The Errand Boy; or, How Phil Brent Won Success

by Horatio Alger, Jr.

  Still he felt uneasy, in view of the position in which he would find himself in case no letter or remittance should come at all.

  It was during this period of anxiety that his heart leaped for joy when on Broadway he saw the familiar form of Reuben Gordon, a young man already mentioned, to whom Phil had sold his gun before leaving Gresham.

  ”Why, Reuben, how are you?“ exclaimed Phil joyfully. ”When did you come to town?“

  ”Phil Brent!“ exclaimed Reuben, shaking hands heartily. ”I'm thunderin' glad to see you. I was thinkin' of you only five minutes ago, and wonderin' where you hung out.“

  ”But you haven't told me when you came to New York.“

  ”Only this morning! I'm goin' to stay with a cousin of my father's, that lives in Brooklyn, over night.“

  ”I wanted to ask you about Mrs. Brent and Jonas. I was afraid they might be sick, for I wrote four days ago and haven't got any answer yet.“

  ”Where did you write to?“

  ”To Gresham, of course,“ answered Phil, in surprise.

  ”You don't mean to say you hain't heard of their leavin' Gresham?“ said Reuben, in evident astonishment.

  ”Who has left Gresham?“

  ”Your mother--leastwise, Mrs. Brent--and Jonas. They cleared out three weeks ago, and nobody's heard a word of them since--that is, nobody in the village.“

  ”Don't you know where they've gone?“ asked Phil, in amazement.

  ”No. I was goin' to ask you. I s'posed, of course, they'd write and let you know.“

  ”I didn't even know they had left Gresham.“

  ”Well, that's what I call cur'us. It ain't treatin' you right accordin' to my ideas.“

  ”Is the house shut up?“

  ”It was till two days ago. Then a brother of Mrs. Brent came and opened it. He has brought his wife and one child with him, and it seems they're goin' to live there. Somebody asked him where his sister and Jonas were, but they didn't get no satisfaction. He said he didn't rightly know himself. He believed they was travelin'; thought they might be in Canada.“

  Phil looked and felt decidedly sober at this information. He understood, of course, now, why his letter had not been answered. It looked as if he were an outcast from the home that had been his so long. When he came to New York to earn a living he felt that he was doing so voluntarily, and was not obliged to do so. Now he was absolutely thrown upon his own resources, and must either work or starve.

  ”They've treated you real mean,“ said Reuben.

  ”I never did like Mrs. Brent, or Jonas either, for that matter.

  ”Where are you working?“

  Phil answered this question and several others which his honest country friend asked, but his mind was preoccupied, and he answered some of the questions at random. Finally he excused himself on the ground that he must be getting back to the store.

  That evening Phil thought seriously of his position. Something must be done, that was very evident. His expenses exceeded his income, and he needed some clothing. There was no chance of getting his wages raised under a year, for he already received more pay than it was customary to give to a boy. What should he do?

  Phil decided to lay his position frankly before the only friend he had in the city likely to help him-- Mr. Oliver Carter. The old gentleman had been so friendly and kind that he felt that he would not at any rate repulse him. After he had come to this decision he felt better. He determined to lose no time in calling upon Mr. Carter.

  After supper he brushed his hair carefully, and made himself look as well as circumstances would admit. Then he bent his steps toward Twelfth Street, where, as the reader will remember, Mr. Carter lived with his niece.

  He ascended the steps and rang the bell. It was opened by Hannah, who recognized him, having admitted him on the former occasion of his calling.

  ”Good-evening,“ said Phil pleasantly. ”Is Mr. Carter at home?“

  ”No, sir,“ answered Hannah. ”Didn't you know he had gone to Florida?“

  ”Gone to Florida!“ repeated Phil, his heart sinking. ”When did he start?“

  ”He started this afternoon.“

  ”Who's asking after Uncle Oliver?“ asked a boy's voice.

  Looking behind Hannah, Phil recognized the speaker as Alonzo Pitkin.

  CHAPTER XXI.

  ”THEY MET BY CHANCE.“

  WHO WAS asking after Uncle Oliver?“ demanded Alonzo superciliously.

  ”I was,“ answered Philip.

