CHAPTERX.THE ROYAL LUNATIC.WHENMrs.Kenyon recovered from her swoon, she sawDr.Fox bending over her."You are recovering," he said. "You mustn't give way like this, my good madam."It all came back to her—her desertion, and the terrible imprisonment which awaited her."Where is my husband—where isMr.Kenyon?" she demanded imperatively.Dr.Fox shrugged his shoulders."I wish you to send him here at once, or to take me to him.""Quite impossible, my dear madam. He has gone.""Mr.Kenyon gone, and left me here!""It is for your own good, my dear madam. I hope soon to restore you to him."It was as she expected, and the first shockbeing over, she took the announcement calmly. But her soul was stirred with anger and resentment, for she was a woman of spirit."This is all a base plot," she said scornfully. "HasMr.Kenyon—have you—the assurance to assert that my mind is disordered?""Unhappily there is no doubt of it," said the doctor, in a tone of affected regret. "Your present excitement shows it.""My excitement! Who would not be excited at being entrapped in such a way? But I quite comprehendMr.Kenyon's motives. How much does he pay you for your share in this conspiracy?""He pays your board on my usual terms," saidDr.Fox composedly. "I have agreed to do my best to cure you of your unhappy malady, but I can do little while you suffer yourself to become so excited."His tone was significant, and contained a menace, but for thisMrs.Kenyon cared little. She had been blind, but she was clear-sighted now. She felt that it was her husband'sobject to keep her in perpetual imprisonment. Thus only could his ends be attained.She was silent for a moment. She perceived that craft must be met with craft, and that it was best to control her excitement. She would speak her mind, however, to avoid being misunderstood."I will not judge you,Dr.Fox," she said. "PossiblyMr.Kenyon may have deceived you for his own purposes. If you are really skilled in mental diseases you will soon perceive that I am as sane as you are yourself.""When I make that discovery I will send you back to your husband," said the doctor with oily suavity."I shall never return to my husband," saidMrs.Kenyon coldly. "I only ask to be released. I hope your promise is made in good faith.""Certainly it is; but, my dear madam, let me beg you to lay aside this prejudice against your husband, who sincerely regrets the necessity of your temporary seclusion from the world."Mrs. Kenyon smiled bitterly."I understandMr.Kenyon probably better than you do," she said. "We won't discuss him now. But if I am to remain here, even for a short time, I have a favor to ask.""You may ask it, certainly," said the doctor, who did not, however, couple with the permission any promise to grant the request."Or, rather, I have two requests to make," saidMrs.Kenyon."Name them.""The first is, to be supplied with pens, ink, and paper, that I may communicate with my friends.""Meaning your husband?""He is not my friend, but I shall address one letter to him.""Very well. You shall have what you require. You can hand the letters to me, and I will have them posted.""You will not read them?""It is our usual rule to read all letters written from this establishment, but in your case we will waive the rule, and allow them to go unread. What is your second request?""I should like a room alone," saidMrs.Kenyon, glancing at Cleopatra, who was sitting on the side of the bed listening to the conversation."I am sorry that I can't grant that request," said the doctor. "The fact is, my establishment is too full to give anyone a single room.""But you won't keep me in the same room with a——""What do you call me?" interrupted Cleopatra angrily. "Do you mean to say I am crazy? You ought to feel proud of having the Queen of Egypt for a room-mate. I will make you the Mistress of the Robes."All this was ludicrous enough, considering the shabby attire of the self-styled queen, butMrs.Kenyon did not feel in a laughing humor. She did not reply, but glanced meaningly at the door."I am sure you will like Cleopatra," he said, adding, with a wink unobserved by the Egyptian sovereign, "she is the only sane person in my establishment."Cleopatra nodded in a tone of satisfaction."You hear what he says?" she said, turning toMrs.Kenyon.The latter saw that it was not wise to provoke one who would probably be her room-mate."I don't object to her," she said; "but to anyone. Give me any room, however small, so that I occupy it alone.""Impossible, my dear madam," said her keeper decisively. "I can assure you that Cleopatra, though confined here for political reasons," here he bowed to the royal lunatic, "never gives any trouble, but is quite calm and patient.""Thank you, doctor," said Cleopatra. "You understand me. Did you forward my last letter to Mark Antony?""Yes, your Majesty. I have no doubt he will answer it as soon as his duties in the field will permit.""Where is he now?""I think he is heading an expedition somewhere in Asia Minor.""Very well," nodded Cleopatra. "As soon as a letter comes, send it to me.""At once," said the doctor. "You must look after this lady, and cheer her up.""Yes, I will. What is your name?""My name used to be Conrad. You may call me that."She shrank from wearing the name of the man who had confined her in this terrible asylum."That isn't classical. I will call you Claudia—may I?""You may call me anything you like," saidMrs.Kenyon wearily."When will you send me the paper and ink?" she asked."They shall be sent up at once."Ten minutes later, writing materials were brought. Anxious to do something which might lead to her release, she sat down and wrote letters to two gentlemen of influence with whom she was acquainted, giving the details of the plot which had been so successfully carried out against her liberty.Cleopatra watched her curiously. Presently she said:"Will you let me have a sheet of your paper? I wish to write a letter to Mark Antony.""Certainly," saidMrs.Kenyon, regarding her with pity and sympathy.The other seated herself and wrote rapidly, in an elegant feminine hand, which surprisedMrs.Kenyon. She did not know that the poor lady had once been classical teacher in a prominent female seminary, and that it was a disappointment in love which had alienated her mind and reduced her to her present condition."Shall I read you the letter?" she enquired."If you like."It was a very well written appeal to her imaginary correspondent to hasten to her and restore her to her throne."I thought," saidMrs.Kenyon cautiously, "that Mark Antony died many centuries ago.""Quite a mistake, I assure you. Who could have told you such nonsense, Claudia?" demanded Cleopatra sharply."You are quite sure, then?""Of course. You will begin to say next that Cleopatra is dead.""I thought so.""That is because I have remained here so long in concealment. The world supposes me dead, but the time will come when people will learn their mistake. Have you finished your letters?""Yes.""When they send us our supper you can send them to the doctor.""Will he be sure to post them?" askedMrs.Kenyon, with a natural suspicion."Of course. Doesn't he always send my letters to Mark Antony?"This was not as satisfactory as it might have been."Have you ever received any answers?" askedMrs.Kenyon."Here is a letter from Mark Antony," said Cleopatra, taking a dirty and crumpled note from her pocket. "Read it, Claudia."This was the note:Fair Cleopatra:I have read your letter, my heart's sovereign, and I kiss the hand that wrote it. I am driving the enemy before me, and hope soon to kneel beforeyou, crowned with laurels. Be patient, and soon expect your captive,Mark Antony."Is it not a beautiful letter?" asked Cleopatra proudly."Yes," saidMrs.Kenyon, feeling it best to humor her delusion.
WHENMrs.Kenyon recovered from her swoon, she sawDr.Fox bending over her.
"You are recovering," he said. "You mustn't give way like this, my good madam."
It all came back to her—her desertion, and the terrible imprisonment which awaited her.
"Where is my husband—where isMr.Kenyon?" she demanded imperatively.
Dr.Fox shrugged his shoulders.
"I wish you to send him here at once, or to take me to him."
"Quite impossible, my dear madam. He has gone."
"Mr.Kenyon gone, and left me here!"
"It is for your own good, my dear madam. I hope soon to restore you to him."
It was as she expected, and the first shockbeing over, she took the announcement calmly. But her soul was stirred with anger and resentment, for she was a woman of spirit.
"This is all a base plot," she said scornfully. "HasMr.Kenyon—have you—the assurance to assert that my mind is disordered?"
"Unhappily there is no doubt of it," said the doctor, in a tone of affected regret. "Your present excitement shows it."
"My excitement! Who would not be excited at being entrapped in such a way? But I quite comprehendMr.Kenyon's motives. How much does he pay you for your share in this conspiracy?"
"He pays your board on my usual terms," saidDr.Fox composedly. "I have agreed to do my best to cure you of your unhappy malady, but I can do little while you suffer yourself to become so excited."
His tone was significant, and contained a menace, but for thisMrs.Kenyon cared little. She had been blind, but she was clear-sighted now. She felt that it was her husband'sobject to keep her in perpetual imprisonment. Thus only could his ends be attained.
She was silent for a moment. She perceived that craft must be met with craft, and that it was best to control her excitement. She would speak her mind, however, to avoid being misunderstood.
"I will not judge you,Dr.Fox," she said. "PossiblyMr.Kenyon may have deceived you for his own purposes. If you are really skilled in mental diseases you will soon perceive that I am as sane as you are yourself."
