This frank acknowledgment quite appeased Susan, and she readily compliedwith our hero's request.
"But I must be going downstairs, or dinner will be late," she said,hurriedly. "You can come down when you hear the bell ring."
Frank had been well brought up, though not in the city, and he was awarethat perfect neatness was one of the first characteristics of agentleman. He therefore scrubbed his face and hands till they fairlyshone, and brushed his clothes with great care. Even then they certainlydid look rather shabby, and there was a small hole in the elbow of hiscoat; but, on the whole, he looked quite passable when he entered thedining-room.
"Take that seat, my boy," said his host.
Frank sat down and tried to look as if he was used to it.
"Take this soup to Mr. Kavanagh," said Mr. Bowen, in a dignified tone.
Frank started and smiled slightly, feeling more and more that it was anexcellent joke.
"I wonder what Dick Rafferty would say if he could see me now," passedthrough his mind.
He acquitted himself very creditably, however, and certainly displayedan excellent appetite, much to the satisfaction of his hospitable host.
After dinner was over, Mr. Bowen detained him and began to talk of hisdead son, telling anecdotes of his boyhood, to which Frank listened withrespectful attention, for the father's devotion was touching.
"I think my boy looked a little like you," said the old gentleman. "Whatdo you think, Susan?"
"Not a mite, sir," answered Susan, promptly.
"When he was a boy, I mean."
"I didn't know him when he was a boy, Mr. Bowen."
"No, to be sure not."
"But Mr. John was dark-complected, and this boy is light, and Mr. John'shair was black, and his is brown."
"I suppose I am mistaken," sighed the old man; "but there was somethingin the boy's face that reminded me of John."
"A little more, and he'll want to adopt him," thought Susan. "Thatwouldn't do nohow, though he does really seem like a decent sort of aboy."
At eight o'clock Frank rose, and wished Mr. Bowen good-night.
"Come and see me again, my boy," said the old gentleman, kindly. "Youhave been a good deal of company for me to-night."
"I am glad of it, sir."
"I think you might find something better to do than selling papers."
"I wish I could, sir."
"Come and dine with me again this day week, and I may have something totell you."
"Thank you, sir."
Feeling in his pocket to see that his dollar was safe, Frank set out towalk down-town, repairing to the lodging-house, where he met Dick, andastonished that young man by the recital of his adventures.
"It takes you to get round, Frank," he said. "I wonder I don't getinvited to dine on Madison avenue."
"I give it up," said Frank.
CHAPTER VIII.
A NEWSBOY'S EXPERIENCES.
Frank slept that night at the lodging-house, and found a much better bedthan he had been provided with by his late employer. He was up brightand early the next morning, and purchased a stock of morning papers.These he succeeded in selling during the forenoon, netting a profit ofthirty cents. It was not much, but he was satisfied. At any rate he wasa good deal better off than when in the employ of Mr. Mills. Of coursehe had to economize strictly, but the excellent arrangements of thelodging-house helped him to do this. Twelve cents provided him withlodging and breakfast. At noon, in company with his friend Dick, he wentto a cheap restaurant, then to be found in Ann street, near Park row,and for fifteen cents enjoyed a dinner of two courses. The firstconsisted of a plate of beef, with a potato and a wedge of bread,costing ten cents, and the second, a piece of apple-pie.
"That's a good square meal," said Dick, in a tone of satisfaction. "Ioughter get one every day, but sometimes I don't have the money."
"I should think you could raise fifteen cents a day for that purpose,Dick."
"Well, so I could; but then you see I save my money sometimes to go tothe Old Bowery, or Tony Pastor's, in the evenin'."
"I would like to go, too, but I wouldn't give up my dinner. A boy that'sgrowing needs enough to eat."
"I guess you're right," said Dick. "We'll go to dinner together everyday, if you say so."
"All right, Dick; I should like your company."
About two o'clock in the afternoon, as Frank was resting on a bench inthe City-Hall Park, a girl of ten approached him. Frank recognized heras an inmate of the tenement-house where Mills, his late employer,lived.
"Do you want to see me?" asked Frank, observing that she was lookingtowards him.
"You're the boy that went round with the blind man, aint you?" sheasked.
"Yes."
"He wants you to come back."
Frank was rather surprised, but concluded that Mills had difficulty inobtaining a boy to succeed him. This was not very remarkable,considering the niggardly pay attached to the office.
"Did he send you to find me?" asked our hero.
"Yes; he says you needn't pass that money if you'll come back."
"Tell him that I don't want to come back," said Frank, promptly. "I cando better working for myself."
"He wants to know what you are doing," continued the girl.
"Does he? You can tell him that I am a newsboy."
"He says if you don't come back he'll have you arrested for stealingmoney from him. You mustn't be mad with me. That's what he told me tosay."
"I don't blame you," said Frank, hotly; "but you can tell him that he isa liar."
"Oh, I wouldn't dare to tell him that; he would beat me."
"How can he do that, when he can't see where you are?"
"I don't know how it is, but he can go right up to where you are just aswell as if he could see."
