The Store Boy

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  "Really," said the professor, contemplating the handkerchiefregretfully. "I am afraid I have destroyed the handkerchief; I hopethe young lady will pardon me."

  He looked at Rose, but she made no sign. She felt a little disturbed,for it was a fine handkerchief, given her by her aunt.

  "I see the young lady is annoyed," continued the magician. "In thatcase I must try to repair damages. I made a little mistake insupposing the handkerchief to be noncombustible. However, perhapsmatters are not so bad as they seem."

  He tossed the handkerchief behind a screen, and moved forward to atable on which was a neat box. Taking a small key from his pocket, heunlocked it and drew forth before the astonished eyes of his audiencethe handkerchief intact.

  "I believe this is your handkerchief, is it not?" he asked, steppingdown from the platform and handing it back to Rose.

  "Yes," answered Rose, in amazement, examining it carefully, and unableto detect any injury.

  "And it is in as good condition as when you gave it to me?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "So much the better. Then I shall not be at the expense of buying anew one. Young man, have you any objections to lending me your hat?"

  This question was addressed to Ben.

  "No, sir."

  "Thank you. I will promise not to burn it, as I did the young lady'shandkerchief. You are sure there is nothing in it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  By this time the magician had reached the platform.

  "I am sorry to doubt the young gentleman's word," said the professor,"but I will charitably believe he is mistaken. Perhaps he forgotthese articles when he said it was empty," and he drew forth a coupleof potatoes and half a dozen onions from the hat and laid them on thetable.

  There was a roar of laughter from the audience, and Ben looked ratherconfused, especially when Rose turned to him and, laughing, said:

  "You've been robbing Mr. Crawford, I am afraid, Ben."

  "The young gentleman evidently uses his hat for a market-basket,"proceeded the professor. "Rather a strange taste, but this is a freecountry. But what have we here?"

  Out came a pair of stockings, a napkin and a necktie.

  "Very convenient to carry your wardrobe about with you," said theprofessor, "though it is rather curious taste to put them withvegetables. But here is something else," and the magician produced asmall kitten, who regarded the audience with startled eyes and uttereda timid moan.

  "Oh, Ben! let me have that pretty kitten," said Rose.

  "It's none of mine!" said Ben, half annoyed, half amused.

  "I believe there is nothing more," said the professor.

  He carried back the hat to Ben, and gave it to him with the remark:

  "Young man, you may call for your vegetables and other articles afterthe entertainment."

  "You are welcome to them," said Ben.

  "Thank you; you are very liberal."

  When at length the performance was over, Ben and Rose moved toward thedoor. As Rose reached the outer door, a boy about Ben's age, butconsiderably better dressed, stepped up to her and said, with aconsequential air:

  "I will see you home, Miss Gardiner."

  "Much obliged, Mr. Davenport," said Rose, "but I have accepted Ben'sescort."

  CHAPTER VITWO YOUNG RIVALS

  Tom Davenport, for it was the son of Squire Davenport who had offeredhis escort to Rose, glanced superciliously at our hero.

  "I congratulate you on having secured a grocer's boy as escort," hesaid in a tone of annoyance.

  Ben's fist contracted, and he longed to give the pretentiousaristocrat a lesson, but he had the good sense to wait for the younglady's reply.

  "I accept your congratulations, Mr. Davenport," said Rose coldly. "Ihave no desire to change my escort."

  Tom Davenport laughed derisively, and walked away.

  "I'd like to box his ears," said Ben, reddening.

  "He doesn't deserve your notice, Ben," said Rose, taking his arm.

  But Ben was not easily appeased.

  "Just because his father is a rich man," he resumed.

  "He presumes upon it," interrupted Rose, good-naturedly. "Well, lethim. That's his chief claim to consideration, and it is natural forhim to make the most of it."

  "At any rate, I hope that can't be said of me," returned Ben, his browclearing. "If I had nothing but money to be proud of, I should bevery poorly off."