"When I make that discovery I will send you back to your husband," said the doctor with oily suavity.
"I shall never return to my husband," saidMrs.Kenyon coldly. "I only ask to be released. I hope your promise is made in good faith."
"Certainly it is; but, my dear madam, let me beg you to lay aside this prejudice against your husband, who sincerely regrets the necessity of your temporary seclusion from the world."
Mrs. Kenyon smiled bitterly.
"I understandMr.Kenyon probably better than you do," she said. "We won't discuss him now. But if I am to remain here, even for a short time, I have a favor to ask."
"You may ask it, certainly," said the doctor, who did not, however, couple with the permission any promise to grant the request.
"Or, rather, I have two requests to make," saidMrs.Kenyon.
"Name them."
"The first is, to be supplied with pens, ink, and paper, that I may communicate with my friends."
"Meaning your husband?"
"He is not my friend, but I shall address one letter to him."
"Very well. You shall have what you require. You can hand the letters to me, and I will have them posted."
"You will not read them?"
"It is our usual rule to read all letters written from this establishment, but in your case we will waive the rule, and allow them to go unread. What is your second request?"
"I should like a room alone," saidMrs.Kenyon, glancing at Cleopatra, who was sitting on the side of the bed listening to the conversation.
"I am sorry that I can't grant that request," said the doctor. "The fact is, my establishment is too full to give anyone a single room."
"But you won't keep me in the same room with a——"
"What do you call me?" interrupted Cleopatra angrily. "Do you mean to say I am crazy? You ought to feel proud of having the Queen of Egypt for a room-mate. I will make you the Mistress of the Robes."
All this was ludicrous enough, considering the shabby attire of the self-styled queen, butMrs.Kenyon did not feel in a laughing humor. She did not reply, but glanced meaningly at the door.
"I am sure you will like Cleopatra," he said, adding, with a wink unobserved by the Egyptian sovereign, "she is the only sane person in my establishment."
Cleopatra nodded in a tone of satisfaction.
"You hear what he says?" she said, turning toMrs.Kenyon.
The latter saw that it was not wise to provoke one who would probably be her room-mate.
"I don't object to her," she said; "but to anyone. Give me any room, however small, so that I occupy it alone."
"Impossible, my dear madam," said her keeper decisively. "I can assure you that Cleopatra, though confined here for political reasons," here he bowed to the royal lunatic, "never gives any trouble, but is quite calm and patient."
"Thank you, doctor," said Cleopatra. "You understand me. Did you forward my last letter to Mark Antony?"
"Yes, your Majesty. I have no doubt he will answer it as soon as his duties in the field will permit."
"Where is he now?"
"I think he is heading an expedition somewhere in Asia Minor."
"Very well," nodded Cleopatra. "As soon as a letter comes, send it to me."
"At once," said the doctor. "You must look after this lady, and cheer her up."
"Yes, I will. What is your name?"
"My name used to be Conrad. You may call me that."
She shrank from wearing the name of the man who had confined her in this terrible asylum.
"That isn't classical. I will call you Claudia—may I?"
"You may call me anything you like," saidMrs.Kenyon wearily.
"When will you send me the paper and ink?" she asked.
"They shall be sent up at once."
Ten minutes later, writing materials were brought. Anxious to do something which might lead to her release, she sat down and wrote letters to two gentlemen of influence with whom she was acquainted, giving the details of the plot which had been so successfully carried out against her liberty.
Cleopatra watched her curiously. Presently she said:
"Will you let me have a sheet of your paper? I wish to write a letter to Mark Antony."
"Certainly," saidMrs.Kenyon, regarding her with pity and sympathy.
The other seated herself and wrote rapidly, in an elegant feminine hand, which surprisedMrs.Kenyon. She did not know that the poor lady had once been classical teacher in a prominent female seminary, and that it was a disappointment in love which had alienated her mind and reduced her to her present condition.
"Shall I read you the letter?" she enquired.
"If you like."
It was a very well written appeal to her imaginary correspondent to hasten to her and restore her to her throne.
"I thought," saidMrs.Kenyon cautiously, "that Mark Antony died many centuries ago."
"Quite a mistake, I assure you. Who could have told you such nonsense, Claudia?" demanded Cleopatra sharply.
"You are quite sure, then?"
"Of course. You will begin to say next that Cleopatra is dead."
"I thought so."
"That is because I have remained here so long in concealment. The world supposes me dead, but the time will come when people will learn their mistake. Have you finished your letters?"
"Yes."
"When they send us our supper you can send them to the doctor."
"Will he be sure to post them?" askedMrs.Kenyon, with a natural suspicion.
"Of course. Doesn't he always send my letters to Mark Antony?"
This was not as satisfactory as it might have been.
"Have you ever received any answers?" askedMrs.Kenyon.
"Here is a letter from Mark Antony," said Cleopatra, taking a dirty and crumpled note from her pocket. "Read it, Claudia."
This was the note:
Fair Cleopatra:I have read your letter, my heart's sovereign, and I kiss the hand that wrote it. I am driving the enemy before me, and hope soon to kneel beforeyou, crowned with laurels. Be patient, and soon expect your captive,Mark Antony.
Fair Cleopatra:
I have read your letter, my heart's sovereign, and I kiss the hand that wrote it. I am driving the enemy before me, and hope soon to kneel beforeyou, crowned with laurels. Be patient, and soon expect your captive,
Mark Antony.
"Is it not a beautiful letter?" asked Cleopatra proudly.
"Yes," saidMrs.Kenyon, feeling it best to humor her delusion.
CHAPTERXI.HOW THE LETTER WAS MAILED.SEVERAL months passed, andMrs.Kenyon remained in confinement. She was not badly treated, except in being vigilantly guarded, and prevented from making her escape.Dr.Fox always treated her with suavity, but she felt that though covered with velvet his hand was of iron, and that there was little to hope for from him. He never made any objection to her writing letters, but always insisted on their being handed to him.It was not long before she began seriously to doubt whether the letters thus committed to him were really mailed, since no answers came. One day she asked him abruptly:"Why is it,Dr.Fox, that I get no answers to my letters?""I suppose," he answered, "that your friends are afraid you may be excited, andyour recovery retarded, by hearing from them.""Has my—hasMr.Kenyon reported that I am insane?""Undoubtedly.""False and treacherous!" she exclaimed bitterly. "Why was I ever mad enough to marry him?"Dr.Fox shrugged his shoulders."Really," he said, "I couldn't pretend to explain your motives, my dear madam. Women are enigmas.""Are my letters regularly mailed,Dr.Fox?" askedMrs.Kenyon searchingly."How can you ask such a question? Do you not commit them to me?""So does Cleopatra," saidMrs.Kenyon, who had fallen into the habit of addressing her room-mate by the name she assumed. "Do you forward her letters to Mark Antony?""Does she doubt it?" asked the doctor, bowing to the mad queen."No, doctor," replied Cleopatra promptly. "I have the utmost faith in yourloyalty,and it shall be rewarded. I have long intended to make you Lord High Baron of the Nile. Let this be the emblem."In a dignified manner Cleopatra advanced towardDr.Fox, and passed a bit of faded ribbon through his button-hole."Thanks, your Majesty," said the doctor. "Your confidence is not misplaced. I will keep this among my chief treasures."Cleopatra looked pleased, andMrs.Kenyon impatient and disgusted."He deceives me as he does her, without doubt. It is useless to question him further."From this time she sedulously watched for an opportunity to write a letter and commit it to other hands than the doctor's. But, that he might not suspect her design, she also wrote regularly, and placed the letters in his hands.One day the opportunity came. A young man, related to Cleopatra, visited the institution. He understood very well the character of his aunt's aberration, but was surprised to be told that the quiet lady who bore her company was also crazy."What is the nature of her malady?" he enquired of the doctor. "Is she ever violent?""Oh, no.""She seems rational enough.""So she is on all points except one.""What is that?""She thinks her husband has confined her here in order to enjoy her property. In point of fact she has no property and no husband.""That is curious. Why, then, does she require to be confined?""Probably she will soon be released. She has improved very much since she came here.""I am glad my aunt has so quiet a companion.""Yes, they harmonize very well. They have never disagreed."During one ofMr.Arthur Holman's visitsMrs.Kenyon managed to slip into his hands a sealed letter."Will you have the kindness," she asked quickly, "to put this into the post-office without informing the doctor?""I will," he answered readily."Poor woman!" he thought to himself. "It will gratify her, and her letter will do no harm.""I shall have to be indebted to your kindness for a postage-stamp," she said. "I cannot obtain them here.""Oh, don't mention it," he said."You will be sure not to mention this to the doctor?" saidMrs.Kenyon earnestly."On my honor as a gentleman.""I believe you," she said quietly.This was the letter, directed to Oliver, which found its way into the hands ofMr.Kenyon, and occasioned him so much uneasiness.
