His manners were most courtly, and I may add that he was very affable to me." "Ingalls ought to have invited me," said Mr. Kidder, affecting to feel slighted. "He will doubtless remember you another time," said Alphonso; "probably the count does not like a large company." "I suppose he is just like other men," said Kidder, by way of drawing out his fellow clerk. "If you hadn't known him to be a count, you wouldn't have seen any- thing particular in him." "I beg to differ with you," said Alphonso, with an air of superior information. "Some persons might have thought so; but I claim to be a judge of men, and I at once saw that he was a high-toned aristocrat?" "What did you judge from, now?" asked Kidder, amused. "I cannot explain what it was what the French call je ne sais qnoi," answered Mr. Jones, who had been study- ing up some French phrases that very morning. "Genesee squaw !" echoed Kidder, purposely misun- derstanding him. "What on earth has a French count to do with a Genesee squaw?" "I pity your ignorance, Mr. Kidder," sal' 1 Alphonso, 166 The Count's Secret. mildly. "The words I used were French, and mean: *J don't know what.' " "You don't know what they mean? Then why do you use them?" "You misunderstand me again. Je ne sais quoi means I (Jo not know what. Do you see it now?" "Oh ! that's it. I didn't know you were such a French scholar, Mr. Jones." "I am a poor French scholar," said Alphonso, mod- estly; "but I shall try to make myself familiar with the language before I go to France." "Are you going to France? How long has that been in your mind?" "To tell the truth, Mr. Kidder, I never thought seri- ously of it till last evening. But since the Count de Mont- morency has been kind enough to invite me to visit him at his chateau, and become acquainted with his noble family, I feel that it is quite worth my while to prepare myself to converse with them." "You don't say so ! What a lucky fellow you are ! Did the count really invite you?" "He invited me in the most affable and friendly I may say, urgent manner," said Alphonso, complacently. "Couldn't you get me an invitation, too?" asked Kid- der, in pretended anxiety. "I've been long wanting to go abroad, and I think my father would consent, if I re- ceived such an invitation as that." "I should like to oblige you, Mr. Kidder, but really, I couldn't venture on such a liberty," said Alphonso, de- cidedly ; for he feared that his fellow clerk, who was bet- The Count's Secret. 167 ter looking than himself, might interfere with his matri- monial designs upon the count's highborn sister. "Perhaps the count will invite me himself. I'll get In- galls to introduce me." "Possibly," said Alphonso, coldly; "but I wouldn't ob- trude myself upon his lordship." "I don't see why I shouldn't be introduced as well as you." Alphonso, who privately considered himself more high- toned than Kidder, felt that there was good reason, but did not think it policy to pursue the subject. Probably Mr. Jones referred to the Count Ernest de Montmorency at least thirty times that day, and succeeded in arousing the curiosity and envy of such of his ac- quaintances as were not in the secret. He indulged in many a gorgeous daydream, in which he figured as the brother-in-law of the count, with a beautiful chateau of his own, and this continued for several days. But his dreams were destined to a rude awakening. One evening, in passing through Bleecker Street, Mr. Jones strolled into a barber shop, which he had never be- fore entered. He glanced carelessly about him, when he made a sudden start, and gasped for breath. There, be- hind a barber's chair, in the act of shaving a red-headed man. was the elegant Count Ernest de Montmorency! The count looked up and met Alphonso's astonished gaze. "Good-evening, M. Alphonse," he said, with a nod and a smile. - "Goed-evening," ejaculated Alphonso, with difficulty 168 The Count's Secret How could he say "my lord count" to a barber? "Are you the the gentleman I met at the room of my friend, Mr. Ingalls?" asked Mr. Jones. "The same. I will explain hereafter," said the count, mysteriously. Alphonso succeeded the red-headed man in the chair presided over by the count. "I am incognito," said the latter, in a low voice. "I have been reduced to poverty by the rascality of a relative. They don't know me here in the shop." "You don't say so!" ejaculated Mr. Jones, much im- pressed. "They think I am a common man. It would not do to tell them." "Does Mr. Ingalls know?" said Alphonso. "Yes, he knows how I am reduced ; but he does not re- spect me the less. May I rely upon your secrecy, also?" "Certainly, my lord I mean, sir," said Mr. Jones, be- ginning to think it was all right again. "Do you think you will ever recover your estates?" "Don't speak so loud ! Yes, I am almost sure of it. In that case, I shall expect you to visit me at my chateau." "Thank you. I shall be most happy." "How strange it seems to be shaved by a count!" thought Alphonso. "But I really wish he wasn't a bar- ber. Couldn't he get something else to do?" "How is your friend, the Count de Montmorency, Mr. Jones?" asked Mr. Kidder, the next morning. "I believe he is well," said Alphonso, shortly. CHAPTER XXVII. HARD UP. A street boy, accustomed to live from hand to moutH, would not have been disconcerted on finding himself in Gilbert's circumstances. But this was our hero's first experience of debt which he was unable to pay, and it troubled him. He felt embarrassed at the dinner table, knowing that he was eating a meal for which he had not the means of paying; and this thought not only in- terfered with his appetite, but made him unusually silent and reserved. His roommate noticed this, and spoke of it when they had gone up to their room together. "What made you so quiet, Gilbert?" he asked. "You scarcely uttered a word at the dinner table." "The fact is, Mr. Ingalls, I am in trouble," answered Gilbert. "About your loss of place? You told me about that, and that you expected to get it back when your employer returned." "So I do ; but there is another trouble." "Troubles never come singly, they say." "It seems to be true in my case. I am owing for a week's board, and don't know where I shall get the money to pay it." "I thought your guardian paid your board," said Ingalls, who was acquainted with the particulars of Gilbert's history. ' 170 Hard Up. "So he did; but he has sailed for Europe suddenly, without making any provision for the payment of my money." "How long is he to be gone?" "Two or three months, they told me at the office." "That is rather inconvenient. If you were only a few years older, there would be a remedy." "What remedy?" (*"" "You could marry Miss Brintnall. Mrs. White told me the other day that Miss Brintnall has saved up two or three thousand dollars from her earnings." "That will be convenient for you when she becomes Mrs. Ingalls," said Gilbert, with a smile. "Do you think I would sacrifice myself for that paltry sum?" demanded Ingalls, with much indignation. "Ten thousand dollars is the lowest sum for which I will sac- rifice my liberty. I'll tell you who is most likely to be- J come Miss Brintnall's husband, that is, if she consents." ^~ "Who?" "Alphonso Jones." "What makes you think so?" "Alphonso lacks money to back up his gentility. H only gets twelve dollars a week, Kidder tells me, though he claims to have a thousand dollars a year. Miss Brint- nall's fortune will be a great inducement to him." "You forget that he has hopes of an alliance with the sister of the Count de Montmorency." "I think he had better take Miss Brintnall," said Mr. Ingalls, dryly. "Now, to come back to your affairs. Ar* you quite out of money?" Hard Up. 171 "Almost. I gave four dollars to a poor family a day or two since, not expecting that I was to be left this way. I have about fifty cents in my pocketbook, and I owe a week's board." His roommate reflected a moment. "I wish I were richer, Gilbert," he said. "As it is, I can lend you money enough to pay this week's board bill Before another week comes round, something may turn up." "Thank you," said Gilbert, gratefully; "but I don't like to rob you." "You won't rob me, for I intend to let you repay it when you can. If I could keep it up till your guardian returns I would do so; but this I. can't do. I will tell you what I would do in your case." "I wish you would advise me, for I don't know what to do. I never was in such a position before." "It was understood that your guardian would pay your board for the present, was it not?" "Yes; he offered to do it. I never would have asked him." "You say he left no directions at the office in regard to it?" "So the chief clerk told me." "It is clear, then, that it escaped his mind in the hurry of an unexpected departure. Probably he will set the matter right in his first letter. Wait a minute, though. His wife and son probably accompanied him to the steamer to see him off." "I suopose so." 172 Hard Up. "Very likely he spoke to them about it. I advise you to call on them and inquire." Gilbert looked reluctant. "It may be as you say," said he; "but I don't like to speak to Mrs. Briggs on the subject. She dislikes me, and so I think does Randolph, though not so much as his mother." "So you have told me; still I advise you to call, th* sooner the better, in my opinion." "Suppose I get no satisfaction ?" "In that case you will know what to look forward to. If you are thrown upon your own resources you can lay your plans accordingly." "I should like to know the worst, at any rate," said Gilbert, thoughtfully. "Then take my advice, and call this evening on Mrs, Briggs." "I will," said Gilbert ; "but I would rather have a tooth CHAPTER XXVIII. AN UNSATISFACTORY CALL. Mr. Ingalls was right in his conjecture. On board the steamer Mr. Briggs had thought ot his young ward, and was rather annoyed that he had not left directions at the office that he should be paid his regular weekly stipend. "There is one thing which I have forgotten," he said to his wife. "What is it?" she inquired. "Gilbert has been in the habit of coming to me every week for his board. I ought to have left directions at the office with Seymour to pay him in my place." He forgot that Mrs. Briggs was not aware of this ai> rangement. She was not slow in expressing her dis- satisfaction. "You don't mean to say that that boy lives on youT she exclaimed. "I pay his board, if that is what you mean by living on me." "That is what it amounts to. Why permit this?" "Surely, you don't expect that Gilbert will pay all his expenses out of five dollars a week," said her husband. "Why can't he get along as well as other boys ?" "Other boys have no friends able to help them. Gilbert's father was my friend, and I mean to stand by him." "Ho" r -nuch do you allow Wm for board ?" 174 An Unsatisfactory Call. "Six dollars a week." "Can't he get boarded cheaper?" "It seems to me that six dollars is very cheap. You remember that I spent a hundred dollars a week for you and Randolph and myself at Saratoga one season. That is about thirty-three dollars apiece." "There is no resemblance in the two cases," said Mrs. Briggs, coldly. "Gilbert Greyson is only a working boy." "And I am a working man." "Don't talk foolishly, Mr. Briggs," said his wife, sharply. "I have not much time to talk foolishly or otherwise. Will you attend to this matter of Gilbert's board?" "I will attend to it," said Mrs. Briggs. "Then there will be no need of my writing to the office." "No, there will be no occasion to trouble yourself fur- ther in the matter." On this assurance Mr. Briggs dismissed Gilbert from his mind, and shortly afterward bade good-by to his wife and son. "I sometimes think your father is actually soft," said Mrs. Briggs to Randolph, on the way over the ferry. "What claim has that Greyson boy upon him, that he should squander six dollars a week upon him ? And that isn't all, I presume. I have no doubt the boy manages to coax extra money out of him almost every week." "He won't get it out of you, mother," said Randolph. "I should say not," said Mrs. Briggs, very emphatically. "I should feel that I was robbing you. If v our fathef An Unsatisfactory Call. 175 impoverishes himself by such ill-timed liberality, you will be the sufferer." "I didn't think of that," said Randolph, soberly. "I don't, of course, wish to be mean or parsimonious/' continued Mrs. Briggs, "but I hold that a man's first duty is to his own family." "Of course it is," said Randolph, who felt confident of it now that he saw the bearing upon his own interests. "Will you give Gilbert the six dollars a week?" he in- quired. "Not unless he asks for it," said Mrs. Briggs. "If he doesn't need it there will be no occasion to offer it." "If he don't ask for it, will you give it to me?" asked Randolph. "You have an allowance of five dollars a week now. It seems to me that ought to be sufficient." "I can't save anything from it. If you give me the six dollars besides, I'll put some in the savings bank." "I will wait and see whether the boy calls for it." "I hope he won't." "He probably will. He'll take all he can get. That is his nature." Mrs. Briggs quite misread Gilbert, as my readers will probably judge; but she was too prejudiced to judge him fairly. Randolph was not as mean as his mother. He had a little of his father's nature, though he was more like his mother. The thought that it would impair his future in- heritance did not much affect him, but the prospect of having his allowance so largely increased took away all 176 An Unsatisfactory Call. consideration for Gilbert. He cared very little whether our hero was able to pay his board or not, if only the money might be paid to him. He was very selfish, certainly ; but he loved money for what it would buy, and not for its own sake, as was the case with his mother. Of course he hoped that Gilbert would not present him- self at the house, or make inquiry for the money; but in this he was destined to be disappointed. Sitting at the window on the evening Gilbert had re- solved to call, he saw, not without disappointment, our hero mount the steps and ring the bell. "He's corne, mother," said he, in a tone of regret. "Who has come?" "Gilbert Greyson. I suppose he has come for his six dollars." "I suppose he has," said Mrs. Briggs, with a curl of the lip. "I knew he wouldn't keep away long. Now, Randolph, one thing I ask don't say a word about the matter. I want to make him introduce the subject him- self. I don't wish to spare him any embarrassment." "All right, mother." Directly the door opened, and Gilbert entered. "Good-evening, Mrs. Briggs," he said, approaching and taking the lady's hand. She just touched his hand coldly and withdrew hers. "Good-evening," she said, briefly. "Good-evening, Randolph," said Gilbert, turning to th? younger member of the party. "Good-evening," said Randolph, less frigidly. "Havt von gor a lace yet ?" An Unsatisfactory Call. 177 "Not yet. My employer has not returned from Wash- ington." "Probably it will make very little difference to you how long he stays," said Mrs. Briggs, disagreeably. "I hope it will make considerable," returned Gilbert. "I was surprised to hear that Mr. Briggs had gone to Europe." "He went very suddenly," said Randolph. "It has put off my birthday party." "I should like to have seen him before he went," said Gilbert. "He had no time to notify all hie acquaintances that he was going," said Mrs. Briggs. "How long will he be gone?" "It is quite uncertain," said the lady, shortly. "It will depend on his business, of course." "I wish this visit were well over," thought Gilbert, but he felt that he must introduce the matter which led to bis call. "Did Mr. Briggs leave any message for me?" he in- quired. " Any message for you ?" repeated Mrs. Briggs, arching her eybrows. "Why should you expect that he would leave any message for you?" "Perhaps you are not aware," said Gilbert, uncom- fortably, "that Mr. Briggs, while I am at work on small Wages, has been in the habit of paying my board." "Indeed !" said Mrs. Briggs, in apparent surprise. "Whv f should he do that?" 178 An Unsatisfactory Call. "Out of friendship for my father, he told me," said Gilbert. "I should hardly have supposed that you would request such a thing of one not related to you." "I didn't request it," said Gilbert, coloring. "Mr. Briggs was kind enough to offer to do it. I accepted, on condition that I might hereafter repay him what money he should advance." "It is not very likely the money will ever be repaid," said Mrs. Briggs, coldly. "It will be repaid if I live," said Gilbert, warmly. "I have heard such promises before," said the lady, con- temptuously. "They arc generally made to be broken." "Not in my case," said Gilbert, flushing. "I will not discuss the matter," said Mrs. Briggs, coldly. "May I ask why you have introduced this subject?" "Mr. Briggs gave me no notice that he intended to withdraw his assistance, and I accordingly went to the office yesterday, only to learn that he had gone to Europe, and left no message there. I thought he might possiblj have spoken to you on the subject, and therefore I called. My board bill, amounting to six dollars, is due to-night, ard unfortunately I have no funds to meet it." "li must be rather humiliating for you to accept char- ity," said Mrs. Briggs. "I don't think my son would be willing to do it." "I should say not," said Randolph. "Say nothing more, Mrs. Briggs," said Gilbert, rising. "If you regard it in that light, I wish no assistance." "I don't wish you to suffer," continued Mrs. Brigg&. An Unsatisfactory Call. coldly. "I will give you money for your board bill, if you will tell me how much it amounts to." "Thank you, I won't trouble you," said Gilbert. "I shall get along somehow. Good-evening." "You are impetuous. You will bear in mind that I have not refused you the money." "I will bear it in mind. Good-evening, madam." "You did it well, mother," said Randolph, admiringly, as our hero left the house. "Will you give me the six dollars, now he has refused it?" "I will give it to you this week, Randolph; but mind, I make no promises for the future." "I guess it's all right," thought Randolph, pocketing the bills complacently. "I'll take care she keeps it up." CHAPTER XXIX. GILBERT'S PLANS. Gilbert left the house of Mrs. Briggs, not cast down* but with a full understanding of his situation. Until now fee had his guardian's assistance, and, with the income from his position as office boy, had felt no anxiety. Now, both had failed him, for the time at least, and he must shift for himself. Disaster develops the manhood in a boy as well as a man. So Gilbert did not indulge in any gloomy anticipations of starvation or pauperism. He never for a moment regretted his refusal to take money from Mrs. Briggs, offered as it had been in such a manner as to insult his self-respect. "I'd rather live on one meal a day," he said to himself, stoutly, "than humble myself to that woman." When he re-entered his room he found his roommate reading. "Well, Gilbert," he said, "did you have a pleasant call?" "So pleasant that I shall not call again in a hurry," answered Gilbert. "Then Mrs. Briggs won't give you any assistance?" "Yes ; but I have rejected it." Mr. Ingalls looked surprised. "Did you not act unwisely ?" he asked. "Let me tell you just what passed Detween us, and you shall judge." Gilbert's Plans. 181 The young man listened attentively. When Gilbert had finished his story he said, emphatically: "You did just right. I should have done the same thing in your circumstances." "I am glad you approve of my action. I couldn't stoop to take money offered as charity." "Then you have got to strike out for yourself, it seems ?" "Yes ; and I must settle to-night what I shall do." "Have you made up your mind to anything?" "I was thinking about that as I walked home. To begin with, I will borrow money of you to pay Mrs. White if you are still willing to lend it." "I will lend it to you with pleasure." "I think I had better leave this house, obtain a cheaper room, and board at a restaurant." "I don't think you can save much that way. Mrs. White is very reasonable in her charges." "I know that, but the probability is that I can't pay her. I must be strictly economical. I am not sure but the best thing I can do is to go to the Newsboys' Lodge." Mr. Ingalls shook his head. "It would never do," he said. "It would not suit a boy brought up as you have been." "I don't suppose it would; but I don't expect to suit myself. That is not the question with me. I must do as I can." "Then stay here. If you can't pay your whole board at the weejc's end I will make up the balance. I should have to pay more, at any rate, if I occupied the room alone.