  ”Oh! it's you, is it?“ said Alonzo, rather disdainfully.

  ”Yes,“ answered Phil calmly, though he felt provoked at Alonzo's tone, which was meant to be offensive. ”You remember me, don't you?“

  ”You are the boy that got round Uncle Oliver, and got him to give you a place in pa's store.“

  ”I deny that I got round him,“ returned Phil warmly. ”I had the good luck to do him a favor.“

  ”I suppose you have come after money?“ said Alonzo coarsely.

  ”I sha'n't ask you for any, at any rate,“ said Phil angrily.

  ”No; it wouldn't do any good,“ said Alonzo; ”and it's no use asking ma, either. She says you are an adventurer, and have designs on Uncle Oliver because he is rich.“

  ”I shall not ask your mother for any favor,“ said Phil, provoked. ”I am sorry not to meet your uncle.“

  ”I dare say!“ sneered Alonzo.

  Just then a woman, poorly but neatly dressed, came down stairs. Her face was troubled. Just behind her came Mrs. Pitkin, whose face wore a chilly and proud look.

  ”Mr. Carter has left the city, and I really don't know when he will return,“ Phil heard her say. ”If he had been at home, it would not have benefited you. He is violently prejudiced against you, and would not have listened to a word you had to say.“

  ”I did not think he would have harbored resentment so long,“ murmured the poor woman. ”He never seemed to me to be a hard man.“

  Phil gazed at the poorly dressed woman with a surprise which he did not attempt to conceal, for in her he recognized the familiar figure of his landlady. What could she have to do in this house? he asked himself.

  ”Mrs. Forbush!“ he exclaimed.

  Philip!“ exclaimed Mrs. Forbush, in a surprise as great as his own, for she had never asked where her young lodger worked, and was not aware that he was in the employ of her cousin's husband and well acquainted with the rich uncle whom she had not seen for years.

  ”Do you know each other?“ demanded Mrs. Pitkin, whose turn it was to be surprised.

  ”This young gentleman lodges in my house,“ answered Mrs. Forbush.

  ”Young gentleman!“ repeated Alonzo, with a mocking laugh.

  Philip looked at him sternly. He had his share of human nature, and it would have given him satisfaction to thrash the insolent young patrician, as Alonzo chose to consider himself.

  ”And what do you want here, young man?“ asked Mrs. Pitkin in a frosty tone, addressing Phil of course.

  ”I wished to see Mr. Carter,“ answered Phil.

  ”Really, Mr. Carter seems to be very much in request!“ sneered Mrs. Pitkin. ”No doubt he will be very much disappointed when he hears what he has lost. You will have to go to Florida to see him, I think, however.“ She added, after a pause: ”It will not be well for either of you to call again. Mr. Carter will understand the motive of your calls.“

  ”How cruel you are, Lavinia!“ said Mrs. Forbush sadly.

  ”My name is Mrs. Pitkin!“ said that lady frigidly.

  ”You have not forgotten that we are cousins, surely?“

  ”I do not care to remember it, Mrs. Forbush. Good-day.“

  There was no alternative but for Mrs. Forbush to say ”good-day“ also, and to descend the steps.

  Philip joined her in the street.

  ”Are you really the cousin of Mrs. Pitkin?“ he asked.

  ”Yes,“ answered Mrs. Forbush. ”I bear the same relationship to Mr. Carter that she does. We were much together as girls, and w
ere both educated at the same expensive schools. I offended my relatives by marrying Mr. Forbush, whose fault was that he was poor, and chiefly, I think, through the efforts of Lavinia Pitkin I was cast out by the family. But where did you meet Uncle Oliver?“

  Philip explained the circumstances already known to the reader.

  ”Mr. Carter seems to me to be a kind-hearted man,“ he said. ”I don't believe he would have cast you off if he had not been influenced by other parties.“

  ”So I think,“ said Mrs. Forbush. ”I will tell you,“ she continued, after a pause, ”what drew me here this afternoon. I am struggling hard to keep my head above water, Mr. Brent, but I find it hard to meet my expenses. I cannot meet my rent due to-morrow within fifteen dollars, and I dared to hope that if I could meet Uncle Oliver face to face and explain matters to him, he would let me have the money.“

  ”I am sure he would,“ said Phil warmly.