  "You wouldn't object to it, though."

  "No, I hope, for mother's sake, some day to be rich."

  "Most of our rich men were once poor boys," said Rose quietly. "Ihave a book of biographies at home, and I find that not only rich men,but men distinguished in other ways, generally commenced in poverty."

  "I wish you'd lend me that book," said Ben. "Sometimes I getdespondent and that will give me courage."

  "You shall have it whenever you call at the house. But you mustn'tthink too much of getting money."

  "I don't mean to; but I should like to make my mother comfortable. Idon't see much chance of it while I remain a 'grocer's boy,' as TomDavenport calls me."

  "Better be a grocer's boy than spend your time in idleness, as Tomdoes."

  "Tom thinks it beneath him to work."

  "If his father had been of the sane mind when he was a boy, he wouldnever have become a rich man."

  "Was Squire Davenport a poor boy?"

  "Yes, so uncle told me the other day. When he was a boy he worked ona farm. I don't know how he made his money, but I presume he laid thefoundation of his wealth by hard work. So, Tom hasn't any right tolook down upon those who are beginning now as his father began."

  They had by this time traversed half the distance from the Town Hallto the young lady's home. The subject of conversation was changed andthey began to talk about the evening's entertainment. At length theyreached the minister's house.

  "Won't you come in, Ben?" asked Rose.

  "Isn't it too late?"

  "No, uncle always sits up late reading, and will be glad to see you."

  "Then I will come in for a few minutes."

  Ben's few minutes extended to three-quarters of an hour. When he cameout, the moon was obscured and it was quite dark. Ben had not gonefar when he heard steps behind him, and presently a hand was laid onhis shoulder.

  "Hello, boy!" said a rough voice.

  Ben started, and turning suddenly, recognized in spite of thedarkness, the tramp who had attempted to rob him during the day. Hepaused, uncertain whether he was not going to be attacked, but thetramp laughed reassuringly.

  "Don't be afraid, boy," he said. "I owe you some money, and here itis."

  He pressed into the hand of the astonished Ben the dollar which ourhero had given him.

  "I don't think it will do me any good," he said. "I've given it back,and now you can't say I robbed you."

  "You are a strange man," said Ben.

  "I'm not so bad as I look," said the tramp. "Some day I may do you aservice. I'm goin' out of town to-night, and you'll hear from meagain some time."

  He turned swiftly, and Ben lost sight of him.

  CHAPTER VIITHE TRAMP MAKES ANOTHER CALL

  My readers will naturally be surprised at the tramp's restitution of acoin, which, though counterfeit, he would probably have managed topass, but this chapter will throw some light on his mysteriousconduct.

  When he made a sudden exit from Mrs. Barclay's house, upon theappearance of the squire and his friend, he did not leave thepremises, but posted himself at a window, slightly open, of the roomin which the widow received her new visitors. He listened with asmile to the squire's attempt to force Mrs. Barclay to sell her house.

  "He's a sly old rascal!" thought the tramp. "I'll put a spoke in hiswheel."

  When the squire and his wife's cousin left the house, the trampfollowed at a little distance. Not far from the squire's handsomeresidence Kirk left him, and the tramp then came boldly forward.

  "Good-evenin'," he said familiarly.
>
  Squire Davenport turned sharply, and as his eye fell on theunprepossessing figure, he instinctively put his hand in the pocket inwhich he kept his wallet.

  "Who are you?" he demanded apprehensively.

  "I ain't a thief, and you needn't fear for your wallet," was thereply.

  "Let me pass, fellow! I can do nothing for you."

  "We'll see about that!"

  "Do you threaten me?" asked Squire Davenport, in alarm.

  "Not at all; but I've got some business with you--some importantbusiness."

  "Then call to-morrow forenoon," said Davenport, anxious to get rid ofhis ill-looking acquaintance.

  "That won't do; I want to leave town tonight."

