"He is going out into the world to seek his fortune," she answered sadly.
"He will fetch up in jail," said his step-father savagely.
"I think, Mr. Talbot, we will drop the subject. I do not feel equal to discussing it when my dear and only child is about to leave home, driven from it by you."
She rose and left the room.
"Well, I'm glad he's going," thought Talbot. "I can the better carry out my plans."
CHAPTER VI.
ON THE TRAIN.
His valise filled with a stock of necessary underwear, Robert walked to the railway station. It was a very sudden start, and he had no time to consider what he was to do, for the train moved off five minutes after his arrival.
He selected a seat by a window, and placed his valise on the seat beside his own.
It was not till the train had fairly started that he began to realize the importance of the step that he was taking. He was leaving a comfortable, nay, a luxurious home, where he was provided with every comfort, and by his own choice was undertaking to earn his own living. It was enough to make any boy feel serious. But Robert was manly and resolute, and he decided that anything would be better than to live under the same roof with his odious step-father.
Five minutes later a tall thin man walked over from the opposite side of the car, and said, "Will you allow me to sit beside you?"
"Certainly," answered Robert courteously, and removed his grip-sack.
"Thank you. I am tired of sitting alone, and thought I should like a chat with an intelligent young man."
Robert smiled.
"So you think I am an intelligent young man?" he said.
"I am sure of it."
"I am very much obliged, but what makes you think so?"
"I am well versed in character reading, being a professional phrenologist and a student of physiognomy. Are you going to the city?"
"Yes, sir. I think so."
"So am I. Are you connected with any business house there?"
"Not yet, sir. I may be before long."
"I may be able to help you get a place. I am extensively acquainted with business firms. But perhaps you have a place already secured?"
"No, sir."
"Are you well acquainted in Chicago?"
"I know scarcely anyone there—no one of any prominence."
"You may have to wait for a position. Pardon me—it is none of my business—but you oughtto have money enough to carry you on a few weeks in case you have to wait."
"I have some money," said Robert cautiously.
"That is well. I am glad to hear it. Are you well educated?"
"Tolerably so."
"Do you know anything about bookkeeping?"
"Yes, sir."
"I have a brother-in-law who is a commission merchant. Indeed I may say that Mr. Claflin, the great merchant, is a cousin of mine."
"Indeed, sir."
"I was once in Claflin's employ," continued the stranger. "I was head of one of the departments, with a salary of five thousand dollars a year."
"What made you leave so good a place?"
"I don't wonder you ask. It was because Claflin interfered with me. I felt that I ought to have full charge of my department, and would tolerate no interference. He interfered with me, and in a fit of anger I threw up my position. I dare say you think me foolish?"
"Yes, I do," answered Robert frankly.
"You are right, but an angry man doesn't stop to consider. Claflin seemed surprised, and no doubt he was sorry, but he is a proud man and hewouldn't demean himself by asking me to stay. So I put on my coat and left."
"Have you got on well since?"
"I went over to a rival merchant, but had to take less pay. Still I got on very well, till last spring, when I had an attack of malaria. That broke me down in health and pocket, and now I am what you call hard up."
"Hadn't you saved up anything from your large salary?"
"Yes, but I invested in running stock, and lost all."
"I wonder what he is telling me all this for?" mused Robert.
"I have about recovered my health, and now I shall soon get a good place," went on the stranger.
Here Robert took out his watch—it was an excellent Waltham silver watch—and consulted it.
"Let me look at your watch!" said the stranger.
Robert put it in his hands.
"A very good watch! Let me show you mine."
He drew from his pocket a showy gold watch—at least it was yellow, and had a good appearance.
"What do you think of it?"
"It is showy."
"Yes, and is of high grade. It is well worth seventy-five dollars, though I have had it for three years."
Robert was not especially interested. His own watch had cost but twenty-five, but it was a gift from his father, and as such he valued it.
"I have a great mind to offer you a bargain," said his companion.
Robert looked at him inquiringly.
"If you will give me ten dollars to boot, I will exchange with you."
"Why should you do that? You say your watch is worth seventy-five dollars."
"So it is, but, my young friend, I am very short of money. The silver watch would keep as good time, and the money would be of great service to me."
Robert shook his head.
"My watch was a present," he said, "I should not care to part with it."
"Of course, that is a consideration," said the stranger, appearing disappointed.
"Besides I could not very well spare ten dollars."
"You could easily pawn the watch for forty dollars."
"Why don't you do that?"
"Egad! I didn't think of it. I believe I will. By the way, will you do me a favor?"
"What is it?"
"Will you keep the watch for fifteen minutes? I am going out into the smoking-car, and I may go to sleep. That is the way smoking affects me. I might get robbed, but if you hold the watch I shall feel easy."
This seemed a strange proposal to make, but after all it was plausible. It seemed a trifling favor to grant. Why should he object?
"But how do you know I am honest," asked Robert. "You have only known me a few minutes."
"Didn't I tell you I was skilled in reading character? You have an honest face."
"Thank you for your favorable opinion."
"Do you consent?"
"Yes. How long will you be gone?"
"I shall come back before we reach the city."
"Very well, if you are anxious to have me take charge of it."