  ”But he is in Florida, and will probably remain there for a month or two at least,“ said Mrs. Forbush, sighing. But even if he were in the city I suppose Lavinia would do all in her power co keep us apart.“

  ”I have no doubt she would, Mrs. Forbush. Though she is your cousin, I dislike her very much.“

  ”I suppose the boy with whom you were talking was her son Alonzo?“

  ”Yes; he is about the most disagreeable boy I ever met. Both he and his mother seem very much opposed to my having an interview with your uncle.“

  ”Lavinia was always of a jealous and suspicious disposition,“ said Mrs. Forbush. ”I have not seen Alonzo since he was a baby. He is two years older than my Julia. He was born before I estranged my relatives by marrying a poor man.“

  ”What are you going to do, Mrs. Forbush, about the rent?“ asked Phil, in a tone of sympathy.

  ”I don't know. I shall try to get the landlord to wait, but I don't know how he will feel about it.“

  ”I wish I had plenty of money. I would gladly lend you all you need.“

  ”I am sure you would, Philip,“ said Mrs. Forbush. ”The offer does me good, though it is not accompanied by the ability to do what your good heart dictates. I feel that I am not without friends.“

  ”I am a very poor one,“ said Phil. ”The fact is, I am in trouble myself. My income is only five dollars a week, and my expenses are beyond that. I don't know how I am going to keep up.“

  ”You may stay with me for three dollars a week, if you cannot pay four,“ said Mrs. Forbush, forgetting her own troubles in her sympathy with our hero.“

  ”No, Mrs. Forbush, you can't afford it. You need money as much as I do, and perhaps more; for you have more than yourself to support.“

  ”Yes, poor Julia!“ sighed the mother. ”She is born to a heritage of poverty. Heaven only knows how we are going to get along.“

  ”God will provide for us, Mrs. Forbush,“ said Philip. ”I don't know how it is, but in spite of my troubles I feel cheerful. I have a confidence that things will come out well, though I cannot possibly imagine how.“

  ”You are young, and youth is more inclined to be hopeful than maturer years. However, I do not wish to dampen your cheerfulness. Keep it, and let it comfort you.“

  If Phil could have heard the conversation that took place between Mrs. Pitkin and Alonzo after their departure, he might have felt less hopeful.

  ”It is dreadfully annoying that that woman should turn up after all these years!“ said Mrs. Pitkin, in a tone of disgust.

  ”Is she really your cousin, ma?“ asked Alonzo.

  ”Yes, but she disgraced herself by a low marriage, and was cast off.“

  ”That disposes of her, then?“

  ”I don't know. If she could meet Uncle Oliver, I am afraid she would worm herself into his confidence and get him to do something for her. Then it is unfortunate that she and that boy have fallen in with each other. She may get him to speak to Uncle Oliver in her behalf.“

  ”Isn't he working for pa?“

  ”Yes.“

  ”Why don't you get pa to discharge him while Uncle Oliver is away?“

  ”Well thought of, Alonzo! I will speak to your father this very evening.“

  CHAPTER XXII.

  PHIL IS ”BOUNCED.“

  SATURDAY, as is usual in such establishments, was pay-day at the store of Phil's employers. The week's wages were put up in small envelopes and handed to the various clerks.

  When Phil went up to the cashier to get his money he put it quietly into his vest-pocket.

  Daniel Dickson, the cashier, observing this, said:

  ”Brent, you had better open your envelope.“

  Rather surprised, Phil nevertheless did as requested.

  In the envelope, besides the five-dollar bill representing his week's salary, he found a small slip of paper, on which was written these ominous words:

  ”Your services will not be required after this week.“ Appended to this notice was the name of the firm.

  Phil turned pale, for to him, embarrassed as he was, the loss of his place was a very serious matter.

  ”What does this mean, Mr. Dickson?“ he asked quickly.

  ”I can't inform you,“ answered the cashier, smiling unpleasantly, for he was a selfish man who sympathized with no one, and cared for no one as long as he himself remained prosperous.

  ”Who handed you this paper?“ asked Phil.

