At ten o'clock Paul closed up his business for the forenoon, and returning to their temporary home, found his mother waiting for him.
"Well, Paul," she said inquiringly, "have you heard of any good rooms?"
"Here is an advertisement of some nicely furnished rooms in Bleecker street;" and Paul pointed to theHerald.
"They may be above our means, Paul."
"At any rate we can go and look at them. We must expect to pay more if we take them furnished."
"Do you think we had better take furnished rooms?" asked Mrs. Hoffman doubtfully.
"I think so, mother, just now. All our furniture is burned, you know, and it would take too much of our capital to buy new. When we get richer we will buy some nice furniture."
"Perhaps you are right, Paul. At any rate we will go and look at these rooms."
"If they don't suit us, I have the paper with me, and we can look somewhere else."
"May I go, mother?" asked Jimmy.
"We might have to go about considerably, Jimmy," said Paul. "I am afraid you would get tired."
"If Mrs. Norton will let you stay here, I think it will be better," said his mother. "Are you sure he won't be in your way, Mrs. Norton?"
"Bless his heart, no," returned the policeman's wife heartily. "I shall be glad of his company. Mr. Norton and Sam are away most of the time, and I get lonely sometimes."
Jimmy felt rather flattered by the thought that his company was desired by Mrs. Norton, and readily resigned himself to stay at home. Paul and his mother went out, and got on board a Bleecker street car, which soon brought them to the desired number.
The house was quite respectable in appearance, far more so certainly than the burned tenement house. The time had been when Bleecker street was fashionable, and lined with the dwellings of substantial and prosperous citizens. That time had gone by. Still it was several grades above the streets in the lower part of the city.
Paul rang the bell, and the door was opened by a maid-servant.
"I saw an advertisement in theHeraldabout some rooms to let," said Paul. "Can we see them?"
"I'll speak to the mistress," was the reply. "Won't you come in?"
They entered the hall, and were shown into the parlor, where they took seats on a hard sofa. Soon the door opened, and a tall lady entered.
"You would like to look at my rooms?" she inquired, addressing Mrs. Hoffman.
"If you please."
"They are on the third floor—all that I have vacant. If you will follow me, I will show you the way."
At the top of the second staircase she threw open the door of a good-sized room, furnished plainly but neatly.
"There is another room connected with this," she said, "and a bedroom on the upper floor can go with it."
"Is it arranged for housekeeping?" asked Mrs. Hoffman.
"Yes; you will find the back room fitted for cooking. Come in and I will show you."
She opened a door in the rear room, displaying a pantry and sink, while a cooking-stove was already put up. Both rooms were carpeted. In the front room there was a sofa, a rocking-chair, some shelves for books, while three or four pictures hung from the walls.
"I don't see any sleeping accommodations," said Mrs. Hoffman, looking around.
"I will put a bed into either room," said the landlady. "I have delayed doing it till the rooms were let."
"How do you like it, mother?" asked Paul.
"Very well, but——"
Mrs. Hoffman hesitated, thinking that the charge for such accommodations would be beyond their means. Paul understood, and asked in his turn:
"How much do you ask for these rooms by the month?"
"With the small room upstairs besides?"
"Yes."
"Thirty dollars a month."
Mrs. Hoffman looked at Paul in dismay. This was more than three times what they had been accustomed to pay.
"We can afford to pay more than we have hitherto," he said in a low voice. "Besides, there is the furniture."
"But thirty dollars a month is more than we can afford," said his mother uneasily.
"My mother thinks we cannot afford to pay thirty dollars," said Paul.
"The price is very reasonable," said the landlady. "You won't find cheaper rooms in this street."
"I don't complain of your price," said Mrs. Hoffman, "only it is more than we can afford to pay. Could you take less?"
"No," said the landlady decidedly. "I am sure to get tenants at that price."
"Then, Paul, I think we must look further," said his mother.
"If you don't find anything to your mind, perhaps you will come back," suggested the landlady.
"We may do so. How much would you charge for these two rooms alone?"
"Twenty-six dollars a month."
The prices named above are considerably less than the present rates; but still, as Paul's income from his business only amounted to fifty or sixty dollars a month, it seemed a good deal for him to pay.
"We may call again," said Mrs. Hoffman as they went downstairs. "But we will look around first."
"How much do you think we can afford to pay, Paul?" asked Mrs. Hoffman.
"We can easily afford twenty dollars a month, mother."
"That is more than three times as much as we pay now."
"I know it, but I want a better home and a better neighborhood, mother. When we first took the other rooms, six dollars a month was all we were able to pay. Now we can afford better accommodations."
"What other rooms have you got on your list, Paul?"
"There are some rooms in Prince street, near Broadway."
"I am afraid they would be too high-priced."
