Robert Coverdale's Struggle; Or, on the Wave of Success

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  CHAPTER XXIII

  AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE

  When Robert arrived in Boston he was at first bewildered by the noiseand bustle to which, in the quiet fishing village, he was quiteunaccustomed. All that he knew about the city was the names of theprincipal streets.

  It was not necessary, however, that he should go in any particulardirection. He decided, therefore, to walk along, keeping a good lookout,and, when he saw a clothing store, to go in and provide a new outfit.

  He was sensible that he was by no means dressed in city style. Hisclothes were coarse, and being cut and made by his aunt--who, though anexcellent woman, was by no means an excellent tailor--looked countrifiedand outlandish.

  The first hint Robert had of this was when two well-dressed boys,meeting him, simultaneously burst out laughing.

  Robert was sensitive, but he was by no means bashful or timid.Accordingly he stepped up to the boys and demanded with kindling eyes:

  "Are you laughing at me?"

  "Oh, no, of course not," answered one of the boys, rolling his tongue inhis cheek.

  "Certainly not, my dear fellow," said the other, winking.

  "I think you were," said Robert firmly. "Do you see anything to laugh atin me?"

  "Well, to tell the truth," said the first boy, "we were wonderingwhether you import your clothes from Paris or London."

  "Oh, that's it," said Robert good-humoredly, for he was aware that hisclothes were of strange cut. "My clothes were made in the country and Idon't think much of them myself. If you'd tell me where I can get somebetter ones I will buy a suit."

  The boys were not bad-hearted and were won over by Robert's good humor.

  "You're a good fellow," said the first speaker, "and I am sorry I wasrude enough to laugh at you. There is a store where I think you can findwhat you want."

  He pointed to a clothing store. In front of which was a good display ofready-made clothing.

  "Thank you," said Robert.

  He entered and the boys walked on.

  If Robert had been better dressed he would have received immediateattention. As it was, he looked like a poor boy in want of work and notat all like a customer.

  So, at all events, decided a dapper-looking clerk whose attention wasdrawn to the new arrival.

  "Well, boy, what do you want?" he demanded roughly, approaching Robert.

  "Civil treatment to begin with," answered Robert with spirit.

  "If you've come for a place, we don't want any scarecrows here."

  It appears that the firm had advertised for an errand boy that verymorning, and it was naturally supposed that Robert was an applicant.

  "Are you the owner of this shop?" asked Robert coolly.

  "No," answered the clerk, lowering his tone a little.

  "I thought so. I'll tell my business to somebody else."

  "You'd better not put on airs!" said the clerk angrily.

  "You are the one who is putting on airs," retorted Robert.

  "What's the matter here?" asked a portly gentleman, walking up to thescene of the altercation.

  "I was telling this boy that he would not do for the place," answeredthe clerk.

  "I believe, Mr. Turner, that you are not commissioned to make aselection," said the gentleman.

  And Turner retired, discomfited.

  "So you want a place?" he said inquiringly to Robert.

  "No, sir, I don't."

  "Mr. Turner said you did."

  "I never told him so."

  "Here, Turner," said the gentleman. "Why did you tell me this boy wanteda place?"

  "I supposed he did. He looked like it, sir."

  "I don't want a place. I want to buy a suit of clothes," said Robert."If that young man hadn't treated me so rudely, I should have asked himto show me some."

  "Look here, Mr. Turner," said the gentleman sternly, "If you have nomore sense than to insult our customers, we can dispense with yourservices. Mr. Conway, will you wait on this young man?"

  Turner was mortified and slunk away, beginning to understand that it isnot always safe to judge a man or boy by the clothes he wears.

  Mr. Conway was more of a gentleman and civilly asked Robert to followhim.

  "What kind of a suit would you like?" he added.

  "A pretty good one," answered Robert.

  He was shown several suits and finally selected one of gray mixed clothof excellent quality.

  "That is one of our most expensive suits," said Conway doubtfully.

  "Will it wear well?"

  "It will wear like iron."

  "Then I will take it. How much will it cost?"

  Conway named the price. Robert would have hesitated about paying somuch, but that he was acting under instructions from the hermit.

  "Shall we send it to you anywhere?" asked Mr. Conway, a little surprisedat Robert's readiness to pay so high a price.

  "No, I should like to put it on here."

  "You can do so--that is, after paying for it."

  Robert drew out a wallet and from his roll of bills took out sufficientto pay for the new suit.

  Mr. Conway went to the cashier's desk. The two had a conversationtogether. Then the stout gentleman was called to the desk. Robert sawthem open a copy of a morning paper and read a paragraph, looking at himafter reading it. He wondered what it all meant.

  Presently Conway came back and asked him to walk up to the desk.

  Robert did so, wonderingly.

  "You seem to have a good deal of money with you," commenced the stoutgentleman.

  "Yes, sir," answered Robert composedly.

  "A great deal of money for a boy dressed as you are," continued thespeaker pointedly.

  Robert began to understand now, and he replied proudly:

  "Do you generally ask your customers how much money they have?"

  "No, but yours is a peculiar case."

  "The money is mine--that is, I have a right to spend it. I am actingunder orders from the gentleman who employs me."

  "Who is that?"

  "No one that you would know. He lives at Cook's Harbor. But I didn'tcome in here to answer questions. If you don't want to sell me a suit ofclothes, I will go somewhere else."

  "To be plain with you, my boy," said the stout gentleman, not unkindly,"we are afraid that you have no right to this money. The _Herald_ ofthis morning gives an account of a boy who has run away from a town inNew Hampshire with three hundred dollars belonging to a farmer. Youappear to be the age mentioned."

  "I never stole a dollar in my life," said Robert indignantly.

  "It may be so, but I feel it a duty to put you in charge of the police,who will investigate the matter. James, call an officer."

