When Scott reached home he found Loammi still up.
"Did you go to Mr. Lawton's room?" the latter asked.
"Yes."
"What sort of a place does he live in—a tenement house?"
"No; he has a very good room in West Sixteenth Street."
"He will soon be out of money if he lives expensively."
"How do you know that?"
"Because he is evidently poor. Didn't you notice his clothes?"
"Yes, but I don't think he cares much about dress."
"I guess you're right there. Pa thinks he was a fool to come to New York. If he expects to fallback on pa when he has spent all his money, he'll be disappointed."
"I don't think he has any such expectations. He seems like an independent man. He fell in with an acquaintance from Michigan who is staying at the Fifth Avenue Hotel."
Loammi looked surprised.
"Who was it?" he asked.
"Quite a nice-looking man. He is a member of Congress."
"Then how does he happen to be in New York?" asked Loammi, incredulously.
"He is here on a little business. He goes back to Washington in two or three days."
"Did Mr. Lawton seem to know him well?"
"Yes; the congressman was very cordial."
"Politicians have to know everybody," remarked Loammi, after a pause. He found it difficult to conceive of "Cousin Seth" having any high-toned friends.
Scott took his lamp and went to bed. In his small chamber there was no gas jet, but this he did not mind. In England gas is not used as extensively as in the United States, and he was more accustomed to lamps or candles.
As he slowly undressed, he felt more cheerfulthan usual. It seemed pleasanter to have found a relative who appeared to like him. He could not feel toward Ezra Little or Loammi as if they were relations.
"I am very sorry Cousin Seth is not better off," he said to himself. "If he can't get a place in the city, I suppose he will have to go back to the West. I hope not, for I shall miss him."
The next day Seth Lawton came to the Eighth Avenue store, and found his way to the department where Scott was a salesman.
"What are you selling, Scott?" he asked, with a smile.
"Socks, Cousin Seth."
"I think I shall have to buy some, just to say that I have bought from you. What do you charge?"
"Here are some merino socks that we sell three pairs for a dollar."
"Pick me out three—No. 9½."
Scott did so, and Mr. Lawton handed him a five-dollar gold piece.
A cash boy was called, the goods and money were handed to him, and in due time the bundle and change were brought back.
Just then Mr. Little, who had been out to lunch,came back, and passing by the sock counter recognized Mr. Lawton.
"Good-morning, Ezra," said Seth. "You have a fine store."
"Quite fair, but not so large as some," returned Ezra Little. "I am cramped for room. I think of taking in the adjoining store next year."
"I suppose you are getting rich."
"Not so fast as I should like. Expenses are very large. How would you like to run a store like this, Cousin Seth?" he added, in a complaisant tone.
"Not very well. I might like to own it, but I don't think dry goods are in my line."
"I fancy not," said Ezra, in a tone of calm superiority. "It takes some business ability to run a large store."
"No doubt you have the necessary ability," observed Seth, with a smile.
"Well, I manage to do it."
"I hope Scott will be as successful as you have been."
"It isn't every one who works in a dry-goods store who rises beyond a salesman," returned Ezra Little, with a cold glance at Scott.
As the proprietor of the store passed on to hisoffice, Seth Lawton said: "Have you been out to lunch, Scott?"
"Yes, Cousin Seth."
"I am sorry. I would have invited you to lunch with me."
"Thank you. Perhaps I can go some other day."
"Good-afternoon, then. Remember to-morrow evening."
"I won't forget."
On the way home from the store, Scott took the opportunity to speak of a new suit.
"Mr. Little," he said, "I am afraid I shall have to ask you for some new clothes."
"What's the matter with those you are wearing?" asked Ezra Little, coldly.
"The trousers are frayed around the bottoms, and the coat is getting faded."
"You seem to have high notions for a poor boy," continued his employer, in a tone of displeasure.
"I like to look neat," Scott answered, with spirit.
"You are as well dressed as most of the boys who work in the store."
"They are cash boys, while I am behind thecounter. Besides, I don't ask you to pay out of your own pocket."
"That is just what I will have to do if I comply with your request."
"You have forty dollars of mine, Mr. Little; the money I handed you when I went into the store."
"You seem to forget that this is to pay the difference between what you receive—a home—and what you would get in any other store like mine."
"Don't you think I earn my board?" asked Scott, mortified.
"No, of course not. Did Mr. Lawton put you up to asking for new clothes?"
"He said he thought I needed some new ones."
"Just as I thought. It won't be long, probably, before he wants you to borrow money on his account."
"I don't think he will ask for any."
"You seem to know him well. On what do you base this opinion?"
"He seems to be too independent."
"In feeling, yes; but I don't think he has independent means."
"Then you are not willing to buy me new clothes, Mr. Little?"
"I will think it over, and let you know what I decide."
It was a trial to Scott to prefer his request, though it seemed to him necessary. Though his father had been poor, he had always been neatly dressed, and in a store he was subject to an unusual amount of scrutiny. He felt that his own money ought to be expended for what he needed.
Then, as to not earning his board, he knew that no salesman who sold as much as he did received less than eight dollars a week. It certainly did seem mean in Ezra Little to pay him less than his board.