*' i8a Gilbert's Plans. Gilbert reflected a moment. "You are very kind, Mr. Ingalls," he said, "and I will accept your offer, on one condition." "What is that?" "That you lend me the money, and I will repay it as soon as I am able." "I agree to that." "Then I will stay for a week or two at least. Now I want to ask your advice. I must find something to do at once." "I wish there was a vacancy in our establishment." "I only want temporary employment. I expect Mr. Sands will take me back on his return." "I didn't think of that. Have you thought of any- thing?" "I am going to try my luck as a newsboy." "As a newsboy ! What will your friends, the Vivians, say?" "I don't know, and I can't afford to care. I must get a living somehow for the next few days, and I would rather sell papers than black boots. In the afternoon I shall try to get a little baggage smashing to do." "I admire your pluck, Gilbert," said his roommate. "Not many boys, brought up as you have been, would be willing to sell papers in the streets." "I don't pretend to like it," said Gilbert ; "but I would rather do it than sponge on others, or take money flung at me as alms. If you object to rooming with a common newsboy," he added, smiling, "I suppose I must look for another boarding place." Gilbert's Plans. 183 "Wait till I g'ive you notice to quit," said Ingalls. "In the meantime I will do all I can to encourage you. I will buy a morning paper of you to-morrow morning. Where shall you stand?" "Near the Times building, I think. Don't forget your promise, now. If I have one customer engaged I shall sleep more soundly." "You can rely upon me. Have you got money enough to start yourself in business? If not, command my purse." "I will borrow fifty cents, to make sure that I have enough. Now, as I must be up betimes and take an early breakfast, I think I will turn in." "Good-night, then. I will stay up and read a while longer." "He's a plucky boy," thought the young man. "H< deserves to succeed, and I believe he will/* CHAPTER XXX. GILBERT BECOMES A NEWSBOY. At an early hour the next morning Gilbert took his stand near the office of the daily Times. He attracted immediate attention from the members of the new pro- fession in which he had enrolled himself without pes mission. "What are you doin' here?" asked Jim Noonan, a tall newsboy, with red hair and freckled face. "I am selling papers," answered Gilbert, quietly. "What business have you here, anyhow? That's mjf place." "I shall not interfere with you." "You'd better not," said Jim, pugnaciously, under tho impression that Gilbert was apologizing. "Just you leav? here!" Gilbert eyed him quietly. "I shall not interfere with you," he repeated ; "nor will I allow you to interfere with me," he added, firmly. Jim looked at him attentively, and his opinion of hin* was somewhat altered. "What does a boy with good clothes want selling pa pers ?" he asked. "He wants to make a living," said Gilbert. "Paper, sir?" The man addressed purchased a four-cent paper. Gil- bert made change in a business-like manner, and directty Gilbert Becomes a Newsboy. 185 afterward sold another, while Jim Noonan looked on enviously. "I've a good mind to bust your head," he said, angrily. "Better go to work and look for customers," suggested Gilbert, coolly. Jim eyed him with angry discontent. He would liked to have pitched into him, but Gilbert was compactly made, and, though smaller than his fellow newsboy, looked difficult to handle. Jim had hoped to frighten him ; but his success was not encouraging. Gilbert, on the whole, succeeded beyond his anticipa- tions. Probably his appearance was in his favor, and attracted customers. But this was not all. He was quick and alert in manner, and kept a good lookout for trade. "How many papers have you sold?" asked Jim, aftet a while. "Fifty," answered Gilbert. "Fifty!" ejaculated Jim. "Why, I ain't sold but twenty." "You haven't attended to business as closely as I have.'* "Ef it hadn't been for you I'd have sold a good many more." "That isn't the reason. You would have sold as many as I if you had tried as hard." "It's mean, a boy like you comin 1 down and takin* away a poor boy's business." "I shan't sell papers any longer than I have to. I hope next week to go into something else." Just then a gentleman inquired for a paper which Gil- bert was out of. 186 Gilbert Becomes a Newsboy. "I think he's got it," said Gilbert, pointing to Jim, thereby obtaining a customer for the latter. "We may as well help each other," said Gilbert. "There's no use in quarreling." "Do you mean that?" asked Jim, doubtfully. "Yes, I do." "You ain't as mean as I thought you was," said Jim, his dislike beginning to evaporate. "I hope you'll stick to that opinion," said Gilbert, good- tiumoredly. "When I go out of this business I'll recom- mend my friends to patronize you." Thus far Gilbert had seen no one whom he knew. That trial was yet to come. I call it a trial, because Gilbert was quite aware that in becoming a newsboy he had made a descent in the social scale. He had taken the step as a matter of necessity, and not because he liked it. He knew very well how it would be regarded by his acquaintances, and he rather dreaded the expressions of surprise which it would elicit. The first acquaintance to greet him was Alphonso Jones. "Good gracious, Greyson !" he exclaimed, "what are you doing here ?" "Selling papers," answered Gilbert, flushing a little. "I thought you was in a broker's office." "So I was, and hope to be again ; but just now I'm out of a place, so I've gone into business on my own ac- count." "But, good gracious, how can you sell papers?" Gilbert Becomes a Newsboy. 187 "It's the only thing that offered, and I must earn my living." "Suppose the Count Ernest de Montmorency should see you what would he say?" "I hope he would buy a paper of me," returned Gilbert, smiling. "And your friends, the Vivians they would be awfully shocked." "I can't help it. I must earn a living. Won't you have a paper, Mr. Jones? I've got all the morning pa- pers Times, Tribune, Herald, Sun." "I'm afraid I haven't got any change," said Alphonso, whose large expenditure for clothing compelled him to economize on minor matters. "But, really, now, you ain't going to keep the thing up, are you?" "Till I get something better," said Gilbert, firmly. "I hope that will be soon. I don't like it myself." "It's so so ungentlemanly a business." "I don't agree with you, Mr. Jones; I think it per- fectly respectable." "Oh! yes, of course; but it is not high-toned, you'll admit that." "Perhaps not," said Gilbert, with a smile. "I don't pretend to be a judge of what is high-toned. I hope you won't cut my acquaintance, Mr. Jones, because I am a newsboy." "Oi ! no, of course not ; but I am afraid your friends, the Vivians, will." 1 88 Gilbert Becomes a Newsboy. "I hope not," said Gilbert. Alphonso Jones departed, and next in order came John Gilbert's successor at the broker's. "Oh, my eye!" he exclaimed, in genuine astonishment; "you don't mean to Say you've turned newsboy ?" "Yes, I have. Will you buy a paper ?" "Haven't got a cent. How's business?" asked John, with a grin. "Pretty good." "Hope you've got a permanent situation." "I think not. I don't expect to sell papers more than a week." "What are you going to do then? 1 ' "Going back into the office." "What office?" "Mr. Sands' office." "Do you think he'd take back a " "Stop there!" said Gilbert, sternly. "You know very well the charge against me is false. Fortunately, I am in a position to prove it." "You are?" asked John, in alarm. "Yes." "How can you prove it?" "I will let you know when the time comes." John was not disposed to continue the conversation. He walked back to the office, and told Simon Moore that Gilbert was selling papers in the square. "I am glad his gride is brought low," said Moore, with satisfaction, Gilbert Becomes a Newsboy. 189 "But it isn't," said John. "He is as proud as ever. He says he is coming back here." "Let him talk," said the bookkeeper, contemptuously. "That is all it will amount to." But John did not feel quite certain of this. CHAPTER XXXI. GILBERT'S SECOND DAY. "How much did you make in your new business, Gil- bert?" inquired his roommate, Ingalls, with interest, at the close of his first day's experience. "Seventy-five cents," answered Gilbert. "That is quite fair." "I suppose it is all I could reasonably expect, but it won't pay my expenses. At that rate, my weekly income will be but four dollars and a half, while, as you know, my board amounts to six dollars." "I will pay the extra dollar and a half." "You are a true friend, Mr. Ingalls," said Gilbert, grate- fully, "but that doesn't dispose of all my difficulties. I shall have no money for washing or to purchase cloth- ing." "But you expect to get your place back in a week." "Even if I do, my income will be only five dollars. I never supposed it was so difficult to make a living be- fore." "Wait and hope, Gilbert," said his roommate, cheerfully. "That is what I had to do when I first came to the city. It was weeks before I got anything to do at all. I got almost discouraged. Finally, through the influence of a friend, I got a foothold, and have been able to live com- fortably ever since." "I won't get discouraged just yet, at any rate," said Gilbert's Second Day. 191 Gilbert. "I will wait and see how things come out. If I am forced to remain in the paper business, I must find some way of increasing my income. I might combine a little baggage-smashing with it." "That's one thing I like about you, Gilbert," said the young manT~~ 7r You''ha've no false shame, but undertake whatever work you find to do." "I am not wholly without pride, Mr. Ingalls ; but I can't afford to indulge it. I shall get out of this street busi- ness as soon as I can." "You are justified in that, certainly. It shows a proper ambition." The next day Gilbert sought his chosen place, and again proceeded to sell his stock of daily papers, with about the same measure of success. At about half-past ten he caught sight of a familiar face. His own face blushed uncomfortably, for Randolph Briggs was about the last person he wished to see, under the circumstances. Randolph, who was rather nearsighted, did not rec- ognize him till he was close upon him. Gilbert had a momentary impulse to desert his post, and thus escape the notice of his unwelcome acquaintance; but this impulse was succeeded by the more manly resolve to stand his ground. "I have nothing to be ashamed of," he said to himself. "It is Randolph, or, rather, his mother, who should be ashamed." He "Was in the act of selling a Herald when Randolph came up. 192 Gilbert's Second Day. "Gilbert Greyson!" exclaimed Randolph, in anaa*- ment. "Good-morning, Randolph/' said Gilbert, quietly. "What are you doing?" "Selling papers, as you see." "You don't mean to say you have become a common newsboy ?" "I don't know whether I am a common or uncommon newsboy, but a newsboy I certainly am, just at present." "What induced you to take up such a business?" 'The necessity of making a living." "Why didn't you take the money my mother offered you?" "Because she offered it as charity. I don't accept charity." "It seems to me you are poor and proud." ""I certainly am poor, and my pride, I hope, is a proper one." "I should be too proud to sell papers in the streets," said Randolph, emphatically. "Perhaps you wouldn't in my case." "I never expect to be in your case.*' ".I hope you won't." "You know, of course, you will have to give up your fashionable acquaintances." "Does that mean you and your mother?" inquired Gil- bert, smiling. "Yes, partly," answered Randolph, seriously. "Then, there are the Vivians. .You wouldn't presum* to call upon them now ?" Gilbert's Second Day. 193 "Why not?" "Do you suppose they admit newsboys in the list of tiieir visitors?" "I don't know ; but I shall soon find out" "How?" "I mean to call there very soon." "I wouldn't. You wouldn't be welcome.** "How do you know that?" "It stands to reason," argued Randolph. "They stand very high in the social scale, and a newsboy is very low.** "I don't think the Vivians and you quite agree in some matters. If I find I am not welcome, you may be sure 1 won't repeat the call." "You will see I am right." "I suppose, from what you say, that I shall not be wel- come at your house?" said Gilbert, rather amused. "Why, you might call when no one is there. Of course, we couldn't introduce you to our friends." "I think the safest way will be not to call at all.** "That's so," said Randolph, and he walked on. "I suppose that is the way of the world," thought GH- bert. "Well, I expected it, and, so far as Randolph and his mother are concerned, I shall not have much tOi regret." At half -past twelve he stood with his last paper in his hand. They had gone off more slowly than the day be- fore, and he doubted whether he could dispose of the last one. "Good-morning, Gilbert," said a cordial voice. "Arc you reading the paper?" 194 Gilbert's Second Day. "No, Mr. Vivian," answered our hero; "I am trying to sell it." "What! Have you turned newsboy ?" 'Yes, sir. I could think of nothing else to do, and I must do something." "Was this necessary?" asked the merchant, in a tone of sympathy. "Yes, sir ; I have nothing to depend upon, except what I can make in this way." "You can't make a living, can you ?" "I am afraid not by this alone," said Gilbert "Have you had lunch?" "No, sir." "Then come with me to the Astor House restaurant. There we will talk over your affairs, and perhaps I can suggest something that will be more to your advantage than your present employment." "Thank you, sir; I shall feel very grateful for youf advice." They went to the Astor House, which was very near, and seated themselves at a table. Mr. Vivian ordered a substantial lunch, considerably better than Gilbert could have afforded on his own account. In fact, he had de- cided to content himself with an apple, and make that do till the six-o'clock dinner at bis boarding house. CHAPTER XXXII. A NOVEL PROPOSITION. A liberal lunch was ordered, and placed before them. "My time is limited," said Mr. Vivian, "and we will economize it by discussing lunch and your affairs at tfa$ ^ame time. How much do you pay for board ?" "Six dollars a week," answered Gilbert. "That is very little," said the merchant. "I room with another person, and thus secure more favorable terms." "Are your meals satisfactory?" "The food is plain, but good. I have nothing to com- plain of. I should like nothing better than to feel sure that I could continue to pay my expenses at this rate." "That is well," said Mr. Vivian, approvingly. "I lik your spirit. You are not disposed to find unnecessary fault. Then you cannot make six dollars a week by sell* ing papers ?" "No, sir; at least, I have not done so thus far. Yes- terday I made seventy cents, and to-day about the same *um." "That will never do. It leaves you nothing for wash- big or clothes." "No, sir. However, I am pretty well provided witH clothes. I don't expect to require anything in that line Aw six months," 196 A Novel Proposition. "Probably you couldn't put off washing for so long," suggested Mr. Vivian, with a smile. "Hardly," answered Gilbert. "Before you came to the city," said Mr. Vivian, ap- parently changing the subject, "you were studying for College, were you not?" "Yes, sir." "How far had you proceeded?" "By next summer I could easily have been ready tc 6nter Yale College; if necessary, earlier." "Then you must be a good classical scholar already." "A fair one," said Gilbert, modestly. "Did you ever think of teaching?" Gilbert looked surprised. "I don't know who would employ a boy like me," he Said. "You would be competent to instruct a beginner in Latin and the common English studies, I suppose ?" "I ought to be, sir." "Then I will tell you an idea I have had in mind for a jyeek or more. My boy, Fred, is attending a classical school, but his progress is not satisfactory to me. I don't think him lacking in capacity, but he does not apply him- self as he ought. It has occurred to me that assistance in the evening would materially aid him, and promote his Standing in school. Except in Latin, I could myself assist him, but after the business and perplexities of the day, I am in no mood to turn teacher. Now, you are competent, and Fred has taken a fancy to you. Are you willing to give him five evenings a week?" A Novel Proposition. 197 'Nothing would suit me better, sir," said Gilbert, quickly. "I like Fred, and would do my best to be of service to him." Mr. Vivian looked pleased. "Then," he said, "I see no reason why we should not try the experiment. The only thing remaining to be dis- cussed is the compensation." "I leave that to you, sir." "I may take advantage of your confidence," said the merchant. "I don't feel alarmed," said Gilbert, smiling. "Suppose, then, we say ten dollars a week for five evenings." "Ten dollars!" exclaimed Gilbert, in amazement. "If that is not adequate " "Why, Mr. Vivian, my services would never be worth ten dollars a week. Remember, sir, I am only a boy, and inexperienced as a teacher." "I believe you will do Fred more good than an older and more experienced teacher. He takes to you, and will work cheerfully with you, while I don't think he would with the other." "But ten dollars a week is a large sum for you to pay, Mr. Vivian." "I believe in paying a good price, and requiring good, faithful work, such as I think you will render." "I will try to render it, at any rate, sir." "Then it is a bargain, is it?" "Yes, sir, if you say so. I need not say that it will be a very great help to me." 198 A Novel Proposition. "I know that, Gilbert; and I am glad to be able to serve you, at the same time that I serve myself. When I was a boy I was in limited circumstances. The mem- ory of my own past makes me considerate of others. (Now, when will you begin?" "This evening, if you like." "I should like it. We will expect you then. Here is a week's pay in advance." Mr. Vivian took from his pocketbook a ten-dollar bill and placed it in Gilbert's hands. "Under the circumstances," he said, "you may as well give up selling papers." "I shall be very glad to give it up, sir, and now I shall leel able to do so." "I appreciate and respect your motives in doing what you could find to do, but now you are a teacher a classi- cal professor and must do nothing incompatible with the dignity of your learned profession." "I will try to remember it, sir." "I must leave you, now. Let us see you this evening." "I will be sure to come, sir." When Gilbert left the hotel, he felt elated at his un- expected good fortune. "I believe the tide has turned," he said to himself. "I little dreamed that my Latin would prove such a friend in need. I can't expect to earn the liberal sum Mr. Vivian has agreed to pay me, but I will do my duty as faithfully and well as I can." Just after dinner that evening Alphonso Jones strolled into Gilbert's room. A Novel Proposition. 199 "How is the newspaper business?" he inquired. "Pretty fair," answered Gilbert. "I think we ought to patronize Mr. Greyson, eh! Mr. Ingalls?" "Thank you, Mr. Jones, but I have retired from the business." "You don't say ! Why, you told me it was fair." "I shall retire, nevertheless." "Have you found another place ?" "I have obtained another position." "You have! What is it?" "Professor of the classics and English literature." "You're joking," remarked Alphonso, rather bewil- dered. "No, I am not. I have been engaged to teach five evenings in the week." "I didn't know you were such a scholar," said Mr. Jones, surprised. "Do they pay you much?" "Two dollars an evening." "Good gracious ! That is splendid pay." "Yes, it is very good pay." "Where are you to teach ?" "Mr. Vivian's son." "He doesn't know that you have been a newsboy, does he?" "Yes, he does; he saw me selling papers in the street to-day." "Well, Greyson, all I can say is, you are the luckiest boy I ever knew. I wish I could earn two dollars an evening-" goo A Novel Proposition. "I'll try to get you a chance," said Gilbert, demurely. "What can you teach?" "Well, I ain't very fresh in my studies," said Alphonso. *I guess it wouldn't be of any use. Ain't you going to Work in the daytime?" "I shall get back into the broker's office, if I can." "Then you will have quite an income for a boy, Gil- bert," said Ingalls. "Don't you think you could take me up and introduce ine to the Vivians some evening ?" insinuated Alphonso. "I don't think I could, Mr. Jones." "Oh ! it's of no consequence," said Alphonso, with ap- parent indifference. "I have any quantity of high-toned friends who move in the first circles. Some of them know the Vivians, and that's why I wanted to be in- troduced." "I wonder if that fellow expects to be believed," said Jtfr. Ingalls, after Alphonso had retired. