The Errand Boy; or, How Phil Brent Won Success
Page 4
”Then you ought to know something. Have you ever been in a place?“
”No, sir.“
”Do you live with your parents?“
”No, sir; I have just come to the city, and am lodging in Fifth Street.“
”Then you won't do. We wish our boys to live with their parents.“
Poor Phil! He had allowed himself to hope that at length he was likely to get a place. The abrupt termination of the conversation dispirited him.
He made three more applications. In one of them he again came near succeeding, but once more the fact that he did not live with his parents defeated his application.
”It seems to be very hard getting a place,“ thought Phil, and it must be confessed he felt a little homesick.
”I won't make any more applications to-day,“ he decided, and being on Broadway, walked up that busy thoroughfare, wondering what the morrow would bring forth.
It was winter, and there was ice on the sidewalk. Directly in front of Phil walked an elderly gentleman, whose suit of fine broadcloth and gold spectacles, seemed to indicate a person of some prominence and social importance.
Suddenly he set foot on a treacherous piece of ice. Vainly he strove to keep his equilibrium, his arms waving wildly, and his gold-headed cane falling to the sidewalk. He would have fallen backward, had not Phil, observing his danger in time, rushed to his assistance.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE HOUSE IN TWELFTH STREET.
WITH some difficulty the gentleman righted himself, and then Phil picked up his cane.
”I hope you are not hurt, sir?“ he said.
”I should have been but for you, my good boy,“ said the gentleman. ”I am a little shaken by the suddenness of my slipping.“
”Would you wish me to go with you, sir?“
”Yes, if you please. I do not perhaps require you, but I shall be glad of your company.“
”Thank you, sir.“
”Do you live in the city?“
”Yes, sir; that is, I propose to do so. I have come here in search of employment.“
Phil said this, thinking it possible that the old gentleman might exert his influence in his favor.
”Are you dependent on what you may earn?“ asked the gentleman, regarding him attentively.
”I have a little money, sir, but when that is gone I shall need to earn something.“
”That is no misfortune. It is a good thing for a boy to be employed. Otherwise he is liable to get into mischief.“
”At any rate, I shall be glad to find work, sir.“
”Have you applied anywhere yet?“
Phil gave a little account of his unsuccessful applications, and the objections that had been made to him.
”Yes, yes,“ said the old gentleman thoughtfully, ”more confidence is placed in a boy who lives with his parents.“
The two walked on together until they reached Twelfth Street. It was a considerable walk, and Phil was surprised that his companion should walk, when he could easily have taken a Broadway stage, but the old gentleman explained this himself.
”I find it does me good,“ he said, ”to spend some time in the open air, and even if walking tires me it does me good.“
At Twelfth Street they turned off.
”I am living with a married niece,“ he said, ”just on the other side of Fifth Avenue.“
At the door of a handsome four-story house, with a brown-stone front, the old gentleman paused, and told Phil that this was his residence.
”Then, sir, I will bid you good-morning,“ said Phil.
”No, no; come in and lunch with me,“ said Mr. Carter hospitably.
He had, by the way, mentioned that his name was Oliver Carter, and that he was no longer actively engaged in business, but was a silent partner in the firm of which his nephew by marriage was the nominal head.
”Thank you, sir,“ answered Phil.
He was sure that the invitation was intended to be accepted, and he saw no reason why he should not accept it.
”Hannah,“ said the old gentleman to the servant who opened the door, ”tell your mistress that I have brought a boy home to dinner with me.“
”Yes, sir,“ answered Hannah, surveying Phil in some surprise.
”Come up to my room, my young friend,“ said Mr. Carter. ”You may want to prepare for lunch.“
Mr. Carter had two connecting rooms on the second floor, one of which he used as a bed-chamber. The furniture was handsome and costly, and Phil, who was not used to city houses, thought it luxurious.
Phil washed his face and hands, and brushed his hair. Then a bell rang, and following his new friend, he went down to lunch.
Lunch was set out in the front basement. When Phil and Mr. Carter entered the room a lady was standing by the fire, and beside her was a boy of about Phil's age. The lady was tall and slender, with light-brown hair and cold gray eyes.
”Lavinia,“ said Mr. Carter, ”I have brought a young friend with me to lunch.“
”So I see,“ answered the lady. ”Has he been here before?“
”No; he is a new acquaintance.“
”I would speak to him if I knew his name.“
”His name is----“
Here the old gentleman hesitated, for in truth he had forgotten.
”Philip Brent.“
”You may sit down here, Mr. Brent,“ said Mrs. Pitkin, for this was the lady's name.
”Thank you, ma'am.“
”And so you made my uncle's acquaintance this morning?“ she continued, herself taking a seat at the head of the table.
”Yes; he was of service to me,“ answered Mr. Carter for him. ”I had lost my balance, and should have had a heavy fall if Philip had not come to my assistance.“
”He was very kind, I am sure,“ said Mrs. Pitkin, but her tone was very cold.
”Philip,“ said Mr. Carter, ”this is my grand- nephew, Alonzo Pitkin.“
He indicated the boy already referred to.
”How do you do?“ said Alonzo, staring at Philip not very cordially.