SEVERAL months passed, andMrs.Kenyon remained in confinement. She was not badly treated, except in being vigilantly guarded, and prevented from making her escape.Dr.Fox always treated her with suavity, but she felt that though covered with velvet his hand was of iron, and that there was little to hope for from him. He never made any objection to her writing letters, but always insisted on their being handed to him.
It was not long before she began seriously to doubt whether the letters thus committed to him were really mailed, since no answers came. One day she asked him abruptly:
"Why is it,Dr.Fox, that I get no answers to my letters?"
"I suppose," he answered, "that your friends are afraid you may be excited, andyour recovery retarded, by hearing from them."
"Has my—hasMr.Kenyon reported that I am insane?"
"Undoubtedly."
"False and treacherous!" she exclaimed bitterly. "Why was I ever mad enough to marry him?"
Dr.Fox shrugged his shoulders.
"Really," he said, "I couldn't pretend to explain your motives, my dear madam. Women are enigmas."
"Are my letters regularly mailed,Dr.Fox?" askedMrs.Kenyon searchingly.
"How can you ask such a question? Do you not commit them to me?"
"So does Cleopatra," saidMrs.Kenyon, who had fallen into the habit of addressing her room-mate by the name she assumed. "Do you forward her letters to Mark Antony?"
"Does she doubt it?" asked the doctor, bowing to the mad queen.
"No, doctor," replied Cleopatra promptly. "I have the utmost faith in yourloyalty,and it shall be rewarded. I have long intended to make you Lord High Baron of the Nile. Let this be the emblem."
In a dignified manner Cleopatra advanced towardDr.Fox, and passed a bit of faded ribbon through his button-hole.
"Thanks, your Majesty," said the doctor. "Your confidence is not misplaced. I will keep this among my chief treasures."
Cleopatra looked pleased, andMrs.Kenyon impatient and disgusted.
"He deceives me as he does her, without doubt. It is useless to question him further."
From this time she sedulously watched for an opportunity to write a letter and commit it to other hands than the doctor's. But, that he might not suspect her design, she also wrote regularly, and placed the letters in his hands.
One day the opportunity came. A young man, related to Cleopatra, visited the institution. He understood very well the character of his aunt's aberration, but was surprised to be told that the quiet lady who bore her company was also crazy.
"What is the nature of her malady?" he enquired of the doctor. "Is she ever violent?"
"Oh, no."
"She seems rational enough."
"So she is on all points except one."
"What is that?"
"She thinks her husband has confined her here in order to enjoy her property. In point of fact she has no property and no husband."
"That is curious. Why, then, does she require to be confined?"
"Probably she will soon be released. She has improved very much since she came here."
"I am glad my aunt has so quiet a companion."
"Yes, they harmonize very well. They have never disagreed."
During one ofMr.Arthur Holman's visitsMrs.Kenyon managed to slip into his hands a sealed letter.
"Will you have the kindness," she asked quickly, "to put this into the post-office without informing the doctor?"
"I will," he answered readily.
"Poor woman!" he thought to himself. "It will gratify her, and her letter will do no harm."
"I shall have to be indebted to your kindness for a postage-stamp," she said. "I cannot obtain them here."
"Oh, don't mention it," he said.
"You will be sure not to mention this to the doctor?" saidMrs.Kenyon earnestly.
"On my honor as a gentleman."
"I believe you," she said quietly.
This was the letter, directed to Oliver, which found its way into the hands ofMr.Kenyon, and occasioned him so much uneasiness.
CHAPTERXII.OLIVER'S JOURNEY.THE more Oliver thought about it, the stranger it seemed to him that the letter intended for him should have been lost. In spite ofMr.Kenyon's plausible explanations, he felt that it had been suppressed. But why? He could conceive of no motive for the deed. He had no secret correspondent, nor had he any secret to conceal. He was quite at sea in his conjectures.He could not help showing by his manner the suspicion he entertained.Mr.Kenyon did not appear to notice it, but it was far from escaping his attention. He knew something about character reading, and he saw that Oliver was very determined, and, once aroused, would make trouble."There is only one way," he muttered, as he furtively regarded the grave look on theboyish face of his step-son. "There is only one way, and I must try it!"He felt that there was daily peril. Any day another letter might arrive at the post-office, and it might fall this time into Oliver's hands. True, he had received a letter fromDr.Fox, in which he expressed his inability to discover how the letter had been mailed without his knowledge, but assuringMr.Kenyon that it should not happen again."I shall not hereafter allow your wife the use of writing materials," he said. "This will remove all danger."StillMr.Kenyon felt unsettled and ill at ease. In spite of allDr.Fox's precautions, a letter might be written, and this would be most disastrous to him."Oliver," saidMr.Kenyon one evening, "I have to go to New York on business to-morrow; would you like to go with me?""Yes, sir," said Oliver promptly.To a country boy, who had not been in New York more than half a dozen times in the course of his life, such a trip promised greatenjoyment, even where the company was uncongenial."We shall probably remain over night," said his step-father. "I don't think I can get through all my business in one day.""All the better, sir," said Oliver. "I never stopped over night in New York.""Then you will enjoy it. If I have a chance I will take you to the theatre.""Thank you, sir," said Oliver, forgetting for the moment his prejudice against his step-father. "Is Roland going?" he asked."No," answeredMr.Kenyon.Oliver stared in surprise. It seemed strange to him that he should be offered an enjoyment of which Roland was deprived."I can't undertake to manage two boys at a time," saidMr.Kenyon decisively. "Roland will have to wait till the next time.""That's queer," thought Oliver, but he did not dwell too much on the thought. He was too well satisfied with having been the favored one, for this time at least.Roland was not present when his father made this proposal, but he soon heard of it.His dissatisfaction may well be imagined. What! Was he,Mr.Kenyon's own son, to be passed over in favor of Oliver? He became alarmed. Was he losing his old place, and was Oliver going to supplant him? To his mind Oliver had of late been treated altogether too well, and he did not like it.He rushed into his father's presence, his cheeks pale with anger."What is this I hear?" he burst out. "Are you going to take Oliver to New York, and leave me at home?""Yes, Roland, but——""Then it's a mean shame. Anyone would think he was your son, and not I.""You don't understand, Roland. I have an object in view.""What is it?" asked Roland, his curiosity overcoming his anger."It will be better for you in the end, Roland. You don't like Oliver, do you?""No. I hate him.""You wouldn't mind if he didn't come back, would you?""Is that what you mean, father?" asked Roland, pricking up his ears."Yes. I am going to place him in a cheap boarding-school where he will be ruled with a rod of iron. Of course Oliver doesn't understand that. He thinks only that he is going to take a little trip to New York. Your presence would interfere with my plans, don't you see?""That's good," chuckled Roland with malicious merriment. "Do they flog at the school he's going to?""With great severity.""Ho! ho! He'll get more than he bargains for. I don't mind staying at home now, father.""Hope you'll have a good time, Oliver," said Roland, with a chuckle, when Oliver and his father were on the point of starting. "How lonely I'll feel without you!"Oliver thought it rather strange that Roland should acquiesce so readily in the plan which left him at home, but it soon passed away from his mind.
THE more Oliver thought about it, the stranger it seemed to him that the letter intended for him should have been lost. In spite ofMr.Kenyon's plausible explanations, he felt that it had been suppressed. But why? He could conceive of no motive for the deed. He had no secret correspondent, nor had he any secret to conceal. He was quite at sea in his conjectures.
He could not help showing by his manner the suspicion he entertained.Mr.Kenyon did not appear to notice it, but it was far from escaping his attention. He knew something about character reading, and he saw that Oliver was very determined, and, once aroused, would make trouble.
"There is only one way," he muttered, as he furtively regarded the grave look on theboyish face of his step-son. "There is only one way, and I must try it!"
He felt that there was daily peril. Any day another letter might arrive at the post-office, and it might fall this time into Oliver's hands. True, he had received a letter fromDr.Fox, in which he expressed his inability to discover how the letter had been mailed without his knowledge, but assuringMr.Kenyon that it should not happen again.
"I shall not hereafter allow your wife the use of writing materials," he said. "This will remove all danger."
StillMr.Kenyon felt unsettled and ill at ease. In spite of allDr.Fox's precautions, a letter might be written, and this would be most disastrous to him.