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE NEW PROFESSOR Fred Vivian had not been informed of the plan whicH his father had in view for him. Mr. Vivian, however, felt confident that it would be agreeable to his son, and did not wish to speak of it until he had ascertained Gilbert's willingness. At dinner, after the interview described in the last chapter, Mr. Vivian, for the first time, mentioned the matter. "What lessons have you to-night, Fred?" he asked. "I have my Latin, and some hard sums in reduction.* "How are you getting on in Latin?" "I wish you would let me give it up, father," said Fred, earnestly. "I believe it was only got up to trouble school- boys." "I suppose," said his father, smiling, "you think Csesar, Virgil and Cicero only wrote with the same purpose." "Confound them ! Why couldn't they write in Eng- lish?" said Fred, petulantly. All at the table laughed, and finally Fred himself joined in. "I suspect the Roman boys would have found as much trouble with English as you find with Latin," said Mr. Vivian. "As a fact, there was no such language in ex- istence then as our modern English tongue." - "I wish La an were as easy as English," said Fred. 202 The New Professor. "No doubt it is. Foreigners find our language very difficult." "Difficult ! I don't see what there is difficult about it." "Because it is your native language. Roman boys would have been equally surprised at anyone finding Latin difficult." "I wish I was a Roman boy, then. Laura, will you help me about my sums?" "I have got my own lessons to prepare, Fred." "Will you help me, father?" "I like to have my evenings to myself, Fred. How- ever, don't look disappointed. You shall have help." "Who will help me? Laura says she can't." "I have engaged a professor to come here every evening and assist you about your lessons." "A professor !" exclaimed Fred, uneasily. "That will be as bad as being at an evening school. I would rather get along by myself." "Just now you wanted help," said his father. "I don't want a professor. He will make me work too hard." "I think you will like him," said Mr. Vivian. "When is he coming?" "This evening. He will be here about eight o'clock." "Isn't this a new plan?" asked Mrs. Vivian. "Don't you approve of it, my dear?" asked her hus- band. "I thought his presence might be a restraint upon us. unless, indeed, Fred goes upstairs with him." The New Professor. 203 "No, let me stay here," urged Fred. "I don't want to go off with that old man." "How do you know he is an old man?" inquired his father, smiling. "I suppose he is." "He can't be considered so. In fact, he is rather young." "It's all the same," said Fred, discontentedly. "I sup- pose he is as stiff as a poker." "He did not impress me so. With his help you will get through your lessons quickly ; and then you can have the rest of the evening to yourself." "What is his name?" asked Laura. "I will see if I can find his card," said Mr. Vivian, pre- tending to search his pockets in vain. "Never mind, I will ask him when he comes." "You did not tell me you thought of making this ar- rangement for Fred," said Mrs. Vivian. "I see," said her husband, smiling, "that you are a little in doubt as to its expediency. If, at the end of "a week, it appears unsatisfactory, I will dismiss the professor." Fred was relieved by this promise. He had already formed in his own mind an image of the expected teacher a tall, thin man, in a rusty black suit, wearing a pair of iron-bowed spectacles. He had seen the tutor of a school- mate of his who answered this description, and hastily adopted the conclusion that most visiting tutors were like him. At ten minutes of eight Gilbert Greyson was an- nounced. 204 The New Professor. "Oh, Gilbert, I'm so glad to see you," said fcred; "though I'm afraid I can't be with you much this even- ing." "Why not?" asked Gilbert. "Father has engaged a professor to assist me in my studies; when you came in I thought at first it was he." Gilbert read the joke in Mr. Vivian's smiling face, and determined to keep it up. "What sort of a teacher is he ?" he asked. "I don't know. I suppose he's an old fogy in spec- tacles." "Don't you think you shall like him ?" "Father says if I don't he'll send him off at the end of the week." Again Gilbert smiled, and Mr. Vivian laughed out- right. "I don't see what you two are laughing about," said Fred. "It's a good joke, Gilbert, isn't it?" said the merchant "Yes, sir." "I don't see any joke," said Fred. "Nor I," said Laura. "Perhaps the professor may be willing to help you, il you require it, Laura," suggested her father. "If he is such a man as Fred expects," said Laura, "I would rather get along by myself." "It is hardly fair to take a prejudice against * Derson before you see him, Laura." The New Professor. 205 "For my own part, I was favorably impressed by what I saw of him." "What does he look like ? Is he tall ?" "No.' : "Is he old?" "No; quite young." "Has he whiskers?" "I didn't see any." "Is he good-looking?" "That is rather a delicate question, eh, Gilbert?" "Yes, sir. I will answer it for you. He is not." "What do you know him, Gilbert?" asked Fred. "He ought to," said Mr. Vivian. "He has seen him in his looking-glass every morning for sixteen years. There, the secret is out. Fred, let me formally introduce you to Prof. Gilbert the teacher I have engaged for you." "Are you really to be my teacher, Gilbert ?" asked Fred, delighted. "If you conclude to keep me," said our hero. "You may decide to send me adrift at the end of the week." "I said that when I thought it was somebody else," said Fred. "Do you think you can show me how to do sums in reduction?" "I think I can," said Gilbert, smiling. "I will get you to help me in interest, Gilbert," said Laura. "I thought you didn't want any help from your broth- er's teacher," said Mr. Vivian. "I -didn't know who it was to be then, papa, I'm glad you have engaged Gilbert" 2o6 The New Professor. "There is one more objection to you, Gilbert," said Mr. Vivian, seriously ; "my wife thinks your presence may be a restraint upon us. She thinks you had better retire with Fred to some other part of the house." "You have got the joke upon me, too," said Mrs. Viv- ian. "I, too, was quite in the dark as to whom you had engaged. We don't look upon Gilbert in the light of a stranger, but rather as one of the family." "Thank you, Mrs. Vivian," said our hero, gratefully. "Then it appears, Gilbert, that you will be allowed to practice your vocation here. I would suggest that a pair f spectacles would make your appearance more impress- e and dignified." "I like you best as you are, Gilbert," said Fred, putting his arm around the neck of his new tutor. "And I, too," said Laura. "Then I won't go to the expense of spectacles," said Gilbert. "Shall we begin now, Fred?" Fred brought his arithmetic and slate, and Gilbert ex- plained the sums in a familiar manner, making Fred do them himself. "I understand them first-rate, now," said Fred, in a tone of satisfaction. "You're a bully teacher, Gilbert." "Now, shall we take the Latin?" asked Gilbert. "I'll try to be a bully teacher in that, also." By nine o'clock Fred's task was completed, and Gilbert transferred his attention to Laura. Fifteen minutes were all she required. The evening work being over, Gilbert played at games with his two pupils till ten % then rose to go. The New Professor. 307 *Tm so glad you're my teacher," said Fred. "Be sure to come to-morrow night." "I am afraid you will get tired of me after a while, and want to discharge me," said Gilbert, smiling. "Will you promise to stay with us till you arc dis- charged ?" "Yes, Fred." "Then it's all right," said Fred, in a tone of satisfac- tion. Mr. Vivian found that he had done a very popular thing in engaging Gilbert, and was, in consequence, pleased himself. "Well, Gilbert," said his roommate, on his return, "how; did your first lesson come off?" "With flattering success. I never earned money more pleasantly in my life. My old teacher would stare if he should learn that I had set myself up as a classical professor." "Your fortune has changed wonderfully. From a newsboy to professor is rather a startling transformation." "My career as a newsboy is ended. I abandon the field to my competitors, and devote myself to the dissemination of learning." "Alphonso Jones thinks you are a verv remarkable young man. He told me so to-night." "I can return the compliment," said Gilbert, laughing. "If you can change a ten-dollar bill, Mr. Ingalls, I will cay you the six dollars advanced for my board." "You needn't be in a hurry, Gilbert" 3o8 The New Professor. "I don't like to be in debt. I can sleep better when f have paid up the loan." "I shall be glad to lend you again if you need it." "Thank you, Mr. Ingalls ; but I hope I shan't need it* Early the next morning Mr. Sands reached New York* having come through by night from Washington, CHAPTER XXXIV. THE BROKER'S RETURN. About ten o'clock, on the morning of his arrival, Mr. Sands entered his office. He had kept the run of the business through letters from Mr. Moore, the bookkeeper ; but the latter had omitted to mention Gilbert's dismissal, and the reinstatement of John as his successor. Mr. Sands was, therefore, surprised to see John in the Office, with his hat off. "Where is Gilbert?" he asked, abruptly. John looked confused. "He'll tell you," he said, pointing to his cousin. "Have you dismissed Gilbert, Mr. Moore?" demanded iMr. Sands, abruptly. Moore, in spite of his bravado, was a little nervous. He liras apprehensive that he would not be able to convince Mr. Sands of Gilbert's guilt. "I was obliged to discharge him, I am sorry to say," he answered. "Why did you discharge him, may I inquire ?" persisted the broker, Simon Moore, himself of a haughty disposition, flushed at the imperative tone which his employer used. It chafed him especially to be so addressed in the presence of his young cousin. "I don't suppose you wish to have a thief in your em- ploy," he answered, hastily, 2io The Broker's Return. "Do you charge Gilbert Grey son with being a thief?" "I do, sir." "Let me know the particulars." Simon Moore rehearsed the story, already familiar to the reader, of the ten-dollar bill found in the pocket of Gilbert's overcoat. "Did he admit his guilt?" asked the broker. "Oh! no; he brazened it out; but the proofs were over* whelming." "Who found the bill in Gilbert's pocket?" "John." "Oh!" ejaculated the broker, significantly. Simon Moore's face flushed again. "Let me explain," he said. "By all means ; that is what I want." "Only John, who had come in to make a call on me, and Gilbert had been here. One or the other must have been the thief. I, therefore, asked Gilbert to search John, and John to search Gilbert. It seemed to me fair. The result showed who was the thief." "Upon this, you discharged Gilbert and engaged John." "Yes, sir. I needed a boy, and did not dare to employ Gilbert lest there should be further and more serious losses. John being present, and understanding the duties, I engaged him." "John is your cousin, is he not, Mr. Moore ?" asked Mr. Sands, quietly. "Yes, sir." said the bookkeeper, looking slightly en> fcarrassed. The Broker's Return. ail "It was very fortunate for him that he happened to be at the office on that particular morning." Here John thought it time to introduce himself into the conversation. "That's what cousin Simon told me," he said. "If John had not been here, I should have been obliged to advertise for a boy," said the bookkeeper, recovering his confidence. "Have you seen Gilbert since ?" inquired Mr. Sands. "I have," said John, grinning. "Where did you see him? Do you know if he has another situation?" "Oh! yes," said John, chuckling; "he's set up on his own account/' "What do you mean?" "T'other morning I saw him selling papers near the City Hall Park." "Humph!" Mr. Sands said no more, but set about examining the books. Presently he put on his hat and went out. "What do you think he's going to do, Cousin Simon?" asked John, anxiously. "I guess the storm's blown over." "He didn't seem to like it that I was here." "He don't seem to have a very high opinion of you ; and I don't blame him," said the bookkeeper, unable to restrain his sarcasm, although John was his cousin. "Seems to me you're pretty hard on me," said John, ag- grieved. "Do you think he'll let me stay?" "I think he will, if you do your "How do you happen to be here ?" he asked, abruptly "Why shouldn't I be here?" returned Gilbert, plea*- antly. "This is my place of business." "But, I say, I thought you were nt off." "So' I was." 224 Mr. Briggs Returns From Burope. "How did you get back? 1 " "Mr. Sands took me back, and discharged the book- keeper." "Whew !" exclaimed Randolph. "He must think a good deal of you." "He believed the charge to be false, and that it was a conspiracy against me." Randolph did not know what to think. He had pre- dicted that Gilbert would never get back ; and it is not pleasant to be mistaken in one's predictions. "Do you board at the same place?" he asked, after a while. "Yes." "Don't you find it hard to pay your board?" Gilbert smiled. The question was an impertinent one J but he felt amused rather than offended. "I have paid regularly so far," he said. "How did you do when you were out of a place?" "I lived on my salary as teacher." Randolph opened wide his eyes in astonishment. "What do you mean ?" he asked. "I teach in the evening," explained our hero. "You don't say so! Why, you are only a boy{ n "But I know enough to teach a younger boy." "Who are you teaching?" "Fred Vivian." "What, Laura's brother?" "The same." "He don't come to your room, does he?" "No, I go there five evenings in the week" Mr. Briggs Returns From Europe. 225 "Do you get much pay ?" "I don't think you can expect me to answer that ques- tion, Randolph." "Why, ain't you willing to tell?" "I'll tell you so much that Mr. Vivian pays me more than Mr. Sands." Randolph was silent for a moment. This news was Worse than the other. He had an admiration for Laura, and it was very disagreeable to think that while he was not on visiting terms at her house, this boy, so much his social inferior, should be freely admitted to Laura's presence. Perhaps, however, he only saw Fred. "Does Laura come into the room when you teach her brother?" he asked. "Certainly. In fact, I help her a little, too." "It's the strangest thing I ever heard of," muttered Randolph. "What is?" "That Mr. Vivian should take a poor office boy to teach bis children." "It is strange, but true," assented Gilbert, smiling. "I didn't think you were so artful." "What do you mean?" "If you hadn't been artful, you wouldn't have got so thick with the Vivians." "I don't want to get angry with you, Randolph, but I don't like that remark. Suppose we change the subject. What do you hear from your father?" "He r-as in Manchester when we last heard from birr 226 Mr. Briggs Returns From Europe. "When do you expect him home?" "In a month or six weeks." "You must be glad to have him return." "Oh! I don't know," said Randolph. "I'm having a pretty good time." "He don't seem to have overmuch affection for his lather," thought Gilbert. And Gilbert was right. Ran- dolph was very selfish ; and his chief regard was for him- self. Even his mother, who idolized him, received but a scant return. One reason why Randolph would be sorry to have his father return was, that he was now receiving, from his mother, the six dollars a week which properly should have gone for Gilbert's board; and of this he would doubtlessly be deprived when Mr. Briggs came back. "Well, I guess I can't stay any longer," said Randolph, looking at his watch. "You haven't been up to the house lately." "No; my evenings are engaged, you know." "You'd better come up and dine soon." Gilbert was rather surprised at this invitation; but Randolph's motive was soon apparent. "If you will, I will go round to the Vivians afterward with you." "Perhaps," suggested Gilbert, "when I want to be away for an evening, you will go in my place." "No, I guess not. I don't think I should like to teach. I'd rather go with you." "I will think of it. At any rate, I thank you for the invitatioo-" Mr. Briggs Returns From Europe. 227 Randolph went home at once. He wanted to tell his mother the news. It may well be believed that she was not pleased. She would have been glad to hear that he had been compelled to leave the city. "It seems," said she, sharply, "that Mr. Briggs is not the only fool in the, city." "I wonder what father would say to hear that," chuckled Randolph. "You know what I mean. He was perfectly infatuated with that Greyson boy; and now it appears that Mr. Vivian is just as much of a dupe." "He's very artful," suggested Randolph. "That is the very word to use," said Mrs. Briggs, ener- getically. "It does credit to your insight into character." "I always thought he was artful," said Randolph, much flattered. "He never deceived me," said his mother, emphatically, "I felt instinctively that he was a boy to be shunned. I dare say he would like to ingratiate himself with your father so far as to induce him to adopt him, and put him on an equality with you." "By gracious, I hope not!" exclaimed Randolph, alarmed. "He shall never do it with my consent," said Mrs. Briggs, energetically. "Fortunately, you have a mother who is devoted to you, my son." "Of course you are, mother. You won't let father pay Gilbert's board, after he gets back, will you?" . "Not-if I can help it" r- - ---* 28 Mr. Briggs Returns From Europe. "And you'll persuade him to give the extra amount to me?" "I will do my best; but your father is sometimes very obstinate." "It takes you to manage him, mother. Just let him know what you think of Gilbert." "He knows that very well already; but I will do my best for you, Randolph." Six weeks later Mr. Briggs arrived in New York. Gil- bert saw his name in a list of the passengers by the last Cunard steamer, but decided not to call upon him im- mediately. "He would think I was applying to have my board paid again," he said to himself; "and that is no longer CHAPTER XXXVII. AN IMPORTANT REVELATION. Gilbert did not lose sight of the little flower girl whom he had befriended. Even when his fortunes were at the lowest, he never failed to buy a bouquet of her daily. More than this he did not feel able to do then. But a8 soon as he obtained the position of Fred's teacher, he again visited Mr. Talbot in his poor lodgings, and gave him more substantial assistance, The sick man improved steadily in health and spirits. It did him great good to feel that he had a friend, though that friend was only a boy, dependent on his earnings for support. On the day after he had heard of Mr. Briggs' return from Europe, Gilbert made a hurried call during his dinner hour. "How are you to-day, Mr. Talbot?" he asked. "I am better," said the sick man. "I hope I shall soon be well enough to go to work again." "I think you will," said Gilbert, cheerfully. "I must try to see what I can find for you to do, among my busi- ness friends." "Thank you; do you know many business men?" "No," answered Gilbert. "I wonder," he said, half to himself, "whether my guardian couldn't give you work." "Your guardian !" repeated Mr. Talbot, in surprise. "Yes," said Gilbert, smiling ; "but you mustn't thi*k because I have a guardian that I have any prope r \ ** 230 An Important Revelation. "Who is your guardian?" "Mr. Richard Briggs, a New York merchant. He onty got home from Europe yesterday." "Richard Briggs !" exclaimed the sick man, in evident excitement. "Yes ; do you know anything of him ?" "His name is very familiar to me. Tell me, are you the son of James Greyson, formerly a merchant in the West Indies?" It was Gilbert's turn to be excited. "My father died in the West Indies," he answered ; "but I know very little of him. Did you know him, Mr. Talk*?" "I ought to know him. I was his bookkeeper up to the time of his death." "Is it possible?" ejaculated Gilbert. "How glad I am to meet you ! I know nothing of my father except what !Mr. Briggs has told me." "One thing I do not understand," continued the sick' man. "You say you have no property ; but this cannot be. Your father left seventy-five thousand dollars." "Seventy-five thousand dollars ! Are you sure, Mr. Talbot?" "No one can be surer. I knew all about your father's business and the extent of his property." "Was this money intrusted to my guardian?" asked Gilbert, quickly. "It was. Your father and Richard Briggs were school- mates, so I have heard him say ; and he felt sufficient con- fidence in him to confide you to his care-" An Important Revelation. 