What he should do if his application was denied he did not know. To be sure, he had enough left of the ten dollars he had recovered from Crawford Lane to buy a pair of trousers, but a new coat would be beyond his means.
During supper no reference was made to the subject, but as they were rising from the table, Mr. Little turned to his son and said: "How do you compare in size with Scott?"
"We are of about the same size."
In reality, Scott was two inches taller than his cousin, and probably as much larger in chest measure.
"So I thought," returned Mr. Little. "Scott thinks he needs some new clothes. Look over your suits, and see if you haven't one you can give him."
"Why should I give him my clothes, pa?"
"I will make it up to you."
"All right! Will you buy me a new suit?"
"Yes."
"Very well, then, I'm willing."
"You can go upstairs with Loammi," said Mr. Little, "and he will pick you out a suit that he has laid aside."
Scott flushed indignantly. He was not without pride, and it galled him to have his cousin's clothes turned over to him.
"Excuse me, Mr. Little," he said, "but I am taller and stouter than Loammi. I could not wear any of his cast-off suits."
"You mean you are too proud to do so," said Ezra Little, sharply.
"Perhaps I am, but at any rate they would not be large enough for me."
"That is an excuse."
"I will try on a suit, and let you see."
"Do so."
Scott went upstairs with his cousin, and put ona suit selected for him by Loammi, the poorest he had, and came downstairs.
The trousers were nearly two inches too short, and the coat was evidently too narrow across the shoulder.
"It seems to fit very well," said Ezra.
"Why, Mr. Little," exclaimed his wife, "it doesn't fit Scott at all."
"Then we will send it to a tailor and have it altered," said her husband.
Scott made no comment, but he made up his mind that he would get along with his old suit rather than wear his cousin's.
The next day Mr. Little asked: "Did you take that suit to my tailor for alterations, Scott?"
"Thank you, sir," said Scott, coloring, "but I think I will get along for the present with the suit I am wearing."
"What does that mean?" demanded Ezra Little, quickly.
"I don't care to wear Loammi's clothes."
"Oh, you are proud, are you?" sneered Mr. Little.
"If it were necessary I would do so, but I think I am entitled to a new suit."
"On what do you base your claim?"
"On the money which I handed you, Mr. Little," replied Scott.
"We will not discuss this question," said Ezra Little, coldly. "I have already told you that this money will be needed to pay your expenses."
Scott did not reply.
"Well, what have you to say to that?"
"Nothing, sir."
"You have no just cause of complaint. I have offered you a suit which, when altered, would be almost as good as new. If you change your mind about accepting it, you may let me know."
"Very well, sir."
On Thursday evening Scott made a call at Seth Lawton's boarding house.
"I am glad to see you, Scott," said Mr. Lawton, cordially. "But you look sober."
"I feel so, Cousin Seth."
"Why is that? Anything unpleasant happened?"
"I applied to Mr. Little for a new suit. He declined to buy me one, but said I could have an old suit of Loammi's altered over for me."
"Didn't you mention the money you had placed in his hands?"
"Yes, but he said I was not earning my board, and this would make up the deficit."
Seth Lawton rose from his chair and paced the room. It was his habit to do so when he was disturbed.
"I didn't think Ezra Little would be so mean,though I knew he was far from liberal. What did you say to his proposal?"
"I declined it. Loammi is not as large as I am, and, besides, I don't feel like wearing his second-hand clothes when Mr. Little has money of mine in his possession."
"What do you think of his claim that your services do not pay for your board?"
"Judging from what I have found out about the pay of other salesmen, I think that I earn more than my board."
"I think so, too. So you are to have no new suit?"
"No, sir."
"Perhaps you will be luckier than you imagine. You must remember that I am your relative as well as Ezra Little. I will buy you a suit."
"But, Cousin Seth, I don't want to put you to that expense. You will need all your money yourself."
Seth Lawton smiled.
"I will promise not to put myself to any inconvenience," he said. "Will that satisfy you? Will you now refuse a favor at my hands, Scott, my boy?"
"I would rather receive a favor from you thanfrom Mr. Little, if you really feel that you can afford it."
"You need not be apprehensive on that score. At what time do you go out to lunch?"
"At twelve o'clock."
"I will call at that time to-morrow, and we will manage to get time to stop at a tailor's and leave your measure."
"But, Cousin Seth, a ready-made suit will answer."
"As this is the first present I have given you, I will make it a good one. Probably we can find a tailor near your store."
"Yes; Mr. Little's tailor has a shop only three blocks away. Here is his card."
"The very thing."
When the suit was finished Scott put it on at once, and left his old one to be cleaned and repaired.
It was hardly to be supposed that it would escape the observation of Loammi and his father. As a matter of fact, it was handsomer than any his cousin wore.
"Where did you get that suit?" asked Loammi, in amazement.
"It was a present," answered Scott.
"From whom?"
"Cousin Seth."
Loammi was not slow in carrying the news to his father.
"Pa," he said, "see the new suit Mr. Lawton has given Scott."
Mr. Little put on his glasses and closely examined his young relative.
