Like most country folks, he was curious about people. Those who live in cities meet too many of their kind to feel an interest in strangers.
“No; a young friend,” answered Jennings, briefly.
“Goin' to visit you?”
“Yes, I think he will stay with me for a time.”
Then the conversation touched upon Milford matters in which at present Carl was not interested.
After his fatiguing walk our hero enjoyed the sensation of riding. The road was a pleasant one, the day was bright with sunshine and the air vocal with the songs of birds. For a time houses were met at rare intervals, but after a while it became evident that they were approaching a town of considerable size.
“Is this Milford, Mr. Jennings?” asked Carl.
“Yes,” answered the little man, turning with a pleasant smile.
“How large is it?”
“I think there are twelve thousand inhabitants. It is what Western people call a `right smart place.' It has been my home for twenty years, and I am much attached to it.”
“And it to you, Mr. Jennings,” put in the driver.
“That is pleasant to hear,” said Jennings, with a smile.
“It is true. There are few people here whom you have not befriended.”
“That is what we are here for, is it not?”
“I wish all were of your opinion. Why, Mr. Jennings, when we get a city charter I think I know who will be the first mayor.”
“Not I, Mr. Leach. My own business is all I can well attend to. Thank you for your compliment, though. Carl, do you see yonder building?”
He pointed to a three-story structure, a frame building, occupying a prominent position.
“Yes, sir.”
“That is my manufactory. What do you think of it?”
“I shouldn't think a town of this size would require so large an establishment,” answered Carl.
Mr. Jennings laughed.
“You are right,” he said. “If I depended on Milford trade, a very small building would be sufficient. My trade is outside. I supply many dealers in New York City and at the West. My retail trade is small. If any of my neighbors want furniture they naturally come to me, and I favor them as to price out of friendly feeling, but I am a manufacturer and wholesale dealer.”
“I see, sir.”
“Shall I take you to your house, Mr. Jennings?” asked Leach.
“Yes, if you please.”
Leach drove on till he reached a two-story building of Quaker-like simplicity but with a large, pleasant yard in front, with here and there a bed of flowers. Here he stopped his horse.
“We have reached our destination, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings. “You are active. Jump out and I will follow.”
Carl needed no second invitation. He sprang from the carriage and went forward to help Mr. Jennings out.
“No, thank you, Carl,” said the little man. “I am more active than you think. Here we are!”
He descended nimbly to the ground, and, drawing a one-dollar bill from his pocket, handed it to the driver.
“I don't like to take it, Mr. Jennings,” said Mr. Leach.
“Why not? The laborer is worthy of his hire. Now, Carl, let us go into the house.”
CHAPTER XV.
MR. JENNINGS AT HOME.
MR. JENNINGS did not need to open the door. He had scarcely set foot on the front step when it was opened from inside, and Carl found a fresh surprise in store for him. A woman, apparently six feet in height, stood on the threshold. Her figure was spare and ungainly, and her face singularly homely, but the absence of beauty was partially made up by a kindly expression. She looked with some surprise at Carl.
“This is a young friend of mine, Hannah,” said her master. “Welcome him for my sake.”
“I am glad to see you,” said Hannah, in a voice that was another amazement. It was deeper than that of most men.
As she spoke, she held out a large masculine hand, which Carl took, as seemed to be expected.
“Thank you,” said Carl.
“What am I to call you?” asked Hannah.
“Carl Crawford.”
“That's a strange name.”
“It is not common, I believe.”
“You two will get acquainted by and by,” said Mr. Jennings. “The most interesting question at present is, when will dinner be ready?”
“In ten minutes,” answered Hannah, promptly.
“Carl and I are both famished. We have had considerable exercise,” here he nodded at Carl with a comical look, and Carl understood that he referred in part to his contest with the tramp.
Hannah disappeared into the kitchen, and Mr. Jennings said: “Come upstairs, Carl. I will show you your room.”
Up an old-fashioned stairway Carl followed his host, and the latter opened the door of a side room on the first landing. It was not large, but was neat and comfortable. There was a cottage bedstead, a washstand, a small bureau and a couple of chairs.
“I hope you will come to feel at home here,” said Mr. Jennings, kindly.
“Thank you, sir. I am sure I shall,” Carl responded, gratefully.
“There are some nails to hang your clothing on,” went on Mr. Jennings, and then he stopped short, for it was clear that Carl's small gripsack could not contain an extra suit, and he felt delicate at calling up in the boy's mind the thought of his poverty.
“Thank you, sir,” said Carl. “I left my trunk at the house of a friend, and if you should succeed in finding me a place, I will send for it.”
“That is well!” returned Mr. Jennings, looking relieved. “Now I will leave you for a few moments. You will find water and towels, in case you wish to wash before dinner.”
Carl was glad of the opportunity. He was particular about his personal appearance, and he felt hot and dusty. He bathed his face and hands, carefully dusted his suit, brushed his hair, and was ready to descend when he heard the tinkling of a small bell at the foot of the front stairs.