231 it is not a pleasant moment when, for the first time, we are led to suspect those in whom we have confided; and important and welcome as the intelligence otherwise was, Gilbert felt sober at the treachery of Mr. Briggs. The latter, as we have seen, had been kinder to him than his wife or son, and Gilbert had felt grateful. Even now he could not rid himself of a certain feeling of kindness to his guardian, false as he had been to his trust. "I am sorry to hear this," he said, gravely. "Sorry to hear that your father left you a fortune ?" "I don't mean that. I am sorry that my guardian has been wicked enough to attempt to cheat me out of it." "What sort of a man is Mr. Briggs?" "At first I was not prepossessed in his favor; but he improved on acquaintance. When his wife and son spoke against me, he always took my pafi. When I was charged with dishonesty, he refused to believe it." "I think it quite possible that he is a naturally kind- hearted man," said the sick man; "but human nature is sometimes inconsistent. I think it may have been in a moment of embarrassment that he appropriated your for- tune. If he has since prospered, it may be possible for you to recover it." "Are you sure it was as much as seventy-five thousand dollars, Mr. Talbot?" asked Gilbert, dazzled, as he well might be, by the magnitude of the sum. "I am sure of it." "Can you prove it, so that Mr. Briggs will be com- pelled to give it up to me?" "Fortunately I can. I have in my trunk a document, 233 An Important Revelation. in your father's own handwriting, giving a schedule of his property, in which he expressly says that he makes it over in trust to Richard Briggs, for your use. Indeed, it must now amount to more than seventy-five thousand dollars; for only a small part of the income has been ex- pended for you. Probably a few hundreds of dollars a year are all that have been spent for you." "I don't see how Mr. Briggs could make such false representations," said Gilbert, thoughtfully " 'Money is the root of all evil,' my young friend. It is an old proverb, and, unfortunately, a true one." "I have noticed one thing," continued our hero. "When I thanked Mr. Briggs for paying my board, as I supposed, out of his own pocket, he always seemed uncomfortable and embarrassed." "That shows he is not wholly without shame." "It is about time for me to be going back to the office, Mr. Talbot ; but before I go, I want to ask your advice on one point. How soon shall I speak to Mr. Briggs on this subject?" "Whenever you have an opportunity." "Of course, I must refer to you as my informant." "By all means," said the sick man, promptly. "It will He a great satisfaction to me if, through my means, you succeed in obtaining your rights." For the rest of the day and through the evening Gil- bert's mind was occupied with the important intelligence he had learned. He did not make a confidant of anyone, feeling that it was not yet time. Mr. Ingalls, his roommate, saw that to was thinking An Important Revelation. 233 busily about something, but did not make any m^Jries. He knew that Gilbert would let him know when he got ready. Alphonso Jones was not so forbearing. "By Jove ! Greyson, I believe you are in love," he said, abruptly. "What makes you think so, Mr. Jones ?" "You've been sitting with your eyes fixed on the carpet for five minutes without speaking a word." "Your opinion about love is worth something, Mr. Jones," said Gilbert, smiling. "You know how it is your- self. Didn't I see you walking with a fair widow last evening ?" "Who do you mean?" asked Alphonso, smiling. "Mrs. Kinney, of course." "I only happened to meet her going to a concert with Mr. Pond," exclaimed Alphonso. "He was called away a moment, and left her in my care." "He was very imprudent," said Mr. Ingalls. "You know, Jones, you're a regular lady-killer. I really hope you won't try any of your fascinations on the widow." Mr. Jones simpered, and was evidently pleased. It was his private Opinion that he was unusually fascinating, and this public acknowledgment of it was gratifying. "You will have your joke, Mr. Ingalls," he said. "I have a high respect for Mrs. Kinney ; but, really, there is nothing in it, I do assure you." "Time will show," said Mr. Ingalls, nodding his head in an oracular way. "But don't be precipitate, Mr. Jones. Remember the Countess de Montmorency, who may yetrbe your bride." 234 An Important Revelation. "I have no hopes in that quarter," said Alphonso, who had ascertained that the count had been reduced by family misfortunes to accept a position in a barber's shop. "Good- evening, gents." When Alphonso had retired, Gilbert said: "I have something on my mind, Mr. Ingalls, though not what Mr. Jones supposed. I hope soon to let you know what it is." "Whenever you are ready, Gilbert. I am not curious; but shall be interested in anything that concerns you. It isn't anything unpleasant, I hope." "It may be greatly to my advantage." "If that is the case, I can wait cheerfully." CHAPTER XXXVIIL GILBERT'S SHIP COMES IN. ' It may well be supposed that Gilbert wished, as soon as possible, to question his guardian on a subject having such an important bearing upon his future career. It oc- curred to him that it might be well to consult a lawyer first; but he finally decided not to do so. Personally, Mr. Briggs had treated him kindly, and he did not wish, unless it should prove absolutely necessary, to assume a position antagonistic to him. Gilbert reached his guardian's house about eight o'clock in the evening. He had received a note from Fred Vivian stating that he was going to the theater, and would not require a lesson that evening. This gave him abundant time for the interview. Mrs. Briggs and Randolph had gone to make a call, and Gilbert found Mr. Briggs alone. In dressing gown and slippers, he was conning the evening papers when Gilbert was announced. "Good-evening, Gilbert," said Mr. Briggs, cordially. "I am glad to see you." "Thank you, sir," said Gilbert, gravely. "I was feeling a little lonely. Mrs. Briggs and Ran- dolph have gone out to make a call. How have you got on since I went away?" "I am doing well now, sir ; but at one time my prospects looked dark" 236 Gilbert's Ship Comes In. "How is that?" asked Mr. Briggs, surprised. "1 thought I left you well provided for." It was Gilbert's turn to look surprised. "Didn't Randolph tell you about my losing my situa- tion?" he asked. "Not a word. How came you to lose it?" - Gilbert told the story, already familiar to the reader. He also told about his regaining it. "That must have been disagreeable ; and, of course, yott felt the loss of income. But your board was at least pro- vided for. You received money for that from ray office?" "No, sir; not a cent." "Why not? I left directions to that effect." Gilbert's cheek flushed. "I called on Mrs. Briggs, to inquire about it," he said, reluctantly; "but she chose to treat me as a beggar, and I declined to receive anything." Mr. Briggs looked annoyed. "I am afraid," he said, desirous of excusing his wife, "that you are too sensitive, Gilbert. Mrs. Briggs is a little unfortunate in her manner, and gave you a wrong impression. However, you shall not suffer for it. Come round to the office to-morrow, and I will give you a sum equal to what you would have had if I had been at home.* "Thank you, sir," said Gilbert ; but still he looked grave. "Does not that satisfy you ?" asked Mr. Briggs, a little annoyed. Gilbert felt that the time had come for his q*8ti<. Gilbert's Ship Comes In. 237 "I came here to-night, Mr. Briggs," he commenced, "to ek you a question." "Ask it, of course," said the merchant, quite unpre- pared for what was coming. Gilbert fixed his clear, penetrating eyes on his guard- ian's face. "My father left you some money in trust for me ; did he not, sir?" "Certainly. I told you so." "I know it, sir. Will you tell me what it amounted to ?" "Really," said Mr. Briggs, uncomfortably, "I can't tell without looking over my papers. What makes you ask?" "Did it amount to seventy-five thousand dollars?" de- manded Gilbert, quietly. Richard Briggs nearly started from his seat in surprise and dismay. That was the amount, as he well knew ; but how on earth could the boy have found out ? He saw that his ward had obtained some dangerously accurate in- formation somewhere; and that he was thoroughly in earnest in his inquiry. "Who could have put such a thought into your head?" he asked, slowly and hesitatingly. "I won't make a secret of it," said Gilbert. "I have made the acquaintance of a man who knew my father. He tells me he was his bookkeeper up to the time of his death. He claims to know all about my father's affairs, and the amount of property he left." "There is some great mistake," muttered the merchant . "\ don't think there can be. Mr. Talbot has, in his 238 Gilbert's Ship Comes In. possession, and has showed to me, an autograph letter of my father, in which he gives full details on this subject." "Where is this Talbot ?" asked Mr. Briggs, abruptly. "He is living in this city." "Where?" "You must excuse me, Mr. Briggs. At present I do not wish to tell you." "He may be an impostor." "I have thought of that; but such an imposition could not be carried out. I think he tells the truth." "Suppose I believe the contrary what, then ?" "You have reason to know whether what he says is correct or not, Mr. Briggs," said Gilbert, resolutely. "If you deny it, and assert thart he is an impostor, I will con- sult a lawyer, and have him cross-examine him on the subject, and give me his opinion." "You have not spoken to a lawyer yet?" said Mr. Briggs, uneasily. "No, sir." "Lawyers are fond of instituting lawsuits. Probably one would report favorably." "I should want to know his grounds. And I would not consent to a suit, unless he convinced me there was good ground for it." "Gilbert," said the merchant, "I feel friendly to you, and I want you to succeed. Say no more about this af- fair, and to-morrow I will make over to you bank shares amounting to ten thousand dollars. That will give you a good start in life." Gilbert's Ship Comes In. 239 "I only want what is my own," said Gilbert, sturdily. "I want what my father left me." Mr. Briggs rose, and paced the room in silence. His good and bad angel were contending for the supremacy. The conflict came to an end, and his better nature tri- umphed. He resumed his seat, looking no longer per- plexed or troubled, but as one who had thrown off a burden. "Gilbert," he said, "it is all true. I have tried to be a villain ; but I won't be one any longer. Your father left you a fortune, and it shall be restored to you." Gilbert rose and grasped Mr. Briggs' hand cordially. 'Boy as he was, he comprehended the struggle through which his guardian had passed. "Thank you, sir," he said. "I shall forget all that has passed; and I ask you to remain my guardian, and take tare of my property for me." Man of the world as he was, Mr. Briggs was touched by this proof of generous confidence. "I don't deserve this, Gilbert; but I will do as you ask. I will, however, see a lawyer, and make such arrange- ments that whatever may happen to me you will be safe." At that moment the bell rang. "I think Mrs. Briggs and Randolph have returned," said the merchant. "One word, Gilbert, of what has passed between us, let it only be known that you have received a large legacy, and that I am your guardian in reality as well as in name." "All right, sir. Perhaps I had better go. Mrs. Briggs don't like me." 240 Gilbert's Ship Comes In. Her husband laughed. "She will change when she knows you are rich," h said. "Don't be surprised. It is the way of the world." He had scarcely finished when Mrs. Briggs entered, followed by Randolph. She remarked Gilbert's presence with displeasure. "You here?" she said. "Yes, my dear," said Mr. Briggs, pleasantly. "Gilbert has been keeping me company." "He came on business, I suppose," sneered the lady. "You are right, my dear. What made you guess his errand?" "I supposed he wanted help," said Mrs. Briggs. "He Wants his pension restored, of course." "Is that what you came for, Gilbert ?" asked Randolph, uncomfortably. Gilbert rather enjoyed the misapprehension of his two enemies, but he left Mr. Briggs to answer. "Really, my dear, you are hardly polite to my young ward." "Your ward ! Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Briggs. Yoo know he hasn't got a cent, and has to live on charity." "You are quite mistaken, my dear. Gilbert has just come into a property of over eighty thousand dollars. And he has asked me to take charge of it for him." Mrs. Briggs sank into a chair in utter stupefactiofltf While Randolph opened his eyes in astonishment. "You are jesting!" Mrs. Briggs managed to utter. "Not at all. Is what I say correct, Gilbert?" "I believe it is, sir." Gilbert's Ship Coines In, 241 It is singular how Gilbert was transformed all at once in the eyes of the worldly woman and her son. Circum- stances were changed, and they must change with them. It was awkward, but it must be done. "I congratulate you, Gilbert," she said, trying to smile. "You are certainly very fortunate." "I should say he was !" exclaimed Randolph. "I say, Gilbert, come and live with us, won't you ?" "I should really be glad to have my husband's ward in my family," said Mrs. Briggs, as graciously as possible. "Thank you," said Gilbert ; "but this has come upon me so suddenly that I don't know what arrangements I shall make." "Who left you this fortune?" asked Mrs. Briggs, curiously. "We are not at liberty to go into particulars," said Mr. 'Briggs ; "but there is no doubt about it." "If you will excuse me, Mr. Briggs, I will leave you now. I should like to tell my friends of my good for- tune." "Certainly. Come to my counting room in the morning at ten. Some arrangements will need to be made." "I will be on hand, sir." "Dine with us to-morrow, Gilbert," said Mrs. Briggs, graciously. "Randolph will be so glad of your company." "Thank you." Gilbert thought it due to his guardian to accept. He was wise enough to take the world as he found it, and feturn courtesy with courtesy. "Wha't has happened, Gilbert ?" exclaimed his room* 242 Gilbert's Ship Comes In. mate, when, half an hour later, Gilbert broke into the room, his face full of excitement. ,-"1 am rich, Mr. Ingalls. I have become heir to eighty thousand dollars." "Good gracious !" exclaimed Alphonso Jones, who was present. "I suppose you will go to live on Fifth Avenue among the swells." "Not at present, Mr. Jones." "I am very glad of your good luck, Gilbert," said his roommate, warmly. "You must tell me all about it by and by." "I wish I had eighty thousand dollars," said Alphonso. "Wouldn't I be high-toned?" "Can't one be high-toned without being rich, Mr. Jones?" asked Gilbert. Mr. Jones thought not ; but he made one mental reser- vation. He privately thought himself high-toned, though! be certainly was not rich. CHAPTER XXXIX. CONCLUSION. Nowhere did Gilbert receive heartier congratulations on the change in his fortunes than from Mr. Vivian and his family. Fred only was disturbed. "I suppose you won't be willing to teach me any more, now you are rich, Gilbert," he said. "I don't think it will make any difference, Fred," said Gilbert ; "but I must consult your father about my plans." "What are your own views and wishes, Gilbert?" asked the merchant. "I want to get a better education," said Gilbert. "1 should like to carry out my original plan, and go to col- i ^ lege. After I graduate I may devote myself to business; but a good education won't interfere with that." "I approve your plan," said Mr. Vivian. "Of course, you will resign your place at the broker's." "Yes, sir." "Then I shall submit a plan for your future. We all like you, and you can be of use to Fred. Come and live with us. You can complete your preparation for college at some first-class school in the city, and enter next sum mer, if you like." "I hope you will come, Gilbert," said Laura. It might have been her voice which decided Gilbert to 244 Conclusion. accept. At any rate, he did accept gratefully, and in less than a *week he was installed at Mr. Vivian's as a mem- ber of. the family. Mr. Sands was sorry to lose his services, but acknowl- edged that it was better for him to give up his place. The day after his retirement he was sitting in Madison Park, when John, who had once caused him to lose his place, espied him. John had not yet succeeded in securing a place, nor had Mr. Moore, the bookkeeper. "What brings you here at this time in the day ?" asked John, in surprise. "I am a gentleman of leisure," answered Gilbert. "Have you left Mr. Sands ?" asked John, eagerly "Yes." "Been bounced, eh ? " asked John, radiantly. Gilbert smiled. He understood John's feelinga. "No," he answered. "I left of my own accord." "You haven't got another place ?" "No." "Then it's too thin, your leaving of your own accord." "It does look so, I admit," said Gilbert, good-humor- edly. "But it is true, nevertheless." "Why did you leave, then ? You haven't had a fortune left you?" "You've hit it, John. I no longer need my pay. I have become rich, and shall go on preparing for college." "Is that really so ?" "It is quite true." Conclusion. 245 "Some folks are lucky," said John, enviously. "I ain't one of that kind. I wish I could get your old place." "I am afraid Mr. Sands wouldn't take you back. I wish he would, and that you would do so well that he would keep you." "That will do to say, but you wouldn't help me back." "Yes, I would, and will. I will go down to the office now, and ask Mr. Sands to take you back." "You will, after the mean way I have treated you?" exclaimed John, in surprise. "I don't bear any malice, John," said Gilbert. "Here, take my hand, and look upon me as a friend. If I can't get you back into my old place, I'll try elsewhere. Come, let us take the cars downtown, and I'll see what I can do for you." "What a good fellow you are, Gilbert!" said John, much moved. "I am ashamed of trying to injure you." "You didn't know me, then. But, John, will you try to give satisfaction, if you are taken back ?" "Yes, I will," said John, earnestly. Half an hour later they entered the broker's office. No boy had been engaged as yet. Mr. Sands did not at first regard John's application with favor; though, as he understood the duties of the place, he could, if he pleased, do better than a new boy. Finally the broker agreed to take him on trial. "Remember, John," he said, "you owe your place to Gilbert's intercession. But for that I wouldn't take you back." 246 Conclusion. "I know it, sir. I hope you won't be sorry." Here it may be said that John turned over a new leaf, and succeeded in this last trial in giving satisfaction. His cousin, Simon Moore, called him mean-spirited for going back; but John felt that he must look out for his own interests now, and did not regard his objection. In his prosperity Gilbert did not forget Mr. Talbot and fiis little daughter. While he continued sick, our hero al- lowed him a weekly sum sufficient to support father and daughter comfortably; and on his recovery he found him employment, and a more comfortable lodging. Little Emma was no longer obliged to go into the streets to sell bouquets, but was put at a good day school. From time to time Gilbert called upon them, and was rejoiced to see the improved looks and happier faces of Emma and her father. In the first chapter of this story the reader will recall John Munford, a school friend of Gilbert, the son of a carpenter, who, on account of his father's poverty, was obliged to leave school and go to work. Gilbert, in be- coming rich, did not forget his early friend. One day John received a letter from Gilbert, in which, after speak- ing of his change of fortune, he wrote : "Now, John, I have a large income much more than I can use and I want to do what good I can with it. I know you want to keep at school, but cannot on account of your father's circumstances. I have a proposal to make to you. Give up work and go back to Dr. Burton's school. I will allow you three hundred do n ars a year till you are Conclusion, 447 ready to go to college. Then you shall come to Yale and room with me, I will provide for you in college. After you graduate, your education will command a position that will make you independent. Let me know at once if you accept, or rather, write me that you do accept." What could John do but to accept this generous offer with deep gratitude to his old schoolfellow? Need it be said that Gilbert fulfilled his promise to the letter? Last year the two friends graduated, both taking high rank; and John is now