"At any rate we can go and look at them. They are near by."
The rooms in Prince street proved to be two in number, well furnished, and though not intended for housekeeping, could be used for that purpose. The rent was twenty-five dollars a month.
"I do not feel able to pay more than twenty dollars," said Mrs. Hoffman.
"That is too little. I'll split the difference and say twenty-two and a half. I suppose you have no other children?"
"I have one other—a boy of eight."
"Then I don't think I should be willing to let you the rooms," said the landlady, her manner changing. "I don't like to take young children."
"He is a very quiet boy."
"No boys of eight are quiet," said the landlady decidedly. "They are all noisy and troublesome."
"Jimmy is never noisy or troublesome," said Mrs. Hoffman, resenting the imputation upon her youngest boy.
"Of course you think so, as you are his mother," rejoined the landlady. "You may be mistaken, you know."
"Perhaps you object to me also," said Paul. "I am more noisy than my little brother."
"I look upon you as a young man," said the landlady—a remark at which Paul felt secretly complimented.
"I think we shall have to try somewhere else, mother," he said. "Perhaps we shall find some house where they don't object to noisy boys."
It seemed rather a joke to Paul to hear Jimmy objected to as noisy and troublesome, and for some time afterward he made it a subject for joking Jimmy. The latter took it very good-naturedly and seemed quite as much amused as Paul.
TheHeraldhad to be consulted once more. Two other places near by were visited, but neither proved satisfactory. In one place the rooms were not pleasant, in the other case the price demanded was too great.
"It's twelve o'clock already," said Paul, listening to the strokes of a neighboring clock. "I had no idea it was so hard finding rooms. I wonder whether Mrs. Norton would keep us a day longer."
"Perhaps we can go out this afternoon and prove more successful, Paul."
"I've a great mind to consult Mr. Preston, mother. I think I'll call at his place of business at any rate, as I may need to draw some of the money we have in his hands. You know we've all got to buy new clothes."
"Very well, Paul. Do as you think best. You won't need me."
"No, mother."
Mrs. Hoffman returned to her temporary quarters, and reporting her want of success, was cordially invited by Mrs. Norton to remain as her guest until she succeeded in obtaining satisfactory rooms.
Paul kept on his way to the office of Mr. Preston. Those who have read the previous volume will remember him as a gentleman whose acquaintance Paul had made accidentally. Attracted by our hero's frank, straightforward manner and manly bearing, he had given him some work for his mother, and on other occasions had manifested an interest in his welfare. He now held one hundred and fifty dollars belonging to Paul, or rather to Mrs. Hoffman, for which he allowed legal interest.
On entering the mercantile establishment, of which Mr. Preston was at the head, Paul inquired for him of one of the salesmen.
"He is in his office," said the latter.
"Can I see him?"
"I don't know. Do you want to see him personally?"
"Yes, if he has time to see me."
"From whom do you come?"
"I come on my own business."
"Then I don't think you can see him," said the clerk, judging that a boy's business couldn't be very important.
"If you will be kind enough to carry in my name," said Paul, "Mr. Preston will decide that."
Paul happened to have in his pocket a business card of the firm from which he bought the silk used in making up his neckties. He wrote on the back his name, PAUL HOFFMAN, and presented it to the clerk.
The latter smiled a little superciliously, evidently thinking it rather a joke that a boy of Paul's age should think himself entitled to an interview with Mr. Preston during business hours, and on business of his own. However, he took the card and approached the office.
"There's a boy outside wishes to see you, Mr. Preston," he said.
"From whom does he come?" asked his employer, a portly, pleasant-looking gentleman.
"On business of his own, he says. Here is his card."
"Oh, to be sure. Paul Hoffman!" repeated Mr. Preston, glancing at the card. "Tell him to come in."
"I wonder what business he can have with Mr. Preston," thought the clerk, considerably surprised.
"You can go in," he said on his return.
Paul smiled slightly, for he observed and enjoyed the other's surprise.
"Well, my young friend," said Mr. Preston cordially, "how are you getting on?"
"Pretty well in business, sir," answered Paul. "But we got burned out yesterday."
"How burned out?"
"I mean the tenement house in which we lodged was burned down."
"No one injured, I hope."
"No, sir; but we lost what little we had there."
"Were you at home at the time?"
"No, sir; my mother and little brother and myself were at Barnum's Museum. But for that we might have saved some of our clothing."
"Well, have you got a new place?" "No, sir; we are stopping at the rooms of some friends. I am looking out for some furnished rooms, as I don't want to buy any new furniture. As all our clothes are burned, I may have to draw fifty dollars of the money in your hands."
"How much rent do you expect to pay?"
"I suppose we must pay as much as twenty dollars a month for comfortable furnished rooms."
