Alger Horatio Jr.
The Cash Boy
CHAPTER XII
A FALSE FRIEND
When John Wade re-entered the library, Frank was reading, but Mr. Wharton stopped him.
“That will do, Frank,” he said. “As I have not seen my nephew for a long time, I shall not require you to read any longer. You can go, if you like.”
Frank bowed, and bidding the two good-evening, left the room.
“That is an excellent boy, John.” said the old gentleman, as the door closed upon our hero.
“How did you fall in with him?” asked John. Mr. Wharton told the story with which the reader is already familiar.
“You don’t know anything of his antecedents, I suppose?” said John, carelessly.
“Only what he told me. His father and mother are dead, and he is obliged to support himself and his sister. Did you notice anything familiar in Frank’s expression?” asked Mr. Wharton.
“I don’t know. I didn’t observe him very closely.”
“Whenever I look at Frank, I think of George. I suppose that is why I have felt more closely drawn to the boy. I proposed to Mrs. Bradley that the boy should have a room here, but she did not favor it. I think she is prejudiced against him.”
“Probably she is afraid he would be some trouble,” replied John.
“If George’s boy had lived he would be about Frank’s age. It would have been a great comfort to me to superintend his education, and watch him grow up. I could not have wished him to be more gentlemanly or promising than my young reader.”
“Decidedly, that boy is in my way,” said John Wade to himself. “I must manage to get rid of him, and that speedily, or my infatuated uncle will be adopting him.”
“Of what disease did George’s boy die, John?” asked Mr. Wharton.
“A sudden fever.”
“I wish I could have seen him before he died. But I returned only to find both son and grandson gone. I had only the sad satisfaction of seeing his grave.”
“Yes, he was buried in the family lot at Greenwood, five days before you reached home.”
“When I see men of my own age, surrounded by children and grandchildren, it makes me almost envious,” said Mr. Wharton, sadly. “I declare to you, John, since that boy has been with me, I have felt happier and more cheerful than for years.”
“That boy again!” muttered John to himself. “I begin to hate the young cub, but I mustn’t show it. My first work will be to separate him from my uncle. That will require consideration. I wonder whether the boy knows that he is not Fowler’s son? I must find out. If he does, and should happen to mention it in my uncle’s presence, it might awaken suspicions in his mind. I must interview the boy, and find out what I can. To enlist his confidence, I must assume a friendly manner.”
In furtherance of this determination, John Wade greeted our hero very cordially the next evening, when they met, a little to Frank’s surprise.
When the reading terminated, John Wade said, carelessly:
“I believe, uncle, I will go out for a walk. I think I shall be better for it. In what direction are you going, Frank?”
“Down Sixth Avenue, sir.”
“Very good; I will walk along with you.”
Frank and his companion walked toward Sixth Avenue.
“My uncle tells me you have a sister to support,” said Wade, opening the conversation.
“Yes, sir.”
“Does your sister resemble you?” asked John Wade.
“No, sir! but that is not surprising, for–”
“Why is it not surprising?”
Frank hesitated.
“You were about to assign some reason.”
“It is a secret,” said our hero, slowly; “that is, has been a secret, but I don’t know why I should conceal it. Grace is not my sister. She is Mrs. Fowler’s daughter, but I am not her son. I will tell you the story.”
That story Frank told as briefly as possible. John Wade listened to it with secret alarm.
“It is a strange story,” he said. “Do you not feel a strong desire to learn your true parentage?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t know, but I feel as if I should some day meet the man who gave me into Mrs. Fowler’s charge.”
“You have met him, but it is lucky you don’t suspect it,” thought John Wade.
“I am glad you told me this story,” said he, aloud.
“It is quite romantic. I may be able to help you in your search. But let me advise you to tell no one else at present. No doubt there are parties interested in keeping the secret of your birth from you. You must move cautiously, and your chance of solving the mystery will be improved.”
“Thank you, sir. I will follow your advice.”
“I was mistaken in him,” thought Frank. “I disliked him at first, but he seems inclined to be my friend.”
When Frank reached his lodging he found Jasper waiting up for him. He looked thoughtful, so much so that Frank noticed it.
“You look as if you had something on your mind,” Jasper.
“You have guessed right. I have read that letter.”
He drew from his pocket a letter, which Frank took from his hands.
“It is from an uncle of mine in Ohio, who is proprietor of a weekly newspaper. He is getting old, and finds the work too much for him. He offers me a thousand dollars a year if I will come out and relieve him.”
“That’s a good offer, Jasper. I suppose you will accept it?”