"Oliver," saidMr.Kenyon one evening, "I have to go to New York on business to-morrow; would you like to go with me?"
"Yes, sir," said Oliver promptly.
To a country boy, who had not been in New York more than half a dozen times in the course of his life, such a trip promised greatenjoyment, even where the company was uncongenial.
"We shall probably remain over night," said his step-father. "I don't think I can get through all my business in one day."
"All the better, sir," said Oliver. "I never stopped over night in New York."
"Then you will enjoy it. If I have a chance I will take you to the theatre."
"Thank you, sir," said Oliver, forgetting for the moment his prejudice against his step-father. "Is Roland going?" he asked.
"No," answeredMr.Kenyon.
Oliver stared in surprise. It seemed strange to him that he should be offered an enjoyment of which Roland was deprived.
"I can't undertake to manage two boys at a time," saidMr.Kenyon decisively. "Roland will have to wait till the next time."
"That's queer," thought Oliver, but he did not dwell too much on the thought. He was too well satisfied with having been the favored one, for this time at least.
Roland was not present when his father made this proposal, but he soon heard of it.His dissatisfaction may well be imagined. What! Was he,Mr.Kenyon's own son, to be passed over in favor of Oliver? He became alarmed. Was he losing his old place, and was Oliver going to supplant him? To his mind Oliver had of late been treated altogether too well, and he did not like it.
He rushed into his father's presence, his cheeks pale with anger.
"What is this I hear?" he burst out. "Are you going to take Oliver to New York, and leave me at home?"
"Yes, Roland, but——"
"Then it's a mean shame. Anyone would think he was your son, and not I."
"You don't understand, Roland. I have an object in view."
"What is it?" asked Roland, his curiosity overcoming his anger.
"It will be better for you in the end, Roland. You don't like Oliver, do you?"
"No. I hate him."
"You wouldn't mind if he didn't come back, would you?"
"Is that what you mean, father?" asked Roland, pricking up his ears.
"Yes. I am going to place him in a cheap boarding-school where he will be ruled with a rod of iron. Of course Oliver doesn't understand that. He thinks only that he is going to take a little trip to New York. Your presence would interfere with my plans, don't you see?"
"That's good," chuckled Roland with malicious merriment. "Do they flog at the school he's going to?"
"With great severity."
"Ho! ho! He'll get more than he bargains for. I don't mind staying at home now, father."
"Hope you'll have a good time, Oliver," said Roland, with a chuckle, when Oliver and his father were on the point of starting. "How lonely I'll feel without you!"
Oliver thought it rather strange that Roland should acquiesce so readily in the plan which left him at home, but it soon passed away from his mind.
CHAPTERXIII.MR.KENYON'S PLANS FOR OLIVER.SOON after they were seated in the cars, bound for New York,Mr.Kenyon remarked:"Perhaps you are surprised, Oliver, that I take you with me instead of Roland."Oliver admitted that he was surprised."The fact is," saidMr.Kenyon candidly, "I don't think Roland treats you as well as he should."Oliver was more and more surprised."I don't complain of Roland," he said. "I don't think he likes me, but perhaps that is not his fault. We are quite different.""Still he might treat you well.""Don't think of that,Mr.Kenyon; Roland has never done me any serious harm, and if he proposed to do it, I am able to take care of myself."Oliver did not say this in an offensive tone, but with manly independence."You are quite magnanimous," saidMr.Kenyon. "I am just beginning to appreciate you. I own that I used to have a prejudice against you, and it is possible I may have treated you harshly; but I have learned to know you better. I find you a straightforward, manly young fellow.""Thank you, sir," said Oliver, very much astonished. "I am afraid you do me more than justice. I hope to retain your good opinion.""I have no doubt you will," saidMr.Kenyon, in a quiet and paternal tone. "You have probably noticed that my manner toward you has changed of late?""Yes, sir, I have noticed the change, and been glad to see it.""Of course, of course. Now, I have got something to tell you."Oliver naturally felt curious."I want to tell you why I have brought you to New York to-day. You probably thought it was merely for a pleasant excursion.""Yes, sir.""I have another object in view. Noticing as I have the dislike—well, the incompatibility between you and Roland, I have thought it best to make separate arrangements for you."Now Oliver was strangely interested. What plan hadMr.Kenyon formed for him?"I intend you to remain in the city. How does that suit you?"There are not many boys of Oliver's age to whom such a prospect would not be pleasing. He answered promptly:"I should like it very much.""No doubt Roland will envy you," saidMr.Kenyon. "I am sure he would prefer the city to our quiet little country village. But I cannot make up my mind to part with him. He is my own son, and though I endeavor to treat you both alike, of course that makes some difference," saidMr.Kenyon, in rather an apologetic tone."Of course it does," said Oliver, who did not feel in the least sensitive about his step-father's superior affection for Roland."Where am I to live in the city?" he asked next."There are two courses open to you," saidMr.Kenyon. "You might either go to some school in the city or enter some place of business. Which would you prefer?"Had Oliver been an enthusiastic student, he would have decided in favor of school. He was a good scholar for his age, but, like all boys, he fancied a change. It seemed to him that he would like to obtain a business position, and he said so.His step-father anticipated this, and wished it. Had Oliver decided otherwise, he would have exerted his influence to have him change his plan."Perhaps you are right," saidMr.Kenyon meditatively. "A bright, smart boy like you, is, of course, anxious to get to work and do something for himself. Besides, business men tell me that it is always best to begin young. How old are you?""Almost sixteen," answered Oliver."I was only fourteen when I commenced business. Yes, I think you are right.""Is it easy to get a position in the city?" asked Oliver, getting interested."Not unless you have influence; but I think I have influence enough to secure you one.""Thank you, sir.""In fact, I know of a party who is in want of a boy—an old acquaintance of mine. He will take you to oblige me.""What business is he in?""He has a gentlemen's furnishing store," answeredMr.Kenyon."Do you think that business is as good as some other kinds?" said Oliver dubiously."It is a capital business," said his step-father emphatically. "Pays splendid profits.""Who is the gentleman you refer to?" enquired Oliver, with natural interest."Well, to be frank with you, it is a nephew of my own. I set him up in business three years ago, and he has paid back every cent of my loan with interest out of the profits of his business. I can assure you it is a paying business.""I would judge so, from what you say," returned Oliver thoughtfully.Somehow he felt disappointed to learn that the employer proposed to him should be a relation of his step-father. This, however, was not an objection he could very well express."Suppose I should not like business," he suggested, "could I give it up and go to school?""Certainly," answeredMr.Kenyon. "Bear in mind, Oliver, that I exercise no compulsion over you. I think you are old enough now to be judge of your own affairs.""Thank you, sir."The conversation which we have reported took some time. After it was overMr.Kenyon devoted his attention to the morning papers, and Oliver was sufficiently amused looking out of the window and examining his fellow-passengers.Presently they reached the city. Leaving the cars, they got into a horse-car, for distances are great in New York.Oliver looked out of the car windows with a lively sense of satisfaction. How much gayer and more agreeable it would be, he thought, to be in business in a great city like New Yorkthan to live in a quiet little country village where nothing was going on. This was a natural feeling, but there was another side to the question which Oliver did not consider. How many families in the great, gay city are compelled to live in miserable tenements, amid noise and vicious surroundings, who, on the same income, could live comfortably and independently in the country, breathing God's pure air, and with nothing to repel or disgust them?"New York is rather a lively place, Oliver," saidMr.Kenyon, who read his young companion's thoughts. "I think you will like to live here.""I am sure I shall," said Oliver eagerly. "I should think you would prefer it yourself,Mr.Kenyon.""Perhaps I may remove here some day, Oliver. I own that I have thought of it. Roland would like it better, I am sure.""Yes, sir, I think he would.""Where is the store you spoke of,Mr.Kenyon?" he queried, after a pause. "Are we going there now?""Yes; we will go there in the first place. We may as well get matters settled as soon as possible. Of course, you won't have to go to work immediately. You can take a little time to see the city—say till next Monday.""Thank, you, sir. I should prefer that.""We get out here," saidMr.Kenyon after a while.They were on the Third Avenue line of cars, and it was to a shop on the Bowery thatMr.Kenyon directed his steps. It was by no means a large shop, but the windows were full of articles, labelled with cheap prices, and some even were displayed on the sidewalk. This is a very common practice with shops on the Bowery and Third Avenue, as visitors to New York need not be reminded. On a sign-board over the door the name of the proprietor was conspicuously displayed thus:EZEKIEL BOND,Cheap Furnishing Store."This is the place, Oliver," saidMr.Kenyon. "Ezekiel Bond is my nephew.""It seems rather small," commented Oliver, feeling a little disappointed."You mustn't judge of the amount of business done by the size of the shop. My nephew's plan is to avoid a large rent, and to replenish his stock frequently. He is a very shrewd and successful man of business. He understands how to manage. The great thing is to make money, Oliver, and Ezekiel knows how to do it. There are many men with large stores, heavy stocks, and great expenses who scarcely make both ends meet. Now, my nephew cleared ten thousand dollars last year. What do you say to that?""I shouldn't think it possible to have such a large trade in such a small place," answered Oliver, surprised."It is a fact, though. That's a nice income to look forward to, eh, Oliver?""Yes, sir."While this was going on they were standing in front of the window."Now," saidMr.Kenyon, "come in and I will introduce you to my nephew."