"So he can. He's a humbug and a fraud. His eyes may not be very good,but he can see for all that. He pretends to be blind so as to makemoney."
"That's what mother and I think," said the girl. "So you won't comeback?"
"Not much. He can hire some other boy, and starve him. He won't get me."
"Aint you afraid he'll have you arrested for stealing?" asked the girl.
"If he tries that I'll expose him for wanting me to pass a counterfeitnote. I never took a cent from him."
"He'll be awful mad," said the little girl.
"Let him. If he had treated me decently I would have stayed with him.Now I'm glad I left him."
Mills was indeed furious when, by degrees, he had drawn from his youngmessenger what Frank had said. He was sorry to lose him, for he was themost truthful and satisfactory guide he had ever employed, and he nowregretted that he had driven him away by his unreasonable exactions. Heconsidered whether it would be worth while to have Frank arrested on afalse charge of theft, but was restrained by the fear that he wouldhimself be implicated in passing counterfeit money, that is, inintention. He succeeded in engaging another boy, who really stole fromhim, and finally secured a girl, for whose services, however, he wasobliged to pay her mother twenty cents every time she went out with him.Mean and miserly as he was, he agreed to this with reluctance, and onlyas a measure of necessity.
As he became more accustomed to his new occupation Frank succeededbetter. He was a boy of considerable energy, and was on the alert forcustomers. It was not long before his earnings exceeded those of DickRafferty, who was inclined to take things easily.
One evening Dick was lamenting that he could not go to the Old Bowery.
"There's a bully play, Frank," he said. "There's a lot of fightin' init."
"What is it called, Dick?"
"'The Scalpers of the Plains.' There's five men murdered in the firstact. Oh, it's elegant!"
"Why don't you go, then, Dick?"
"Cause I'm dead-broke--busted. That's why. I aint had much luck thisweek, and it took all my money to pay for my lodgin's and grub."
"Do you want very much to go to the theatre, Dick?"
"Of course I do; but it ain
t no use. My credit aint good, and I haint nomoney in the bank."
"How much does it cost?"
"Fifteen cents, in the top gallery."
"Can you see there?"
"Yes, it's rather high up; but a feller with good eyes can see all hewants to there."
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Dick. You have been a good friend to me,and I'll take you at my expense."
"You will? To-night?"
"Yes."
"You're a reg'lar trump. We'll have a stavin' time. Sometime, when I'mflush, I'll return the compliment."
So the two boys went. They were at the doors early, and secured a frontseat in the gallery. The performance was well adapted to please thetaste of a boy, and they enjoyed it exceedingly. Dick was uproarious inhis applause whenever a man was killed.
"Seems to me you like to see men killed, Dick," said his friend.
"Yes, it's kinder excitin'."
"I don't like that part so well as some others," said Frank.
"It's' a stavin' play, aint it?" asked Dick, greatly delighted.
Frank assented.
"I'll tell you what, Frank," said Dick; "I'd like to be a hunter androam round the plains, killin' bears and Injuns."
"Suppose they should kill you? That wouldn't suit you so well, wouldit?"
"No, I guess not. But I'd like to be a hunter, wouldn't you?"
"No, I would rather live in New York. I would like to make a journey tothe West if I had money enough; but I would leave the hunting to othermen."
Dick, however, did not agree with his more sensible companion. Many boyslike him are charmed with the idea of a wild life in the forest, andsome have been foolish enough to leave good homes, and, providingthemselves with what they considered necessary, have set out on ajourney in quest of the romantic adventures which in stories had firedtheir imaginations. If their wishes could be realized it would not belong before the romance would fade out, and they would long for the goodhomes, which they had never before fully appreciated.
When the week was over, Frank found that he had lived within his means,as he had resolved to do; but he had not done much more. He began witha dollar which he had received from Mr. Bowen, and now he had a dollarand a quarter. There was a gain of twenty-five cents. There would havebeen a little more if he had not gone to the theatre with Dick; but thishe did not regret. He felt that he needed some amusement, and he wishedto show his gratitude to his friend for various kind services. The timehad come to accept Mr. Bowen's second dinner invitation. As Frank lookedat his shabby clothes he wished there were a good pretext for declining,but he reflected that this would not be polite, and that the oldgentleman would make allowances for his wardrobe. He brushed up hisclothes as well as he could, and obtained a "_boss shine_" from Dick.Then he started for the house on Madison avenue.
"I'll lend you my clo'es if you want 'em," said Dick.
"There are too many spots of blacking on them, Dick. As I'm a newsboy,it wouldn't look appropriate. I shall have to make mine answer."
"I'll shine up the blackin' spots if you want me to."
"Never mind, Dick. I'll wait till next time for your suit."
CHAPTER IX.
VICTOR DUPONT.
As Frank was walking on Madison avenue, a little before reaching thehouse of Mr. Bowen he met a boy of his own age, whom he recognized.Victor Dupont had spent the previous summer at the hotel in the countryvillage where Frank had lived until he came to the city. Victor wasproud of his social position, but time hung so heavily upon his hands inthe country that he was glad to keep company with the village boys.Frank and he had frequently gone fishing together, and had beenassociated in other amusements, so that they were for the time quiteintimate. The memories of home and past pleasures thronged upon our heroas he met Victor, and his face flushed with pleasure.