“It is for my interest to do so. Probably my uncle will, after a while, surrender the whole establishment to me.”
“I shall be sorry to part with you, Jasper. It will seem very lonely, but I think you ought to go. It is a good chance, and if you refuse it you may not get such another.”
“My uncle wants me to come on at once. I think I will start Monday.”
Jasper saw no reason to change his determination, and on Monday morning he started on his journey to Ohio.
Thus, at a critical moment in his fortunes, when two persons were planning to injure him, he lost the presence and help of a valued friend.
CHAPTER XIII
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY
“Uncle,” said John Wade, “you spoke of inviting Frank Fowler to occupy a room in the house. Why don’t you do it? It would be more convenient to you and a very good chance for him.”
“I should like it,” said Mr. Wharton, “but Mrs. Bradley did not seem to regard it favorably when I suggested it.”
“Oh, Mrs. Bradley is unused to boys, and she is afraid he would give her trouble. I’ll undertake to bring her around.”
“I wish you would, John. I don’t think Frank would give any trouble, and it would enliven the house to have a boy here. Besides, he reminds me of George, as I told you the other day.”
“I agree with you, uncle,” he said. “He does remind me a little of George.”
“Well, Mrs. Bradley, what do you think I have done?” asked John, entering the housekeeper’s room directly after his interview with his uncle.
“I don’t know, Mr. John,” she answered.
“I have asked him to give that boy a room in the house.”
“Are you carried away with him as well as your uncle?”
“Not quite. The fact is, I have a motive in what I am doing. I’ll tell you.”
He bent over and whispered in her ear.
“I never should have thought of that.”
“You see, our purpose is to convince my uncle that he is unworthy of his favor. At present that would be rather difficult, but once get him into the house and we shall have no trouble.”
“I understand.”
In due time John Wade announced to his uncle that the housekeeper had withdrawn her objections to his plan.
“Then I’ll tell him to-night,” said Mr. Wharton, brightening up.
Shortly after Frank entered the library that evening Mr. Wharton made the proposal.
“You are very kind, Mr. Wharton,” he said. “I never thought of such a thing.”
“Then it is settled that you are to come. You can choose your own time for coming.”
“I will come to-morrow, sir.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Wharton, with satisfaction.
The next day, by special favor, Frank got off from the store two hours earlier than usual. He bought at a Sixth Avenue basement store, a small, second hand trunk for two dollars. He packed his scanty wardrobe into the trunk, which, small as it was he was unable to fill, and had it carried to Mr. Wharton’s house.
He asked to see Mrs. Bradley, and she came to the door.
“I am glad to see you,” she said graciously. “You may leave your trunk in the hall and I will have it carried up by the servants.”
“Thank you,” said Frank, and he followed the housekeeper up the handsome staircase.
“This is to be your room,” said the housekeeper, opening the door of a small chamber on the third floor.
“It looks very nice and comfortable,” said Frank, looking about him with satisfaction.
She left the room, and five minutes later our hero’s modest trunk was brought up and deposited in the room.
That evening Frank read to Mr. Wharton as usual.
When nine o’clock came he said:
“You need not read aloud any more, but if you see any books in my library which you would like to read to yourself you may do so. In fact, Frank, you must consider yourself one of the family, and act as freely as if you were at home.”
“How kind you are to me, Mr. Wharton,” said Frank.
The next morning after Frank had left the house for his daily task, John Wade entered the housekeeper’s room.
“The boy is out of the way now, Mrs. Bradley,” he said. “You had better see if you have a key that will unlock his trunk.”
The two conspirators went upstairs, and together entered Frank’s room.
Mrs. Bradley brought out a large bunch of keys, and successively tried them, but one after another failed to open it.
“That’s awkward,” said John Wade. “I have a few keys in my pocket. One may possibly answer.”
The housekeeper kneeled down, and made a trial of John Wade’s keys. The last one was successful. The cover was lifted, and the contents were disclosed. However, neither John nor Mrs. Bradley seemed particularly interested in the articles for after turning them over they locked the trunk once more.
“So far so good,” said John Wade. “We have found the means of opening the trunk when we please.”
“When do you expect to carry out your plan, Mr. John?”
“Two weeks from this time my uncle is obliged to go to Washington for a few days on business. While he is gone we will spring the trap, and when he comes back he will find the boy gone in disgrace. We’ll make short work of him.”
CHAPTER XIV
SPRINGING THE TRAP
“I am going to give you a few days’ vacation, Frank,” said Mr. Wharton, a fortnight later. “I am called to Washington on business. However, you have got to feel at home here now.”