principal of a high school in a Massa- chusetts town Gilbert has decided to lead a business life, and has entered Mr, Vivian's establishment. He will be junior partner at the end of three years. He may form another partnership with a member of Mr. Vivian's family. I cannot say positively, but I think it quite probable. Mr. Briggs is no longer Gilbert's guardian. Our hero is of age, and has assumed the charge of his own prop- erty. He is always sure of a cordial welcome from Mrs.) Briggs now, and Randolph cultivates his intimacy; but Gilbert does not find him congenial. He is inclined to be dissipated, and, I am afraid, will not turn out well. But his mother upholds him on all occasions, and her ill- judged indulgence is partly the cause of her son's lack of promise. Gilbert sometimes visits the old boarding house. Mr. In- galls is prospering. Alphonso Jones now boasts of his intimacy with Gilbert. It is rumored that he has offered himself to Mrs. Kinney, a young widow, alreadv men- 348 Conclusion. tioned, and been rejected. His heart is not broken, how- ever, and he is now a suitor for the hand of Miss Brint- nail, the strong-minded school teacher. She is "high- toned" in one sense, at least, as he will probably find after marriage. JHE THE OBLONG BOX. SOME years ago, I engaged passage from Charleston, S. O, to the city of New York, in the fine packet-ship Independ- ence, Captain Hardy. We were to sail on the fifteenth of the month (June), weather permitting; and, on the four- teenth, I went on board to arrange some matters in my state- room. I found that we were to have a great many passengers, in- cluding a more than usual number of ladies. On the list were several of my acquaintances ; and among other names, I was rejoiced to see that of Mr. Cornelius Wyatt, a young artist, for whom I entertained feelings of warm friendship. He had been with me a fellow-student at C University, where we were very much together. He had the ordinary temperament of genius, and was a compound of misanthropy, sensibility, and enthusiasm. To these qualities he united the warmest and truest heart which ever beat in a human bosom. I observed that his name was carded upon three state- rooms ; and, upon again referring to the list of passengers, I found that he had engaged passage for himself, wife, and two sisters his own. The staterooms were sufficiently roomy, and each had two berths, one above the other. These berths, to be sure, were so exceedingly narrow as to be in- sufficient for more than one person ; still, I could not com- prehend why there were three staterooms for these four per- sons. I was, just at this epoch, in one of those moody frames of mind which make a man abnormally inquisitive about tri- fles : and I confess, with shame, that I busied myself in a variety of ill-bred and preposterous conjectures about this matter of the supernumerary stateroom. It was no business of mine, to be sure ; but with none the less pertinacity did I occupy myself in attempts to resolve the enigma. At last I reached a conclusion which wrought in me great wonder why 150 TEE OBLONG BOX. I had not arrived at it before. " It is a servant, of course," I said ; " what a fool I am, not sooner to have thought of so obvious a solution ! " And then I again repaired to the list . but here I saw distinctly that no servant was to come with the party ; although, in fact, it had been the original design to bring one for the words " and servant " had been first writ- ten and then overscored. " Oh, extra baggage to be sure," I now said to myself " something he wishes not to be put in the hold something to be kept under his own eye ah, I have it a painting or so and this is what he has been bargaining about with Ficolino, the Italian Jew." This idea satisfied me, and I dismissed my curiosity for the nonce. Wyatt's two sisters I knew very well, and most amiable and clever girls they were. His wife he had newly married, and I had never yet seen her. He had often talked about her in my presence, however, and in his usual style of enthusiasm. He described her as of surpassing beauty, wit, and accom- plishment. I was, therefore, quite anxious to make her ac- quaintance. On the day in which I visited the ship (the fourteenth), "Wyatt and a party were also to visit it so the captain in- formed me and I waited on board an hour longer than I had designed, in hope of being presented to the bride ; but then an apology came. " Mr. W. was a little indisposed, and would decline coming on board until to-morrow, at the hour of sailing." The morrow having arrived, I was going from my hotel to the wharf, when Captain Hardy met me and said that "owing circumstances" (a stupid but convenient phrase), "he rather thought the Independence would not sail for a day or two, and that when all was ready, he would send up and let me know." This I thought strange, for there was a stiff southerly breeze ; but as " the circumstances " were not forthcoming, although I pumped for them with much perseverance, I had nothing to do but to return home and digest my impatience at leisure. I did not receive the expected message from the captain for nearly a week. It came at length, however, and I immediately went on board. The ship was crowded with passengers, and everything was in the bustle attendant upon making sail. Wyatt's party arrived in about ten minutes after myself. There were the two sisters, the bride, and the artist the latter in one of his customary fits of moody misanthropy. I was THE OBLONG BOX. 151 too well used to these, however, to pay them any special at- tention. He did not even introduce me to his wife, this courtesy devolving, per force, upon his sister Marian, a very sweet and intelligent girl, who, in a few hurried words, made us acquainted. Mrs. Wyatt had been closely veiled ; and when she raised her veil, in acknowledging my bow, I confess that I was very profoundly astonished. I should have been much more so, however, had not long experience advised me not to trust, with too implicit a reliance, the enthusiastic descriptions of my friend, the artist, when indulging in comments upon the loveli- ness of woman. When beauty was the theme, I well knew with what facility he soared into the regions of the purely ideal. The truth is, I could not help regarding Mrs. Wyatt as a decidedly plain-looking woman. If not positively ugly, she was not, I think, very far from it She was dressed, however, in exquisite taste and then I had no doubt that she had cap- tivated my friend's heart by the more enduring graces of the intellect and soul She said very few words, and passed at once into her stateroom with Mr. W. My old inquisitiveness now returned. There was no servant that was a settled point. I looked, therefore, for the extra baggage. After some delay, a cart arrived at the wharf, with an oblong pine box, which was everything that seemed to be expected. Immediately upon its arrival we made sail, and in a short time were safely over the bar and standing out to sea. The box in question was, as I say, oblong. It was about six feet in length by two and a half in breadth ; I observed it at- tentively, and Like to be precise. Now this shape was peculiar ; and no sooner had I seen it, than I took credit to myself for the accuracy of my guessing. I had reached the conclusion, it will be remembered, that the extra baggage of my friend, the artist, would prove to be pictures, or at least a picture ; for I knew he had been for several weeks in conference with Mco- lino : and now here was a box which, from its shape, could possibly contain nothing in the world but a copy of Leonardo's " Last Supper ; " and a copy of this vei'y " Last Supper," done by Kubini the younger at Florence, I had known, for some time, to be in the possession of Nicolino. This point, there- fore, I considered as sufficiently settled. I chuckled exces- sively when I thought of my acumen. It was the first time I had ever known Wyatt to keep from me any of his artistical 'secrets'; but here he evidently intended to steal a march upon 152 TEE OBLONG BOX. me, and smuggle a fine picture to New York, tinder my very nose ; expecting me to know nothing of the matter. I resolved to quiz him wett, now and hereafter. One thing, however, annoyed me not a littla The box did not go into the extra stateroom. It was deposited in Wyatt'a own ; and there, too, it remained, occupying nearly the whole of the floor no doubt to the exceeding discomfort of the artist and his wife ; this the more especially as the tar or paint with which it was lettered in sprawling capitals, emitted a strong, disagreeable, and, to my fancy, a peculiarly disgusting odor. On the lid were painted the words "Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, Albany, New York. Charge of Cornelius Wyalt, Esq. This side up. To be handled with care." Now, I was aware that Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, of Albany, was the artist's wife's mother ; but then I looked upon the whole address as a mystification, intended especially for myself. I made up my mind, of course, that the box and contents would never get farther north than the studio of my misanthropic friend, in Chambers Street. New York. For the first three or four days we had fine weather, although the wind was dead ahead ; having chopped round to the north- ward, immediately upon our losing sight of the coast. The passengers were, consequently, in high spirits, and disposed to be social I must except, however, Wyatt and his sisters, who behaved stiffly, and, I could not help thinking, uncour- teously to the rest of the party. Wyalfs conduct I did not so much regard. He was gloomy, even beyond his usual habit- in fact he was morose but in him I was prepared for eccen- tricity. For the sisters, however, I could make no excuse. They secluded themselves in their staterooms during the greater part of the passage, and absolutely refused, although I repeatedly urged them, to hold communication with any per- son on board. Mrs. Wyatt herself was far more agreeable. That is to say, she was chatty ; and to be chatty is no slight recommendation at sea. She became excessively intimate with most of the ladies ; and, to my profound astonishment, evinced no equivo- cal disposition to coquet with the men. She amused us all very much. I say " amused " and scarcely know how to ex- plain myself. The truth is, I soon found that Mrs. \V. was far oftener laughed at than vrith. The gentlemen said little about her ; but the ladies, in a little while, pronounced hef a " good-hearted thing, rather indifferent-looking, totally un* TEE OBLONG BOX. 133 educated, and decidedly vulgar." The great wonder was, how Wyatt had been entrapped into such a match. Wealth was the general solution but this I knew to be no solution at all ; for Wyatt had told me that she neither brought him a dollar nor had any expectations from any source whatever. " He had married," he said, " for love, and for love only ; and his bride was far more than worthy of his love." When I thought of these expressions, on the part of my friend, I confess that I felt indescribably puzzled. Could it be possible that he was taking leave of his senses ? What else could I think ? He, so refined, so intellectual, so fastidious, with so exquisite a per- ception of the faulty, and so keen an appreciation of the beau- tiful 1 To be sure, the lady seemed especially fond of him particularly so in his absence when she made herself ridicu- lous by frequent quotations of what had been said by her " beloved husband, Mr. Wyatt." The word " husband " seemed forever to use one of her own delicate expressions forever " on the tip of her tongue." In the meantime, it was observed by all on board, that he avoided her in the most pointed man- Her. and, for the most part, shut himself up alone in his state- room, where, in fact, he might have been said to live altogether, leaving his wife at full liberty to amuse herself as she thought best, in the public society of the main cabin. My conclusion, from what I saw and heard, was, that the artist, by some unaccountable freak of fate, or perhaps in Borne fit of enthusiastic and fanciful passion, had been induced to unite himself with a person altogether beneath him, and that the natural result, entire and speedy disgust, had ensued. I pitied him from the bottom of my heart but could not, for that reason, quite forgive hisincommunicativeness in the mat- ter of the " Last Supper." For this I resolved to have my revenge. One day he came upon deck, and, taking his arm as had been my wont, I sauntered with him backward and forward. His gloom, however (which I considered quite natural under the circumstances), seemed entirely unabated. He said little, and that moodily, and with evident effort I ventured a jest or two, and he made a sickening attempt at a smile. Poor fellow ! as I thought of his wife, I wondered that he could have heart to put on even the semblance of mirth. At last I ventured a home-thrust. I determined to commence a series of covert insinuations, or inuendoes, about the oblong box- just to let him perceive, gradually, that I was not altogether 154 THE OBLONG BOX. the butt, or victim, of his little bit of pleasant mystification My first observation was by way of opening a masked bat tery. I said something about the "peculiar shape of thai box;" and, as I spoke the words, I smiled knowingly, winked, and touched him gently with my fore-finger in the ribs. The manner in which Wyatt received this harmless pleas- antry convinced me, at once, that he was mad. At first he stared at me as if he found it impossible to comprehend the witticism of my remark ; but as its point seemed slowly to make its way into his brain, his eyes, in the same proportion, seemed protruding from their sockets. Then he grew very red then hideously pale then, as if highly amused with what I had insinuated, he began a loud and boisterous laugh, which, to my astonishment, he kept up, with gradually in- creasing vigor, for ten minutes or more. In conclusion, he fell flat and heavily upon the deck. When I ran to uplift him, to all appearance he was dead. I called assistance, and, with much difficulty, we brought him to himself. Upon reviving he spoke incoherently fo* some time. At length we bled him and put him to bed. The next morning he was quite recovered, so far as regarded his mere bodily health. Of his mind I say nothing, of course. I avoided him during the rest of the passage, by advice of the captain, who seemed to coincide with me altogether in my views of his insanity, but cautioned me to say nothing on thia head to any person on board. Several circumstances occurred immediately after this fit of Wyatt's which contributed to heighten the curiosity with which I was already possessed. Among other things, this : I had been nervous drank too much strong green tea, and slept ill at night hi fact, for two nights I could not be properly said to sleep at all. Now, my stateroom opened into the main cabin, or dining-room, as did those of ah 1 the single men on board. Wyatt's three rooms were in the after-cabin, which was separated from the main one by a slight sliding door, never locked even at night. As we were almost constantly on a wind, and the breeze was not a little stiff, the ship heeled to leeward very considerably ; and whenever her starboard side was to leeward, the sliding door between the cabins slid open, and so remained, nobody taking the trouble to get up and shut it. But my berth was in such a position, that when my own stateroom door was open, as well as the sliding door in ques- tion (and my own door was always open on account of the TEE OBLONG BOX. 155 heat), I could see into the after-cabin quite distinctly, and just at that portion of it, too, where were situated the state- rooms of Mr. Wyatt. Well, during two nights (not consecu- tive) while I lay awake, I clearly saw Mrs. W., about eleven o'clock each night, steal cautiously from the stateroom of Mr. W., and enter the extra room, where she remained until daybreak, when she was caUed by her husband and went back. That they were virtually separated was clear. They had sep- arate apartments no doubt in contemplation of a more per- manent divorce ; and here, after all, I thought, was the mys- tery of the extra stateroom. There was another circumstance, too, which interested me much. During the two wakeful nights in question, and im- mediately after the disappearance of Mrs. Wyatt into the extra stateroom, I was attracted by certain singular, cautious, sub- dued noises in that of her husband. After listening to them for some time, with thoughtful attention, I at length succeeded perfectly in translating their import. They were sounds oc- casioned by the artist in prying open the oblong box, by means of a chisel and mallet the latter being muffled, or deadened, by some soft woollen or cotton substance in which its head was enveloped. In this manner I fancied I could distinguish the precise moment when he fairly disengaged the lid also, that I could determine when he removed it altogether, and when he de- posited it upon the lower berth in his room ; this latter point I knew, for example, by certain slight taps which the lid made in striking against the wooden edges of the berth, as he en- deavored to lay it down very gently there being no room for it on the floor. After this there was a dead stillness, and I heard nothing more, upon either occasion, until nearly day- break ; unless, perhaps, I may mention a low sobbing, or murmuring sound, so very much suppressed as to be nearly inaudible if, indeed, the whole of this latter noise were not rather produced by my own imagination. I say it seemed to resemble sobbing or sighing but, of course, it could not have been either. I rather think it was a ringing in my own ears. Mr. Wyatt, no doubt, according to custom, was merely giving the rein to one of his hobbies indulging in one of his fits of artistic enthusiasm. He had opened his oblong box, in order to feast his eyes on the pictorial treasure within. There was nothing in this, however, to make him sob. I repeat therefore, that it must have been simply a freak of my owa 155 THE OBLONG B(\SL fancy, distempered by good Captain Hardy's green tea. Jusl before dawn, on each of the two nights of which I speak, I distinctly heard Mr. Wyatt replace the lid upon the oblong box, and force the nails into their old places, by means of thq muffled mallet. Having done this, he issued from his state* room, fully dressed, and proceeded to coll Mrs. W. from hers. We had been at sea seven days, and were now off Cape Hat ter",s, when there came a tremendously heavy blow from the southwest. We were, in a measure, prepared for it, however, as the weather had been holding out threats for some time. Everything waa made snug, alow and aloft ; and as the wind steadily freshened, we lay to, at length, under spanker ancl foretopsail, both double-reefed. In this trim, we rode safely enough for forty-eight hours the ship proving herself an excellent sea boat, in many re- spects, and shipping no water of any consequence. At the end of this period, however, the gale had freshened into a hurricane, and our after-sail split into ribbons, bringing ua BO much in the trough of the water that we shipped several prodigious seas, one immediately after the other. By this ac- cident we lost three men overboard with the caboose, and nearly the whole of the larboard bulwarks. Scarcely had we recovered our senses, before the foretopsail went into shreds, when we got up a storm stay-sail, and with this did pretty well for some hours, the ship heading the sea much more eteadily than before. The gale still held on, however, and we saw no signs of ita abating. The rigging waa found to be ill-fitted, and greatly strained ; and on the third day of the blow, about five in the afternoon, our mizzen-mast, in a heavy lurch to windward, went by the board. For an hour or more, we tried hi vain to get rid of it, on account of the prodigious rolling of the ship ; and, before we had succeeded, the carpenter came aft and an* nounced four feet water hi the hold. To add to our dilemma, we found the pumps choked and nearly useless. All was now confusion and despair but an effort was made to lighten the ship by throwing overboard as much of her cargo as could be reached, and by cutting away the two masUl that remained. This we at last accomplished but we were still unable to do anything at the pumps ; and, in the mean-, time, the leak gained on us very fast. Ai suxtdowc, the gale had sensibly diminished in violence*] THE OBLONG SOX. 157 and, as the sea went down with it, we still entertained faint hopes of saving ourselves in the boats. At eight