"Did you ask Mr. Lawton to buy you a suit?" he asked, abruptly.
"No, sir. I did not wish him to go to such an expense."
"It must have cost at least twenty-five dollars."
"I think it cost twenty-eight."
"Seth is a fool. He is probably poor, and could not afford such an extravagant outlay."
"He told me he could afford it, and I had to take his word."
"It is better than my best suit, pa," complained Loammi.
"You shall have as good a one when you need it. It is only three weeks since I bought you a suit."
"Was it a ready-made suit?" asked Loammi of Scott.
"No; it was made to order by the tailor your father mentioned to me."
"You will soon get it shabby wearing it every day."
"I don't intend to do so. I left my old suit to be cleaned and repaired."
"Well, you are provided for, for the present, thanks to Seth Lawton's folly. I don't wonder he is poor if that is the way he manages. Do you know if he has got work yet?"
"He told me part of his time was occupied."
"I suppose he has got a little job to do at bookkeeping. Possibly it will pay him twenty-five dollars. On the strength of that he has bought you a suit at twenty-eight dollars. Seth always was a fool. When he finds himself in need, it won't do him any good to apply to me."
It was clear that Mr. Lawton had not raised himself in the estimation of his rich relatives by his kindness to Scott.
Among the cash boys who worked in the store was a pleasant-faced boy, named William Mead. He was two years younger than Scott, but the latter had taken special notice of him, and without knowing much of him, had come to feel an interest in him.
Usually Willie, as he was called, was bright and cheerful, but one day he appeared with a sad countenance.
"What is the matter, Willie?" asked Scott, when the two boys went out together at the noon hour.
Scott bought his lunch at a neighboring restaurant, but the cash boy brought his with him from home.
"I don't like to annoy you with my troubles."
"But they won't annoy me. Please think of me as a friend."
"Then I will tell you. I have a brother three years older than I am, who earns six dollars a week. He has been sick for two weeks, and my mother misses his wages. You know I only get two dollars and a half a week."
"That is very small."
"Some of the stores pay more, but Mr. Little never pays more than that to a cash boy. Next week our rent comes due, and as we have a strict landlord, I am afraid he will put us out when he finds mother is not ready with the rent."
"I am sorry for you, Willie," said Scott, in a tone of sympathy. "Have you no friend you can call upon for a loan?"
"Our friends are as poor as ourselves."
"When does your rent come due?"
"Next Saturday."
"I will think whether I can do anything for you, I will see you again to-morrow."
"But you are poor yourself. Mr. Little's son was at the store one day, and I overheard him telling one of the salesmen that you were a poor relation."
"He is not likely to let me forget that. I am not sure that I can do anything for you, Willie, but if I can I will."
"You have already done me good by speaking kindly to me."
"Come in to lunch with me, Willie. A cup of coffee will do you good."
That evening Scott had arranged to call on Mr. Lawton. He decided to tell him of the young cash boy's troubles. Seth Lawton's face showed his sympathy.
"It is really a hard case," he said. "We must see if we can't do something for your friend."
"I hope you don't think I was hinting this to you, Cousin Seth."
"I don't, but still you won't object to my doing something for the boy."
"Mr. Little says you are foolishly generous, and this is why you keep poor."
"He will never make himself poor by his generosity. If you have the boy's address we will call upon him."
The cash boy and his mother lived in a westside tenement house.
Just in front of the house, Scott met Willie Mead with a loaf of bread which he was bringing home from a neighboring bakery. His eye lighted up with pleasure when he saw Scott.
"Do you live here, Willie?" asked Scott.
"Yes, we live on the fourth floor."
"I have brought a gentleman with me who may be able to help your mother. We will follow you upstairs."
"You may not like to climb so high, sir," said the cash boy, turning to Mr. Lawton.
"I think I can stand it for once," rejoined Seth Lawton. "I am a little more scant of breath than when I was a young man, but I am still good for a climb."
Willie started ahead and the two visitors followed him.
"We will stop here on the landing till you have told your mother she is to have visitors," said Seth, considerately.
The boy opened a door and entered a rear room. He reappeared in a short time, and said: "Come in, please."
The room was neat, but the scanty and well-worn furniture showed evidences of dire poverty.
Mrs. Mead, a woman of forty, though poorly dressed, had a look of refinement, though her face was sad and anxious.
As she watched the entrance of the visitors her eyes seemed riveted upon Seth Lawton. She took a step forward.
"Surely," she said, "I cannot be deceived. This is Seth Lawton."
"You know me?" said Seth, in amazement.
"Yes, and you ought to know me. We were born in the same village."
"Mary Grant!" ejaculated Seth, after a brief scrutiny.
"That was my name. Now I am Mary Mead. I married, but my husband is dead. But sit down. It does me good to see an old friend."
"It seems incredible," said Seth, as he took the proffered seat. "We met last in England, and nowagain under strange and unexpected circumstances." Seth Lawton seemed moved, but his tone was one of satisfaction.
"Yes, Seth, much has happened since we parted."
"How long have you lived in America?"
"Ten years."
"And when did your husband die?"