"Can you afford that?"
"My business brings me in as much as fifty dollars a month."
"You haven't engaged rooms yet?"
"No, sir; my mother and I went out to look at some this morning. We only saw one place that suited us. That we could have got for twenty-two dollars and a half rent, but when they heard of my little brother they wouldn't take us."
"I see. Some persons object to young children. I am glad you have not engaged a place yet."
Paul looked at Mr. Preston inquiringly.
"A gentleman of my acquaintance," proceeded the merchant, "is about sailing to Europe with his family. He is unwilling to let his house, fearing that his furniture would be injured. Besides, the length of his stay is uncertain, and he would want to go into it at once if he should return suddenly. What I am coming to is this. He wants some small family to go in and take care of the house while he is away. They would be allowed to live in the basement and use the chambers on the upper floor. In return they would receive the rent free. How would your mother like to make such an arrangement?"
"Very much," answered Paul promptly. He saw at a glance that it would be a great thing to save their rent, amounting, at the sum they expected to pay, to more than two hundred and fifty dollars a year. "Where is the house?"
"It is in Madison avenue, between Thirty-third and Thirty-fourth streets."
This was a considerable distance uptown, about three miles away from his place of business; but then Paul reflected that even if he rode up and down daily in the cars the expense would be trifling, compared with what they would save in house-rent. Besides, it would be rather agreeable to live in so fashionable a street.
"Do you think my mother can get the chance?" he asked.
"I think so. The gentleman of whom I spoke, Mr. Talbot, expects to sail for Europe next Wednesday, by the Cunard Line. So the matter must be decided soon."
"Shall I call upon Mr. Talbot," asked Paul, "or shall you see him?"
"Here he is, by good luck," said Mr. Preston, as the door opened and an elderly gentleman entered. "Talbot, you are just the man I want to see."
"Indeed! I am glad to hear that. What is it?"
"Have you arranged about your house yet?"
"No; I came in partly to ask if you knew of any trustworthy family to put in while I am away."
"I can recommend some one who will suit you, I think," returned Mr. Preston. "The young man at your side."
"He hasn't got a family already?" inquired Mr. Talbot, with a humorous glance at our hero. "It seems to me he is rather forward."
"I believe not," said Mr. Preston, smiling; "but he has a mother, a very worthy woman, and a little brother. As for my young friend himself, I can recommend him from my own knowledge of his character. In fact, he has done me the honor of making me his banker to the extent of a hundred and fifty dollars."
"So that you will go bail for him. Well, that seems satisfactory. What is his name?"
"Paul Hoffman."
"Are you in a counting-room?" asked Mr. Talbot, turning to Paul.
"No, sir; I keep a necktie stand below the Astor House."
"I must have seen you in passing. I thought your face looked familiar. How much can you make now at that?"
"From twelve to fifteen dollars a week, sir."
"Very good. That is a good deal more than I made at your age."
"Or I," added Mr. Preston. "Paul was burned out yesterday," he added, "and is obliged to seek a new home. When he mentioned this to me, I thought at once that you could make an arrangement for your mutual advantage." "I shall be glad to do so," said Mr. Talbot. "Your recommendation is sufficient, Mr. Preston. Do you understand the terms proposed?" he continued, addressing Paul.
"Yes, sir, I think so. We are to have our rent free, and in return are to look after the house."
"That is right. I don't wish the house to remain vacant, as it contains furniture and articles of value, and an empty house always presents temptations to rogues. You will be free to use the basement and the upper floor. When the rest of the house needs cleaning, or anything of that kind, as for instance when I am about to return, it will be done under your or your mother's oversight, but I will pay the bills. Directions will be sent you through my friend Mr. Preston."
"All right, sir," said Paul. "How soon would you wish us to come?"
"I would like you and your mother to call up this evening and see Mrs. Talbot. You can move in next Tuesday, as we sail for Europe on the following day."
"Yes, sir," said Paul in a tone of satisfaction.
"I will expect you and your mother this evening. My number is ——."
"We will be sure to call, sir."
Mr. Talbot now spoke to Mr. Preston on another topic.
"Oh, by the way, Paul," said Mr. Preston in an interval of the conversation, "you said you wanted fifty dollars."
"I don't think I shall need it now, Mr. Preston," answered Paul. "I have some other money, but I supposed I might have to pay a month's rent in advance. Now that will not be necessary. I will bid you good-morning, sir."
"Good-morning, Paul. Call on me whenever you need advice or assistance."
"Thank you, sir; I will."
"That's what I call a good day's work," said Paul to himself in a tone of satisfaction. "Twenty dollars a month is a good deal to save. We shall grow rich soon at that rate."