P.M. the clouds broke away to windward, and we had the advantage of a full moon a piece of good fortune which served wonder- fully to cheer our drooping spirits. After incredible labor we succeeded, at length, in getting the long-boat over the side without material accident, and into this we crowded the whole of the crew and most of the pas- sengers. This party made off immediately, and, after under- going much suffering, finally arrived, in safety, at Ocracoke Inlet, on the third day after the wreck. Fourteen passengers, with the Captain, remained on board, resolving to trust their fortunes to the jolly-boat at the stern. "We lowered it without difficulty, although it was only by a miracle that we prevented it from swamping as it touched the water. It contained, when afloat, the captain and his wife, Mr. Wyatt and party, a Mexican officer, wife, four children, and myself, with a negro valet We had no room, of course, for anything except a few pos- itively necessary instruments, some provision, and the clothea upon our backs. No one had thought of even attempting to save anything more. What must have been the astonishment of all then, when, having proceeded a few fathoms from the ship, Mr. Wyatt stood up in the stern-sheets, and coolly de- manded of Captain Hardy that the boat should be put back for the purpose of taking in his oblong box ! "Sit down, Mr. Wyatt," replied the Captain, somewhat sternly, "you will capsize us if you do not sit quite stilL Our gunwale is almost in the water now." "The box!" vociferated Mr. Wyatt, still standing "the box, I say ! Captain Hardy, you cannot, you will not refuse me. Its weight will be but a trifle it is nothing mere noth- ing. By the mother who bore you for the love of Heaven by your hope of salvation, I implore you to put back for the box ! " The Captain, for a moment, seemed touched by the earnest appeal of the artist, but he regained his stern composure, and merely said : " Mr. Wyatt you are mad. I cannot listen to you. Sit down, I say, or you will swamp the boat. Stay hold him seize him ! he is about to spring overboard ! There I knew it- he is over I " As the Captain said this, Mr. Wyatt in fact, sprang from 153 THE OBLONG BO". the boat, and, as we were yet^a the lee of the wreck, sucqeede<3, by almost superhuman exertion, in getting hold of a ropd which hung from the fore-chains. In another moment ho was on board, and rushing frantically down into the cabin. In the meantime, we had been swept astern of the ship, and being quite out of her lee, were at the mercy of the tremen- dous sea which was still running. We made a determined ef- foBt to put back, but our little boat was like a feather in the breath of the tempest. We saw at a glance that the doom of the unfortunate artist was sealed. As our distance from the wreck rapidly increased, the mad. man (for as such only could we regard him) was seen to emerge from the companion-way, up which, by dint of a strength that appeared gigantic, he dragged, bodily, the oblong box. While we gazed in the extremity of astonishment, he passed, rapidly, several turns of a three-inch rope, first around the box and then around his body. In another instant both body and box were in the sea disappearing suddenly, at once and forever. We lingered awhile sadly upon our oars, with our eyes riv- eted upon the spot. At length we pulled away. The silence remained unbroken for an hour. Finally, I hazarded a re- mark. " Did you observe, Captain, how suddenly they sank ? Was not that an exceedingly singular thing ? I confess that I en- tertained some feeble hope of his final deliverance, when I saw him lash himself to the box, and commit himself to the sea." " They sank as a matter of course," replied the Captain, " and that like a shot. They will soon rise again, however but not till the salt melts." " The salt ! " I ejaculated. " Hush ! " said the Captain, pointing to the wife and sisters of the deceased. " We must talk of these things at some more appropriate time." We suffered much, and made a narrow escape ; but fortune befriended us, as well as our mates in the long boat. We landed, in fine, more dead than alive, after four days of intense distress, upon the beach opposite Roanoke Island. We re mained there a week, were not ill-treated by the wreckers, and at length obtained a passage to New York. About a month after the loss of the Independence, I hap- pened to meet Captain Hardy in Broadway. Our converse TEE OBLONG BOX. 159 tion turned, naturally, upon the disaster, and especially upon the sad fate of poor Wyatt. I thus learned the following par- ticulars. The artist had engaged passage for himself, wife, two sisters, ,aiid a servant. His wife was, indeed, as she had been repre- sented, a most lovely and most accomplished woman. On the morning of the fourteenth of June (the day in which I rst visited the ship), the lady suddenly sickened and died. The young husband was frantic with grief but circumstances imperatively forbade the deferring his voyage to New York. It was necessary to take to her mother the corpse of his adored wife, and on the other hand, the universal prejudice which would prevent his doing so openly, was well known. Nine- tenths of the passengers would have abandoned the ship rather than take passage with the dead body. In this dilemma, Captain Hardy arranged that the corpse, being first partially embalmed, and packed, with a large quan- tity of salt, in a box of suitable dimensions, should be conveyed on board as merchandise. Nothing was to be said of the lady*s decease ; and, as it was well understood that Mr. Wyatt had engaged passage for his wife, it became necessary that some person should personate her during the voyage. This the de- ceased's lady's maid was easily prevailed on to do. The extra state-room, originally engaged for this girl during her mis- tress' life, was now merely retained. In this state-room tho pseudo-wife slept, of course, every night. In the daytime she performed, to the best of her ability, the part of her mistress whose person, it had been carefully ascertained, was un- known to any of the passengers on board. My own mistakes arose, naturally enough, through too care- less, too inquisitive, and too impulsive a temperament. But of late, it is a rare thing that I sleep soundly at night. There is a countenance which haunts me, turn as I will There ia on hysterical laugh which will forever ring within my ears. KING PEST. A TALE CONTAINING AN ALLEGORY. The gods do bear and well allow in kings The things which they abhor in rascal routes. Buckhursfs Tragedy of Ferrex and Porrm. ABOUT twelve o'clock, one night in the month of October, and during the chivalrous reign of the third Edward, t\vo sea* jnen belonging to the crew of the Free and Easy, a trad- ing schooner plying between Sluys and the Thames, and then at anchor in that river, were much astonished to find them- selves seated in the tap-room of an ale-house in the parish of Bt. Andrews, London which ale-house bore for sign the por- traiture of a Jolly Tar. The room, although ill-contrived, smoke-blackened, low- pitched, and in every other respect agreeing with the general character of such places at the period was, nevertheless, in the opinion of the grotesque groups scattered here and there within it, sufficiently well adapted to its purpose. Of these groups our two seamen formed, I think, the most interesting, if not the most conspicuous. The one who appeared to be the elder, and whom his com- panion addressed by the characteristic appellation of " Legs," was at the same time much the taller of the two. He might have measured six feet and a half, and an habitual stoop in the shoulders seemed to have been the necessary consequence of an altitude so enormous. Superfluities in height were, however, more than accounted for by deficiencies in other re- spects. He was exceedingly thin, and might, as his associ ates asserted, have answered, when drunk, for a pennant at the mast-head, or, when sober, have served for a jib-boom, J*'it *h*He jests, and others of a similar nature, had KING PEST. 161 produced, at no time, any effect upon the cachinnatory mus- cles of the tar. With high cheek-bones, a large hawk-nose, retreating chin, fallen under-jaw, and huge protruding white eyes, the expression of his countenance, although tinged with a species of dogged indifference to matters and things iu gen- oral, was not the less utterly solemn and serious beyond all attempts at imitation or description. The younger seaman was, in all outward appearance, the converse of his companion. His stature could not have ex- ceeded four feet. A pair of stumpy bow-legs supported his squat, unwieldy figure, while his unusually short and thick arms, with no ordinary fists at their extremities, swung off dangling from his sides like the fins of a sea-turtle. Small eyes, of no particular color, twinkled far back in his head. His nose remained buried in the mass of flesh which enveloped his round, full, and purple face ; and his thick upper-lip rested upon the still thicker one beneath with an air of complacent self-satisfaction, much heightened by the owner's habit of licking them at intervals. He evidently regarded his tall ship- mate with a feeling half-wondrous, half -quizzical ; and stared up occasionally in his face as the red setting sun stares up at the crags of Ben Nevis. Various and eventful, however, had been the peregrinations of the worthy couple in and about the different tap-houses of the neighborhood during the earlier hours of the night. Funds, even the most ample, are not always everlasting ; and it was with empty pockets our friends had ventured upon the present hostelrie. At the precise period, then, when this history properly com- mences, Legs, and his fellow, Hugh Tarpaulin, sat, each with both elbows resting upon the large oaken table in the middle of the floor, and with a hand upon either cheek. They wera eyeing, from behind a huge flagon of unpaid-for " humming- stuff," the portentous words, "No Chalk," which to their in- dignation and astonishment were scored over the doorway by means of that very mineral whose presence they purported to den}-. Not that the gift of deciphering written characters a gift among the commonalty of that day considered little less cabalistical than the art of inditing could, in strict justice, have been laid to the charge of either disciple of the sea ; but there was, to say the truth, a certain twist in the formation of the letters an indescribable lee-lurch about the whole which foreboded, in the opinion of both seamen, a long run of dirty 11 162 KING PEST; weather ; and determined them at once, in the allegorical words of Legs himself, to " pump ship, clew up all sail, and scud before the wind." Having accordingly disposed of what remained of the ale, and looped up the points of their short doublets, they finally made a bolt for the street. Although Tarpaulin rolled twice into the fireplace, mistaking it for the door, yet their escape was at length happily effected and half after twelve o'clock found our heroes ripe for mischief, and running for life down a dark alley in the direction of St. Andrew's Stair, hotly pur- sued by the landlady of the Jolly Tar. At the epoch of this eventful tale, and periodically, for many years before and after, all England, but more especially the metropolis, resounded with the fearful cry of " Plague ! " The city was in a great measure depopulated and in those horrible regions, in the vicinity of the Thames, where amid the dark, narrow, and filthy lanes and alleys, the Demon of Disease was supposed to have had his nativity, Awe, Terror, and Superstition were alone to be found stalking abroad. By authority of the king such districts were placed under ban, and all persons forbidden, under pain of death, to intrude upon their dismal solitude. Yet neither the mandate of the monarch, nor the huge barriers erected at the entrance of the streets, nor the prospect of that loathsome death which, with almost absolute certainty, overwhelmed the wretch whom no peril could deter from the adventure, prevented the unfurnished and untenanted dwellings from being stripped, by the hand of nightly rapine, of every article, such as iron, brass, or lead work, which could in any manner be turned to a profitable account. Above all, it was usually found, upon the annual \vinter opening of the barriers, that locks, bolts, and secret cellars, had proved but slender protection to those rich stores of wines and liquors which, in consideration of the risk and trouble of removal, many of the numerous dealers having shops in the neighborhood had consented to trust, during the period of exile, to so insufficient a security. But there were very few of the terror-stricken people who attributed these doings to the agency of human hands. Pest- epirits, plague-goblins, and fever-demons, were the popular imps of mischief ; and tales so blood-chilling were hourly told, that the whole mass of forbidden buildings was, at length, enveloped in terror as in a shroud, and tho plunderer RING PEST. 163 himself was often scared away by the horrors his own depre- dations had created ; leaving the entire vast circuit of pro* hibited district to gloom, silence, pestilence, and death. It was by one of the terrific barriers already mentioned, and which indicated the region beyond to be under the Pest- ban, that, in scrambling down an alley, Legs and the worthy Hugh Tarpaulin found their progress suddenly impeded. To return was out of the question, and no time was to be lost, aa their pursuers were close upon their heels. With thorough* bred seamen to clamber up the roughly fashioned plank-work was a trifle ; and maddened with the twofold excitement ol exercise and liquor, they leaped unhesitatingly down within the enclosure, and holding on their drunken course with shouts and yellingSj were soon bewildered in its noisome and intricate recesses. Had they not, indeed, been intoxicated beyond moral sense, their reeling footsteps must have been palsied by the horrors of their situation. The air was cold and misty. The paving- stones, loosened from their beds, lay in wild disorder amid the tall, rank grass which sprang up around the feet and ankles. Fallen houses choked up the streets. The most fetid and poisonous smells everywhere prevailed ; and by the aid of that ghastly light which, even at midnight, never fails to emanate from a vapory and pestilential atmosphere, might be discerned lying in the by-paths and alleys, or rotting in the windowless habitations, the carcass of many a nocturnal plunderer arrested by the hand of the plague in the very per- petration of his robbery. But it lay not in the power of images, or sensations, or im- pediments such as these, to stay the course of men who, naturally brave, and, at that time especially, brimful of courage and " humming-stuff ! " would have reeled, as straight as their condition might have permitted, undauntedly into the very jaws of Death. Onward still onward stalked the grim Legs, making the desolate solemnity echo and re- echo with yells like the terrific war-whoop of the Indian ; and onward, still onward rolled the dumpy Tarpaulin, hanging on to the doublet of his more active companion, and far sur- passing the latter's most strenuous exertions in the way of vocal music, by bull-roarings in basso, from the profundity of his stentorian lungs. They had now evidently reached the stronghold of the pes- tilence. ' Their way at every step or plunge grew more no* 164 KINO PEST. some and more horrible the paths more narrow and more intricate. Huge stones and beams falling momently from the decaying roo^s above them, gave evidence, by their sullen and heavy descent, of the vast height of the surrounding houses ; and while actual exertion became necessary to force a passage through frequent heaps of rubbish, it was by no means sel- dom that the hand fell upon a skeleton or rested upon a more fleshy corpse. Suddenly, as the seamen stumbled against the entrance of a tall and ghastly-looking building, a yell more than usually shrill from the throat of the excited Legs, was replied to from within, in a rapid succession of wild, laughter-like, and fiend- ish shrieka Nothing daunted at sounds which, of such a na- ture, at such a time, and in such a place, might have curdled the very blood in hearts less irrevocably on fire, the drunken couple rushed headlong against the door, burst it open, and staggered into the midst of things with a volley of curses. The room within which they found themselves proved to be the shop of an undertaker ; but an open trap-door, in a cor- ner of the floor near the entrance, looked down upon a long range of wine-cellars, whose depths the occasional sound of bursting bottles proclaimed to be well stored with their ap- propriate contents. In the middle of the room stood a table in the centre of which again arose a huge tub of what ap- peared to be punch. Bottles of various wines and cordials, together with jugs, pitchers, and flagons of every shape and quality, were scattered profusely upon the board. Around it, upon coffin-tressels, were seated a company of six. Thia company I will endeavor to delineate one by one. Fronting the entrance, and elevated a little above his com- panions, sat a personage who appeared to be the president of the table. His stature was gaunt and tall, and Legs was con- founded to behold in him a figure more emaciated than him- self. His face was as yellow as saffron but no feature, ex- cepting one alone, was sufficiently marked to merit a particular description. This one consisted in a forehead so unusually and hideously lofty, as to have the appearance of a bonnet or crown of flesh superadded upon the natural head. His mouth was puckered and dimpled into an expression of ghastly affa- bility, and his eyes, as indeed the eyes of all at the table, were glazed over with the fumes of intoxication. This gentleman was clothed from head to foot in a richly embroidered black irilk-velvet pall, wrapped negligently around his form after the KING PEST. 165 fashion of a Spanish cloak. His head was stuck full of sable hearse-plumes, which he nodded to and fro with a jaunty and knowing air ; and in his right hand he held a huge human thigh-bone, with which he appeared to have been just knock- ing down some member of the company for a song. Opposite him, and with her back to the door, was a lady of no whit the less extraordinary character. Although quite as tall as the person just described, she had no right to com- Elain of his unnatural emaciation. She was evidently in the ist stage of a dropsy ; and her figure resembled nearly that of the huge puncheon of October beer which stood, with the head driven in, close by her side, in a corner of the chamber. Her face was exceedingly round, red, and full ; and the same peculiarity, or rather want of peculiarity, attached itself to her countenance, which I before mentioned in the case of the presia dent that is to say, only ,one feature of her face was suffi- ciently distinguished to need a separate characterization: indeed the acute Tarpaulin immediately observed that the same remark might have applied to each individual person of the party, every one of whom seemed to possess a monopoly of some particular portion of physiognomy. With the lady in question this portion proved to be the mouth. Commen- cing at the right ear, it swept with a terrific chasm to the left the short pendants which she wore in either auricle contin- ually bobbing into the aperture. She made, however, every exertion to keep her mouth closed and look dignified, in a dress consisting of a newly starched and ironed shroud com- ing up close under her chin, with a crimpled ruffle of cam brie muslin. At her right hand sat a diminutive young lady whom she appeared to patronize. This delicate creature, in the trem- bling of her wasted fingers, in the livid hue of her lips, and in the slight hectic spot which tinged her otherwise leaden com- plexion, gave evident indications of a galloping consumption. An air of extreme haut ton, however, pervaded her whole ap- pearance ; she wore in a graceful and degagee manner, a large and beautiful winding-sheet of the finest India lawn ; her hair hung in ringlets over her neck ; a soft smile played about her mouth ; but her nose, extremely long, thin, sinuous, flexible, and pimpled, hung down far below her under lip, and in spite of the delicate manner in which she now and then moved it to one side or the other with her tongue, gave to her countenance a somewhat equivocal expression. 