"Yes; I shall feel safe if it is in your hands."
"All right, sir."
Robert wore a sack coat with pockets on eachside. He put the watch in one of these pockets, and resumed looking out of the window.
His companion left the car and went to the car in the rear, which was the smoking-car.
Half an hour passed, and then a stout, thick-set man of thirty-five entered the car and walked through it, looking at the passengers as he passed along.
He paused in front of Robert's seat.
"Young man," he said, "show me your watch."
Robert looked at him in astonishment.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean that I have had my watch stolen, and I am sure some passenger has taken it."
"What kind of a watch was it?"
"It was a gold watch. Have you such a watch about you?"
"Yes, but——"
"Never mind about any buts," said the other fiercely. "I can tell by your expression that you have got my watch. Let me have it at once."
"A gentleman, now in the smoking-car, gave me a watch to keep for him."
"And you have it about you?"
"Yes."
"Give it to me at once."
"I couldn't, without his permission."
"That won't go down. Either give me the watch, or I will have you arrested."
"I have no right to give you the watch. If it is yours it was stolen by the man who handed it to me to keep for him."
"I give you two minutes to produce the watch. If you will do this, and pay me ten dollars besides, I will overlook your offense."
Robert's face flushed. He felt that he was in a tight place. This man might be a confederate of the other. But how was he to prove it?
CHAPTER VII.
BAFFLED.
The charge had come upon Robert so suddenly that he hardly knew what to say. Gradually, his presence of mind returned to him.
"What made you fix upon me as the one likely to have the watch?" he asked. "Why didn't you select some other passenger?"
The stout man hesitated. He could not say what was the truth, that Robert had been described to him by his confederate.
"It was your guilty look," he answered, after a pause.
"So you think I look guilty?" said our hero, with an amused smile.
"Yes, I do," said the other defiantly. "I have had a great deal to do with crooks in my time."
"No doubt of it," chimed in a new voice.
Both Robert and the man who accused him looked round. The voice proceeded from a tall, rough-looking man who sat behind Robert.
The accuser looked a little uneasy.
"As I said, I know a crook when I see him."
"So do I," said the rough-looking man, who had the appearance of a Western miner.
"My friend," said the claimant of the watch severely, "will you do me the favor to mind your own business?"
"That's good advice. I hope you follow it yourself."
"Will you give me the watch, or are you prepared to be arrested?"
"Describe the watch," said Robert composedly.
"I have. It is a gold watch."
"So is this," said the miner, producing a heavy gold watch from his fob.
"You needn't put in your oar," said the claimant, frowning.
"The boy is right. Describe the watch."
"I have already said that it is a gold watch."
"So is this. Do you claim this watch as yours?"
"No. I suppose it is your watch. The watch in the boy's pocket is not his."
"Correct, squire. But that doesn't prove it is yours."
"Where is the man who handed it to me?" asked Robert.
"I don't know. I don't believe there is any such man."
"Bring him here, and I will hand it to him."
"That's where your head's level, boy," said the miner. "If this man wants any proof that he asked you to keep it for him, he can call on me. I saw him do it."
"No doubt!" sneered the accuser. "I presume you are in league with the boy."
The miner coolly lifted the window beside his seat.
"Do you see that window," he asked.
"Yes. What of it?"
"Have you any particular desire to be thrown out?"
"No," answered the other, in evident alarm.
"Then don't you dare to insinuate that I am in league with anybody for crooked work."
As he spoke, he rose to his full height, showing a muscular figure, rather more than six feet in length. Robert's antagonist was about six inches shorter.
"No offense, mister," he said meekly.
"You seem to be coming to your senses. Now, is this watch yours?"
"What watch?"
"The watch in the boy's pocket."
"Yes."
"How did the other man get hold of it?"
"If he had it at all, he stole it from me."
"Very good; we'll investigate this. My young friend, come with me into the smoking-car."
The claimant protested uneasily, but the miner insisted.
He and Robert left the car and went into the one behind.
There about the middle of the car sat the man from whom Robert had received the watch.
"Give it back to him," said the miner.
Robert walked up to his first acquaintance.
"I want you to take back your watch," he said. "This man says it belongs to him."
The tall, thin man looked at his confederate. He saw that their little plan of frightening Robert into giving them ten dollars had failed.
"Did you send him in to me?" went on Robert.
"There is some mistake. I sent him in for it, but he misunderstood me."
He looked askance at the miner, who he saw was disposed to be a friend of Robert.
"Look here," said the miner sternly, "you are a precious pair of rascals. Your little game hasn't worked. I have seen such men as you before. I was on the vigilance committee in SanFrancisco some years ago, and such fellows as you we strung up to the nearest lamp-post. Can you make it convenient to get off at the next station?"
"That's where we intend to stop," said the tall man meekly.
"That is fortunate. It will save you a good deal of trouble. Now, boy, come back into the other car. We have no further business with these gentlemen."
Going back, they sat down in the same seat.
"I am very much obliged to you for getting me out of the scrape," said Robert gratefully.
"Don't mention it."
"Do you really think they were——?"
"Crooks? Yes. They had all the signs. I've rubbed against such fellows before now. These fellows are not smart. They don't understand the rudiments of the business."