SOON after they were seated in the cars, bound for New York,Mr.Kenyon remarked:
"Perhaps you are surprised, Oliver, that I take you with me instead of Roland."
Oliver admitted that he was surprised.
"The fact is," saidMr.Kenyon candidly, "I don't think Roland treats you as well as he should."
Oliver was more and more surprised.
"I don't complain of Roland," he said. "I don't think he likes me, but perhaps that is not his fault. We are quite different."
"Still he might treat you well."
"Don't think of that,Mr.Kenyon; Roland has never done me any serious harm, and if he proposed to do it, I am able to take care of myself."
Oliver did not say this in an offensive tone, but with manly independence.
"You are quite magnanimous," saidMr.Kenyon. "I am just beginning to appreciate you. I own that I used to have a prejudice against you, and it is possible I may have treated you harshly; but I have learned to know you better. I find you a straightforward, manly young fellow."
"Thank you, sir," said Oliver, very much astonished. "I am afraid you do me more than justice. I hope to retain your good opinion."
"I have no doubt you will," saidMr.Kenyon, in a quiet and paternal tone. "You have probably noticed that my manner toward you has changed of late?"
"Yes, sir, I have noticed the change, and been glad to see it."
"Of course, of course. Now, I have got something to tell you."
Oliver naturally felt curious.
"I want to tell you why I have brought you to New York to-day. You probably thought it was merely for a pleasant excursion."
"Yes, sir."
"I have another object in view. Noticing as I have the dislike—well, the incompatibility between you and Roland, I have thought it best to make separate arrangements for you."
Now Oliver was strangely interested. What plan hadMr.Kenyon formed for him?
"I intend you to remain in the city. How does that suit you?"
There are not many boys of Oliver's age to whom such a prospect would not be pleasing. He answered promptly:
"I should like it very much."
"No doubt Roland will envy you," saidMr.Kenyon. "I am sure he would prefer the city to our quiet little country village. But I cannot make up my mind to part with him. He is my own son, and though I endeavor to treat you both alike, of course that makes some difference," saidMr.Kenyon, in rather an apologetic tone.
"Of course it does," said Oliver, who did not feel in the least sensitive about his step-father's superior affection for Roland.
"Where am I to live in the city?" he asked next.
"There are two courses open to you," saidMr.Kenyon. "You might either go to some school in the city or enter some place of business. Which would you prefer?"
Had Oliver been an enthusiastic student, he would have decided in favor of school. He was a good scholar for his age, but, like all boys, he fancied a change. It seemed to him that he would like to obtain a business position, and he said so.
His step-father anticipated this, and wished it. Had Oliver decided otherwise, he would have exerted his influence to have him change his plan.
"Perhaps you are right," saidMr.Kenyon meditatively. "A bright, smart boy like you, is, of course, anxious to get to work and do something for himself. Besides, business men tell me that it is always best to begin young. How old are you?"
"Almost sixteen," answered Oliver.
"I was only fourteen when I commenced business. Yes, I think you are right."
"Is it easy to get a position in the city?" asked Oliver, getting interested.
"Not unless you have influence; but I think I have influence enough to secure you one."
"Thank you, sir."
"In fact, I know of a party who is in want of a boy—an old acquaintance of mine. He will take you to oblige me."
"What business is he in?"
"He has a gentlemen's furnishing store," answeredMr.Kenyon.
"Do you think that business is as good as some other kinds?" said Oliver dubiously.
"It is a capital business," said his step-father emphatically. "Pays splendid profits."
"Who is the gentleman you refer to?" enquired Oliver, with natural interest.
"Well, to be frank with you, it is a nephew of my own. I set him up in business three years ago, and he has paid back every cent of my loan with interest out of the profits of his business. I can assure you it is a paying business."
"I would judge so, from what you say," returned Oliver thoughtfully.
Somehow he felt disappointed to learn that the employer proposed to him should be a relation of his step-father. This, however, was not an objection he could very well express.
"Suppose I should not like business," he suggested, "could I give it up and go to school?"
"Certainly," answeredMr.Kenyon. "Bear in mind, Oliver, that I exercise no compulsion over you. I think you are old enough now to be judge of your own affairs."
"Thank you, sir."
The conversation which we have reported took some time. After it was overMr.Kenyon devoted his attention to the morning papers, and Oliver was sufficiently amused looking out of the window and examining his fellow-passengers.
Presently they reached the city. Leaving the cars, they got into a horse-car, for distances are great in New York.
Oliver looked out of the car windows with a lively sense of satisfaction. How much gayer and more agreeable it would be, he thought, to be in business in a great city like New Yorkthan to live in a quiet little country village where nothing was going on. This was a natural feeling, but there was another side to the question which Oliver did not consider. How many families in the great, gay city are compelled to live in miserable tenements, amid noise and vicious surroundings, who, on the same income, could live comfortably and independently in the country, breathing God's pure air, and with nothing to repel or disgust them?
"New York is rather a lively place, Oliver," saidMr.Kenyon, who read his young companion's thoughts. "I think you will like to live here."
"I am sure I shall," said Oliver eagerly. "I should think you would prefer it yourself,Mr.Kenyon."
"Perhaps I may remove here some day, Oliver. I own that I have thought of it. Roland would like it better, I am sure."
"Yes, sir, I think he would."
"Where is the store you spoke of,Mr.Kenyon?" he queried, after a pause. "Are we going there now?"
"Yes; we will go there in the first place. We may as well get matters settled as soon as possible. Of course, you won't have to go to work immediately. You can take a little time to see the city—say till next Monday."
"Thank, you, sir. I should prefer that."
"We get out here," saidMr.Kenyon after a while.
They were on the Third Avenue line of cars, and it was to a shop on the Bowery thatMr.Kenyon directed his steps. It was by no means a large shop, but the windows were full of articles, labelled with cheap prices, and some even were displayed on the sidewalk. This is a very common practice with shops on the Bowery and Third Avenue, as visitors to New York need not be reminded. On a sign-board over the door the name of the proprietor was conspicuously displayed thus:
EZEKIEL BOND,
Cheap Furnishing Store.
"This is the place, Oliver," saidMr.Kenyon. "Ezekiel Bond is my nephew."
"It seems rather small," commented Oliver, feeling a little disappointed.
"You mustn't judge of the amount of business done by the size of the shop. My nephew's plan is to avoid a large rent, and to replenish his stock frequently. He is a very shrewd and successful man of business. He understands how to manage. The great thing is to make money, Oliver, and Ezekiel knows how to do it. There are many men with large stores, heavy stocks, and great expenses who scarcely make both ends meet. Now, my nephew cleared ten thousand dollars last year. What do you say to that?"
"I shouldn't think it possible to have such a large trade in such a small place," answered Oliver, surprised.
"It is a fact, though. That's a nice income to look forward to, eh, Oliver?"
"Yes, sir."
While this was going on they were standing in front of the window.
"Now," saidMr.Kenyon, "come in and I will introduce you to my nephew."