He readily found his way into the neat dining- room at the rear of the parlor. Mr. Jennings sat at the head of the table, a little giant, diminutive in stature, but with broad shoulders, a large head, and a powerful frame. Opposite him sat Hannah, tall, stiff and upright as a grenadier. She formed a strange contrast to her employer.
“I wonder what made him hire such a tall woman?” thought Carl. “Being so small himself, her size makes him look smaller.”
There was a chair at one side, placed for Carl.
“Sit down there, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings. “I won't keep you waiting any longer than I can help. What have you given us to-day, Hannah?”
“Roast beef,” answered Hannah in her deep tones.
“There is nothing better.”
The host cut off a liberal slice for Carl, and passed the plate to Hannah, who supplied potatoes, peas and squash. Carl's mouth fairly watered as he watched the hospitable preparations for his refreshment.
“I never trouble myself about what we are to have on the table,” said Mr. Jennings. “Hannah always sees to that. She's knows just what I want. She is a capital cook, too, Hannah is.”
Hannah looked pleased at this compliment.
“You are easily pleased, master,” she said.
“I should be hard to suit if I were not pleased with your cooking. You don't know so well Carl's taste, but if there is anything he likes particularly he can tell you.”
“You are very kind, sir,” said Carl.
“There are not many men who would treat a poor boy so considerately,” he thought. “He makes me an honored guest.”
When dinner was over, Mr. Jennings invited Carl to accompany him on a walk. They passed along the principal street, nearly every person they met giving the little man a cordial greeting.
“He seems to be very popular,” thought Carl.
At length they reached the manufactory. Mr. Jennings went into the office, followed by Carl.
A slender, dark-complexioned man, about thirty-five y
ears of age, sat on a stool at a high desk. He was evidently the bookkeeper.
“Any letters, Mr. Gibbon?” asked Mr. Jennings.
“Yes, sir; here are four.”
“Where are they from?”
“From New York, Chicago, Pittsburg and New Haven.”
“What do they relate to?”
“Orders. I have handed them to Mr. Potter.”
Potter, as Carl afterwards learned, was superintendent of the manufactory, and had full charge of practical details.
“Is there anything requiring my personal attention?”
“No, sir; I don't think so.”
“By the way, Mr. Gibbon, let me introduce you to a young friend of mine--Carl Crawford.”
The bookkeeper rapidly scanned Carl's face and figure. It seemed to Carl that the scrutiny was not a friendly one.
“I am glad to see you,” said Mr. Gibbon, coldly.
“Thank you, sir.”
“By the way, Mr. Jennings,” said the bookkeeper, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Go on, Mr. Gibbon,” rejoined his employer, in a cordial tone.
“Two months since you gave my nephew, Leonard Craig, a place in the factory.”
“Yes; I remember.”
“I don't think the work agrees with him.”
“He seemed a strong, healthy boy.”
“He has never been used to confinement, and it affects him unpleasantly.”
“Does he wish to resign his place?”
“I have been wondering whether you would not be willing to transfer him to the office. I could send him on errands, to the post office, and make him useful in various ways.”
“I had not supposed an office boy was needed. Still, if you desire it, I will try your nephew in the place.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I am bound to tell you, however, that his present place is a better one. He is learning a good trade, which, if he masters it, will always give him a livelihood. I learned a trade, and owe all I have to that.”
“True, Mr. Jennings, but there are other ways of earning a living.”
“Certainly.”
“And I thought of giving Leonard evening instruction in bookkeeping.”
“That alters the case. Good bookkeepers are always in demand. I have no objection to your trying the experiment.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Have you mentioned the matter to your nephew?”
“I just suggested that I would ask you, but could not say what answer you would give.”
“It would have been better not to mention the matter at all till you could tell him definitely that he could change his place.”
“I don't know but you are right, sir. However, it is all right now.”
“Now, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings, “I will take you into the workroom.”
CHAPTER XVI.
CARL GETS A PLACE.
“I SUPPOSE that is the bookkeeper,” said Carl.
“Yes. He has been with me three years. He understands his business well. You heard what he said about his nephew?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It is his sister's son--a boy of about your own age. I think he is making a mistake in leaving the factory, and going into the office. He will have little to do, and that not of a character to give him knowledge of business.”
“Still, if he takes lessons in bookkeeping----”
Mr. Jennings smiled.
“The boy will never make a bookkeeper,” he said. “His reason for desiring the change is because he is indolent. The world has no room for lazy people.”
“I wonder, sir, that you have had a chance to find him out.”
“Little things betray a boy's nature, or a man's, for that matter. When I have visited the workroom I have noticed Leonard, and formed my conclusions. He is not a boy whom I would select for my service, but I have taken him as a favor to his uncle. I presume he is without means, and it is desirable that he should pay his uncle something in return for the home which he gives him.”
“How much do you pay him, sir, if it is not a secret?”