”Very well, thank you,“ answered Philip politely.
”Where do you live?“ asked Alonzo, after a moment's hesitation.
”In Fifth Street.“
”That's near the Bowery, isn't it?“
”Yes.“
The boy shrugged his shoulders and exchanged a significant look with his mother.
Fifth Street was not a fashionable street--indeed quite the reverse, and Phil's answer showed that he was a nobody. Phil himself had begun to suspect that he was unfashionably located, but he felt that until his circumstances improved he might as well remain where he was.
But, though he lived in an unfashionable street, it could not be said that Phil, in his table manners, showed any lack of good breeding. He seemed quite at home at Mrs. Pitkin's table, and in fact acted with greater propriety than Alonzo, who was addicted to fast eating and greediness.
”Couldn't you walk home alone, Uncle Oliver?“ asked Mrs. Pitkin presently.
”Yes.“
”Then it was a pity to trouble Mr. Brent to come with you.“
”It was no trouble,“ responded Philip promptly, though he suspected that it was not consideration for him that prompted the remark.
”Yes, I admit that I was a little selfish in taking up my young friend's time,“ said the old gentleman cheerfully; ”but I infer, from what he tells me, that it is not particularly valuable just now.“
”Are you in a business position, Mr. Brent?“ asked Mrs. Pitkin.
”No, madam. I was looking for a place this morning.“
”Have you lived for some time in the city?“
”No; I came here only yesterday from the country.“
”I think country boys are very foolish to leave good homes in the country to seek places in the city,“ said Mrs. Pitkin sharply.
”There may be circumstances, Lavinia, that make it advisable,“ suggested Mr. Carter, who, however, did not know Phil's reason
for coming.
”No doubt; I understand that,“ answered Mrs. Pitkin, in a tone so significant that Phil wondered whether she thought he had got into any trouble at home.
”And besides, we can't judge for every one. So I hope Master Philip may find some good and satisfactory opening, now that he has reached the city.“
After a short time, lunch, which in New York is generally a plain meal, was over, and Mr. Carter invited Philip to come up-stairs again.
”I want to talk over your prospects, Philip,“ he said.
There was silence till after the two had left the room. Then Mrs. Pitkin said:
”Alonzo, I don't like this.“
”What don't you like, ma?“
”Uncle bringing this boy home. It is very extraordinary, this sudden interest in a perfect stranger.“
”Do you think he'll leave him any money?“ asked Alonzo, betraying interest.
”I don't know what it may lead to, Lonny, but it don't look right. Such things have been known.“
”I'd like to punch the boy's head,“ remarked Alonzo, with sudden hostility. ”All uncle's money ought to come to us.“
”So it ought, by rights,“ observed his mother.
”We must see that this boy doesn't get any ascendency over him.“
Phil would have been very much amazed if he had overheard this conversation.
CHAPTER IX.
THE OLD GENTLEMAN PROVES A FRIEND.
THE OLD gentleman sat down in an arm-chair and waved his hand toward a small rocking- chair, in which Phil seated himself.
”I conclude that you had a good reason for leaving home, Philip,“ said Mr. Carter, eying our hero with a keen, but friendly look.
”Yes, sir; since my father's death it has not been a home to me.“
”Is there a step-mother in the case?“ asked the old gentleman shrewdly.
”Yes, sir.“
”Any one else?“
”She has a son.“
”And you two don't agree?“
”You seem to know all about it, sir,“ said Phil, surprised.
”I know something of the world--that is all.“
Phil began to think that Mr. Carter's knowledge of the world was very remarkable. He began to wonder whether he could know anything more--could suspect the secret which Mrs. Brent had communicated to him. Should he speak of it? He decided at any rate to wait, for Mr. Carter, though kind, was a comparative stranger.
”Well,“ continued the old gentleman, ”I won't inquire too minutely into the circumstances. You don't look like a boy that would take such an important step as leaving home without a satisfactory reason. The next thing is to help you.“
Phil's courage rose as he heard these words. Mr. Carter was evidently a rich man, and he could help him if he was willing. So he kept silence, and let his new friend do the talking.
”You want a place,“ continued Mr. Carter. ”Now, what are you fit for?“
”That is a hard question for me to answer, sir. I don't know.“
”Have you a good education?“
”Yes, sir; and I know something of Latin and French besides.“
”You can write a good hand?“
”Shall I show you, sir?“
”Yes; write a few lines at my private desk.“
Phil did so, and handed the paper to Mr. Carter.
”Very good,“ said the old gentleman approvingly.
”That is in your favor. Are you good at accounts?“
”Yes, sir.“
”Better still.“
”Sit down there again,“ he continued. ”I will give you a sum in interest.“
Phil resumed his seat.
”What is the interest of eight hundred and forty- five dollars and sixty cents for four years, three months and twelve days, at eight and one-half per cent?“
Phil's pen moved fast in perfect silence for five minutes. Then he announced the result.
”Let me look at the paper. I will soon tell you whether it is correct.“
After a brief examination, for the old gentleman was himself an adept at figures, he said, with a beaming smile:
”It is entirely correct. You are a smart boy.“
”Thank you, sir,“ said Phil, gratified.