He determined to go home at once and announce the good news. As he entered the room his mother looked up and inquired:
"Well, Paul, what news?"
"I've engaged a house, mother."
"A house? Where?"
"On Madison avenue."
"You are joking, Paul."
"No, I am not, or if I am, it's a good joke, for we are really to live in a nice house on Madison avenue and pay no rent at all."
"I can't understand it, Paul," said his mother, bewildered.
Paul explained the arrangement which he had entered into. It is needless to say that his mother rejoiced in the remarkable good luck which came to them just after the misfortune of the fire, and looked forward with no little pleasure to moving into their new quarters.
In the evening, as had been agreed, Paul accompanied his mother uptown to call on Mrs. Talbot and receive directions in regard to the house. They had no difficulty in finding it. On ringing the bell they were ushered into an elegantly furnished parlor, the appearance of which indicated the wealth of the owner.
"Suppose we give a party, mother, after we move in," said Paul, as he sat on the sofa beside his mother, awaiting the appearance of Mrs. Talbot.
"Mrs. Talbot might have an objection to our using her parlors for such a purpose."
"I wonder," said Paul reflectively, "whether I shall ever have a house of my own like this?"
"Not unless your business increases," said his mother, smiling.
"I rather think you are right, mother. Seriously, though, there are plenty of men in New York, who live in style now, who began the world with no better advantages than I. You see there is a chance for me too."
"I shall be satisfied with less," said his mother. "Wealth alone will not yield happiness."
"Still it is very comfortable to have it."
"No doubt, if it is properly acquired."
"If I am ever rich, mother, you may be sure that I shall not be ashamed of the manner in which I became so."
"I hope not, Paul."
Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Talbot. She was a stout, comely-looking woman of middle age and pleasant expression.
"I suppose this is Mrs. Hoffman," she said.
Paul and his mother both rose.
"I am Mrs. Hoffman," said the latter. "I suppose I speak to Mrs. Talbot?"
"You are right. Keep your seat, Mrs. Hoffman. Is this your son?"
Paul bowed with instinctive politeness, and his mother replied in the affirmative.
"Mr. Talbot tells me that you are willing to take charge of the house while we are absent in Europe."
"I shall be glad to do so."
"We have been looking out for a suitable family, and as our departure was so near at hand, were afraid we might not succeed in making a satisfactory arrangement. Fortunately Mr. Preston spoke to my husband of you, and this sets our anxiety at rest."
"I hope I may be able to answer your expectations, Mrs. Talbot," said Mrs. Hoffman modestly.
"I think you will," said Mrs. Talbot, and she spoke sincerely.
She had examined her visitor attentively, and had been very favorably impressed by her neat dress and quiet, lady-like demeanor. She had been afraid, when first informed by her husband of the engagement he had made, that Mrs. Hoffman might be a coarse, untidy woman, and she was very agreeably disappointed in her appearance.
"I suppose," she said, "you would like to look over the house."
"Thank you, I should."
"I also wish you to see it, that you may understand my directions in regard to the care of it. Follow me, if you please. We will first go down into the basement."
Mrs. Hoffman rose. Paul kept his seat, not sure whether he was included in the invitation or not.
"Your son can come, too, if he likes," said Mrs. Talbot, observing his hesitation.
Paul rose with alacrity and followed them. He had a natural curiosity to see the rooms they were to occupy.
They descended first into the basement, which was spacious and light. It consisted of three rooms, the one in front quite large and pleasant. It was plainly but comfortably furnished. The kitchen was in the rear, and there was a middle room between.
"These will be your apartments," said Mrs. Talbot. "Of course I have no objection to your moving in any of your own furniture, if your desire it."
"We have only ourselves to move in," said Paul. "We were burned out early this week."
"Indeed! You were unfortunate."
"I thought so at the time," said Mrs. Hoffman, "but if it had not been for that Paul would not have called upon Mr. Preston and we should not have heard of you."
"Were you able to save nothing?" asked Mrs. Talbot.
"Scarcely anything."
"If you are embarrassed for want of money," suggested Mrs. Talbot kindly, "I will advance you fifty dollars, or more if you require it."
"You are very kind," said Mrs. Hoffman gratefully; "but we have a sum of money, more than enough for our present needs, deposited with Mr. Preston. We are not less obliged to you for so kind an offer."
Mrs. Talbot was still more prepossessed in favor of her visitors by the manner in which her offer had been declined. She saw that they had too much self-respect to accept assistance unless actually needed.
"I am glad to hear that," she said. "It is not all who are fortunate enough to have a reserve fund to fall back upon. Now, if you have sufficiently examined the basement, we will go upstairs."
While passing through the upper chambers, Mrs. Talbot gave directions for their care, which would not be interesting to the reader, and are therefore omitted.