"You spoke of San Francisco. Have you been there?" asked Robert with interest.
"I lived there and at the mines for five years."
"Were you lucky?"
"You mean, did I strike it rich? Well, I had middling luck. I didn't go there for nothing. How much do you think I had when I landed at Frisco?"
"A hundred dollars?"
"I had just three dollars and a half. I had one extra shirt, and that was about all."
"That wasn't a very large supply. Where did you go from?"
"I was raised in Vermont. Worked on a farm for dad till I was twenty-two. Then with fifty dollars, which I had in the savings bank, I started for California. Well, I got there at last, but my funds were almost gone. I got a chance to do some rough work till I had enough to go to the mines. There I made something of a pile, enough to pay off the mortgage on the old farm, and have ten thousand dollars left. I've just come from there."
"Do you ever expect to go back to the mines?"
"Yes. I should not be satisfied now to remain at the East. Where are you going?"
"To the city."
"To get a place?"
"Yes, if I can."
"Have you parents living?"
"I have a mother," said Robert slowly.
"And you want to get work to help support her?"
"No, she has plenty of money."
"Then why do you leave home?"
Robert looked at his companion. His plain, honest face impressed him favorably. He felt that he was a man in whom he could confide.
"I have a step-father," he said briefly.
"I understand. You and he don't hitch horses. Is that so?"
"You are right."
"Tell me all about it."
"I will. I should like to ask somebody's advice. I want to know whether I have done right."
"Go ahead, my lad."
Robert told the story, and the miner listened attentively.
"Do you know what I think of that step-father of yours?"
"Tell me."
"I think he is about as mean a skunk as I ever heard mentioned. What made your mother marry him?"
"I don't know. She must have been infatuated."
"I suppose you had an easy time at home."
"Yes, I did."
"And now you will have to work for a living?"
"Yes, but I don't mind that."
"I see you're the right sort," said the miner approvingly.
They had reached the next station. In the next car there was a tumult and a noise as of men scuffling. The miner rose and opened the door of the car.
He and Robert saw the two men who had tried to swindle our hero in the hands of two angry men, who hustled them out of the car with such violence that they fell prostrate beside the track.
"What's the matter?" asked the miner.
"These men tried to relieve me of my watch. They won't try it again in a hurry."
Bruised by the fall, the two men picked themselves up and slunk away.
"They're a precious pair of rascals," said the miner. "If we had them at the mines, they would soon dangle from the branch of a tree."
CHAPTER VIII.
PERIL.
Jones and Barlow, the two men who had been so ignominiously expelled from the train, picked themselves up, and with faces flaming with anger shook their fists at the train in impotent wrath.
"This is an outrage, Jones," said Barlow, the taller of the two.
"So it is," said Jones, rubbing his knee, which had received an abrasion from falling on a flinty stone.
"They don't know how to treat a gentleman."
"No, they don't. You're right, Barlow."
"I suppose the boy and that long-legged miner are laughing in their sleeves."
As he spoke, both turned their glances upon the car in which Robert and the miner were located, and saw both looking out of a car window. The miner's face wore a look of amusement and satisfaction, which was enough to anger the two adventurers.
"Good-by, boys!" he said. "You're leaving us in a hurry, but we won't forget you."
In reply, Jones, who was the more choleric of the two, shook his fist at the miner, but did not indulge himself in any remarks. His feelings were probably too deep for words.
"What shall we do, Barlow?" he asked.
"Foot it to the next station, I reckon. I'm used to walkin', aint you?"
"I've done a little of it in my time," said Jones, with a grin.
"Then we can take the next train that comes along. That cursed miner won't be on board, and we can be received as gentlemen."
"Say, have you got a clothes-brush, Barlow? My knees—that is the knees of my pants—are all over mud."
"So are mine. Yes, I believe I have, but don't let us repair damages here. They will be looking out of the car-windows and laughing at us."
"Go ahead, then. I'll follow."
They started in the direction in which the train was going. Two minutes later they fell in with a young Irish boy, who surveyed their dilapidated appearance with amusement.
"Say," he remarked, "have youse been racin' wid de train?"
"Why do you ask, boy?" inquired Barlow with lofty dignity.
"I take it all back. I guess you've been on your knees prayin'."
"Boy, don't you know how to address a gentleman?"
"Where's the gentleman?" inquired the youth, with a vacant look.
"Jones, chase that boy and give him a lesson."
Jones undertook to do so, but he was short and fat, and the boy easily eluded him. He climbed over a fence on one side of the railway, and began to make faces at the pair.
"What would you have done to me if you had caught me?" he asked in a mocking and derisive tone.
"Given you a first-class thrashing," growled Jones.
"Then I'm glad you didn't catch me. Say, I saw you get out of the train."
"Suppose you did?"
"You were kicked out. What had you been doin'?"
Angry as the two adventurers were at their humiliating treatment, their feeling of indignation was intensified by the boy's taunts. Jones wasabout to make an angry retort, when Barlow stopped him.
"Don't mind the boy," he said. "We'd better be getting on."
They walked briskly till they had probably got a quarter of a mile on their way to the next station. Then they paused and looked back, for on the way they had passed the train.