"Three years since. He left me nothing but the children, and it has been a sad and sorrowful time. We have lived, but there have been times when we have been on the verge of starvation. And you, how has it been with you?"
"I have no right to complain. I have lived comfortably. You know Ezra Little?"
"Yes, it was at my request that he took Willie into his store. But the two dollars and a half a week, which he pays him, seems very small."
"I should think so. Didn't he know how poor you were?" asked Seth, indignantly.
"Yes, but he said he could not favor one cash boy more than the rest."
"Then he might have made you a present."
"I don't think it ever occurred to him, Seth. But how did you find me? Did he give you my address?"
"No, that was not likely. Scott Walton—you must have known his mother, my cousin Lucy—works in the same store. It was he who heard of your trouble and reported it to me. Now tell me how you are situated."
"We are likely to be turned out of these poor rooms, because we cannot pay the rent. My eldest boy, Sam, has been sick, and as he earned six dollars a week, it took most of our income from us. Next week I think he will be able to go to work again."
"This is a poor place for you, Mary."
"We are glad of even this shelter. We are too poor to be particular."
"Your income consists only of what the two boys earn?"
"I earn something by sewing, but I have no sewing machine, and the prices paid are very low. Still, every little helps."
"If you had a whole house and kept lodgers, you could make a better income."
"No doubt, and I think I could do it if I had the means. But with no capital, that is out of the question," she finished, with a sigh.
"I have a proposal to make to you. I have a room in a house on West Sixteenth Street. It is amoderate sized house, and is to let furnished. My present landlady is desirous of giving up the house, as she wishes to be with her mother in the country, but she is tied by a lease. Suppose you take it off her hands?"
"I should like nothing better, but you can judge whether an offer from one so poor as myself would be accepted."
"Don't trouble yourself about that," said Seth Lawton, quietly. "I will arrange it all, and will retain my room. I may say that the rooms are all taken, so that you would be sure of an income at once."
"I should like the arrangement very much, and I should like especially to have you with me, Seth; but it seems like a dream."
"We will make it a reality. I will see Mrs. Field this evening, and call on you again to-morrow. When does your month here expire?"
"In three days."
"The time is short, but it is sufficient. You will hear from me very soon. Meanwhile accept this small favor." He drew from his pocket a ten-dollar note, and handed it to the widow.
"You are too kind, Seth," she said, gratefully. "You look poor yourself, and——"
"I never was in the habit of dressing very handsomely," said Mr. Lawton, smiling, "and just at present I look shabbier than usual. Perhaps I have an object in it. At any rate, it is a fact. The help I offer you will not embarrass me in the least."
"What a difference between you and Ezra Little," said Mrs. Mead. "He has never offered me a dollar, though he knew me as well as you."
"He acts according to his nature, Mary. Scott is an orphan—his father died on the ship that brought them over from England—but Ezra treats him as meanly as he has treated you and your boy. He makes him work for his board, and has refused him a suit of clothes, though he stood in need of it."
Mr. Lawton remained for half an hour. Then he rose, and went downstairs, followed by Scott.
"It is strange you should have met an old acquaintance, Cousin Seth," said Scott.
"More than an acquaintance, Scott. It may seem strange to you that an old fellow like me should ever have been in love, but the time was when I was in love with Mary Grant, and asked her to be my wife."
"And she refused you?"
"Yes, Scott; I was fifteen years her senior, and she liked the man, whom she soon after married, better. It was this disappointment chiefly that led to my leaving England. I am very glad to have met Mary again. Though years have passed I have not lost my attachment for her. I am glad indeed that I can do the poor woman a service."
His voice softened as he spoke, and it was clear that his early romance was not dead.
"Mr. Mead was a handsome man," continued Seth. "You can judge of that, for the boy Willie looks like him. He made a good husband, I presume, but he had not the knack of succeeding in life."
"Like Mr. Little."
"Yes, like Ezra Little."
It occurred to Scott that the same thing might be said of Seth Lawton himself, but he would not, of course, speak of it. He was beginning to have a sincere respect and regard for Cousin Seth.
What matter if he were poor—at least compared with Ezra Little—he evidently had a kind heart, and was inclined to be generous beyond his means.
"All cannot become rich," said Scott. "I wish you had Mr. Little's money, though."
"Don't wish that, Scott, for without that Ezra would be poor indeed. It is all that he has to boast of."
"I am afraid it will be the same with Loammi."
"With this difference: Ezra, with all his faults, is enterprising and industrious, and I don't think his son will be either. In the race of life you may eclipse him, after all."
"It doesn't seem much like it now."
"No, but you are young yet, and time often works wonders."
"Won't it cost a good deal to set up Mrs. Mead in her new business?" asked Scott, thoughtfully.
"Not very much. She will enter into a house fully furnished and equipped, and with a sure and prompt income from a good set of lodgers."
"I hope she will succeed."
"I think she will. If Ezra would pay you wages, in place of giving you a home in his house, you might take a room there, too."
"I wish I could."
"Well, it may come about some time. But look, there is Loammi."
Yes, it was Loammi, sporting a light cane, and evidently on very good terms with himself.