“Oh, no; he receives five dollars a week to begin with. I will pay him the same in the office. And that reminds me; how would you like to have a situation in the factory? Would you like to take Leonard's place?”
“Yes, sir, if you think I would do.”
“I feel quite sure of it. Have you ever done any manual labor?”
“No, sir.”
“I suppose you have always been to school.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are a gentleman's son,” proceeded Mr. Jennings, eying Carl attentively. “How will it suit you to become a working boy?”
“I shall like it,” answered Carl, promptly.
“Don't be too sure! You can tell better after a week in the factory. Those in my employ work ten hours a day. Leonard Craig doesn't like it.”
“All I ask, Mr. Jennings, is that you give me a trial.”
“That is fair,” responded the little man, looking pleased. “I will tell you now that, not knowing of any vacancy in the factory, I had intended to give you the place in the office which Mr. Gibbon has asked for his nephew. It would have been a good deal easier work.”
“I shall be quite satisfied to take my place in the factory.”
“Come in, then, and see your future scene of employment.”
They entered a large room, occupying nearly an entire floor of the building. Part of the space was filled by machinery. The number employed Carl estimated roughly at twenty-five.
Quite near the door was a boy, who bore some personal resemblance to the bookkeeper. Carl concluded that it must be Leonard Craig. The boy looked round as Mr. Jennings entered, and eyed Carl sharply.
“How are you getting on, Leonard?” Mr. Jennings asked.
“Pretty well, sir; but the machinery makes my head ache.”
“Your uncle tells me that your employment does not agree with you.”
“No, sir; I don't think it does.”
“He would like to have you in the office with him. Would you like it, also?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Leonard, eagerly.
“Very well. You may report for duty at the office to-morrow morning. This boy will take your place here.”
Leonard eyed Carl curiously, not cordially.
“I hope you'll like it,” he said.
“I think I shall.”
“You two boys must get acquainted,” said Mr. Jennings. “Leonard, this is Carl Crawford.”
“Glad to know you,” said Leonard, coldly.
“I don't think I shall like that boy,” thought Carl, as he followed Mr. Jennings to another part of the room.
CHAPTER XVII.
CARL ENTERS THE FACTORY
WHEN they left the factory Mr. Jennings said, with a smile:
“Now you are one of us, Carl. To-morrow you begin work.”
“I am glad of it, sir.”
“You don't ask what salary you are to get.”
“I am willing to leave that to you.”
“Suppose we say two dollars a week and board--to begin with.”
“That is better than I expected. But where am I to board?”
“At my house, for the present, if that will suit you.”
“I shall like it very much, if it won't inconvenience you.”
“Hannah is the one to be inconvenienced, if anyone. I had a little conversation with her while you were getting ready for dinner. She seems to have taken a liking for you, though she doesn't like boys generally. As for me, it will make the home brighter to have a young person in it. Hannah and I are old- fashioned and quiet, and the neighbors don't have much reason to complain of noise.”
“No, sir; I should think not, ' said Carl, with a smile.
``There is one thing you must be prepared for, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings, after a pause.
“What is that, sir?”
“Your living in my house--I being your employer--
may excite jealousy in some. I think I know of one who will be jealous.”
“Leonard Craig?”
“And his uncle. However, don't borrow any trouble on that score. I hope you won't take advantage of your position, and, thinking yourself a favorite, neglect your duties.”
“I will not, sir.”
“Business and friendship ought to be kept apart.”
“That is right, sir.”
“I am going back to the house, but you may like to take a walk about the village. You will feel interested in it, as it is to be your future home. By the way, it may be well for you to write for your trunk. You can order it sent to my house.”
“All right, sir; I will do so.”
He went to the post office, and, buying a postal card, wrote to his friend, Gilbert Vance, as follows:
“DEAR GILBERT:--Please send my trunk by express to me at Milford, care of Henry Jennings, Esq. He is my employer, and I live at his house. He is proprietor of a furniture factory. Will write further particulars soon.
``CARL CRAWFORD.”
This postal carried welcome intelligence to Gilbert, who felt a brotherly interest in Carl. He responded by a letter of hearty congratulation, and forwarded the trunk as requested.
Carl reported for duty the next morning, and, though a novice, soon showed that he was not without mechanical skill.
At twelve o'clock all the factory hands had an hour off for dinner. As Carl passed into the street he found himself walking beside the boy whom he had succeeded--Leonard Craig.
“Good-morning, Leonard,” said Carl, pleasantly.
“Good-morning. Have you taken my place in the factory?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you shall like it?”
“I think I shall, though, of course, it is rather early to form an opinion.”
“I didn't like it.”
“Why not?”
“I don't want to grow up a workman. I think I am fit for something better.”
“Mr. Jennings began as a factory hand.”
“I suppose he had a taste for it. I haven't.”
“Then you like your present position better?”
“Oh, yes; it's more genteel. How much does Jennings pay you?”
“Two dollars a week and board.”
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