  "That's nothing to me."

  "It may be," said the tramp significantly. "I want to speak to youabout the husband of the woman you called on to-night."

  "The husband of Mrs. Barclay! Why, he is dead!" ejaculated thesquire, in surprise.

  "That is true. Do you know whether he left any property?"

  "No, I believe not."

  "That's what I want to talk about. You'd better see me to-night."

  There was significance in the tone of the tramp, and Squire Davenportlooked at him searchingly.

  "Why don't you go and see Mrs. Barclay about this matter?" he asked.

  "I may, but I think you'd better see me first."

  By this time they had reached the Squire's gate.

  "Come in," he said briefly.

  The squire led the way into a comfortable sitting room, and his roughvisitor followed him. By the light of an astral lamp Squire Davenportlooked at him.

  "Did I ever see you before?" he asked.

  "Probably not."

  "Then I don't see what business we can have together. I am tired, andwish to go to bed."

  "I'll come to business at once, then. When John Barclay died inChicago, a wallet was found in his pocket, and in that wallet was apromissory note for a thousand dollars, signed by you. I suppose youhave paid that sum to the widow?"

  Squire Davenport was the picture of dismay. He had meanly ignored thenote, with the intention of cheating Mrs. Barclay. He had supposed itwas lost, yet here, after some years, appeared a man who knew of it.As Mr. Barclay had been reticent about his business affairs, he hadnever told his wife about having deposited this sum with SquireDavenport, and of this fact the squire had meanly taken advantage.

  "What proof have you of this strange and improbable story?" asked thesquire, after a nervous pause.

  "The best of proof," answered the tramp promptly. "The note was foundand is now in existence."

  "Who holds it--that is, admitting for a moment the truth of yourstory?"

  "I do; it is in my pocket at this moment."

  At this moment Tom Davenport opened the door of the apartment, andstared in open-eyed amazement at his father's singular visitor.

  "Leave the room, Tom," said his father hastily. "This man isconsulting me on business."

  "Is that your son, squire?" asked the tramp, with a familiar nod."He's quite a young swell."

  "What business can my father have with such a cad?" thought Tom,disgusted.

  Tom was pleased, nevertheless, at being taken for "a young swell."

  CHAPTER VIIISQUIRE DAVENPORT'S FINANCIAL OPERATION

  Squire Davenport was a thoroughly respectable man in the estimation ofthe community. That such a man was capable of defrauding a poorwidow, counting on her ignorance, would have plunged all his friendsand acquaintances into the profoundest amazement.

  Yet this was precisely what the squire had done.

  Mr. Barclay, who had prospered beyond his wife's knowledge, foundhimself seven years before in possession of a thousand dollars in hardcash. Knowing that the squire had a better knowledge of suitableinvestments than he, he went to him one day and asked advice. Now,the squire was fond of money. When he saw the ample roll of banknotes which his neighbor took from his wallet, he felt a desire topossess them. They would not be his, to be sure, but merely to havethem under his control seemed pleasant. So he said:

  "Friend Barclay, I should need time to consider that question. Areyou in a hurry?"

  "I should like to get the money out of my possession. I might lose itor have it stolen. Besides, I don't want my wife to discover that Ihave it."

  "It might make her extravagant, perhaps," suggested the squire.

  "No, I am not afraid of that; but I want some day to surprise her byletting her see that I am a richer man than she thinks."

  "Very judicious! Then no one knows that you have the money?"

  "No one; I keep my business to myself."

  "You are a wise man. I'll tell you what I will do, friend Barclay.While I am not prepared to recommend any particular investment, I willtake the money and give you my note for it, agreeing to pay six percent. interest. Of course I shall invest it in some way, and I maygain or I may lose, but even if I do lose you will be safe, for youwill have my note, and will receive interest semi-annually."

  The proposal struck Mr. Barclay quite favorably.

  "I suppose I can have the money when I want it again?" he inquired.