"Good-evening, Loammi," said Cousin Seth.
"Good-evening, Mr. Lawton," responded Loammi, patronizingly. "Are you and Scott taking a walk?"
"Yes; and you?"
"Oh, I have been to call on a schoolmate. His father's awful rich."
"We, too, have been to make a call—on the mother of one of your father's cash boys."
Loammi turned up his nose.
"You keep fashionable company," he said.
"We are not fashionable, like you, Loammi," said Scott, smiling.
"No, of course not," answered Loammi, in a matter-of-course tone. "Well, ta, ta!"
"I wonder how that boy will turn out!" said Cousin Seth, thoughtfully.
Cousin Seth arranged everything as he had planned, and Mrs. Mead's landlord, when he called, learned to his surprise that his poor tenant was intending to move.
"Have you found cheaper rooms?" he asked.
"No, but I am going to take a whole house."
The landlord looked astonished.
"Where?" he asked.
"On West Sixteenth Street."
"Yet you have always been pleading poverty, and only last month I had to wait two days for the last dollar of the rent."
"That is true; but an old friend has found me out, and will give me a helping hand."
Of course, no more was to be said.
The removal was soon made, for Mrs. Mead had little to move, and with Seth Lawton's efficient help, the widow found herself in possession of hernew establishment, with everything running smoothly.
"Now," said Mr. Lawton, "I must see if I can't do something for Willie. How much does Ezra Little pay him?"
"Two dollars and a half a week."
"That is too little."
"I don't think Mr. Little will pay more."
"Let him ask."
"I am afraid in that case he will lose his place. The last time Willie asked for a raise he was angry."
"Very well, if he loses his place I will find him another. Or, stay, I will ask Ezra myself."
"That will be better."
So Seth called the next evening on his rich relative. He was not received with open arms, for Mr. Little was under the impression that he wanted to borrow money.
"I can't give you much time to-night, Seth," said the merchant. "I have a business engagement. Have you found anything to do?"
"I think I can see my way clear to a place as confidential clerk and bookkeeper in a small office downtown."
"How much salary?"
"Possibly fifteen dollars a week."
"You had better accept. You are extremely lucky at your age to get such an office."
"You wouldn't be satisfied with it, Ezra," returned Seth, with a smile.
"I? You are dreaming. What, a well-known and long-established merchant to think of such a salary! You must be insane."
"Yet you are within five years as old as I am, Ezra."
"What does that matter? I take it there is considerable difference between your position and mine."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"To tell the truth, I didn't think you would be able to get any position at all. I hope this won't slip through your fingers."
"Then you advise me to accept it?"
"Of course. You would be crazy not to do so. Remember, you will have to depend upon yourself. The fact that you are a relation will not justify you in asking help from me."
"I have a favor to ask, however, Ezra."
"I cannot lend you money, if that's what you mean," said Ezra, brusquely.
"It isn't. I find that one of your cash boys isthe son of an old friend of ours—Mary Mead, formerly Mary Grant."
"Yes; I gave the boy a place in order to help her."
"You pay him two dollars and a half a week. There are only two boys, and this is very small."
"It is all I pay any of the boys."
"But Willie is a well-grown boy of fourteen. Surely, out of old friendship, and to help his mother, you can pay him more."
"Have you been talking to Mrs. Mead, and encouraged her to think that I will increase her boy's wages?"
"Yes."
"Then you have done a foolish thing. I decline. I am half inclined to discharge the boy."
"It won't be necessary. He will leave the store at the end of the week."
"What does this mean?"
"That I will undertake to find him a better place."
Ezra looked annoyed and angry.
"You can't do it," he said. "You have no acquaintances in the city. You are not even sure of employment yourself."
"So it seems you have sized me up, Ezra," said Seth Lawton, mildly.
"That is easy enough. You were born to be an unsuccessful man. You are fifty-six years old, and I suppose you haven't saved enough money to keep you going for three months."
"I don't owe a cent, Ezra."
"That is something. But I can't remain here talking. Don't forget what I said about making sure of the place you spoke of."
"Just as I expected," thought Seth. "Ezra seems to be a thoroughly selfish man. It is lucky for me that——" but he did not finish the sentence.
Mr. Little did not think of the matter again till the superintendent told him on Saturday night: "One of the cash boys has resigned his place."
"Who is it?"
"William Mead."
"It is all the bad advice of Seth Lawton," he reflected. "He is a perfect meddler. Probably his mother will be here in a day or two to beg me to take him back."
But no such application came. Willie had obtained a place on Grand Street at four dollars a week.
Scott continued to enjoy the companionship of Seth Lawton, but sometimes Cousin Seth was out of the city for days at a time, in which event Scott was thrown back on the company of Loammi, but this gave him very little satisfaction.
One evening Loammi happened upon his cousin coming out of a store on Sixth Avenue.
"Have you been buying anything?" he asked.
"Yes."
"What?"
"A couple of neckties."
"Where did you get the money?"
Scott said, quietly: "That is my business, Loammi."
"I thought you gave pa all the money you had."
"I gave him forty dollars."
"How much have you got left?"