1&6 KINO PEST. Over against her, and upon the left of the dropsical lady, was seated a little puffy, wheezing, and gouty old man, whose cheeks reposed upon the shoulders of their owner like two huge bladders of Oporto wine. With his arms folded, ;;nd with one bandaged leg deposited upon the table, he seemed to th'ink himself entitled to some consideration. He evidently prided himself much upon every inch of his personal appear- ance, but took more especial delight in calling attention to his gaudy-colored surtout. This, to say the truth, must have cost him no little money, and was made to fit him exceed- ingly well being fashioned from one of the curiously em- broidered silken covers appertaining to those glorious escutch- eons which, in England and elsewhere, are customarily hung up, in some conspicuous place, upon the dwellings of departed aristocracy. Next to him, and at the right hand of the president, was a gentleman in long white hose and cotton drawers. His fr;aae shook, in a ridiculous manner, with a fit of what Tarpaulin called "the horrors." His jaws, which had been luvdy shaved, were tightly tied up by a bandage of muslin ; and hia arms being fastened in a similar way at the wrists, pre\ 1 him from helping himself too freely to the liquors upon the table ; a precaution rendered neccessary, in the opinion of Legs, by the peculiarly sottish and wine-bibbing cast of his visage. A pair of prodigious ears, nevertheless, which it was no doubt found impossible to confine, towered away into the atmosphere of the apartment, and were occasionally pricked up in a spasm, at the sound of the drawing of a cork. Fronting him, sixthly and lastly, was situated a singularly stiff-looking personage, who, being afflicted with paralysis, must, to speak seriously, have felt very ill at ease in his un- accommodating habiliments. . He was habited, somewhat uniquely, in a new and handsome mahogany coffin. Its top or head-piece pressed upon the skull of the wearer, and ex- tended over it in the fashion of a hood, giving to the entire face an air of indescribable interest Arm-holes had been cut in the sides for the sake not more of elegance than of convenience ; but the dress, nevertheless, prevented its pro- prietor from sitting as erect as his associates ; and as he lay reclining against his tressel, at an angle of forty-five degrees, a pair of huge goggle eyes rolled up their awful whites to- ward the ceiling in absolute amazement at their own enor- mity. RING PEST. 167 Before each of the party lay a portion of a skull, which was vised as a drinking-cup. Overhead was suspended a human skeleton, by means of a rope tied round one of the legs and fastened to a ring in the ceiling. The other limb, confined by no such fetter, stuck off from the body at right angles, causing the whole loose and rattling frame to dangle and twirl about at the caprice of every occasional puff of wind which found its way into the apartment. In the cranium of this hideous thing lay a quantity of ignited charcoal, which threw a fitful but vivid light over the entire scene ; while cof- fins, and other wares appertaining to the shop of an under- taker, were piled high up around the room, and against the windows, preventing any ray from escaping into the street At sight of this extraordinary assembly, and of their still more extraordinary paraphernalia, our two seamen did not conduct themselves with that degree of decorum which might have been expected. Legs, leaning against the wall near which he happened to be standing, dropped his lower jaw still lower than usual, and spread open his eyes to their fullest extent ; while Hugh Tarpaulin, stooping down so ; to bring his nose upon a level with the table, and spreadin^ out a palm upon either knee, burst into a long, loud, and ob- streperous roar of very ill-timed and immoderate laughter. Without, however, taking offence at behavior so excessively jrude, the tall president smiled very graciously upon the in- truders nodded to them in a dignified manner with his head of sable plumes and, arising, took each by an arm, and led hiin to a seat which some others of the company had placed in the meantime for his accommodation. Legs to all this offered not the slightest resistance, but sat down as he was directed ; while the gallant Hugh, removing his coffin tressel from its station near the head of the table, to the vi- cinity of the little consumptive lady in the winding-sheet, plumped down by her side in high glee, and pouring out a skull of red wine, quaffed it to their better acquaintance. But at this presumption the stiff gentleman in the coffin seemed exceedingly nettled ; and serious consequences might have ensued, had not the president, rapping upon the table with his truncheon, diverted the attention of all present to the following speech : " It becomes our duty upon the present happy occasion " " Avast there i " interrupted Legs, looking very serious, k avast- there a bit, I say, and tell who the devil ye all are, and 168 KING PEST. what business ye have here, rigged off like the foul fiends, and swilling the snug blue ruin stowed away for the winter by my honest shipmate, Will Wimble the undertaker ! " At this unpardonable piece of ill- breeding, all the original company half started to their feet, and uttered the same rapid succession of wild fiendish shrieks which had before caught the attention of the seamen. The president, however, was the first to recover his composure, and at length, turning to Legs with great dignity, recommenced : " Most willingly will we gratify any reasonable curiosity on the part of guests so illustrious, unbidden though they be. Know then that in these dominions I am monarch, and here rule with undivided empire under the title of ' King Pest the First.' " This apartment, which you no doubt profanely suppose to be the shop of Will Wimble the undertaker a man whom we know not, and whose plebeian appellation has never before thia night thwarted our royal ears this apartment, I say, is the Dais-Chamber of our Palace, devoted to the councils of our kingdom, and to other sacred and lofty purposes. " The noble lady who sits opposite is Queen Pest, our Serene Consort. The other exalted personages whom you behold are all of our family, and wear the insignia of the blood royal undrr the respective titles of ' His Grace the Archduke Pest- iferous ' ' His Grace the Duke Pest-Eential ' ' His Grace the Duke Tern-Pest 'and Her Serene Highness the Arch- duchess Ana-Pest.' "As regards," continued he, "your demand of the business upon which we sit here in council, we might be pardoned for replying that it concerns, and concerns alone, our own private and regal interest, and is in no manner important to any other than ourself. But in consideration of those rights to which, as guests and strangers, you may feel yourselves entitled, we will furthermore explain that we are here this night, prepared by deep research and accurate investigation, to examine, analyze, and thoroughly determine the indefinable spirit the incom- prehensible qualities and nature of those inestimable treas- ures of the palate, the wines, ales, and liqueurs of this goodly metropolis ; by so doing to advance not more our own designs than the true welfare of that unearthly sovereign whose reign is over us all, whose dominions are unlimited, and whose name is 'Death.'" " Whose name is Davy Jones ! " ejaculated Tarpaulin, help* KING PEST. K9 ing the lady by his side to a skull of liqueur, and pouring out a second for himself. " Profane varlet ! " said the president, now turning his at- tention to the worthy Hugh, " profane and execrable wretch ! we have said, that in consideration of those rights which, even in thy filthy person, we feel no inclination to violate, we have condescended to make reply to thy rude and unseason- |ble inquiries. We nevertheless, for thy unhallowed intrusion npon our councils, believe it our duty to mulct thee and thy companion in each a gallon of Black Strap, having imbibed which to the prosperity of our kingdom, at a single draught and upon your bended knees, ye shall be forthwith free either to proceed upon your way, or remain and be admit- ted to the privileges of our table, according to your respective and individual pleasures." " It would be a matter of utter unpossibility," replied Legs, whom the assumptions and dignity of King Pest the First had evidently inspired with some f eelings of respect, and who arose and steadied himself by the table as he spoke " it would, please your majesty, be a matter of utter unpossibility to stow away in my hold even one-fourth part of that same liquor which your majesty has just mentioned. To say nothing of the stuffs placed on board in the forenoon by way of ballast, and not to mention the various ales and liqueurs shipped this evening at various seaports, I have, at present, a full cargo of 'humming stuff' taken in and duly paid for at the sign of the 'Jolly Tar.' You will, therefore, please your majesty, be so good as to take the will for the deed for by no manner of means either can I or will I swallow another drop least of all a drop of that villanous bilge-water that answers to the hail of 'Black-Strap.' " "Belay that!" interrupted Tarpaulin, astonished not more at the length of his companion's speech than at the na- ture of his refusal, "Belay that, you lubber! and I say, Legs, none of your palaver ! My hull is still light, although I confess you yourself seem to be a little top-heavy ; and as for the matter of your share of the cargo, why, rather than raise a squall I would find stowage-room for it myself, but " " This proceeding," interposed the president, " is by no means in accordance with the terms of the mulct or sentence, .which -is in its nature Median, and not to be altered or re- called. The conditions we have imposed must be fulfilled to 170 KINO PE81. the letter, and tnat without a moment's hesitation in failure of which fulfilment we decree that you do here be tied neck and heels together, and duly drowned as rebels in yon hogs- head of October beer ! " " A sentence ! a sentence ! a righteous and just sentence ! a glorious decree ! a most worthy and upright, and holy condemnation ! " shouted the Pest family altogether. The king elevated his forehead into innumerable wrinkles ; the gouty little old man puffed like a pair of bellows ; the lady of the winding-sheet waved her nose to and fro ; the gentleman in the cotton drawers pricked up his ears ; she of the shroud gasped like a dying fish ; and he of the coffin looked stiff and rolled up his eyes. " Ugh ! ugh ! ugh ! " chuckled Tarpaulin, without heeding the general excitation, "ugh! ugh! ugh! ugh! ugh! ugh I ugh ugh! ugh! ugh! I was saying," said- he, "I was say- ing, when Mr. King Pest poked in his marline-spike, that as for the matter of two or three gallons more or less of Black Strap, it was a trifle to a tight sea-boat like myself not overstowed ; but when it comes to drinking the health of the Devil (whom God assoilzie) and going down upon my marrow-bones to hia ill-favored majesty there, whom I know, as well as I know myself to be a sinner, to be nobody in the whole world but Tim Hurlygurly the stage-player ! why ! it's quite another guess sort of a tiling, and uttei'ly and altogether past my comprehension. " He was not allowed to finish this speech in tranquillity. At the name of Tim Hurlygurly the whole assembly leaped from their seats. ' Treason ! " shouted his Majesty King Pest the First. ' Treason ! " said the little man with the gout. 1 Treason ! " screamed the Archduchess Ana-Pest. 1 Treason ! " muttered the gentleman with his jaws tied up. Treason 1 " growled he of the coffin. ' Treason ! " treason ! " shrieked her majesty of the mouth ; and, seizing by the hinder part of his breeches the unfortu- nate Tarpaulin, who had just commenced pouring out for himself a skull of liqueur, she lifted him high into the air, and let him fall without ceremony into the huge open pimcheoa of his beloved ale. Bobbing up and down, for a few seconds, like au apple in a bowl of toddy, he at length finally disap- peared ainie refused. Against all attatcks upon his purse lie made the most sturdy defence ; but the amount extorted from him at last was, generally, in direct ratio with the length of the siege and the stubbornness of the resistance. In charity no one gave more liberally or with a worse grace. For the fine arts, and especially for the belles lettres, he entertained a profound contempt. With this he had been inspired by Casimir Perier, whose pert little query " A quoi un poete est-il bon ? " he was in the habit of quoting, with a very droll pronunciation, as the ne plus ultra of logical wit Thus my own inkling for the Muses had excited his entire displeasure. He assured me one day, when I asked him for a new copy of Horace, that the translation of " Poeta, nascitur nan fit " was "a nasty poet for nothing fit" a remark which I took in high dudgeon. His repugnance to " the human- ities " had, also, much increased of late, by an accidental bias in favor of what he supposed to be natural science. Some- body had accosted him in the street, mistaking him for no less a personage than Doctor Dubble L. Dee, the lecturer upon quack physics. This set him off at a tangent ; and just at the epoch of this story for story it is getting to be after all my grand-uncle Bumgudgeon was accessible and pacific only upon points which happened to chime in with the cap- rioles of the hobby he was riding. For the rest, he laughed with his arms and legs, and his politics were stubborn and easily understood. He thought, with Horsley, that " the peo- ple have nothing to do with the laws but to obey them." I had lived with the old gentleman all my life. My par- ents, in dying, had bequeathed me to him as a rich legacy. I believe the old villain loved me as his own child nearly if not quite as well as he loved Kate but it was a dog's exist- ence that he led me, after all From my first year until my fifth, he obliged me with very regular floggings. From five to fifteen, he threatened me hourly with the House of Cor- rection. From fifteen to twenty not a day passed in which he did not promise to cut me off with a shilling. I was a sad dog, it is true but then it was a part of my nature a point of my faith. In Kate, however, I had a firm friend, and I knew it She was a good girl, and told me very sweetly that I might have her (plum and all) whenever I could badger my grand-uncle Bumgudgeon into the necessary consent. Poor girl ! she was barely fifteen, and without this consent, her little amount iu the funds was not come-at-able until five im THREE SUNDAYS IN A WEEK. ITS measurable summers had " dragged their slow length along." "What then, to do ? At fifteen, or even at twenty-one (for I had now passed my fifth olympiad), five years in prospect are very much the same as five hundred. In vain we besieged the old gentleman with importunities. Here was a ptice de resistance (as Messieurs Ude and Carene would say) which suited his perverse fancy to a T. It would have stirred the indignation of Job himself, to see how much like an old mou- ser he behaved to us two poor wretched little mice. In his heart he wished for nothing more ardently than our union. He had made up his mind to this all along. In fact, he would have given ten thousand pounds from his own pocket (Kate's plum was her own) if he could have invented anything like an excuse for complying with our very natural wishes. But then we had been so imprudent as to broach the subject ourselves. Not to oppose it under such circumstances, I sincerely be- lieve was not in his power. I have said already that he had his weak points ; but, in speaking of these I must not be understood as referring to hia obstinacy which was one of his strong points "assure- ment ce n'etait pas sonfaible" When I mention his weakness I have allusion to a bizarre old-womanish superstition which beset him. He was great in dreams, portents, et id genus omne of rigmarole. He was excessively punctilious, too, upon small points of honor, and, after his own fashion, was a man of his word, beyond doubt. This was, in fact, one of his hobbies. The spirit of his vows he made no scruple of setting at naught, but the letter was a bond inviolable. Now it was this latter peculiarity in his disposition, of which Kate's ingenuity en- abled us one fine day, not long after our interview in the din- ing-room, to take a very unexpected advantage, and, having thus, in the fashion of all modern bards and orators, exhausted in prolegomena, all the time at my command, and nearly all the room at my disposal, I will sum up in a few words what constitutes the whole pith of the story. It happened then so the Fates ordered it that among the naval acquaintances of my betrothed, were two gentlemen who had just set foot upon the shores of England, after a year's absence, each, in foreign travel. In company with these gen- tlemen, my cousin and I, preconcertedly, paid uncle Kumgud- geon a visit on the afternoon of Sunday, October the tenth just three weeks after the memorable decision which had so cruelly ^defeated our hopes. For about ha 1 * *n hour the 176 THREE SUNDAYS IN A WEEK conversation ran upon ordinary topics ; but at last we con trived, quite naturally, to give it the following turn : Capt. Pratt. " Well, I have been absent just one year. Just one year to-day, as I live let rne see ! yes ! this is Oct. ober the tenth. You remember, Mr. Rumgudgeon, I called this day year to bid you good-bye. And by the way, it does seem something like a coincidence, does it not that our friend, Captain Smitherton, here, has been absent exactly a year also a year to-day ? " Smitherton. " Yes ! just one year to a fraction. You will remember, Mr. Rumgudgeon, that I called with Capt. Pratfc on this very day, last year, to pay my parting respects." Uncle. "Yes, yes, yes I remember it very well very- queer indeed ! Both of you gone just one year. A very strange coincidence, indeed ! Just what Doctor Dubble L. Dee would denominate an extraordinary concurrence of events. Doctor Dub " Kate. [Interrupting.] " To be sure, papa, it is something strange ; but then Captain Pratt and Captain Smitherton didn't go altogether the same route, and that makes a differ- ence, you know." Uncle. " I don't know any such thing, you huzzy ! How should I ? I think it only makes the matter more remarkable. Doctor Dubble L. Dee " Kate. " Why, papa, Captain Pratt went round Cape Horn, and Captain Smitherton doubled the Cape of Good Hope." Uncle. " Precisely ! the one went east and the other went west, you jade, and they both have gone quite round the world. By the by, Doctor Dubble L. Dee " Myself. [Hurriedly.