  ”The boss.“

  ”Mr. Pitkin?“

  ”Of course.“

  Mr. Pitkin was still in his little office, and Phil made his way directly to him.

  ”May I speak to you, sir?“ asked our hero.

  ”Be quick about it then, for I am in a hurry,“ answered Pitkin, in a very forbidding tone.

  ”Why am I discharged, sir?“

  ”I can't go into details. We don't need you any longer.“

  ”Are you not satisfied with me?“

  ”No!“ said Pitkin brusquely.

  ”In what respect have I failed to satisfy you, sir?“

  ”Don't put on any airs, boy!“ returned Pitkin.

  ”We don't want you, that's all.“

  ”You might have given me a little notice,“ said Phil indignantly.

  ”We made no stipulation of that kind, I believe.“

  ”It would only be fair, sir.“

  ”No impertinence, young man! I won't stand it! I don't need any instructions as to the manner of conducting my business.“

  Phil by this time perceived that his discharge was decided upon without any reference to the way in which he had performed his duties, and that any discussion or remonstrance would be unavailing.

  ”I see, sir, that you have no regard for justice, and will leave you,“ he said.

  ”You'd better, and without delay!“ said Pitkin irascibly.

  Phil emerged upon the street with a sinking heart. His available funds consisted only of the money he had just received and seventy-five cents in change, and what he was to do he did not know. He walked home with slow steps, looking sad in spite of his usually hopeful temperament.

  When he entered the house he met Mrs. Forbush in the hall. She at once noticed his gravity.

  ”Have you had any bad luck, Philip?“ she asked.

  ”Yes,“ answered Phil. ”I have lost my situation.“

  ”Indeed!“ returned the landlady, with quick sympathy. ”Have you had any difficulty with your employer?“

  ”Not that I am aware of.“

  ”Did he assign any reason for your discharge?“

  ”No; I asked him for an explanation, but he merely said I was not wanted any longer.“

  ”Isn't there any chance of his taking you back?“

  ”I am sure there is not.“

  ”Don't be discouraged, Philip. A smart boy like you won't be long out of a place. Meanwhile you are welcome to stay here as long as I have a roof to cover me.“

  ”Thank you, Mrs. Forbush,“ said Phil warmly. ”you are a true friend. You are in trouble yourself, yet you stand by me!“

  �
��I have had a stroke of good luck to-day,“ said Mrs. Forbush cheerfully. ”A former boarder, whom I allowed to remain here for five or six weeks when he was out of employment, has sent me thirty dollars in payment of his bill, from Boston, where he found a position. So I shall be able to pay my rent and have something over. I have been lucky, and so may you.“

  Phil was cheered by the ready sympathy of his landlady, and began to take a more cheerful view of matters.

  ”I will go out bright and early on Monday and see if I can't find another place,“ he said. ”Perhaps it may be all for the best.“

  Yet on the day succeeding he had some sober hours. How differently he had been situated only three months before. Then he had a home and relatives. Now he was practically alone in the world, with no home in which he could claim a share, and he did not even know where his step- mother and Jonas were. Sunday forenoon he attended church, and while he sat within its sacred precincts his mind was tranquilized, and his faith and cheerfulness increased.

  On Monday he bought the Herald, and made a tour of inquiry wherever he saw that a boy was wanted. But in each place he was asked if he could produce a recommendation from his last employer. He decided to go back to his old place and ask for one, though he was very reluctant to ask a favor of any kind from a man who had treated him so shabbily as Mr. Pitkin. It seemed necessary, however, and he crushed down his pride and made his way to Mr. Pitkin's private office.

  ”Mr. Pitkin!“ he said.

  ”You here!“ exclaimed Pitkin, scowling. ”You needn't ask to be taken back. It's no use.“

  ”I don't ask it,“ answered Phil.

  ”Then what are you here for?“

  ”I would like a letter of recommendation, that I may obtain another place.“

  ”Well, well!“ said Pitkin, wagging his head. ”If that isn't impudence.“

  ”What is impudence?“ asked Phil. ”I did as well as I could, and that I am ready to do for another employer. But all ask me for a letter from you.“

  ”You won't get any!“ said Pitkin abruptly.

  ”Where is your home?“

  ”I have none except in this city.“

  ”Where did you come from?“