CHAPTERXIV.A STORE IN THE BOWERY.THE store was crowded with a miscellaneous collection of cheap articles. That such a business should yield such large profits struck Oliver with surprise, but he reflected that it was possible, and that he was not qualified to judge of the extent of trade in a city store.A tall man, pock-marked, and with reddish hair, stood behind the counter, and, with the exception of a young clerk of nineteen, appeared to be the only salesman. This was Ezekiel Bond."How are you, Ezekiel?" saidMr.Kenyon affably, advancing to the counter."Pretty well, thank you, uncle," said the other, twisting his features into the semblance of a smile. "When did you come into town?""This morning only.""That isn't Roland, is it?""Oh, no; it is my step-son, Oliver Conrad. Oliver, this is my nephew, Ezekiel Bond.""Glad to see you,Mr.Conrad," said Ezekiel, putting out his hand as if he were a pump-handle. "Do you like New York?""I haven't seen much of it yet. I think I shall.""Ezekiel," saidMr.Kenyon, "can I see you a few minutes in private?""Oh, certainly. We'll go into the back room. WillMr.Conrad come, too?""No; he can remain with your clerk while we converse.""John, take care ofMr.Conrad," said Ezekiel."All right, sir."John Meadows was a Bowery boy, and better adapted for the store he was in than for one in a more fashionable thoroughfare."The boss wants me to entertain you," he remarked, when they were alone. "How shall I do it?""Don't trouble yourself," said Oliver, smiling."I'd offer you a cigarette, only the boss don't allow smoking in the store.""I don't smoke," said Oliver."You don't! Where was you brung up?" asked John."In the country.""Oh, that accounts for it. Mean ter say you've never puffed a weed?""I never have.""Then you don't know what 'tis to enjoy yourself. Who's that man you came in with?""My step-father.""I've seen him here before. He's related to my boss. I don't think any more of him for that.""Why not?" asked Oliver, rather amused. "Don't you likeMr.Bond?""Come here," said John.Oliver approached the counter, and leaning over, John whispered mysteriously:"He's a file!""A what?""A file, and an awful rasping one at that. He's as mean as dirt.""I am sorry to hear that, forMr.Kenyon wants me to begin business in this store."John whistled."That's a go," he said. "Are you going to do it?""I suppose I shall try it. If I don't like it I can give it up at any time.""Then I wish I was you. I don't like it, but I can't give it up, or I might have to live on nothing a week. I don't see what the boss wants an extra hand for. There aint enough trade to keep us busy.""Mr.Kenyon tells meMr.Bond has made money.""Well, I am glad to hear it. The boss is always a-complainin' that trade is dull, and he must cut me down. If he does I'll sink into a hungry grave, that's all.""How much do you get?" asked Oliver, amused by his companion's tone."Eight dollars a week; and what's that to support a gentleman on? I tell you what, I haven't had a new necktie for three months.""That is hard.""Hard! I should say it was hard. Look at them shoes!"And John, bounding over the counter, displayed a foot which had successfully struggled out of its encasement on one side. "Isn't it disgraceful that a gentleman should have to wear such foot-cases as them?""Won'tMr.Bond pay you more?" asked Oliver."I guess not. I asked him last week, and he lectured me on the dulness of trade. Then he went on for to show that eight dollars was a fortune, and I'd orter keep my carriage on it. He's a regular old file, he is.""From what you say, I don't think I shall get very high pay," said Oliver."It's different with you. You're a relation. You'll be took care of.""I'm not related toMr.Bond," said Oliver, sensible of a feeling of repugnance. "If it depends on that, I shall expect no favors.""You'll get 'em, all the same. His uncle's your step-father.""Where do you live?""Oh, I've got a room round on Bleecker Street. It's about big enough for a good-sized cat to live in. I have to double myself up nights so as not to overflow into the entry.""Why don't you get a better room?""Why don't I live on Fifth Avenue, and set up my carriage? 'Cause it can't be done on eight dollars a week. I have to live accordin' to my income.""That's where you are right. How much do you have to pay for your room?""A dollar and a half a week.""I don't ask from curiosity. I suppose I shall have to get a place somewhere.""When you get ready, come to me. I'll find you a place."Here an old lady entered—an old lady from the country evidently, in a bombazine dress and a bonnet which might have been in fashion twenty years before. She was short-sighted, and peered inquisitively at Oliver and John."Which of you youngsters keeps this store?" she enquired."I am the gentleman, ma'am," said John, with a flourish."Oh, you be! Well, I'm from the country.""Never should have thought it, ma'am. You look like an uptown lady I know—Mrs.General Buster.""You don't say," returned the old lady, evidently feeling complimented. "I'mMrs.Deacon Grimes of Pottsville.""Is the deacon well?" asked John, with a ludicrous assumption of interest."He's pooty smart," answeredMrs.Grimes, "though he's troubled sometimes with a pain in the back.""So am I," said John; "but I know what to do for it.""What do you do?""Have somebody rub me down with a brick-bat.""The deacon wouldn't allow no one to do that," said the old lady, accepting the remedy in good faith."Can I sell you a silk necktie this morning, ma'am?" asked John."No; I want some handkerchers for the deacon; red silk ones he wants.""We haven't any of that kind. Here's some nice cotton ones, a good deal cheaper.""Will they wash?" askedMrs.Grimes cautiously."Of course they will. We import 'em ourselves.""Well, I don't know. If you'll sell 'em real cheap I'll take two."Then ensued a discussion of the price, which Oliver found very amusing. Finally the old lady took two handkerchiefs and retired."Is that the way you do business?" asked Oliver."Yes. We have all sorts of customers, and have to please 'em all. The old woman wanted to know if they would wash. The color'll all wash out in one washing.""I am afraid you cheated her, then.""What's the odds? She wasn't willing to pay for a good article.""I don't believe I can do business that way," thought Oliver.Just thenMr.Kenyon returned with Ezekiel Bond from the back room in which they had been conferring."It's all settled, Oliver," he said. "Mr.Bond has agreed to take you, and you are to begin work next Monday morning."Oliver bowed. The place did not seem quite so desirable to him now."I will be on hand," he answered.WhenMr.Kenyon and he had left the store, the former said:"Every Saturday eveningMr.Bond will hand you twelve dollars, out of which you will be expected to defray all your expenses.""The other clerk told me he only got eight.""Part of this sum comes from me. I don't want you to be pinched. You have been brought up differently from him. I hope you'll like my nephew.""I hope I shall," said Oliver, but his tone implied doubt.
THE store was crowded with a miscellaneous collection of cheap articles. That such a business should yield such large profits struck Oliver with surprise, but he reflected that it was possible, and that he was not qualified to judge of the extent of trade in a city store.
A tall man, pock-marked, and with reddish hair, stood behind the counter, and, with the exception of a young clerk of nineteen, appeared to be the only salesman. This was Ezekiel Bond.
"How are you, Ezekiel?" saidMr.Kenyon affably, advancing to the counter.
"Pretty well, thank you, uncle," said the other, twisting his features into the semblance of a smile. "When did you come into town?"
"This morning only."
"That isn't Roland, is it?"
"Oh, no; it is my step-son, Oliver Conrad. Oliver, this is my nephew, Ezekiel Bond."
"Glad to see you,Mr.Conrad," said Ezekiel, putting out his hand as if he were a pump-handle. "Do you like New York?"
"I haven't seen much of it yet. I think I shall."
"Ezekiel," saidMr.Kenyon, "can I see you a few minutes in private?"
"Oh, certainly. We'll go into the back room. WillMr.Conrad come, too?"
"No; he can remain with your clerk while we converse."
"John, take care ofMr.Conrad," said Ezekiel.
"All right, sir."
John Meadows was a Bowery boy, and better adapted for the store he was in than for one in a more fashionable thoroughfare.
"The boss wants me to entertain you," he remarked, when they were alone. "How shall I do it?"
"Don't trouble yourself," said Oliver, smiling.
"I'd offer you a cigarette, only the boss don't allow smoking in the store."
"I don't smoke," said Oliver.
"You don't! Where was you brung up?" asked John.
"In the country."
"Oh, that accounts for it. Mean ter say you've never puffed a weed?"
"I never have."
"Then you don't know what 'tis to enjoy yourself. Who's that man you came in with?"
"My step-father."
"I've seen him here before. He's related to my boss. I don't think any more of him for that."
"Why not?" asked Oliver, rather amused. "Don't you likeMr.Bond?"
"Come here," said John.
Oliver approached the counter, and leaning over, John whispered mysteriously:
"He's a file!"
"A what?"
"A file, and an awful rasping one at that. He's as mean as dirt."
"I am sorry to hear that, forMr.Kenyon wants me to begin business in this store."
John whistled.
"That's a go," he said. "Are you going to do it?"
"I suppose I shall try it. If I don't like it I can give it up at any time."
"Then I wish I was you. I don't like it, but I can't give it up, or I might have to live on nothing a week. I don't see what the boss wants an extra hand for. There aint enough trade to keep us busy."
"Mr.Kenyon tells meMr.Bond has made money."
"Well, I am glad to hear it. The boss is always a-complainin' that trade is dull, and he must cut me down. If he does I'll sink into a hungry grave, that's all."
"How much do you get?" asked Oliver, amused by his companion's tone.