"I don't care to tell."
This was enough for Loammi, who saw a chance to do his cousin an ill turn. Accordingly he said to his father that evening: "Pa, did you know that Scott had money?"
"What do you mean?"
Then Loammi told the story.
"I asked him how much he had, and he wouldn'ttell me. It seems to me he ought to have handed it to you."
In this Mr. Little agreed with his son.
"Call Scott," said he.
Scott was in his small chamber, and there Loammi found him.
"Pa wants to see you, Scott."
Scott went downstairs and into Mr. Little's presence.
"Do you wish to see me, sir?"
"Yes. Loammi tells me you have some money."
"Yes; I have a little money."
"I thought you gave up all you had when you came here."
"So I did, all but sixty cents, but I have regretted it since."
"Why?"
"Because I understood it was to be used for my clothing, and it was not."
"I told you in what light I considered it. But I won't dwell upon that now. You deceived me in letting me think you had given up all your money."
"No, I did not, sir."
"Then how do you explain your having money at present. Was it given you by Mr. Lawton?"
"No, sir."
"Where, then, did you get it?"
"It was money that I was swindled out of by a fellow passenger. I induced him to return a part of it."
"How much have you now?"
"About five dollars."
"You may give it to me."
"I prefer not to do so, Mr. Little; I need it myself."
Scott spoke respectfully, but firmly.
"Do you refuse?" demanded Ezra, angrily.
"Yes, sir."
"Do you think this is a suitable return for all I have done for you?"
"You have given me a home, but it is in return for services in your store. As for this money, it was given me by my father and I prefer to keep it."
Ezra Little was taken aback by the boy's resolute tone. On the whole, he decided not to press the demand.
"Be it so," he said; "but understand that I shall, hereafter, give you nothing but your board and lodging. When you require clothing or anything else, you must buy it yourself."
"I understand, sir."
"Seth has been talking to that boy," reflected Ezra Little. "It would serve him right for me to discharge him."
But Ezra Little knew that Scott was an excellent salesman, and that he could not supply his place at less than eight dollars a week, so he did not care to dismiss him.
"I'll bring him to terms yet," he said to himself.
Loammi had a high idea of his personal qualities and social standing. But he had one grievance.
He received an allowance from his father, but it was much less than he thought he needed. Ezra Little was not a liberal man. He gave Loammi a dollar every Saturday night, and obstinately refused to give him more.
"It is very hard to get along on a dollar, pa," complained Loammi.
"When I was your age I had no allowance at all, my son."
"You were a poor boy. You were not expected to keep up appearances."
"You have no clothes to buy. I provide for you in that respect, and I think you are as well dressed as most of the boys you associate with."
"I don't complain of my clothes, but a boywants to keep up his end with his school friends. Yesterday afternoon, Henry Bates proposed to me to go in and get an ice cream, but I couldn't, for I had no money."
"Have you spent all your weekly allowance?"
"Yes, every cent."
"Yet it is only Wednesday."
"And I must scrimp till Saturday night."
"Then you should manage better. If you limited yourself to ten cents a day for the first five days, you would be able to spend twenty-five cents on Friday and Saturday."
"That's easier said than done, pa."
"I am afraid you are getting extravagant, Loammi."
"Even Scott goes around with more money in his pocket than I do."
"How much money has he got?"
"About five dollars."
"He will have to spend it for clothes. He won't be able to buy ice cream with it."
"Still, it makes a fellow feel good to have as much money as that in his pocket."
"Then I advise you to save up money for a few weeks till you have as much."
"Pa," suggested Loammi, insinuatingly,"couldn't you let me have a five-dollar bill to carry round with me, so that I could show it to my friends? They would think more of me."
"How long do you think it would remain unbroken?" asked his father, shrewdly.
"Oh, ever so long."
"I don't wish to try the experiment. Your friends will respect you without that. They know that you are the son of a man who is well off."
"No, they don't think so, when they see that I am always short of money and hard up."
"Then let them think what they please. If they thought you had money they would want to borrow it, or urge you to spend it on them."
So Loammi failed in his effort to obtain a larger allowance.
One day—it was Friday—he particularly wanted to use some money and was without a penny. Under these circumstances it occurred to him that his despised cousin was well supplied with cash, and might be induced to accommodate him with a loan.
Scott was rather surprised when, as he was going out after supper, Loammi joined him.
"Are you going out for a walk?" he asked, in an unusually gracious tone.
"Yes, Loammi."
"I will join you if you don't mind."
"Certainly. I shall be glad to have your company."
"Have you called on Mr. Lawton lately?"
"No; he is out of town just now. I think he has gone to Philadelphia."
"Has he got a place?"
"He is doing something, but I don't know what it is. He doesn't seem to say much about his affairs."
"I hope he won't spend all his money."
"So do I. He seems to be generous, even beyond his means."
"I wish he'd be generous to me," thought Loammi.
They walked down Broadway, Loammi chatting pleasantly.
"Oh, by the way," he said, suddenly, "I find I have left my purse at home. Could you lend me a dollar?"