"I had intended," she said, "to offer you the use of the upper chambers, but they are so far off from the basement that it might be inconvenient for you to occupy them. If you prefer, you may move down two bedsteads to the lower part of the house. I have no objection to your putting one in the dining-room, if you desire it."
"Thank you, Mrs. Talbot; I should prefer it."
"Then you may consider yourself at liberty to do it. I believe I have now said all I wanted to you. Can you come here next Tuesday?"
"Yes, we will do so."
"By the way, I forgot to inquire the size of your family."
"I have only one other child, a little boy of eight."
Mrs. Talbot heard this with satisfaction, for she was aware of the destructive propensities of children, and preferred that the family in charge should be small.
"I believe I have nothing further to say," said Mrs. Talbot. "Should anything else occur to me, I will mention it to you on Tuesday when you come here permanently."
Paul and his mother took their leave. When they were in the street, Paul inquired:
"Well, mother, what do you think of Mrs. Talbot?"
"I like her very much. She seems to be a real lady."
"So I think. She seems to be very kind and considerate."
"We are very fortunate to get so good a home and save the entire rent."
"It will save us two hundred and forty dollars a year."
"We shall be able to save up considerable money every year."
"But there's one thing I want to say, mother. As we are in so much better circumstances, there will be no need of your working on neckties any more."
"Are you going to discharge me from your employment, Paul?" said his mother, smiling.
"Not unless you are willing, mother; but you will have enough to do looking after the house."
"I would rather keep on making neckties. It is a work that I like. In return I will hire my washing done, and all the rougher work."
"Perhaps that will be better," said Paul; "but you can do both if you like."
"I don't mean to lead an idle life, Paul. I should not feel happy if I did. I was always fond of sewing—that is, in moderation. When I made shirts for that establishment in Broadway, for such low prices, I cannot say that I enjoyed that very much. I am glad to be relieved of such work, though at that time I was glad to get it."
"Those days have gone by forever, I hope, mother. I am young and strong, and I don't see why there isn't as good a chance for me to succeed as for other poor boys who have risen to wealth and eminence. I am going to work for success, at any rate. But we shall have to make some purchases before Tuesday."
"What kind of purchases?"
"Jimmy and I are out of clothes, you know. My entire wardrobe has been consumed by the devouring element, as the reporters say. Now, being a young man of fashion, I don't quite like being reduced to one suit and one shirt, with other things in proportion."
"If you could wait, I would make you some shirts."
"But I can't wait. I shouldn't feel like wearing the shirt I have on more than a fortnight."
"I hope not," said his mother, smiling.
"Suppose I should be invited to a party and be obliged to decline with thanks, on account of having only one shirt. My reputation as a young man of fashion would be gone forever."
"So I should think."
"To-morrow I will buy a couple of shirts, and these will last me, with the help of the washerwoman, until you can make me some new ones. Then I will go to Bookair's tomorrow, and take Jimmy with me and buy new suits for both."
"I am afraid you are getting extravagant, Paul."
"If we live on Madison avenue, we must dress accordingly, you know, mother. That reminds me, I must buy two trunks also."
"Two?"
"Yes; one for you, and the other for Jimmy and myself. At present I could tie up all my clothes in a handkerchief—that is, if I had a spare one; but I am going to have some more. You must have some new things also, mother."
"I can wait till we get settled in our new home. I am afraid you won't have money enough for all the articles you mean to buy."
"I may have to draw some from Mr. Preston. I think I will call on him to-morrow and do so. I forgot how much we had to buy. I shall close up business to-morrow and Monday, and spend the time in preparation for moving."
Mrs. Hoffman would not, had the matter rested with her, have been in favor of expending so much money, but she had considerable confidence in Paul's judgment, and indeed their prospects looked bright enough to warrant it; so she withdrew her objections, and Paul had his own way, as he generally did.
The next forenoon Paul called at Mr. Preston's place of business. On entering the office he found Mr. Talbot conversing with him.
"Talbot," said Mr. Preston, "this is your new tenant, Paul Hoffman."
"Good-morning, Paul," said Mr. Talbot pleasantly. "Mrs. Talbot tells me that you and your mother called last evening."
"Yes, sir."
"I was called away by an engagement, but I am glad to say that Mrs. Talbot approves my choice."
"Thank you, sir."
"I hear from Mr. Preston that you have been unfortunate in being burned out."
"Yes, sir, we have been burned out, but we hadn't much to lose."
"Were you able to save any of your clothing?"
"My mother saved a new dress she had just bought."
"Was that all?"
"Yes, sir."
"It will cost you considerable to replace what was destroyed."
"Considerable for me, sir. I called this morning to ask Mr. Preston for fifty dollars, from the money he has of mine, to spend for clothes for my mother, and brother, and myself."