“Oh, yes, sir.”
“And Mrs. Bradley will see that you are comfortable.”
“I am sure of that, sir,” said Frank, politely.
When Frank returned at night, Mr. Wharton was already gone. John Wade and the housekeeper seated themselves in the library after dinner, and by their invitation our hero joined them.
“By the way, Frank,” said John Wade, “did I ever show you this Russia leather pocketbook?” producing one from his pocket.
“No, sir, I believe not.”
“I bought it at Vienna, which is noted for its articles of Russia leather.”
“It is very handsome, sir.”
“So I think. By the way, you may like to look at my sleeve-buttons. They are of Venetian mosaic. I got them myself in Venice last year.”
“They are very elegant. You must have enjoyed visiting so many famous cities.”
“Yes; it is very interesting.”
John Wade took up the evening paper, and Frank occupied himself with a book from his patron’s library. After a while John threw down the paper yawning, and said that he had an engagement. Nothing else occurred that evening which merits record.
Two days later Frank returned home in his usual spirits. But at the table he was struck by a singular change in the manner of Mrs. Bradley and John Wade. They spoke to him only on what it was absolutely necessary, and answered his questions in monosyllables.
“Will you step into the library a moment?” said John Wade, as they arose from the table.
Frank followed John into the library, and Mrs. Bradley entered also.
“Frank Fowler,” the enemy began, “do you remember my showing you two evenings since a pocketbook, also some sleeve-buttons of Venetian mosaic, expensively mounted in gold?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“That pocketbook contained a considerable sum of money,” pursued his questioner.
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“You probably supposed so.”
“Will you tell me what you mean, Mr. Wade?” demanded Frank, impatiently. “I have answered your questions, but I can’t understand why you ask them.”
“Perhaps you may suspect,” said Wade, sarcastically.
“It looks as if you had lost them and suspected me of taking them.”
“So it appears.”
“You are entirely mistaken, Mr. Wade. I am not a thief. I never stole anything in my life.”
“It is very easy to say that,” sneered John Wade. “You and Mrs. Bradley were the only persons present when I showed the articles, and I suppose you won’t pretend that she stole them?”
“No, sir; though she appears to agree with you that I am a thief. I never thought of accusing her,” replied Frank.
“Mr. Wade,” said the housekeeper, “I feel that it is my duty to insist upon search being made in my room.”
“Do you make the same offer?” asked John Wade, turning to Frank.
“Yes, sir,” answered our hero, proudly. “I wish you to satisfy yourself that I am not a thief. If you will come to my room at once, Mr. Wade, you and Mrs. Bradley, I will hand you the key of my trunk.”
The two followed him upstairs, exulting wickedly in his discomfiture, which they had reason to forsee.
He handed his key to his artful enemy, and the latter bending over, opened the trunk, which contained all our hero’s small possessions.
He raised the pile of clothes, and, to Frank’s dismay, disclosed the missing pocketbook and sleeve-buttons in the bottom of the trunk.
“What have you got to say for yourself now, you young villain?” demanded John Wade, in a loud voice.
“I don’t understand it,” Frank said, in a troubled tone. “I don’t know how the things came there. I didn’t put them there.”
“Probably they crept in themselves,” sneered John.
“Someone put them there,” said Frank, pale, but resolute; “some wicked person, who wanted to get me into trouble.”
“What do you mean by that, you young vagabond?” demanded John Wade, suspiciously.
“I mean what I say,” he asserted. “I am away all day, and nothing is easier than to open my trunk and put articles in, in order to throw suspicion on me.”
“Look here, you rascal!” said John Wade, roughly. “I shall treat you better than you deserve. I won’t give you over to the police out of regard for my uncle, but you must leave this house and never set foot in it again. It will be the worse for you if you do.”
John Wade and the housekeeper left the room, and our hero was left to realize the misfortune which had overwhelmed him.
Frank arose at an early hour the next morning and left the house. It was necessary for him to find a new home at once in order to be at the store in time. He bought a copy of the Sun and turned to the advertising columns. He saw a cheap room advertised near the one he had formerly occupied. Finding his way there he rang the bell.
The door was opened by a slatternly-looking woman, who looked as if she had just got up.
“I see by the Sun you have a room to let,” said Frank.
“Yes; do you want to see it now?”
“I should like to.”
“Come upstairs and I will show you the room.”
The room proved to be small, and by no means neat in appearance, but the rent was only a dollar and a quarter a week, and Frank felt that he could not afford to be particular, so he quickly closed the bargain.