"Why, Victor," he said, eagerly, extending his hand, "how glad I am tosee you!"
Frank forgot that intimacy in the country does not necessarily lead tointimacy in the city, and he was considerably surprised when Victor, notappearing to notice his offered hand, said coldly, "I don't think Iremember you."
"Don't remember me!" exclaimed Frank, amazed. "Why, I am Frank Kavanagh!Don't you remember how much we were together last summer, and what goodtimes we had fishing and swimming together?"
"Yes, I believe I do remember you now," drawled Victor, still notoffering his hand, or expressing any pleasure at the meeting. "When didyou come to the city?"
"I have been here two or three weeks," replied Frank.
"Oh, indeed! Are you going to remain?"
"Yes, if I can earn a living."
Victor scanned Frank's clothes with a critical, and evidently rathercontemptuous, glance.
"What are you doing?" he asked. "Are you in a store?"
"No; I am selling papers."
"A newsboy!" said Victor, with a curve of the lip.
"Yes," answered Frank, his pleasure quite chilled by Victor's manner.
"Are you doing well?" asked Victor, more from curiosity than interest.
"I am making my expenses."
"How do you happen to be in this neighborhood? I suppose you sell papersdown-town."
"Yes, but I am invited to dinner."
"Not here--on the avenue!" ejaculated Victor.
"Yes," answered Frank, enjoying the other's surprise.
"Where?"
Frank mentioned the number.
"Why, that is next to my house. Mr. Bowen lives there."
"Yes."
"Perhaps you know some of the servants," suggested Victor.
"I know one," said Frank, smiling, for he read Victor's thoughts; "butmy invitation comes from Mr. Bowen."
"Did you ever dine there before?" asked Victor, puzzled.
"Yes, last week."
"You must excuse my mentioning it, but I should hardly think you wouldlike to sit down at a gentleman's table in that shabby suit."
"I don't," answered Frank; "but I have no better."
"Then you ought to decline the invitation."
"I would, but for appearing impolite."
"It seems very strange that Mr. Bowen should invite a newsboy todinner."
"Perhaps if you'd mention what you think of it," said Frank, somewhatnettled, "he would recall the invitation."
"Oh, it's nothing to me," said Victor; "but I thought I'd mention it, asI know more of etiquette than you do."
"You are very considerate," said Frank, with a slight tinge of sarcasmin his tone.
By this time he had reached the house of Mr. Bowen, and the two boysparted.
Frank could not help thinking a little about what Victor had said. Hissuit, as he looked down at it, seemed shabbier than ever. Again itoccurred to him that perhaps Mr. Bowen had forgotten the invitation, andthis would make it very awkward for him. As he waited for the door toopen he decided that, if it should appear that he was not expected, hewould give some excuse, and go away.
Susan opened the door.
"Mr. Bowen invited me to come here to dinner to-night," began Frank,rather nervously.
"Yes, you are expected," said Susan, very much to his relief. "Wipe yourfeet, and come right in."
Frank obeyed.
"You are to go upstairs and get ready for dinner," said Susan, and sheled the way to the same chamber into which our hero had been ushered theweek before.
"There won't be much getting ready," thought Frank. "However, I can staythere till I hear the bell ring."
As he entered the room he saw a suit of clothes and some underclothinglying on the bed.
"They are for you," said Susan, laconically.
"For me!" exclaimed Frank, in surprise.
"Yes, put them on, and when you come down to dinner Mr. Bowen will seehow they fit."
"Is it a present from him?" asked Frank, overwhelmed with surprise andgratitude, for he could see that the clothes were very handsome.
"Well, they aint from me," said Susan, "so it's likely they come fromhim. Don't be too long,
for Mr. Bowen doesn't like to have any one lateto dinner."
Susan had been in the service of her present mistress fifteen years, andwas a privileged character. She liked to have her own way; but hadsterling qualities, being neat, faithful, and industrious.
"I wonder whether I am awake or dreaming," thought Frank, when he wasleft alone. "I shouldn't like to wake up and find it was all a dream."
He began at once to change his shabby clothes for the new ones. Hefound that the articles provided were a complete outfit, includingshirt, collar, cuffs, stockings; in fact, everything that was needful.The coat, pants, and vest were a neat gray, and proved to be anexcellent fit. In the bosom of the shirt were neat studs, and the cuffswere supplied with sleeve-buttons to correspond. When Frank stood beforethe glass, completely attired, he hardly knew himself. He was as welldressed as his aristocratic acquaintance, Victor Dupont, and looked morelike a city boy than a boy bred in the country.
"I never looked so well in my life," thought our young hero,complacently. "How kind Mr. Bowen is!"
Frank did not know it; but he was indebted for this gift to Susan'ssuggestion. When her master told her in the morning that Frank wascoming to dinner, she said, "It's a pity the boy hadn't some betterclothes."
"I didn't notice his clothes," said Mr. Bowen. "Are they shabby?"
The Telegraph Boy Page 4