"Will fifty dollars be sufficient?"
"I have some money on hand. That will be all I shall need to draw."
"It will be a pity to disturb your savings. Your care of my house will be worth more than the rent. I will give you fifty dollars besides."
Suiting the action to the word, Mr. Talbot took out his pocketbook and drew therefrom five ten-dollar bills, which he placed in Paul's hands.
"You are very kind," said Paul, in grateful surprise. "We felt well paid by having our rent free."
"You are quite welcome, but I ought to tell you that it is to Mrs. Talbot you are indebted rather than to myself. She suggested my giving you the money, having been much pleased with your mother's appearance."
"I am very much obliged to her also, then," said Paul, "and so will be my mother when I tell her. We will try to give you satisfaction."
"I feel sure you will," said Mr. Talbot kindly.
"That is a fine boy," he said, after Paul had bidden them good-morning and left the office.
"He is an excellent boy," said Mr. Preston warmly. "He is straightforward, manly, and honest."
"How did you fall in with him?"
"He fell in with me," said Mr. Preston, laughing.
"How is that?"
"As I was turning the corner of a street downtown one day he ran into me and nearly knocked the breath out of me."
"Which prepossessed you in his favor?" inquired Mr. Talbot, smiling.
"Not at first. However, it led to a little conversation, by which I learned that he was a street candy merchant, and that some young thief had run off with all his stock in trade. He was then in hot pursuit. Learning that his mother was a seamstress and a worthy woman, I employed her to make me some shirts. I have followed the fortunes of the family, and have been Paul's adviser since then, and latterly his banker. He is now proprietor of a street-stand, and making, for a boy of his age, quite a fair income."
"Your account interests me. If I am as well satisfied as I hope to be with the family I will hereafter seek out some way of serving him."
"I am certain you will be satisfied."
The two gentlemen now conversed of other things, with which the reader has no concern.
Paul went home in high spirits, and delighted his mother and Jimmy with the gift he had received.
"Now, mother," he said, "get on your bonnet and shawl, and we'll go out shopping."
"Won't you take me too, Paul?" asked Jimmy.
"To be sure I will. I am going to buy you a suit of clothes, Jimmy."
The little boy clapped his hands. New clothes were a rarity to him, and the purchase of a new suit, therefore, would be a memorable event.
I do not propose to detail Paul's purchases. They consisted of new suits for Jimmy and himself, and a complete outfit of under garments, closing with the purchase of two plain, substantial trunks. Mrs. Hoffman deferred her own shopping till Monday.
When, later in the day, the various articles arrived, Paul regarded them with much complacency.
"It looks as if we were getting up in the world," he said.
"You deserve to succeed, Paul," said his mother. "You have been industrious and faithful, and God has prospered you."
"I have had a good mother to encourage me," said Paul, "or I should not have done so well."
"You are right to say that, Paul," said Mrs. Norton. "It isn't every boy that has a good mother."
"That is true. There are some boys I know who would do well if their mothers were not shiftless and intemperate. You remember Tommy O'Connor, mother, don't you?"
"Yes, Paul."
"I met him in Nassau street yesterday. He was lounging about in rags, doing nothing. He asked me to lend him five cents. I asked him why he was not at work. He said his mother took all his money and spent it for drink. Then she got quarrelsome and beat him."
"How can any mother behave in that way?" said Mrs. Hoffman, shuddering.
"I don't know, but there is more than one mother that does it, though it's more likely to be the father."
The next day dawned bright and pleasant.
"Can I put on my new clothes, Paul?" asked Jimmy.
"Yes," said Paul. "It's Sunday, and we'll all put on our best clothes and go to church."
"I should like that," said the little boy, delighted.
Mrs. Hoffman readily agreed to the plan.
If of late the family had remained at home on Sunday, it was at first for want of good clothing, not from any want of respect for religious institutions. During Mr. Hoffman's life they had attended regularly, and Paul had belonged to a Sunday-school, Jimmy being too young. The church they had formerly attended being in Harlem, they could not of course go so far, but dropped into one not far from Union Square. They were shown seats by the sexton, and listened attentively to the services, though it must be confessed that Jimmy's attention was occasionally diverted to his new clothes, of which he was not a little proud. Mrs. Hoffman felt glad once more to find herself enjoying religious privileges, and determined henceforth to attend regularly.
As they were leaving the church, Paul suddenly found himself, to his surprise, next to Mr. and Mrs. Talbot, whom he had not before observed.
"Good-morning, Mr. Talbot," he said.
Mr. Talbot turned on being addressed and said:
"What, Paul, are you here?"
"Mr. Talbot, this is my mother," said Paul.