The next day, about eleven o’clock in the forenoon, he was surprised at seeing Mrs. Bradley enter the store and thread her way to that part of the counter where her nephew was stationed. She darted one quick look at him, but gave him no sign of recognition. His heart sank within him, for he had a presentiment that her visit boded fresh evil for him.
CHAPTER XV
FROM BAD TO WORSE
Frank’s misgivings were not without good cause. The housekeeper’s call at the store was connected with him. How, will be understood from a conversation which took place that morning between her and John Wade.
“It’s a relief to get that boy out of the house, Mrs. Bradley,” he said at the breakfast table.
“That it is, Mr. John,” she replied. “But he’ll be trying to get back, take my word for it.”
“He won’t dare to,” said John Wade, incredulously. “I told him if he came near the house I would give him up to the police.”
“I am afraid he will write to your uncle. He’s bold enough for anything.”
“I didn’t think of that,” said John, thoughtfully.
“Do you know his handwriting, Mrs. Bradley?”
“I think I should know it.”
“Then if any letters come which you know to be from him, keep them back from my uncle.”
“What shall I do with them?”
“Give them to me. I don’t want my uncle worried by his appeals.”
“Your uncle seems to be very attached to him. He may go to the store to see him.”
“That is true. I should not like that. How shall we prevent it, that’s the question.”
“If Gilbert & Mack knew that he was not honest they would discharge him.”
“Exactly,” said John Wade; “and as probably he would be unable to get another situation, he would be compelled to leave the city, and we should get rid of him. I commend your shrewdness, Mrs. Bradley. Your plan is most excellent.”
John Wade had more reasons than the housekeeper knew of for desiring the removal of our young hero from the city—reasons which the reader has probably guessed. There was a dark secret in his life connected with a wrong done in years past, from which he hoped some day to reap personal benefit. Unconsciously Frank Fowler stood in his way, and must be removed. Such was his determination.
“I am going out this morning,” said the housekeeper. “I will make it in my way to call at Gilbert & Mack’s. My nephew is a salesman there, as I have told you. I will drop a word in his ear, and that will be enough to settle that boy’s hash.”
“Your language is professional, Mrs. Bradley,” said John Wade, laughing, “but you shouldn’t allude to hash in an aristocratic household. I shall be glad to have you carry out your plan.”
“I hope you’ll speak to your uncle about my nephew, Mr. John. He gets very poor pay where he is.”
“I won’t forget him,” said John, carelessly.
In his heart he thought Thomas Bradley a very low, obtrusive fellow, whom he felt by no means inclined to assist, but it was cheap to make promises.
The reader understands now why Mrs. Bradley made a morning call at Gilbert & Mack’s store.
She knew at what part of the counter her nephew was stationed, and made her way thither at once. He did not at first recognize her, until she said:
“Good-morning, Thomas.”
“Good-morning, aunt. What brings you here this morning? Any good news for me? Has the old gentleman come around and concluded to do something handsome?”
“Mr. Wharton is not in the city. He has gone to Washington. But that isn’t what I came about this morning. You remember that boy who has been reading to Mr. Wharton?”
“One of our cash-boys. Yes; there he is, just gone by.”
“Well, he has stolen Mr. John’s pocketbook and some jewelry belonging to him.”
“What have you done about it? What does Mr. Wharton say?”
“He’s away from home. He doesn’t know yet. Mr. John gave him a lecture, and ordered him to leave the house.”
“Does he admit that he took the things?”
“No; he denied it as bold as brass, but it didn’t do him any good. There were the things in his trunk. He couldn’t get over that.”
Thomas fastened a shrewd glance on his aunt’s face, for he suspected the truth.
“So you’ve got rid of him?” he said. “What do you propose to do next?”
“Mr. John thinks your employer ought to know that he is a thief.”
“Are you going to tell them?”
“I want you to do it.”
“You must tell them yourself, aunt. I shan’t.”
“Then introduce me to Mr. Gilbert, Thomas, and I’ll do it.”
“Follow me, aunt.”
He led his aunt to the rear of the store, where Mr. Gilbert was standing.
“Mr. Gilbert,” he said, “allow me to introduce my aunt, Mrs. Bradley.”
The housekeeper was courteously received, and invited to be seated. She soon opened her business, and blackened poor Frank’s character as she had intended.
“Really, Mrs. Bradley, I am sorry to hear this,” said Mr. Gilbert. “You think there is no doubt of the boy’s guilt?”
“I am sorry to say that I have no doubt at all,” said the housekeeper, hypocritically.
“Mr. Mack and myself have had a very good opinion of him. He is faithful and prompt.”