"What's the matter with the train?" asked Barlow.
"Don't know. It's making quite a stop."
"I wish it would get wrecked."
This gave an idea to Jones.
"So I say. We'd get even with that miner, and the men that hustled us off the train. What do you say to wrecking it?"
"We can do it. See that switch?"
"Yes. What of it?"
"I'm an old switchman. Tended switch for three years on a Western road. All we'll have to do is to reverse that switch," pointing to one a hundred feet farther on, "and there'll be a smash."
Barlow's breath came quick. He was not as daring a rascal as his companion.
"Do you really mean it, Jones?" he said.
"Yes, I do."
"Suppose we get caught?"
"We won't get caught."
"Somebody may see us."
"There's no one around. Look and satisfy yourself."
"If you think it safe?"
"Of course it's safe. Besides, if there's a wreck, there'll be booty for us. I'd like to rifle the pockets of that miner."
The train had been detained at a signal tower by a telegram, and this allowed the two adventurers to arrange their plans for wrecking it. But on trying to move the switch, Jones found a difficulty. He had not the necessary appliances.
"Can't you move it?" asked Barlow.
"No."
"Then we must give up the plan."
"No, there's another way. Do you see that rock?"
He pointed to a square rock, weighing not far from a hundred pounds, by the side of the railroad.
"Yes, that'll do the business. But there's no time to lose. The train may come along at any moment. I don't know why it has been so delayed."
"Come along then, and help me move it. It is heavy."
The two rascals bent over and lifted the rock in concert.
They grumbled over the weight, neither of them being used to hard labor.
"I should think it weighed most half a ton," grumbled Barlow.
"Never mind. We will soon have it in position. Quick! I hear the train!"
The rumbling of the train could be heard at a considerable distance. The two scoundrels didn't trouble themselves about the possible, or probable consequences of their dastardly plot. They only thought of revenging themselves upon the men who had ejected them from the train, and they felt, besides, an animosity against Robert and his miner friend.
They thought themselves without a witness, but in this they were mistaken. The boy already mentioned, whom they had pursued ineffectually, had followed them at a distance, having a feeling of curiosity about them.
"I wonder what they're up to?" he soliloquized, as he watched them tampering with the switch. He could not quite understand the meaning of their movements. But when they took therock, and between them conveyed it to the railroad track, and put it in the way of the coming train, he understood.
"I believe the mean chaps want to wreck the train," he said to himself.
What should he do?
He bethought himself of calling out to them, and trying to prevent their plot. But he was sure they would pay no attention to him, and besides there was no time. He could already hear the thundering sound of the approaching train.
Tommy was on a bluff about fifteen feet above the roadbed. To descend the bank and run to meet the train would consume more time than he had at command.
"Oh, dear!" muttered Tommy. "There'll be a smash, and lots of people will be killed."
But there was one thing that neither Tommy nor the two scoundrels had seen. It was a cow that somehow or other had found its way through a gap in the fence from a pasture to the left, and was leisurely walking along the track, full in the path of the approaching train.
The engineer could not see the rock, for it was too small an object, but by great good luck he did see the cow.
With a tremendous effort, he stopped the enginejust in time. When the train halted, it was only ten feet away from the animal, who was looking with startled eyes at the coming train.
The shock of the sudden stop was such that the passengers started to their feet, and the engineer leaped from the engine.
By this time Tommy had descended the bank, and was standing only a few feet away.
"We have had a narrow escape," said the miner, wiping the perspiration from his brow.
"You have had two narrow escapes," said Tommy, pointing to the large rock which lay across one of the rails fifteen feet further on.
The engineer started, and seemed horror-struck.
"Who put that rock on the track?" he demanded sternly.
CHAPTER IX.
AT THE PALMER HOUSE.
Tommy Keegan pointed to Barlow and Jones, who rather imprudently had maintained their position, in the hope that the train would be wrecked.
The engineer and the group of passengers around him eyed the two men with a quick, scrutinizing glance. Their appearance made the charge a probable one.
"How do you know, boy?" asked the engineer.
"I seed them put the rock on the track," answered Tommy.
"It's a lie!" blustered Jones. "The boy did it himself."
"The boy could not lift a rock of that size," said the engineer positively.
Among the group of passengers were Robert and the miner.
"Why, it's the scamps that were put off the train!" exclaimed the miner.
"You recognize them?" asked the engineer.
"Yes, they were put off the train at the last station for trying to swindle some of the passengers."
"What have you to say to this, man?" demanded the engineer sternly.
"It's a lie. The gentleman is mistaken."
"No, he isn't. I was one of those who put them off the train," said one of the other passengers.
"Tell all you know about it, boy," said the engineer.
"I seed them try to turn the switch first," said Tommy. "They couldn't do that, so they got the rock and put dat on the track just before the train come along."
Barlow and Jones saw that things were getting serious for them, and very foolishly started to run. But a dozen men went in pursuit, prominent among them being the miner, whose long legs soon brought him abreast of the rascally pair. He seized Barlow by the collar, and at the same time another passenger grasped Jones.
"Now," said the engineer, "what was your object in trying to wreck the train?"
"We didn't do it. The boy lies," said Jones sullenly.