"Mrs. Hoffman," said Mr. Talbot, with as much courtesy as if he were addressing his social equal, "I am glad to make your acquaintance. My dear, this is Mrs. Hoffman."
Mrs. Talbot greeted both cordially, and made some inquiries about Jimmy. She observed with pleasure the neat appearance of the entire family, feeling sure that those who were so careful about their own appearance would be equally careful of her house. She also thought more favorably of them for their attendance at church, having herself a high respect for religious observances. Of course Paul and his mother thanked her in fitting terms for the gift which had enabled them to replace their losses by the fire.
After a brief conversation they parted, Mr. and Mrs. Talbot going uptown, while Paul and his mother had nearly two miles to walk in a different direction.
"Next Sunday we shall be walking uptown also," said Paul. "It will look well in the Directory, 'Paul Hoffman, merchant; house, Madison avenue,' won't it?"
"Yes," said his mother, "so long as it doesn't mention that you live in the basement."
"Some time I hope to occupy a whole house of my own."
"In Madison avenue?"
"Perhaps so; who knows?"
"I see, Paul, you are getting ambitious."
"Where shall I be, Paul?" asked Jimmy, who felt that his future prospects deserved consideration.
"Oh, you'll be a famous artist, and have a studio on Fifth avenue."
"Do you think so, Paul?" asked the little fellow seriously.
"I hope so. All you want is a little help from me now and then. If I had time I would give you a course of lessons in drawing."
"You draw awfully, Paul."
"Do you draw any better?"
"Of course I do."
"Mother," said Paul, with much gravity, "that boy's self-conceit is unbounded. You ought to talk to him about it."
But though Paul liked to joke Jimmy, he had already decided, after they moved uptown, to give him an opportunity of developing his talent by engaging a drawing teacher for him. The large saving in their expenses from not being obliged to pay rent would allow him to do this easily. He had not yet mentioned this to Jimmy, for he meant to surprise him.
At the time appointed, Paul and his mother moved into their new home. It was necessary to buy but a small quantity of new furniture, as Mrs. Talbot authorized them to take down from the upper rooms anything of which they had need. She was led to this offer by the favorable opinion she had formed of Mrs. Hoffman. With the exception, therefore, of some bedding and a rocking-chair, the latter purchased nothing.
It took a little time, of course, to get accustomed to their new quarters. When, however, they had got to feel at home, they enjoyed them. It was no longer possible, of course, for Paul to come home to the noonday meal, since the distance between his place of business and the house on Madison avenue was two miles and a half. He therefore was accustomed to take his lunch at a restaurant, for his mother had adopted the common New York custom of having dinner at the end of the day.
It was about six weeks after Paul's removal to Madison avenue that one day, on approaching the restaurant on Fulton street where he proposed to lunch, his attention was drawn to a famished-looking boy who was looking in at the window at the viands within. It was impossible to misinterpret his hungry look. Paul understood it at once, and his heart was stirred with compassion. His own prosperity had not hardened him, but rendered him more disposed to lend a helping hand to those more needy.
"Are you hungry, Johnny?" he asked.
The boy turned at the sound of the words.
"Ain't I just?" he said.
"Didn't you have any breakfast?"
"I had a piece of bread."
"Was that all?"
"Yes,"
"Could you eat a plate of meat if I gave you some?"
"Try me and see," was the reply.
"Come in, then," said Paul.
"Will you pay for it?" asked the young Arab, almost incredulous.
"Yes, I will pay for it."
The boy waited for no further assurance. He was not in a position to refuse so advantageous a proposal. He shuffled in, therefore, directly behind Paul.
It was not an aristocratic eating-house, but its guests were well-dressed, and the ragged boy at once attracted unfavorable attention.
"Get out of here!" said a waiter.
"He told me to come in," said the boy, beginning to tremble at the thought of losing the proffered dinner.
Paul, at whom he pointed, was known at the restaurant.
"Did this boy come in with you?" asked the waiter.
"Yes," said Paul; "he's going to dine with me."
"All right."
The waiter was rather surprised at Paul's selection of a table companion, but payment being thus guaranteed, could interpose no further objections.
"Sit down there, Johnny," said Paul, indicating a seat at one of the side tables and taking the seat opposite himself.
"Now what'll you have?" he asked, handing his young guest the bill of fare.
The young Arab took it, and holding it upside down, looked at it in perplexity.
"I can't read," said he, handing it back.
"I suppose you can eat, though," said Paul. "What'll you have?"
"Anything that's good; I ain't pertikler," said the boy.
"Do you like stewed oysters?"
The boy eagerly replied in the affirmative.
"Stewed oysters for two," ordered Paul. "That'll do to begin on, Johnny. What's your real name?"
"Julius."
"Anything else?"