”And you deserve a good place--better than you will probably get.“
Phil listened attentively. The last clause was not quite so satisfactory.
”Yes,“ said Mr. Carter, evidently talking to himself, ”I must get Pitkin to take him.“
Phil knew that the lady whom he had already met was named Pitkin, and he rightly concluded that it was her husband who was meant.
”I hope he is more agreeable than his wife,“ thought Philip.
”Yes, Philip,“ said Mr. Carter, who had evidently made up his mind, ”I will try to find you a place this afternoon.
”I shall be very much obliged, sir,“ said Philip gladly.
”I have already told you that my nephew and I are in business together, he being the active and I the silent partner. We do a general shipping business. Our store is on Franklin Street. I will give you a letter to my nephew and he will give you a place.“
”Thank you, sir.“
”Wait a minute and I will write the note.“
Five minutes later Phil was on his way down town with his credentials in his pocket.
CHAPTER X.
PHIL CALLS ON MR. PITKIN.
PHIL paused before an imposing business structure, and looked up to see if he could see the sign that would show him he had reached his destination.
He had not far to look. On the front of the building he saw in large letters the sign:
ENOCH PITKIN & CO.
In the door-way there was another sign, from which he learned that the firm occupied the second floor.
He went up-stairs, and opening a door, entered a spacious apartment which looked like a hive of industry. There were numerous clerks, counters piled with goods, and every indication that a prosperous business was being carried on.
The nearest person was a young man of eighteen, or perhaps more, with an incipient, straw-colored mustache, and a shock of hair of tow-color. This young man wore a variegated neck-tie, a stiff standing-collar, and a suit of clothes in the extreme of fashion.
Phil looked at him hesitatingly.
The young man observed the look, and asked condescendingly:
”What can I do for you, my son?“
Such an address from a person less than three years older than himself came near upsetting the gravity of Phil.
”Is Mr. Pitkin in?“ he asked.
”Yes, I believe so.“
”Can I see him.“
”I have no objection,“ remarked the young man facetiously.
”Where shall I find him?“
The youth indicated a small room partitioned off as a private office in the extreme end of the store.
”Thank you,“ said Phil, and proceeded to find his way to the office in question.
Arrived at the door, which was partly open, he looked in.
In an arm-chair sat a small man, with an erect figure and an air of consequence. He was not over forty-five, but looked older, for his cheeks were already seamed and his look was querulous. Cheerful natures do not so soon show signs of age as their opposites.
”Mr. Pitkin?“ said Phil interrogatively.
”Well?“ said the small man, frowning instinctively.
”I have a note for you, sir.“
Phil stepped forward and handed the missive to Mr. Pitkin.
The latter opened it quickly and read as follows:
The boy who will present this to you did me a service this morning. He is in want of employment. He seems well educated, but if you can't offer him anything better than the post of errand boy, do so. I will guarantee that he will give satisfaction. You call send him to the post-office, and to other offices on such errands as you may have. Pay him five dollars a week and charge that sum to me. Yours truly, OLI
VER CARTER.
Mr. Pitkin's frown deepened as he read this note.
”Pish!“ he ejaculated, in a tone which, though low, was audible to Phil. ”Uncle Oliver must be crazy. What is your name?“ he demanded fiercely, turning suddenly to Phil.
”Philip Brent.“
”When did you meet--the gentleman who gave you this letter?“
Phil told him.
”Do you know what is in this letter?“
”I suppose, sir, it is a request that you give me a place.“
”Did you read it?“
”No,“ answered Phil indignantly.
”Humph! He wants me to give you the place of errand boy.“
”I will try to suit you, sir,“
”When do you want to begin?“
”As soon as possible, sir.“
”Come to-morrow morning, and report to me first.“
”Another freak of Uncle Oliver's!“ he muttered, as he turned his back upon Phil, and so signified that the interview was at an end.
CHAPTER XI.
PHIL ENTERS UPON HIS DUTIES.
PHIL presented himself in good season the next morning at the store in Franklin Street. As he came up in one direction the youth whom he had seen in the store the previous day came up in the opposite direction. The latter was evidently surprised.
”Halloo, Johnny!“ said he. ”What's brought you here again?“
”Business,“ answered Phil.
”Going to buy out the firm?“ inquired the youth jocosely.
”Not to-day.“
”Some other day, then,“ said the young man, laughing as if he had said a very witty thing.
As Phil didn't know that this form of expression, slightly varied, had become a popular phrase of the day, he did not laugh.
”Do you belong to the church?“ asked the youth, stopping short in his own mirth.
”What makes you ask?“
”Because you don't laugh.“
”I would if I saw anything to laugh at.“
”Come, that's hard on me. Honor bright, have you come to do any business with us?“
It is rather amusing to see how soon the cheapest clerk talks of ”us,“ quietly identifying himself with the firm that employs him. Not that I object to it. Often it implies a personal interest in the success and prosperity of the firm, which makes a clerk more valuable. This was not, however, the case with G. Washington Wilbur, the young man who was now conversing with Phil, as will presently appear.