"It was in revenge for being put off the train," suggested the miner.
"Lynch them! Hang them to the nearest tree!" shouted half a dozen.
"That's my idea," said the miner.
Had the engineer sanctioned this, it would have been done without further delay, but he was a man of good judgment, and would not countenance such a proceeding.
"No," he said, "secure them and take them on board the train."
"Come here, boy," said the miner, beckoning to Tommy. "The passengers owe you something for exposing these infamous rascals. Who will chip in?"
He took off his hat and dropped in a piece of money. Others followed suit, and the happy Tommy went away the richer by over thirty dollars. The two men were secured by a strong cord, and once again boarded the train as passengers, but under very unfavorable circumstances, and with gloomy forebodings as to the fate that was in store for them.
As they neared Chicago the miner turned to Robert and asked: "Are you intending to go to a hotel, my lad?"
Robert hesitated.
"I don't think I can afford it," he said. "I have but little money, and I don't know how long I may have to wait for work."
"Don't let that worry. I am going to the Palmer House, and will take you along with me."
"Isn't it a high-priced hotel?"
"Yes, but it will cost you nothing. You can stay with me two or three days while you are looking around for work."
"You are very kind," said Robert gratefully, "but I am a stranger to you."
"Not now. I feel as well acquainted with you as if I had known you for years. I have been poor myself, and it will go hard if Dick Marden can't take care of a boy who is looking out for a chance to make a living. Well, youngster, what do you say?"
"I can only say that I accept your offer with gratitude, Mr. Marden."
"That's all right. You may consider me your guardian for the time being."
Twenty minutes more brought them to the Chicago station.
The hackmen were on hand with their offers of transportation, but the miner declined.
"I want to unfold myself," he said, "and I reckon I'll walk. My bag isn't heavy, for I don'tcarry round a dress suit. I suppose you're able to walk, Robert?"
"Yes, I would prefer it."
So, unheeding the hackmen, they started for the Palmer House, which was less than half a mile distant. When Robert came in sight of the hotel, he was impressed by the large size and handsome appearance of the structure.
"I shouldn't dare to put up at such a hotel if I were alone," he said with a smile.
"No, I reckon not. As it is, you are all right. Let us go in."
They walked in to the office.
"I want a room with two beds," said the miner, after registering his name.
"All right, sir. Front!"
A bell-boy came up at the summons.
"Take this gentleman and his son to 297."
The bell-boy took their bags and preceded them to the elevator.
"Did you hear what the clerk said, Robert? He called you my son."
"Yes, I heard him."
"I haven't chick nor child, and have no right to have, as I never married, but if I did have a son, you would suit me as well as any boy I know."
"Thank you, Mr. Marden; I consider that a compliment."
"I mean it. Now let us see what sort of a room has been assigned to us."
It proved to be a very good room, moderately spacious, with two beds, one on each side of the apartment.
"I think we'll be comfortable here, Robert," said his new friend.
"I feel sure of it," replied the boy, looking about him with an air of satisfaction.
"You can have that bed and I'll take the other. Now, do you feel hungry?"
"I think I could eat something, Mr. Marden."
"Don't call me Mr. Marden. I'm not used to it."
"What shall I call you?"
"Call me Dick."
"If you wish me to, though I am afraid it is hardly respectful, considering how much older you are than I am."
"Oh, hang respect! That won't bother me any. Take a wash, if you want to, and we'll go down to the dining-room."
Robert was glad to do so, as he felt heated and dusty. Mr. Marden followed his example.
They went down to the dining-room, and both did justice to the excellent meal provided.
They had just commenced on the dessert when a small man with a slight hump entered the dining-room, and took a seat opposite. He glanced across the table.
"Why, Dick Marden!" he cried in surprise. "Is that you?"
The miner looked across the table.
"Well, well, who would have expected to see you here, Peter Gray?" he returned, arching his eyebrows.
"Strange things will happen, Dick. I've been in Chicago for nearly a year."
"Are you in business here?"
"Yes, I keep a cut-rate ticket office on Clark street."
"Are you making money?"
The small man shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm not rich yet," he answered. "I suppose you are."
"I have a little money," he answered.
"Let me see; the last time I saw you was at the diggings?"
"Yes, we were both in hard luck then. How are you fixed?"
"I've got a little, and my business gives me a living."
"It must, if you are boarding here."
"I am not. I generally eat at a restaurant, but once a week I come in here and get a good dinner. The remembrance of it lasts me a week, and makes my other meals more palatable."
"You are a sensible man."
"Is that your son, Dick?"
"No, I wish he were. He is a young friend of mine, who is for a short time under my protection. His name is Robert Frost. Don't you want a clerk in your office?"
"Well, I don't know," said Mr. Gray. "If he were your son now——"
"Consider him my son, then. But we'll speak of this after dinner."
"All right, Dick."
Robert's eyes lighted up with pleasant anticipation. He felt that he would indeed be fortunate if he should obtain a place at once. He would not be able to look up to his employer, for the cripple was a little less than five feet in height, but their relations might be pleasant, nevertheless.
CHAPTER X.
ROBERT GETS A PLACE.
"You can go out and take a walk, Robert, while I go with Mr. Gray to his office."
"All right, sir."