"That's all the name I know."
"You can take another when you need it. Did you ever hear of Julius Caesar?"
"Yes," said the boy.
Paul was a little surprised to discover the boy's range of historical information.
"What do you know about him?" he asked.
"I don't know him; I've seed him," said the boy.
"Where have you seen him?" asked Paul, rather astonished.
"Down in Baxter street."
"Does he live there?" asked Paul.
"Yes; he keeps a barber shop there."
Evidently the young Arab supposed that Julius Caesar, colored barber, within the precincts of the Five Points, was the one referred to by his questioner. Paul did not explain to him his mistake.
"Have you got any father or mother?"
"No," said the boy.
"Where do you live?"
"In Centre street."
"What do you do for a living?"
"Sometimes I black boots; sometimes I beg."
"Who do you live with?"
"Jack Morgan."
"Is he any relation to you?"
"I dunno," answered the boy.
The conversation was here interrupted. The stews were placed on the table, with a plate of crackers.
The boy's eyes glistened. He seized the spoon, and attacked his share with evident appetite.
"Poor little chap!" thought Paul, sympathetically; "he doesn't often get a good dinner. To-day he shall have all he can eat."
When the boy had finished, he said: "Will you have some pudding, or would you like some more oysters?"
"I'd like the oysters, if it's all the same to you," answered Julius.
"Another stew and some apple dumpling," ordered Paul.
Julius was in appearance about twelve years of age. In reality he was fourteen, being small of his age. He had black hair and a dark complexion; his face was thin and his figure slender. He had the expression of one who was used to privation and knew how to bear it without much hope of anything better. His clothes were soiled and ragged, but his face was clean. Water was cheap, and he was unfashionably neat for the quarter in which he lived.
The stew was brought, and an extra plate of bread and butter.
"Now go ahead," said Paul. "Eat all you want."
Julius needed no other invitation. He proceeded vigorously to accomplish the work before him, and soon both bread and oysters were disposed of.
"Have you got enough?" asked Paul, smiling.
"Yes," said Julius; "I'm full."
Have you ever seen the satisfied look of an alderman as he rose from a sumptuous civic banquet? The same expression was visible on the face of the young Arab as he leaned back in his chair, with his hands thrust into his pockets.
"Then," said Paul, "we may as well be going."
The boy seized his ragged cap and followed his benefactor from the eating-house. When they reached the sidewalk, he turned to Paul and said:
"That was a bully dinner."
Paul understood that he intended to thank him, though his gratitude was not directly expressed.
"I'm glad you liked it," said he; "but I must be going now."
Julius looked after him until he turned the corner. "He's been good to me," he said to himself; "maybe I can do something for him some day."
The young Arab had had few occasions for gratitude. The world had been a hard stepmother to him. It was years since he had known father or mother, and as long as he could remember he had been under the guardianship of a social outlaw, named Jack Morgan, who preyed upon the community whenever he got a chance. Whenever he was under the ban of the law, Julius had shifted for himself, or been transferred to one of his lawless companions. The chances seemed to be in favor of Julius growing up such another as his guardian. Had he been differently constituted he would have been worse than he was. But his natural instincts were healthful, and when he had been left entirely to himself he had lived by honest industry, devoting himself to some of the street occupations which were alone open to him. His most perilous period was when Jack resumed his guardianship, as he had done a fortnight previous, on being released from a three months' residence at Blackwell's Island.
What the tie was between him and the boy was unknown. Julius knew that Jack was not his father, for the latter had never made that claim. Sometimes he vaguely intimated that Julius was the son of his sister, and consequently his nephew, but as at times he gave a different account, Julius did not know what to think. But he had always acquiesced in his guardianship, and whenever Jack was at liberty had without hesitation gone back to him.
After a brief pause Julius followed Paul to the corner, and saw him take his place beside the necktie stand. He then remembered to have seen him there before.
"I thought I know'd him," he said; "I'll remember him now."
He wandered about vaguely, having no regular occupation. He had had a blacking-box and brush, but it had been stolen, and he had not replaced it. He had asked Jack to lend him the money requisite to set him up in the business again, but the latter had put him off, intimating that he should have something else for him to do. Julius had therefore postponed seeking any other employment, beyond hovering about the piers and railway stations on the chance of obtaining a job to carry a carpetbag or valise. This was a precarious employment, and depended much more on good fortune than the business of a newsboy or bootblack. However, in the course of the afternoon Julius earned twenty-five cents for carrying a carpet-bag to French's Hotel. That satisfied him, for he was not very ambitious. He invested the greater part of it in some coffee and cakes at one of the booths in Fulton Market, and about nine o'clock, tired with his day's tramp, sought the miserable apartment in Centre street which he shared with Jack Morgan.