Then it flashed upon Scott what was the meaning of his cousin's agreeable manner. He was of an obliging disposition, but he knew Loammi well enough to be certain that he would never see his money back.
"I am sorry, Loammi," he said, "but I am afraid I can't lend you any money."
"Haven't you got any?"
"Yes, but I have to buy my own clothes, as you know, and I need some underclothing."
"That won't cost much."
"True, but there are other things I need, also."
"I don't ask you to give me the money. To-morrow evening I shall get my allowance from pa, and then I can pay you back."
"You must excuse me, Loammi, but I have so little money that I have to be very careful of that little. If I had some one to buy my clothes for me, as you have, it would be different."
"Oh, well," said Loammi, offended, "do as you like. You seem to forget that but for pa you would be in the poorhouse."
"I don't think I should."
"Of course you would. Doesn't he give you your living?"
"No. I earn it."
"All the same. He gave you a place in his store."
"I think I could have got work somewhere else. However, I don't deny that your father gave me employment."
"And you repay him by refusing a slight favor to his son."
"I wish I were differently situated, Loammi, but——"
"Oh, you needn't go on. You have refused me a small favor. Good-evening!" and Loammi left his cousin, and went off in a huff.
"Now, I suppose Loammi will dislike me more than ever," thought Scott. "Well, I must put up with it. I am not rich enough to lend him money which he won't pay back."
Meanwhile, Loammi went home in a very unsatisfactory frame of mind. He was disgusted with himself now because he had humiliated himself so far as to ask his cousin for a loan.
"I'll get even with him if I get a chance," he reflected, angrily.
He was destined to another mortification.
Before he reached home he met a schoolmate named Paul Granger. He wished he could have avoided him for a reason that will immediately appear, but Paul met him as he turned in from the corner of West Forty-fourth Street.
"I am glad to meet you, Loammi," said Paul. "You are owing me a dollar, you know. I should like it back, as I want to go to a picnic to-morrow."
"All right," said Loammi, and he put his hand in his pocket.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, in apparent astonishment. "My purse is empty. I shall have to make you wait a day or two."
"But I have been waiting already for three weeks," protested Paul.
"I am sorry, but I really can't do anything for you to-night. About the first of next week."
"Why don't you ask your father for some money? He is a rich man, isn't he?"
"Yes, but he would be angry if he knew that I had borrowed money. He is very strict about such matters."
"Then you ought not to have borrowed money of me," said Paul.
"Oh, I'll make it all right in a day or two," said Loammi. "Good-evening, I am in a little of a hurry."
Paul Granger walked away, pretty well assured that he would never get back his dollar.
"I suppose that fellow will be annoying me every day," said Loammi to himself. "Heigh-ho! it's awful inconvenient to be so poor. Pa could make it all right if he'd open his heart and give me five or ten dollars."
Loammi entered the house fully convinced that he was very ill used, and that his father was a very selfish man.
He walked upstairs slowly, and as he passed through the upper hall he saw the door of his mother's chamber open. He went in, thinking that he might be able to borrow from her, when as his eyes glanced around the room he saw something that made his heart beat quicker.
On the bureau lay a small pocketbook, which he recognized as his mother's.
Under present circumstances the sight of a pocketbook affected him powerfully.
Without any definite idea of what he would do, he walked softly to the bureau, and taking the pocketbook in his hand, opened it. It contained two bills, a five-dollar note and a one.
"This would just get me out of my trouble," he thought. "I wish this money was mine."
It was a strong temptation. With the one dollar he could pay Paul Granger, and the five would last him some time, supplementing what he called his miserable allowance.
He put the pocketbook in his pocket, and slipping downstairs stealthily, went out again into the street.
As he reached the street, Loammi paused, for a thought came to him. It was a mean, despicable thought, worse than the theft. But it struck him favorably, and he decided to act upon it.
He opened the front door—for he had a latchkey—and went upstairs again. But not to his mother's room. Instead, he went one floor higher, and opened the door of Scott's little chamber. Then he took the two bills from the pocketbook and thrust them into his vest pocket.
Next he looked about his cousin's chamber, and after some deliberation lifted the lid of a small box that stood on a shelf and dropped the pocketbook inside.
Then, with a look of satisfaction, he closed the door of the room and went into the hall. As he did so another door opened upon the landing, and Ellen, the servant, came out of her own room.
She looked with some surprise at Loammi, who did not very often show himself upon the third floor.
Loammi was somewhat disconcerted by this sudden encounter. He felt that it might prove awkward for him.
He must try to account in some way for his being there.
"Do you know if Scott is in the house?" he asked.
"I don't think so."
"I thought he might be in his room, and so came up. But he doesn't appear to be there."
"I think he went out after supper," said Ellen, accepting the explanation.
"Well, it doesn't matter. I shall see him to-morrow morning, at any rate."
Loammi went downstairs and out into the street once more.
"It is well I had my wits about me," he thought, complacently. "That was a pretty good explanation. Ellen won't suspect anything. She will think it is all right."
Loammi walked briskly. He was in good spirits, for it made him feel comfortable to think he had six dollars in his pocket. He could not rememberthe time when he had so much money in his pocket at once.