"Now," said Marden, as they emerged into State street, "will you take the boy?"
"Yes, but I can't pay him much."
"How much?"
"Five dollars a week."
"That won't support him. He has been well brought up, and will need twelve."
Peter Gray stopped short and whistled in his surprise.
"I can't possibly pay twelve dollars to any clerk, not even if he were experienced—and this boy probably isn't."
"He knows nothing of the business."
"Then, Marden——"
"Stop a minute! I propose that you shall pay him twelve dollars a week, but I will undertake to pay seven of it."
"You must take a great interest in the lad."
"I do—a most unusual interest."
"Of course that will make a difference."
"I should say so."
"In that case he can come at once."
"He will come day after to-morrow. To-morrow I want to show him Chicago."
"All right. Oh, there is one thing I must mention. I have another clerk—twenty-two years of age—whom I only pay ten dollars a week. He mustn't know that the boy gets twelve."
"Very well; I will caution Robert. Should the young man find out, let him understand that only five dollars come from you."
"That will be satisfactory."
Marden went to the office of his old acquaintance. It was small, but as large as many in the same line of business.
At four he returned to the hotel.
"Well, Robert," he said, "it's arranged. You will go to work on Thursday morning. Here is the card of your employer. To-morrow I will go round the city with you."
"Shall I receive enough to pay my board, Mr. Marden," asked Robert anxiously.
"You will receive twelve dollars a week."
Robert was amazed.
"I don't see how Mr. Gray should be willing to pay me so much," he said.
Marden smiled.
"Oh, he has a little private arrangement with me. There is another clerk, considerably older than you. He is not to know how much you get. Let him understand that it is five dollars."
"I understand. How generous you are, Mr. Marden."
"Not Mr. Marden—Dick."
"Well, Dick. But you ought not to pay so much for me."
"Why not? Consider me your uncle, and take care to do credit to my recommendation."
"I will," said Robert earnestly. "Shall you remain in the city, Uncle Dick?"
"I may come here now and then, but I expect day after to-morrow to go to the northern part of Michigan, to visit an old friend there, who is in the lumber business."
"Then, hadn't I better be looking for a boarding-place?"
"Well thought of. We'll look over theRecordand hunt up a place."
Within an hour Robert had selected a small room not far from La Salle street, where he was to have full board for five dollars a week. Theroom was not equal to the one he had at home, but he would spend very little time there.
During the day following, Robert and his miner friend made an extensive tour of Chicago, and Robert felt impressed with the magnitude of the city and the extent of the business that was carried on in it.
"Do you think you shall like Chicago, Robert?"
"Yes, Uncle Dick; I begin to feel like a man of business already."
"And you will be contented?"
"Yes, but I shall miss you."
"I am glad to hear that, boy. Let me see, how long have we known each other?"
"Only two days."
"And yet you seem like my own boy. I never had anyone belonging to me before."
"You may get tired of me, Uncle Dick."
"Perhaps so, but I don't believe it."
"Will you write to me?"
"I'm not much on letter writing, but I reckon I'll be able to scribble a few lines occasionally."
Robert remained with the miner till Thursday morning, and then made his way to Mr. Gray's office.
He found a tall young man with tallowy hair and freckles standing behind the counter.
"What can I do for you, boy?" he asked with lofty politeness.
Robert smiled.
"I'm the new clerk," he said. "Didn't Mr. Gray mention me?"
"I believe he did say something about hiring a boy. What's your name?"
"Robert Frost."
"Well, Frost, my name is Mr. Livingston Palmer."
"Indeed! Are you related to Mr. Palmer who keeps the hotel?"
"I—ahem! I believe we are distantly related. Do your people live in Chicago?"
"No. Some distance out in the country."
"Got a father and mother?"
"No, a mother—and a step-father."
"I sympathize with you. So have I a step-father. He drinks."
"I don't think that is true of Mr. Talbot—my step-father—but if he did, I should not dislike him any more. How do you like this business?"
"So-so."
"Does Mr. Gray treat you well?"
"Well, I can't complain. He doesn't pay me enough salary."
"That is a common complaint, I suppose," said Robert, smiling.
"How much are you to get?"
"From Mr. Gray—five dollars."
"That's what I got the first year. Now I only get ten."
"That is considerably more."
"Yes, but it isn't enough. Why, I am the brains of the establishment."
Robert was amused. But he saw that Mr. Livingston Palmer was quite in earnest.
"How about the boss?"
"Oh, he's a fair business man, but he couldn't get along without me."
"Then I hope he won't have to. I will take it as a favor if you will help me along. I am quite inexperienced. I never was in any business before."
"Yes, I'll look after you. If Mr. Gray knew what was to his interest, he would take me into partnership."
"Did you ever suggest it to him?"
"Well, no, not exactly, but I've given him a delicate hint, but he never seemed to understand what I meant."
Just then Peter Gray came in. He looked quite insignificant compared with either of his two clerks, but Robert soon found that he was a hustler and a good man of business.
"So you are here on time?" he said pleasantly.
"Yes, sir."
"Where is my old friend, Marden?"
"He starts this forenoon for Michigan."
"So? He seems to feel a great interest in you."
"I am glad to say he does."