  "Oh, certainly! I may require a month's notice to realize onsecurities; but if I have the money in bank I won't even ask that."

  "Then take the money, squire, and give me the note."

  So, in less than five minutes, the money found its way into SquireDavenport's strong box, and Mr. Barclay left the squire's presencewell satisfied with his note of hand in place of his roll ofgreenbacks.

  Nearly two years passed. Interest was paid punctually three times,and another payment was all but due when the unfortunate creditor diedin Chicago. Then it was that a terrible temptation assailed SquireDavenport. No one knew of the trust his neighbor had reposed inhim--not even his wife. Of course, if the note was found in hispocket, all would be known. But perhaps it would not be known. Inthat case, the thousand dollars and thirty dollars interest might beretained without anyone being the wiser.

  It is only fair to say that Squire Davenport's face flushed with shameas the unworthy thought came to him, but still he did not banish it.He thought the matter over, and the more he thought the more unwillinghe was to give up this sum, which all at once had become dearer to himthan all the rest of his possessions.

  "I'll wait to see whether the note is found," he said to himself. "Ofcourse, if it is, I will pay it--" That is, he would pay it if hewere obliged to do it.

  Poor Barclay was buried in Chicago--it would have been too expensiveto bring on the body--and pretty soon it transpired that he had leftno property, except the modest cottage in which his widow and soncontinued to live.

  Poor Mrs. Barclay! Everybody pitied her, and lamented her straitenedcircumstances. Squire Davenport kept silence, and thought, withguilty joy, "They haven't found the note; I can keep the money, and noone will be the wiser!"

  How a rich man could have been guilty of such consummate meaness Iwill not undertake to explain, but "the love of money is the root ofevil," and Squire Davenport had love of money in no common measure.

  Five years passed. Mrs. Barclay was obliged to mortgage her house toobtain the means of living, and the very man who supplied her with themoney was the very man whom her husband had blindly trusted. Shelittle dreamed that it was her own money he was doling out to her.

  In fact, Squire Davenport himself had almost forgotten it. He hadcome to consider the thousand dollars and interest fully andabsolutely his own, and had no apprehension that his mean fraud wouldever be discovered. Like a thunderbolt, then, came to him thedeclaration of his unsavory visitor that the note was in existence,and was in the hands of a man who meant to use it. Smitten withsudden panic, he stared in the face of the tramp. But he was notgoing to give up without a struggle.

  "You are evidently trying to impose upon me," he said, mentallybracing up. "You wish to extort money from me."

  "So I do," said the tramp quietly.

 
"Ha! you admit it?" exclaimed the squire.

  "Certainly; I wouldn't have taken the trouble to come here at greatexpense and inconvenience if I hadn't been expecting to make somemoney."

  "Then you have come to the wrong person; I repeat it, you've come tothe wrong person!" said the squire, straightening his back and eyinghis companion sternly.

  "I begin to think I have," assented the visitor.

  "Ha! he weakens!" thought Squire Davenport. "My good man, Irecommend you to turn over a new leaf, and seek to earn an honestliving, instead of trying to levy blackmail on men of means."

  "An honest living!" repeated the tramp, with a laugh. "This advicecomes well from you."

  Once more the squire felt uncomfortable and apprehensive.

  "I don't understand you," he said irritably. "However, as youyourself admit, you have come to the wrong person."

  "Just so," said the visitor, rising. "I now go to the right person."

  "What do you mean?" asked Squire Davenport, in alarm.

  "I mean that I ought to have gone to Mrs. Barclay."

  "Sit down, sit down!" said the squire nervously. "You mustn't dothat."

  "Why not?" demanded the tramp, looking him calmly in the face.

  "Because it would disturb her mind, and excite erroneous thoughts andexpectations."

  "She would probably be willing to give me a good sum for bringing itto her, say, the overdue interest. That alone, in five years and ahalf, would amount to over three hundred dollars, even withoutcompounding."