“Of course, sir, you will retain him in your employ if you are willing to take the risk, but I thought it my duty to put you on your guard.”
“I am obliged to you, Mrs. Bradley; though, as I said, I regret to find that my confidence in the boy has been misplaced.”
Late in the afternoon, Frank was called to the cashier’s desk.
“I am directed by Mr. Gilbert to say that your services will not be required after to-day,” he said. “Here are the week’s wages.”
“Why am I discharged? What have I done?” demanded Frank, while his heart sank within him.
“I don’t know. You must ask Mr. Gilbert,” answered the cashier.
“I will speak to him, at any rate,” and Frank walked up to the senior partner, and addressed to him the same question.
“Can you not guess?” asked Mr. Gilbert, sternly.
“I can guess that a false accusation has been brought against me,” said Frank.
“A respectable lady has informed me that you are not honest. I regret it, for I have been pleased with your diligence. Of course, I cannot retain you in my employ.”
“Mr. Gilbert,” said Frank, earnestly, “the charge is false. Mrs. Bradley is my enemy, and wishes me harm. I don’t understand how the things came into my trunk, but I didn’t put them there.”
“I hope you are innocent, but I must discharge you. Business is dull now, and I had decided to part with four of my cash-boys. I won’t pass judgment upon you, but you must go.”
Frank bowed in silence, for he saw that further entreaty would be vain, and left the store more dispirited than at any moment since he had been in the city.
Ten days Frank spent in fruitless efforts to obtain a place.
All this time his money steadily diminished. He perceived that he would soon be penniless. Evidently, something must be done. He formed two determinations. The first was to write to Mr. Wharton, who, he thought, must now have returned from Washington, asserting his innocence and appealing to him to see Gilbert & Mack, and re-establish him in their confidence. The second was, since he could not obtain a regular place, to frequent the wharves and seek chances to carry bundles. In this way he might earn enough, with great economy, to pay for his board and lodging.
One morning the housekeeper entered the library where John Wade sat reading the daily papers.
“Mr. John,” she said, holding out a letter, “here is a letter from that boy. I expected he would write to your uncle.”
John Wade deliberately opened the letter.
“Sit down, Mrs. Bradley, and I will read the letter aloud.”
It will be only necessary to quote the concluding sentences:
“‘I hope, Mr. Wharton, you will not be influenced against me by what Mrs. Bradley and your nephew say. I don’t know why it is, but they are my enemies, though I have always treated them with respect. I am afraid they have a desire to injure me in your estimation. If they had not been, they would have been content with driving me from your house, without also slandering me to my employers, and inducing them to discharge me. Since I was discharged, I have tried very hard to get another place, but as I cannot bring a recommendation from Gilbert & Mack, I have everywhere been refused. I ask you, Mr. Wharton to consider my situation. Already my small supply of money is nearly gone, and I do not know how I am to pay my expenses. If it was any fault of mine that had brought me into this situation, I would not complain, but it seems hard to suffer when I am innocent.
“‘I do not ask to return to your house, Mr. Wharton, for it would not be pleasant, since your nephew and Mrs. Bradley dislike me, but I have a right to ask that the truth may be told to my employers, so that if they do not wish me to return to their service, they may, at least, be willing to give me a recommendation that will give me a place elsewhere.”’
“I must prevent the boy communicating with my uncle, if it is a possible thing. ‘Strike while the iron is hot,’ I say.”
“I think that is very judicious, Mr. John. I have no doubt you will know how to manage matters.”
John Wade dressed himself for a walk, and drawing out a cigar, descended the steps of his uncle’s house into the street.
He reached Fifth Avenue, and walked slowly downtown. He was about opposite Twenty-eighth Street, when he came face to face with the subject of his thoughts.
“Where are you going?” John Wade demanded sternly.
“I don’t know that I am bound to answer your question,” answered Frank, quietly, “but I have no objection. I am going to Thirty-ninth Street with this bundle.”
“Hark you, boy! I have something to say to you,” continued John Wade, harshly. “You have had the impudence to write to my uncle.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing that you would like to hear. He looks upon you as a thief.”
“You have slandered me to him, Mr. Wade,” he said, angrily. “You might be in better business than accusingly a poor boy falsely.”
“Hark you, young man! I have had enough of your impudence. I will give you a bit of advice, which you will do well to follow. Leave this city for a place where you are not known, or I may feel disposed to shut you up on a charge of theft.”
“I shall not leave the city, Mr. Wade,” returned Frank, firmly. “I shall stay here in spite of you,” and without waiting for an answer, he walked on.