"He says you are a smart, go-ahead boy. I hope you will prove so."
"I'll try, Mr. Gray."
"If you try you'll succeed. Now, let me tell you a little about the business. You understand that this is a cut-rate railroad ticket office?"
"Yes, sir."
"You'll soon get to understand our way of doing business—that is, if you pay attention."
"I will do that."
The day passed, and Robert, who was on the alert, began to get an insight into the business. He found that it was not very hard, and could be soon mastered. He was not as much impressed as he expected to be by the business ability of Mr. Livingston Palmer, who had claimed to be the "brains of the business." It seemed to him thatMr. Palmer was slow, and prone to make mistakes, but those were only his first impressions, which might be modified hereafter.
The office closed at six.
"Where do you board, Frost?" asked the senior clerk.
Robert told him.
"I have a room, and get my meals at restaurants."
"I don't think I should like that so well."
"We live on the same street. Have you any engagement this evening?"
"No."
"I would invite you to go to some amusement with me, but I am almost broke."
"Then suppose you go to some amusement with me, Mr. Palmer?"
"With pleasure," said the elder clerk, brightening up—"that is, if you don't mind the expense."
"No, I can afford it."
"I don't see how you can on five dollars a week."
"Oh, I have an allowance besides."
"You're in luck. I wish I had."
Mr. Palmer selected a variety theater, and Robert purchased two orchestra seats, although hewould have preferred some performance of a higher class.
"Do you know why I wanted to come here?" asked Palmer in a low confidential tone.
"No. Why?"
"There's a girl that sings here—she's a daisy, and I have reason to think that she's sweet on me. There's her name on the bill—Alameda Churchill. When she comes out, give me your opinion of her."
CHAPTER XI.
MR. PALMER'S INFATUATION.
In about twenty minutes Miss Churchill appeared. She was a stout young lady, weighing at least one hundred and sixty pounds. She had a high color, black hair, and a loud metallic voice.
Mr. Palmer surveyed her with rapt intensity.
"That's she!" he whispered. "Didn't I tell you she was a daisy?"
Robert was tempted to smile. He had a very indefinite idea of what might be considered a feminine daisy, but he recognized his companion's conception of the term.
Miss Churchill sang in a loud voice and with plenty of action one of the popular songs of the day. Livingston Palmer looked the picture of rapture. With his head thrown back and his eyes fastened upon his charmer, he could hardly fail to attract her attention.
She paused between two of the verses, and looked at him with a smile.
"Did you see?" he whispered in delight, "she smiled at me."
"Yes," answered Robert, "I noticed that she did."
"It looks as if she was sweet on me, don't you think so?"
"Perhaps so, I don't know much about young ladies. I can't read their thoughts."
"How would it do for me to write her a note?"
"What could you write? You don't know her?"
"But she has taken notice of me. I might ask her for an interview."
"I don't feel competent to give you advice, Mr. Palmer; I am only a boy."
"That is true. I—I think I will venture."
"But what will it lead to? Your attachment is not serious, I presume?"
"I don't know but it may be. The fact is, Robert, I am in love."
"Were you ever in love before, Mr. Palmer?"
"Never. This is the first time I have met my ideal."
"You surely wouldn't think of marrying her," said Robert.
"Why not?"
"I thought perhaps you would not care to marry on ten dollars a week."
"I could not. But she is probably earning considerably more. If we both of us worked, there would be a nice income between us."
"Then you would not object to your wife appearing in a theater?"
"No, Robert. I have no narrow prejudices."
"Then you think she would marry you?"
"You saw for yourself how sweetly she smiled on me. Oh, Robert, I am very happy!" and the infatuated young man looked in the seventh heaven of bliss.
"Excuse me for ten minutes, Robert," he said. "I am going into the Sherman House to write a note. I will try to get it to her this evening."
Robert smiled. He was a good deal amused by Palmer's romantic infatuation, but he did not feel called upon to remonstrate with him.
"I will wait for you here," he said.
In fifteen minutes Livingston Palmer returned to his seat.
"Well, have you written the note?" asked Robert.
"Yes, here it is. Cast your eye over it, and see what you think of it."
Robert glanced at the note.
This was the way it was expressed:
"Adorable Alameda:
"Doubtless you will know from whom this note comes. It is from the young man in the fourth row of the orchestra on whom you smiled so sweetly this evening. I am sure you read my devotion in my face. I have never spoken to you, but I feel that I love you, and I have never loved before. Will you appoint a time when I can meet you? Perhaps I flatter myself too much when I say that you seem to be kindly disposed towards me. I will send this by the usher, and will beg for a reply.
"Yours devotedly,"Livingston Palmer."
"What do you think of it?" asked Palmer eagerly.
"I think it ought to make a favorable impression on the young lady," said Robert, doubtfully, however.
"I think it is pretty good, myself," said Palmer complacently.
When the entertainment was over, Palmer went up to one of the ushers.
"My friend," he said, "do you know Miss Alameda Churchill, the singer?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you manage to put this note into her hands?"
"When?"
"To-night."
"Well, I might if——"
"I will pay you for your trouble."
"All right, sir. I see you are a gentleman. Give it to me."