"Eight dollars a week; and what's that to support a gentleman on? I tell you what, I haven't had a new necktie for three months."
"That is hard."
"Hard! I should say it was hard. Look at them shoes!"
And John, bounding over the counter, displayed a foot which had successfully struggled out of its encasement on one side. "Isn't it disgraceful that a gentleman should have to wear such foot-cases as them?"
"Won'tMr.Bond pay you more?" asked Oliver.
"I guess not. I asked him last week, and he lectured me on the dulness of trade. Then he went on for to show that eight dollars was a fortune, and I'd orter keep my carriage on it. He's a regular old file, he is."
"From what you say, I don't think I shall get very high pay," said Oliver.
"It's different with you. You're a relation. You'll be took care of."
"I'm not related toMr.Bond," said Oliver, sensible of a feeling of repugnance. "If it depends on that, I shall expect no favors."
"You'll get 'em, all the same. His uncle's your step-father."
"Where do you live?"
"Oh, I've got a room round on Bleecker Street. It's about big enough for a good-sized cat to live in. I have to double myself up nights so as not to overflow into the entry."
"Why don't you get a better room?"
"Why don't I live on Fifth Avenue, and set up my carriage? 'Cause it can't be done on eight dollars a week. I have to live accordin' to my income."
"That's where you are right. How much do you have to pay for your room?"
"A dollar and a half a week."
"I don't ask from curiosity. I suppose I shall have to get a place somewhere."
"When you get ready, come to me. I'll find you a place."
Here an old lady entered—an old lady from the country evidently, in a bombazine dress and a bonnet which might have been in fashion twenty years before. She was short-sighted, and peered inquisitively at Oliver and John.
"Which of you youngsters keeps this store?" she enquired.
"I am the gentleman, ma'am," said John, with a flourish.
"Oh, you be! Well, I'm from the country."
"Never should have thought it, ma'am. You look like an uptown lady I know—Mrs.General Buster."
"You don't say," returned the old lady, evidently feeling complimented. "I'mMrs.Deacon Grimes of Pottsville."
"Is the deacon well?" asked John, with a ludicrous assumption of interest.
"He's pooty smart," answeredMrs.Grimes, "though he's troubled sometimes with a pain in the back."
"So am I," said John; "but I know what to do for it."
"What do you do?"
"Have somebody rub me down with a brick-bat."
"The deacon wouldn't allow no one to do that," said the old lady, accepting the remedy in good faith.
"Can I sell you a silk necktie this morning, ma'am?" asked John.
"No; I want some handkerchers for the deacon; red silk ones he wants."
"We haven't any of that kind. Here's some nice cotton ones, a good deal cheaper."
"Will they wash?" askedMrs.Grimes cautiously.
"Of course they will. We import 'em ourselves."
"Well, I don't know. If you'll sell 'em real cheap I'll take two."
Then ensued a discussion of the price, which Oliver found very amusing. Finally the old lady took two handkerchiefs and retired.
"Is that the way you do business?" asked Oliver.
"Yes. We have all sorts of customers, and have to please 'em all. The old woman wanted to know if they would wash. The color'll all wash out in one washing."
"I am afraid you cheated her, then."
"What's the odds? She wasn't willing to pay for a good article."
"I don't believe I can do business that way," thought Oliver.
Just thenMr.Kenyon returned with Ezekiel Bond from the back room in which they had been conferring.
"It's all settled, Oliver," he said. "Mr.Bond has agreed to take you, and you are to begin work next Monday morning."
Oliver bowed. The place did not seem quite so desirable to him now.
"I will be on hand," he answered.
WhenMr.Kenyon and he had left the store, the former said:
"Every Saturday eveningMr.Bond will hand you twelve dollars, out of which you will be expected to defray all your expenses."
"The other clerk told me he only got eight."
"Part of this sum comes from me. I don't want you to be pinched. You have been brought up differently from him. I hope you'll like my nephew."
"I hope I shall," said Oliver, but his tone implied doubt.
CHAPTERXV.JOHN'S COURTSHIP.OLIVER didn't go back to his native village.Mr.Kenyon sent on his trunk, and thus obviated the necessity. Our hero took up his quarters at a cheap hotel until, with the help of John Meadows, he obtained a room inSt.Mark's Place. The room was a large square one, tolerably well furnished. The price asked was four dollars a week."That is rather more than I ought to pay just for a room," said Oliver."I'll tell you how you can get it cheaper," said John Meadows."How?""Take me for your room-mate. I'll pay a dollar and a half toward the rent."Oliver hesitated, but finally decided to accept John's offer. Though his fellow-clerk was not altogether to his taste, it would preventhis feeling lonely, and he had no other acquaintances to select from."All right," he said."Is it a bargain?" said John, delighted. "I'll give my Bleecker Street landlady notice right off. Why, I shall feel like a prince here!""Then this is better than your room?""You bet! That's only big enough for a middling sized cat, while this——""Is big enough for two large ones," said Oliver, smiling."Yes, and a whole litter of kittens into the bargain. We'll have a jolly time together.""I hope so.""Of course," said John seriously, "when I get married that'll terminate the contract.""Do you think of getting married soon?" asked Oliver, surprised and amused."I'll tell you about it," said John, with the utmost gravity. "Last month I had my fortune told.""Well?""It was told byMme.Catalina, the seventhdaughter of a seventh daughter; so, of course, she wasn't a humbug.""Does that make any difference—being the seventh daughter?""Of course it does. Well, she told me that I should marry a rich widow, and ever after live in luxury," said John, evidently elated by his prospects."Did you believe her?""Of course I did. She told things that I knew to be true about the past, and that convinced me she could foretell the future.""Such as what?""She told me I had lately had a letter from a person who was interested in me. So I had. I got a letter from Charlie Cameron only a week before. Me and Charlie went to school together, so, of course, he feels interested in me.""What else?""She said a girl with black eyes was in love with me.""Is that true?"John nodded complacently."Who is it?""I don't know her name, but I've met her two or three times on the street, and she always looked at me and smiled.""Struck with your looks, I suppose," suggested Oliver.John stroked an incipient mustache and stole a look into the glass."Looks like it," he said."If she were only a rich widow you wouldn't mind cultivating her acquaintance?""I wish she were," said John thoughtfully."You haven't any widow in view, have you?""Yes, I have," said John, rather to Oliver's surprise."Who is it?""Her husband used to keep a lager-beer saloon on Bleecker Street, and now the widow carries it on. I've enquired about, and I hear she's worth ten thousand dollars. Would you like to see her?""Very much," answered Oliver, whose curiosity was excited."Come along, then. We'll drop in and get a couple of glasses of something."Following his guide, or rather side by side, Oliver walked round to the saloon."Does she know you admire her?" enquired Oliver."I don't," said John. "I admire her money.""Would you be willing to sell yourself?""For ten thousand dollars? I guess I would. That's the easiest way of getting rich. It would take me two hundred years, at eight dollars a week, to make such a fortune."They entered the saloon. Behind the counter stood a woman of thirty-five, weighing upward of two hundred pounds. She looked good-natured, but the idea of a marriage between her and John Meadows, a youth of nineteen, seemed too ridiculous."What will you have?" she asked, in a Teutonic accent."Sarsaparilla and lager!" answered John.Frau Winterhammer filled two mugs in the most business-like manner. She evidently had no idea that John was an admirer.In the same business-like manner she received the money he laid on the counter.John smacked his lips in affected delight."It is very good," he said. "Your lager is always good,Mrs.Winterhammer.""So!" replied the good woman."That's so!" repeated John."Then perhaps you comes again," said the frau, with an eye to business."Oh, yes; I'll be sure to come again," said John, with a tender significance which was quite lost upon the matter-of-fact lady."And you bring your friends, too," she suggested."Yes; I will bring my friends.""Dat is good," saidMrs.Winterhammer, in a satisfied tone.Having no excuse for stopping longer the two friends went out."What do you think of her, Oliver?" asked John."There's a good deal of her," answered Oliver, using a non-committal phrase."Yes, she's rather plump," said John. "I don't like a skeleton, for my part.""She doesn't look much like one.""She's good-looking; don't you think so?" enquired John, looking anxiously in his companion's face."She looks pleasant; but, John, she's a good deal older than you.""She's about thirty.""Nearer forty.""Oh, no, she isn't. And she's worth ten thousand dollars! Think, Oliver, how nice it would be to be worth ten thousand dollars! I wouldn't clerk it for old Bond any more, I can tell you that.""Would you keep the saloon?""No, I'd let her keep that and I'd set up in something else. We'd double the money in a short time and then I'd retire and go to Europe.""That's all very well, John; but suppose she won't have you?"John smiled—a self-satisfied smile."She wouldn't reject a stylish young fellow like me—do you think she would? She'd feel flattered to get such a young husband.""Perhaps she would," said Oliver, who thought John under a strange hallucination."You must invite me to the wedding whenever it comes off, John.""You shall be my groomsman," answered John confidently.A week later John said to Oliver after supper:"Oliver, I'm goin' to do it.""To do what?""I'm goin' to propose to the widder to-night.""So soon!""Yes; I'm tired of workin' for old Bond; I want to go in for myself.""Well, John, I wish you good luck, but I shall be sorry to lose you for a room-mate.""Lend me a necktie, won't you, Oliver? I want to take her eye, you know."So Oliver lent his most showy necktie to his room-mate, and John departed on his important mission.About half an hour later John rushed into the room in a violent state of excitement, his collar and bosom looking as if they had been soaked in dirty water, and sank into a chair."What's the matter?" asked Oliver."I've cast her off!" answered John in a hollow voice. "She is a faithless deceiver.""Tell me all about it, Jack."John told his story. He went to the saloon, ordered a glass of lager, and after drinking it asked the momentous question. Frau Winterhammer seemed surprised, said "So!" and then called "Fritz!" A stout fellow in shirt-sleeves came out of a rear room, and the widow said something to him in German. Then he seized John's arms, and the widow deliberately threw the contents of a pitcher of lager in his face and bosom. Then both laughed rudely, and John was released."What shall you do about it, John?" asked Oliver, with difficulty refraining from laughing."I have cast her off!" he said gloomily, "I will never enter the saloon again.""I wouldn't," said Oliver.Oliver would have felt less like laughing had he known that at that very moment Ezekiel Bond, prompted byMr.Kenyon, was conspiring to get him into trouble.