"An ice cream would taste good," he thought.
Like many young people, Loammi had a weakness for ice cream.
He walked over to Sixth Avenue, and entered a small ice cream saloon. Just at the door he met Paul Granger. He was already entering the saloon, when he caught sight of Paul.
Had he seen him sooner he would perhaps have walked on, and put off the ice cream. As it was, he made the best of the situation.
"How are you, Paul?" he said, cordially. "Come in and have an ice cream."
"I thought you didn't have any money?" replied Paul, surprised.
"Oh, well, my ship has come in," said Loammi, lightly.
"Then I hope you will be able to pay me the dollar you owe me."
"I will. Now let us sit down and enjoy the ice cream."
They sat down at a small table, and the ice cream was brought, with a plate of cake besides.
Paul Granger began to think Loammi was a nice fellow, after all—especially when he receivedback the dollar a little later on. In paying for the ice cream, Loammi got the five-dollar bill changed.
"Whew! I should think your shiphadcome in," exclaimed Paul. "You'll be in funds now."
"Yes, for a little while."
As the two boys left the ice-cream saloon they came upon Scott, who was just passing. This annoyed Loammi, who didn't care to have his cousin know that he had been spending money.
"Good-evening, Loammi," said Scott, politely.
"Who is that boy, Loammi?" asked Paul, when Scott had gone on.
"A cousin of mine. He is poor, and pa gave him a place in the store."
"He seems like a nice fellow. Why didn't you introduce me?"
"He isn't in our set," said Loammi. "I didn't think you'd care to know him."
"Oh, I am not so snobbish as that. Besides, he is a cousin of yours."
"That is true. I suppose we all have poor relations."
"Yes; the boy I like best is a poor relation of mine—a cousin."
The two boys walked as far as Bryant Park and sat down on a bench. They talked about suchsubjects as interest schoolboys, till Paul, looking at his watch, said: "It is time for me to go home; mother has a bad headache, and I promised I wouldn't stay out late."
Meanwhile, Mrs. Little had a call from her seamstress, who brought home some work upon which she had been engaged.
"What is the charge?" asked Mrs. Little.
"Two dollars."
Mrs. Little felt in her pocket for her money, and didn't find it. She looked puzzled at first, then her brow cleared up.
"I remember, I laid my pocketbook on the bureau in my room," she reflected.
"Wait here a moment," she said. "I will bring you the money."
But when she reached her chamber she looked in vain for the pocketbook.
"That is strange," she soliloquized. "I distinctly remember laying it down on the bureau."
She summoned the servant.
"Ellen," she said, "have you by chance been into my chamber within an hour or two?"
"No, ma'am. Is anything the matter?"
"My pocketbook is missing. I laid it down on the bureau and forgot to take it up again."
"I am very sorry, ma'am; was there much money in it?"
"Two bills, a five and a one."
"That is too much to lose."
"It is a little awkward. Miss Green, my seamstress, is here, and I want to pay her two dollars. Do you happen to have any money with you?"
"Yes, ma'am; I can let you have the two dollars."
"Thank you. I will give it back to you when Mr. Little comes in."
"Who can have taken the money?" thought Mrs. Little. "It can't be Ellen, for she is an old and trusted servant, and there doesn't seem to be anyone else. It is certainly mysterious."
Mrs. Little did not so much care for the money; it was the mystery that perplexed her. She was sure she had placed the pocketbook on the bureau, and it could not have got away without hands.
A few minutes later Scott entered the house.
"Have you been at home this evening, Scott?" asked Mrs. Little.
"No; I went out directly after supper."
"And Loammi also?"
"Yes; we went out together."
"Did you remain with him?"
"No; we soon separated. Did you want him?"
"Oh, well, never mind. I suppose he hasn't come in yet."
"I will go to his room and see."
"If you please."
Scott reported that his cousin was not in.
"Really," thought Mrs. Little, "if the amount were larger, I might think it necessary to call in a detective."
Possibly the pocketbook had fallen on the carpet. She instituted a search, but it proved unsuccessful.
Fifteen minutes later Loammi came in.
"I wonder whether the loss has been discovered?" he said to himself. "I'll find ma, and then I shall learn."
"Good-evening, ma," he said.
"Where have you been, Loammi?"
"Oh, walking round with Paul Granger. Has Scott got home?"
"Yes."
"I am rather tired. I guess I'll go up to my room."
"Stop a minute, Loammi. Perhaps you can help me solve a mystery."
"Now it is coming!" thought Loammi.
"What is it, ma?" he inquired, carelessly.
"I have met with a loss."
"What have you lost—your watch?"
"No, my pocketbook."
"You don't say so!" ejaculated Loammi, in innocent surprise. "I hope there wasn't much money in it."
"There were six dollars—a one and a five."
"Is that so? I wonder——" and then he stopped short.
"What is it you wonder?" asked his mother, quickly.
"Oh, I'd rather not tell."
"But I insist upon your telling, if it will throw any light on my loss."
"Well, it may not mean anything, but I know Scott has a five-dollar bill. I saw it to-night. But, of course, there are plenty of five-dollar bills."