"I shall be glad if she will send me an answer."
A few minutes later the usher returned.
"Did you give it to her?" asked Palmer eagerly.
"Yes, sir."
"Did she send an answer?"
"Here it is."
It was a small scrap of paper, folded diagonally.
Palmer opened and read it, his heart beating with feverish excitement. Then he smiled.
"Shall I read it to you, Robert?" he asked.
"Yes, if you like."
"Many thanks for your pretty note. To-morrow evening at eleven be under the window at No. 98 Lemore street.
"Alameda."
"What do you think of that?" said Livingston Palmer triumphantly. "Do you notice that she signs herself Alameda?"
"Yes."
"That seems nice and friendly, doesn't it?"
"Yes, it seems so."
"She is evidently taken with me. Oh, Robert, I never was so happy."
Robert, of course, being a boy, could not enter fully into Palmer's feelings. However, he answered in a sympathetic tone which satisfied his fellow clerk.
"I never thought I should be so fortunate," he said. "Oh, Robert, you don't know how I feel towards that girl."
"No, I suppose not, Mr. Palmer."
"It isn't to be expected, for you are only a boy."
"Yes, I am only a boy."
"I suppose I was the same at your age. How fortunate it was that you invited me to accompany you this evening. I feel under the greatest obligations to you," and Palmer, seizing our hero's hand, shook it with impulsive energy.
"I am sure you are quite welcome, Mr. Palmer."
Robert was beginning to be weary. To hismind, Palmer seemed to be acting in a very silly manner. However, as he reflected, he was only a boy, and could not comprehend the effect of a grand passion on a man like his fellow clerk.
The next day Palmer was like a man in a dream. He was at his desk in the office, but he found it hard to attend to his duties in an intelligent manner. He made some ludicrous blunders, which finally attracted his employer's notice.
"It seems to me, Mr. Palmer," he said quietly, "that you are not quite yourself. Where did the man you just waited on wish to go?"
"Alameda," blurted out Palmer. "No," he corrected himself in some confusion, "Denver, Colorado."
"You seem to have Alameda on the brain. We don't sell tickets to Alameda."
"No, sir."
"Do you know where Alameda is?"
"No," answered Palmer hesitatingly.
"I believe there is such a place in California, but we never had any tickets for it."
"Yes, sir."
"For the rest of the day try to keep your wits about you."
"Do you think he suspects?" asked Palmer ina whisper to Robert, when Mr. Gray had gone out for a minute.
"No; how should he?"
"Really, I hope not. It makes me feel embarrassed and confused."
"I see it does. Can't you put the matter out of your mind during business hours?"
"I will try to, but oh, Robert, when I think of to-night I feel like dancing a Highland fling right in the office."
"If you did I am sure Mr. Gray would think you were crazy."
"Of course, I don't mean that exactly, Robert, I was speaking figuratively."
"You refer to the figure you would cut when you were dancing the Highland fling?"
"I see you are witty, Robert."
"No one ever accused me of that before," said Robert demurely.
Livingston Palmer laughed, and managed with an effort to devote himself for the rest of the day strictly to business.
"You will be with me to-night, Frost," he said, as they closed the office, and started on their way to supper.
"Do you mean that I am to go to 98 Lemore street with you?"
"Yes, you could stand on the other side of the street."
"Your appointment is at eleven o'clock. What are you going to do before that time comes? Will you go to the theater?"
"No. I could not enjoy it. May I pass the evening in your room?"
"Certainly, if you like."
"You know we can speak of her. That will be better than having my thoughts taken up by a variety entertainment. But, oh, how long the evening will be!"
"We shall get through it after a while. You might go round and take supper with me. I look upon you as my confidential friend."
CHAPTER XII.
AN UNLOOKED-FOR SCENE.
As the clocks of the city struck eleven Robert and his friend Palmer turned into Lemore street. It was a small, narrow street, lined with brick houses, and evidently far from fashionable. The house indicated by the singer was no better than its neighbors.
"I wonder which is her room?" murmured Palmer. "There seems to be no light in any of the windows."
But as he spoke, one of the windows was lighted up by a lamp, which was lighted from within.
"That's her room," said Palmer joyfully. "She is expecting me."
The curtain was lifted, and the fair face of Alameda peered out. She looked across the street and smiled, as she caught sight of Palmer and his young companion.
"You see?"
"Yes. Perhaps I had better go now."
"No; stay till she opens the window and speaks to me."
"Very well, if you wish it."
Livingston Palmer walked across the street, and taking a harmonica from his pocket, started on a tune. It was the only instrument on which he knew how to play, and that is why he selected it. It might have been hard to distinguish the tune, but that was not of so much importance. He felt that it was the proper thing to do, to serenade his charmer.
Robert maintained his position, and wondered what would come next. He had not long to wait.
The window opened, and Alameda leaned out with something in her hand.
The next moment Palmer was drenched by the contents of a pitcher, which Alameda poured out, locating him with careful precision, so that he should receive the full benefit of it.
Palmer started with a cry of dismay, and turned quickly. But too late. His collar, his hat, and coat were thoroughly wet. It was certainly very aggravating, and his mortification was increased by a hard, cold laugh, evidently proceeding from his charmer.