} " Captain Pratt, you must come and spend the evening with us to-morrow you and Smitherton you can tell us all about your voyage, and we'll have a game of whist and " Pratt. " Whist, my dear fellow you forget. To-morrow will be Sunday. Some other evening " Kate. " Oh, no, fie ! Robert's not quite so bad as that* To-day's Sunday." Uncle. " To be sure to be sure ! " Pratt. " I beg both your pardons but I can't be so much mistaken. I know to-morrow's Sunday, because " Smitherton. [Much surprised.] "What are you all thinking about? Wasn't yesterday Sunday, I should like to know? " All. " Yesterday, indeed ! you are out ! " THREE SUNDAYS IN A WEEK. 177 Uncle. " To-day's Sunday, I say don't / know ? * Pratt. " Oh no ! to-morrow's Sunday." Smitherton. " You are att mad every one of you. I am as positive that yesterday was Sunday, as I am that I sit upon this chair." Kate. [Jumping up eagerly.] " I see it I see it all Papa, this is a judgment upon you, about about you know what. Let me alone, and I'll explain it all in a minute. It's a very simple thing, indeed. Captain Smitherton says that yesterday was Sunday : so it was ; he is right. Cousin Bobby, and uncle and I, say that to-day is Sunday : so it is ; we are right. Captain Pratt maintains that to-morrow will be Sunday : so it will ; he is right, too. The fact is, we are all right, and thus three Sundays have come together in a week." Smitherton. [After a pause.] "By the by, Pratt, Kate has us completely. What fools we two are ! Mr. Rumgudgeon, the matter stands thus : the earth you know is twenty-four thousand miles in circumference. Now this globe of the earth turns upon its own axis revolves spins round these twenty- four thousand miles of extent, going from west to east, in precisely twenty-four hours. Do you understand, Mr. Rum- gudpeon ? " L'hde. "To be sure to be sure Doctor Dub " Smitherton. [Droivning his voice.] " Well, sir ; that is at the rate of one thousand miles per hour. Now, suppose that I sail from this position a thousand miles east. Of course, I antici- pate the rising of the sun here at London, by just one hour. I see the sun rise one hour before you do. Proceeding, in the same direction, yet another thousand miles, I anticipate the rising by two hours another thousand, and I anticipate it by three hours, and so on, until I go entirely round the globe, and back to this spot, when, having gone twenty-four thousand miles east, I anticipate the rising of the London sun by no lesa than twenty-four hours ; that is to say, I am a day in advance of your time. Understand, eh ? " Uncle. " But Dubble L. Dee " Smitherton. [Speaking very loud.] Captain Pratt, on the con- trary, when he had sailed a thousand miles west of this posi- tion, was an hour, and when he had sailed twenty-four thou- sand miles west, was twenty-four hours, or one day, behind the time at London. Thus, with me, yesterday was Sunday thus, with you, to-day is Sunday and thus, with Pratt, to- morrow Avill be Sunday. And what is more, Mr. Rumgud- 178 THREE SUNDAYS IN A WEEK i, it is positively clear that we are all right ; for there can no philosophical reason assigned why the idea of one of us should have preference over that of the other." Uncle, " My eyes ! well, Kate well, Bobby ! this is a judgment upon me, as you say. But I am a man of my word mark that ! you shall have her, boy (plum and all), when you please. Done up, by Jove ! Three Sundays all in a row. I'll go, and take Dubble L, Dee's opinion upon that." IHE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY. What o'clock is it ? Old Saying. EVERYBODY knows, in a general way, that the finest place in the world is or, alas, was the Dutch borough of Vondervot- teimittiss. Yet, as it lies some distance from any of the main roads, being in a somewhat out-of-the-way situation, there are, perhaps, very few of my readers who have ever paid it a visit. For the benefit of those who have not, therefore, it will be only proper that I should enter into some account of it And this is, indeed, the more necessary, as with the hope of enlisting public sympathy in behalf of the inhabitants, I de- sign here to give a history of the calamitous events which have so lately occurred within its limits. No one who knows me mil doubt that the duty thus self-imposed will be executed to the best of my ability, With all that rigid impartiality, all that cautious examination into facts, and diligent collation of au- thorities, which should ever distinguish him who aspires to the title of historian. By the united aid of medals, manuscripts, and inscriptions, I am enabled to say, positively, that the borough of Vonder- votteimittiss has existed, from its origin, in precisely the same condition which it at present preserves. Of the date of this origin, however, I grieve that I can only speak with that spe- cies of indefinite definiteness which mathematicians are, at times, forced to put up with in certain algebraic formulae. The date, I may thus say, in regard to the remoteness of its antiquity, cannot be less than any assignable quantity whatso- ever. Touching the derivation of the name Yondervotteimittiss, I confess myself, with sorrow, equally at fault. Among a muV titude of opinions upon this delicate point some acute, some learned, some sufficiently the reverse I am able to select noth- 180 THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY. ing which ought to be considered satisfactory. Perhaps the idea of Grogswigg nearly coincident with that of Kroutaplenttey is to be cautiously preferred. It runs : " Vondervotteimitti^s Yonder, lege Bonder Votteimittiss, quasi und BleitzizBleitziz obsol: pro Blitzen." This derivation, to say the truth, is still countenanced by some traces of the electric fluid evident on the summit of the steeple of the House of the Town-Council. I do not choose, however, to commit myself on a theme of such importance, and must refer the reader desirous of infor- mation to the " OratiunculoB de Rebus Prceter-Veteris" of Dun- dergutz. See, also, Blunderbuzard " De Derivationibus," pp. 27 to 5010, Folio, Gothic edit., Red and Black character, Catch-word and No Cypher ; wherein consult, also, marginal notes in the autograph of Stuffundpuff, with the sub-Commen- taries of Gruntundguzzell. Notwithstanding the obscurity which thus envelops the date of the foundation of Vondervotteirnittiss, and the deriva- tion of its name, there can be no doubt, as I said before, that it has always existed as we find it at this epoch. The oldest man in the borough can remember not the slightest difference in the appearance of any portion of it ; and, indeed, the very suggestion of such a possibility is considered an insult. The site of the village is in a perfectly circular valley, about a quarter of a mile in circumference, and entirely surrounded by gentle hills, over whose summit the people have never yet ventured to pass. For this they assign the very good reason that they do not believe there is anything at aU on the other aide. Round the skirts of the valley (which is quite level, and paved throughout with flat tiles) extends a continuous row of sixty little houses. These, having their backs on the hills, must look, of course, to the centre of the plain, which is just sixty yards from the front door of each dwelling. Every house has a small garden before it, with a circular path, a sun- dial, and twenty-four cabbages. The buildings themselves are so precisely alike, that one can in no manner be distinguished from the other. Owing to the vast antiquity, the style of archi- tecture is somewhat odd, but it is not for that reason the less strikingly picturesque. They are fashioned of hard-burned little bricks, red, with black ends, so that the walls look like a chess-board upon a great scale. The gables are turned to the front, and there are cornices, as big as all the rest of the house, over the eaves and over the main doors. The windows TEE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY. 181 are narrow and deep, with very tiny panes and a great deal of Bash. On the roof is a vast quantity of tiles with long curly ears. The woodwork, throughout, is of a dark hue, and there is much carving about it, with but a trifling variety of pattern ; for, time out of mind, the carvers of Vondervotteimittiss have never been able to carve more than two objects a time-piece and a cabbage. But these they do exceedingly well, and in- tersperse them, with singular ingenuity, wherever they find room for the chisel. The dwellings are as much alike inside as out, and the furni- ture is all upon one plan. The floors are of square tiles, the chairs and tables of black-looking wood with thin crooked legs and puppy feet. The mantel-pieces are wide and high, and have not only time-pieces and cabbages sculptured over the front, but a real time-piece, which makes a prodigious ticking, on the top in the middle, with a flower -pot contain- ing a cabbage standing on each extremity by way of outrider. Between each cabbage and the time-piece, again, is a little China man having a large stomach with a great round hole in it, through which is seen the dial-plate of a watch. The fire-places are large and deep, with fierce crooked- looking fire-dogs. There is constantly a rousing fire, and a huge pot over it, full of saur-kraut and pork, to which the good woman of the house is always busy in attending. She is a little fat old lady, with blue eyes and a red face, and wears a huge cap like a sugar-loaf, ornamented with purple and yellow ribbons. Her dress is of orange-colored linsey- woolsey, made very full behind and very short in the waist and indeed very short in other respects, not reaching below the middle of her leg. This is somewhat thick, and so are her ankles, but she has a fine pair of green stockings to cover them. Her shoes of pink leather are fastened each with a bunch of yellow ribbons puckered up in the shape of a cab- bage. In her left hand she has a little heavy Dutch watch ; in her right she wields a ladle for the sauer-kraut and pork. By her side there stands a fat tabby cat, with a gilt toy repeater tied to its tail, which "the boys " have there fastened by way of a quiz. The boys themselves are, all three of them, in the garden attending the pig. They are each two feet in height. They have three-cornered cocked hats, purple waistcoats reaching down to their thighs, buckskin knee-breeches, red woollen stockings, heavy shoes with big silver buckles, and long sur- 182 VRE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY. tout coats with large buttons of mother-of-pearL Each, too, has a pipe in his mouth, and a little dumpy watch in his right hand. He takes a puff and a look, and then a look and a puff. The pig which is corpulent and lazy is occu- pied now in picking up the stray leaves that fall from the cab- bages, and now in giving a kick behind at the gilt repeater, which the urchins have also tied to his tail, in order to make him look as handsome as the cat. Right at the front door, in a high-backed, leather-bottomed, armed chair, with crooked legs and puppy feet like the tables, is seated the old man of the house himself. He is an exceedingly puffy little old gentleman, with big circular eyes and a huge double chin. His dress resembles that of the boys and I need say nothing further about it. All the dif- ference is, that his pipe is somewhat bigger than theirs, and he can make a greater smoke. Like them, he has a watch, but he carries his watch in his pocket. To say the truth, he has something of more importance than a watch to attend to and what that is, I shall presently explain. He sits with his right leg upon his left knee, wears a grave countenance, and always keeps one of his eyes, at least, resolutely bent upon a certain remarkable object in the centre of the plain. This object is situated in the steeple of the House of the Town Council. The Town Council are all very little, round, oily, intelligent men, with big saucer eyes and fat double chins, and have their coats much longer and their shoe- buckles much bigger than the ordinary inhabitants of Von- dervotteimittiss. .Since my sojourn in the borough, they have had several special meetings, and have adopted these three important resolutions : " That it is wrong to alter the good old course of things : " "That there is nothing tolerable out of Voudervotteimit- tiss : " and " That we will stick by our clocks and our cabbages." Above the session-room of the Council is the steeple, and in the steeple is the belfry, where exists, and has existed time out of mind, the pride and wonder of the village the great clock of the borough of Vondervotteimittiss. And this is the object to which the eyes of the old gentlemen are turned who Bit in the leather-bottomed arm-chairs. The great clock has seven faces one in each of the seven Bides of the steeples so that it can be readily seen from all quarters. Its faces are large and white, and its hands heavy THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY. 183 and black. There is a belfry-man whose sole duty is to attend to it ; but this duty is the most perfect of sinecures for the clock of Vondervotteimittiss was never yet known to have any- thing the matter with it. Until lately, the bare supposition of such a thing was considered heretical From the remotest period of antiquity to which the archives have reference, the hours have been regularly struck by the big bell. And, in- deed, the case was just the same with all the other clocks and watches in the borough. Never was such a place for keeping the true time. When the large clapper thought proper to say " Twelve o'clock ! " all its obedient f ollowers opened their throats simultaneously, and responded like a very echo. In short, the good burghers were fond of their sauer-kraut, but then they were proud of their clocks. All people who hold sinecure offices are held in more or less respect, and as the belfry-man of Vondervotteimittiss has the most perfect of sinecures, he is. the most perfectly respected of any man in the world. He is the chief dignitary of the borough, and the very pigs look up to him with a sentiment of reverence. His coat-tail is very far longer his pipe, hia shoe-buckles, his eyes, and his stomach, very far bigger than those of any other old gentleman in the village ; and as to hia chin, it is not only double, but triple. I have thus painted the happy estate of Vondervotteimittiss ; alas, that so fair a picture should ever experience a reverse ! There has been long a saying among the wisest inhabitants, that "no good can come from over the hills;" and it really seemed that the words had in them something of the spirit of prophecy. It wanted five minutes of noon, on the day before yesterday, when there appeared a very odd-looking object on the summit of the ridge to the eastward. Such an occurrence, of course, attracted universal attention, and every little old gentleman who sat hi a leather-bottomed arm-chair, turned one of his eyes with a stare of dismay upon the phenomenon, Btill keeping the other upon the clock in the steeple. By the time that it wanted only three minutes to noon, the droll object in question was perceived to be a very, diminutive, foreign-looking young man. He descended the hills at a great rate, so that everybody had soon a good look at him. He was really the most finnicky little personage that had ever been seen in Voudervotteimittiss. His countenance was of a dark snuff-color, and he had a long, hooked nose, pea eyes, a wide mouth, and an excellent set of teeth, which latter he 184 THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY. seemed anxious f displaying, as he was grinning from ear to ear. What with mustachios and whiskers, there was none of the rest of his face to be seen. His head was uncovered, and his hair neatly done up in papillotes. His dress was a tight- fitting swallow-tailed black coat (from one of whose pockets dangled a vast length of white handkerchief), black kersey- mere knee-breeches, black stockings, and stumpy-looking pumps, with huge bunches of black satin ribbon for bows. Under one arm he carried a huge chapeau-de-bras, and under the other a fiddle nearly five times as big as himself. In hia left hand was a gold snuff-box, from which, as he capered down the hill, cutting all manner of fantastical steps, he took snuff incessantly, with an air of the greatest possible self-sat- isfaction. God bless me ! here was a sight for the honest burghers of Vondervotteimittiss ! To speak plainly, the fellow had, in spite of his grinning, an audacious and sinister kind of face ; and as he curvetted right into the village, the odd stumpy appearance of his pumps ex- cited no little suspicion ; and many a burgher who beheld him that day would have given a trifle for a peep beneath the white cambric handkerchief which hung so obtrusivelv from the pocket of his swallow-tailed coat. But what mainly occa- sioned a righteous indignation was, that the scroundrelly pop- injay, while he cut a fandango here, and a whirligig there, did not seem to have the remotest idea in the world of such a thing as keeping time in his steps. The good people of the borough had scarcely a chance, how- ever, to get their eyes thoroughly open, when, just as it wanted half a minute of noon, the rascal bounced, as I say, right into the midst of them ; gave a chassez here, and a balancez there ; and then, after a pirouette and a pas-de-zephyr, pigeon- winged himself right up into the belfry of the House of the Town- Council, where the wonder-stricken belfry-man sat smoking in. a state of dignity and dismay. But the little chap seized him at once by the nose ; gave it a swing and a pull ; clapped the big chapeau-de-bras upon his head ; knocked it down over hia eyes and mouth ; and then, lifting up the big fiddle, beat hiin with it so long and so soundly, that with the belfry-man being so fat, and the fiddle being so hollow, you would have swonj that there was a regiment of double-bass drummers all beating the devil's tattoo up in the belfry of the steeple of Vondervot teimittiss. There is no knowing to what desperate act of vengeance thia THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY 185 unprincipled attack might have aroused the inhabitants, but for the important fact that it now wanted only half a second of noon. The bell was about to strike, and it was a matter of absolute and pre-eminent necessity that everybody should look well at his watch. It was evident, however, that just at this moment, the fellow in the steeple was doing something that he had no business to do with the clock. But as it now began to strike, nobody had any time to attend to his manoeuvres, for they had all to count the strokes of the bell as it sounded. " One ! " said the clock. " Von ! " echoed every little old gentleman in every leather- bottomed arm-chair in Vondervotteimittiss. " Von ! " said his watch also ; " von ! " said the watch of his vrow, and " von ! " said the watches of the boys, and the little gilt repeaters on the tails of the cat and pig. " Two ! " continued the big bell ; and " Doo ! " repeated all the repeaters. " Three ! Four ! Five ! Six ! Seven ! Eight ! Nine ! Ten ! " said the bell "Dree.' Vour ! Fibe ! Sax! Seben ! Aight ! Noinl Den ! " answered the others " Eleven ! " said the big one. " Elebeu ! " assented the little fellows. " Twelve ! " said the bell. " Dvelf ! " they replied, perfectly satisfied, and dropping their voices. " Und dvelf it iss ! " said all the little old gentlemen, put- ting up their watches. But the big bell had not doue with them yet. " Thirteen ! " said he. "Der Teufel ! " gasped the little old gentlemen, turning pale, dropping their pipes, and putting down all their right legs from over their left knees. " Der Teufel ! " groaned they, " Dirteen ! Dirteen ! ! Mem Gott, it is Dirteen o'clock ! ! " Why attempt to describe the terrible scene which ensued ? All Vondervotteimittiss flew at once into a lamentable state of uproar. " Vot is curn'd to mein pelly ? " roared all the boys. " I've been ongry for dis hour ! " "Vot iscum'd to mein kraut? " screamed all the vrows. " It has been done to rags for dis hour ! " " Vot is cum'd to mein pipe '? " swore ail the little old gen 186 THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRi. tiemen, " Donder and Blitzen ! it has been smoked out for dii hour ! " and they filled them up again in a great rage, and, sinking back in their arm-chairs, puffed away so fast and so fiercely that the whole valley was immediately filled with im- penetrable smoke. Meantime the cabbages all turned very red in the face, and it seemed as if old Nick himself had taken possession of every- thing in the shape of a timepiece. The clocks carved upon the furniture took to dancing as if bewitched, while those upon the mantlepieces could scarcely contain themselves for fury, and kept such a continual striking of thirteen, and such a frisking and wriggling of their pendulums as was really hor- rible to see. But, worse than all, neither the cats nor the pigs could put up any longer with the behavior of the little repeat- ers tied to their tails, and resented it by scampering all over the place, scratching and poking, and squeaking and screech- ing, and caterwauling and squalling, and flying into the faces, and running under the petticoats of the people, and creating altogether the most abominable din and confusion which it ia possible for a reasonable person to conceive. And to maka matters still more distressing, the rascally little scape-grace in the steeple was evidently exerting himself to the utmost. Every now and then one might catch a glimpse of the scoun- drel through the smoke. There he sat in the belf ry upon the belfry-man, who was lying flat upon his back. In his teeth the villain held the bell-rope, which he kept jerking about with his head, raising such a clatter that my ears ring again even to think of it On his lap lay the big fiddle at which he was scraping out of all time and tune, with both hands, mak- ing a great show, the nincompoop ! of playing " Judy O'Flan- Dagan and Paddy O'Baferty." Affairs being thus miserably situated, I left the place in disgust, and now appeal for aid to all lovers of correct time and fine kraut Let us proceed in a body to the borough, and restore the ancient order of things in Vondervotteimittisi by ejecting that little fellow from the steeple. Alger Series For Boys The public and popular verdict for many years has approved of the Alger series of books as among the most wholesome of all stories for boys. To meet the continued demand for these books in the most attractive style of the binder's art, we have made this special edition in ornamental designs in three colors, stamped on side and back. 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