OLIVER didn't go back to his native village.Mr.Kenyon sent on his trunk, and thus obviated the necessity. Our hero took up his quarters at a cheap hotel until, with the help of John Meadows, he obtained a room inSt.Mark's Place. The room was a large square one, tolerably well furnished. The price asked was four dollars a week.
"That is rather more than I ought to pay just for a room," said Oliver.
"I'll tell you how you can get it cheaper," said John Meadows.
"How?"
"Take me for your room-mate. I'll pay a dollar and a half toward the rent."
Oliver hesitated, but finally decided to accept John's offer. Though his fellow-clerk was not altogether to his taste, it would preventhis feeling lonely, and he had no other acquaintances to select from.
"All right," he said.
"Is it a bargain?" said John, delighted. "I'll give my Bleecker Street landlady notice right off. Why, I shall feel like a prince here!"
"Then this is better than your room?"
"You bet! That's only big enough for a middling sized cat, while this——"
"Is big enough for two large ones," said Oliver, smiling.
"Yes, and a whole litter of kittens into the bargain. We'll have a jolly time together."
"I hope so."
"Of course," said John seriously, "when I get married that'll terminate the contract."
"Do you think of getting married soon?" asked Oliver, surprised and amused.
"I'll tell you about it," said John, with the utmost gravity. "Last month I had my fortune told."
"Well?"
"It was told byMme.Catalina, the seventhdaughter of a seventh daughter; so, of course, she wasn't a humbug."
"Does that make any difference—being the seventh daughter?"
"Of course it does. Well, she told me that I should marry a rich widow, and ever after live in luxury," said John, evidently elated by his prospects.
"Did you believe her?"
"Of course I did. She told things that I knew to be true about the past, and that convinced me she could foretell the future."
"Such as what?"
"She told me I had lately had a letter from a person who was interested in me. So I had. I got a letter from Charlie Cameron only a week before. Me and Charlie went to school together, so, of course, he feels interested in me."
"What else?"
"She said a girl with black eyes was in love with me."
"Is that true?"
John nodded complacently.
"Who is it?"
"I don't know her name, but I've met her two or three times on the street, and she always looked at me and smiled."
"Struck with your looks, I suppose," suggested Oliver.
John stroked an incipient mustache and stole a look into the glass.
"Looks like it," he said.
"If she were only a rich widow you wouldn't mind cultivating her acquaintance?"
"I wish she were," said John thoughtfully.
"You haven't any widow in view, have you?"
"Yes, I have," said John, rather to Oliver's surprise.
"Who is it?"
"Her husband used to keep a lager-beer saloon on Bleecker Street, and now the widow carries it on. I've enquired about, and I hear she's worth ten thousand dollars. Would you like to see her?"
"Very much," answered Oliver, whose curiosity was excited.
"Come along, then. We'll drop in and get a couple of glasses of something."
Following his guide, or rather side by side, Oliver walked round to the saloon.
"Does she know you admire her?" enquired Oliver.
"I don't," said John. "I admire her money."
"Would you be willing to sell yourself?"
"For ten thousand dollars? I guess I would. That's the easiest way of getting rich. It would take me two hundred years, at eight dollars a week, to make such a fortune."
They entered the saloon. Behind the counter stood a woman of thirty-five, weighing upward of two hundred pounds. She looked good-natured, but the idea of a marriage between her and John Meadows, a youth of nineteen, seemed too ridiculous.
"What will you have?" she asked, in a Teutonic accent.
"Sarsaparilla and lager!" answered John.
Frau Winterhammer filled two mugs in the most business-like manner. She evidently had no idea that John was an admirer.
In the same business-like manner she received the money he laid on the counter.
John smacked his lips in affected delight.
"It is very good," he said. "Your lager is always good,Mrs.Winterhammer."
"So!" replied the good woman.
"That's so!" repeated John.
"Then perhaps you comes again," said the frau, with an eye to business.
"Oh, yes; I'll be sure to come again," said John, with a tender significance which was quite lost upon the matter-of-fact lady.
"And you bring your friends, too," she suggested.
"Yes; I will bring my friends."
"Dat is good," saidMrs.Winterhammer, in a satisfied tone.
Having no excuse for stopping longer the two friends went out.
"What do you think of her, Oliver?" asked John.
"There's a good deal of her," answered Oliver, using a non-committal phrase.
"Yes, she's rather plump," said John. "I don't like a skeleton, for my part."
"She doesn't look much like one."
"She's good-looking; don't you think so?" enquired John, looking anxiously in his companion's face.
"She looks pleasant; but, John, she's a good deal older than you."
"She's about thirty."
"Nearer forty."
"Oh, no, she isn't. And she's worth ten thousand dollars! Think, Oliver, how nice it would be to be worth ten thousand dollars! I wouldn't clerk it for old Bond any more, I can tell you that."
"Would you keep the saloon?"
"No, I'd let her keep that and I'd set up in something else. We'd double the money in a short time and then I'd retire and go to Europe."
"That's all very well, John; but suppose she won't have you?"
John smiled—a self-satisfied smile.
"She wouldn't reject a stylish young fellow like me—do you think she would? She'd feel flattered to get such a young husband."
"Perhaps she would," said Oliver, who thought John under a strange hallucination."You must invite me to the wedding whenever it comes off, John."
"You shall be my groomsman," answered John confidently.
A week later John said to Oliver after supper:
"Oliver, I'm goin' to do it."
"To do what?"
"I'm goin' to propose to the widder to-night."
"So soon!"
"Yes; I'm tired of workin' for old Bond; I want to go in for myself."
"Well, John, I wish you good luck, but I shall be sorry to lose you for a room-mate."
"Lend me a necktie, won't you, Oliver? I want to take her eye, you know."
So Oliver lent his most showy necktie to his room-mate, and John departed on his important mission.
About half an hour later John rushed into the room in a violent state of excitement, his collar and bosom looking as if they had been soaked in dirty water, and sank into a chair.
"What's the matter?" asked Oliver.
"I've cast her off!" answered John in a hollow voice. "She is a faithless deceiver."
"Tell me all about it, Jack."
John told his story. He went to the saloon, ordered a glass of lager, and after drinking it asked the momentous question. Frau Winterhammer seemed surprised, said "So!" and then called "Fritz!" A stout fellow in shirt-sleeves came out of a rear room, and the widow said something to him in German. Then he seized John's arms, and the widow deliberately threw the contents of a pitcher of lager in his face and bosom. Then both laughed rudely, and John was released.
"What shall you do about it, John?" asked Oliver, with difficulty refraining from laughing.
"I have cast her off!" he said gloomily, "I will never enter the saloon again."
"I wouldn't," said Oliver.
Oliver would have felt less like laughing had he known that at that very moment Ezekiel Bond, prompted byMr.Kenyon, was conspiring to get him into trouble.