  Robert realized that he was in an unpleasant situation. It would be hardto prove that the money in his hands was really at his disposal.

  Help came from an unexpected quarter.

  A young man, fashionably dressed, had listened to the conversation ofwhich Robert was the subject.

  He came forward promptly, saying:

  "There is no occasion to suspect this boy. He is all right."

  "Do you know him?" asked the proprietor politely.

  "Yes, I know him well. He is in the employ of a gentleman at Cook'sHarbor, as he says. You can safely sell him the clothes."

  The young man spoke so positively that all suspicion was removed.

  "I am glad to learn that it is all right," said the clothing merchant."My young friend, I am sorry to have suspected you. We shall be glad tosell you the suit, and to recompense you for the brief inconvenience wewill take off two dollars from the price."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "It would not do for us to receive stolen money, hence our caution."

  Robert did not bear malice, and he accepted the apology and dressedhimself in the suit referred to, which very much changed his appearancefor the better.

  In fact, but for his hat and shoes, he looked like a city boy of awell-to-do family.

  He felt fortunate
in getting off so well, but he was puzzled tounderstand where he could have met the young man who professed to knowhim so well.

  He left the store, but almost immediately was tapped on the shoulder bythe young man in question.

  "I got you off well, didn't I?" said the young man with a wink.

  "I am much obliged to you, sir," said Robert.

  "You don't seem to remember me," continued the young man, winkingagain.

  "No, sir."

  "Good reason why. I never saw you in my life before nor you me."

  "But I thought you said you had met me at Cook's Harbor?" said Robert insurprise.

  The young man laughed.

  "Only way to get you off. You'd have been marched off by a policeman ifI hadn't."

  This seemed rather irregular to our hero. Still he knew that he wasinnocent of any wrongdoing, and as the young man appeared to have actedfrom friendly motives he thanked him again.

  "That's all very well," said the young man, "but, considering the scrapeI've saved you from, I think you ought to give me at least twenty-fivedollars."

  "But the money isn't mine," said Robert, opening his eyes, for he couldhardly have expected an application for money from a young man sofashionably dressed.

  "Of course it isn't," said the young man, winking again. "It belongs tothe man you took it from. I'm fairly entitled to a part. So just give metwenty-five and we'll call it square."

  "If you mean that I stole the money, you're quite mistaken," said Robertindignantly. "It belongs to my employer."

  "Just what I thought," said the other.

  "But I have a right to spend it. I am doing just as he told me to do."

  "Come, young fellow, that won't go down! It's too thin!" said the youngman, his countenance changing. "You don't take me in so easily. Justhand over twenty-five dollars or I'll hand you over to the police!There's one coming!"

  Robert certainly did not care to have the threat executed, but he didnot choose to yield.

  "If you do," he said, "I'll tell him that you did it because I would notgive you twenty-five dollars."

  This did not strike his new acquaintance as desirable, since it wouldbe, in effect, charging him with blackmail. Moreover, he could bringnothing tangible against our young hero. He changed his tone therefore.

  "I don't want to harm you," he said, "but I deserve something forgetting you out of a scrape. You might spare me five dollars."

  "I got my suit two dollars cheaper through what you said," said Robert."I'll give you that sum."

  "Well, that will do," said the other, finding the country boy moreunmanageable than he expected. "I ought to have more, but I will call itsquare on that."

  Robert drew a two-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to thestranger.

  "That I can give," he said, "because it was part of the price of mysuit."

  "All right. Good morning!" said the young man, and, thrusting the billinto his vest pocket, he walked carelessly away.

  Robert looked after him with a puzzled glance.

  "I shouldn't think a young man dressed like that could be in want ofmoney," he reflected. "I am afraid he told a lie on my account, but Ithought at the time he had really seen me, even if I couldn't rememberhim."

  Soon Robert came to a hat store, where he exchanged his battered old hatfor one of fashionable shape, and a little later his cowhide shoes for apair of neat calfskin. He surveyed himself now with naturalsatisfaction, for he was as well dressed as his friend Herbert Irving.

  He had by this time reached Washington Street and had just passed MilkStreet when he met George Randolph, who looked as consequential andconceited as ever.

  "Good morning, George," said Robert.

  George looked at him doubtfully.

  How could he suppose that the boy before him, dressed as well ashimself, was the poor fisher boy of Cook's Harbor?

  "I don't seem to remember you," said George civilly.

  Robert smiled.

  "You met me at Cook's Harbor," he explained. "I am Robert Coverdale."

  "What! not the young fisherman?" ejaculated George incredulously.

  "The same."

  "You haven't come into a fortune, have you? What brings you here?"demanded the city boy in great amazement.

  "I am in the city on business. No, I haven't come into a fortune, but Iam better off than I was. Can you recommend me a good hotel?"

  "I don't know about the cheap hotels."

  "I don't care for a cheap hotel. I want a good one."

  More and more surprised, George said:

  "You might go to Young's."

  "I will go there. Thank you for telling me."

  "I don't understand how a boy like you can afford to go to such a hotelas that," said George, looking very much puzzled.

  "No, I suppose not," returned Robert, smiling.

  "If you don't mind telling me----"

  "I am sorry I can't, but my errand is a secret one.

  "Did my uncle send you?"

  "No, neither he nor Herbert knows of my coming. I didn't have time tosee Herbert before I came away."

  "Are you going to stay long in Boston?"

  "No, I think not. I am going to New York or Albany."

  "It seems queer to me."

  "Very likely. Good-by! Thank you for directing me."

  George had been remarkably civil, but in a boy like him that is easilyexplained. He was civil, not to Robert, but to his new suit and his newprosperity.

  "It's the strangest thing I ever heard of," he muttered as he walkedaway. "Why, the young fisherman is dressed as well as I am!"