CHAPTER XVII. JED MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
Jed was not long in finding that Chester's aunt looked upon him, if not with hostility, at least with distrust. This was an unpleasant discovery. Mr. Holbrook had always appeared to have confidence in him, and approved his management of his son.
While Chester and Jed were walking on the beach Miss Holbrook took a seat upon the bluff and watched them through her spectacles, as Jed could not help seeing.
"I say, Jed," asked the little boy, "how do you like Aunt Maria?"
"I don't feel very well acquainted with her yet," answered Jed cautiously.
"I don't like her!" said Chester emphatically.
"Why not?"
"Oh, she's always scolding and finding fault. Papa says it's because she's an old maid."
Jed smiled.
"I wish papa had not sent for her," went on Chester. "We could get along well enough without her."
"I think we should get along very well together, Chester."
"I am sure we should. Have you got any old maid aunts?"
"Not that I know of," replied Jed soberly, as he had forced upon him the thought of his solitary condition.
"Then you are lucky. I'll give you Aunt Maria if you want her."
"Perhaps she might not consent to be given away, Chester."
Half an hour later Jed met with a surprise, and one not altogether agreeable.
"Hello! you here!" exclaimed an amazed voice that sounded familiar to Jed.
He looked up and saw Percy Dixon approaching.
"Oh, it's you, Percy?" he said. "When did you arrive?"
"This morning. Father and I are staying at the Spray House." This was the largest hotel, and Percy mentioned the name with evident pride.
"It is a nice hotel," responded Jed.
"I should say so. Why, it's the most expensive one here. But you haven't told me how you came here."
"I have been here for some weeks."
"Where do you live?"
"I have a room in the village, but I take my meals at the Spray House."
"You take your meals at the Spray House?" ejaculated Percy.
"Yes."
"How can you afford it?"
"This boy's father pays my board. I look after Chester."
"What's your name?" asked Chester, who was by no means bashful.
"Percy Dixon," answered Percy politely, for he judged that Chester belonged to a rich family.
"So you know Jed?"
"Yes. I have that honor," returned Percy with a curl of the lip. "When did you leave off acting?" he asked, turning to Jed.
"At the end of the season. Few dramatic companies play during the summer."
"Are you going to play with them again?"
"I don't know yet. The boy whose place I took may be ready to take his own part in the fall."
"I saw your old friends Mr. and Mrs. Fogson just before I came away," said Percy significantly. "Wouldn't you like to know how they are?"
"No; I feel no particular interest in them."
"They are interested in you. Fogson says he's bound to get you back some time."
"I don't care to talk of them," said Jed coldly.
"Are you going in bathing?" asked Chester.
"Yes, I think so. Do you go in?"
"Shall we go in, Jed?" asked the little boy.
"Yes, if you like, Chester."
The three boys repaired to the bathing-houses and prepared for their bath.
As they walked up to the hotel together afterwards, Percy remarked: "It seems strange to see you in such a place as this."
"I suppose so."
"It's funny how you get on. How did you get the chance to take care of the little boy?"
Jed explained.
"Is Chester's father rich?"
"I presume so, from what I hear."
"Is he here now?"
"No; he is in Chicago for a week or ten days."
"And is there no one except you to take care of the boy?"
"There is an aunt of Chester's in the hotel—his father's sister. There she is now!" and Jed pointed out Miss Maria Holbrook.
Percy noticed her attentively, and was observed in turn by the spinster, who privately resolved to seek some information about Jed from one who appeared to know him.
After dinner, while on the piazza, Miss Holbrook noticed Percy sitting but a few feet distant.
"Ahem!" she began. "Young man, will you do me the favor to move your chair a little nearer?"
Percy did so gladly. He wished for a chance to become acquainted with Jed's employers.
"Thank you. May I ask your name?"
"Percy Dixon."
"I noticed that you seemed to be acquainted with the boy who is in charge of my young nephew Chester."
"Yes, ma'am, I know him."
"Have you known him long?"
"As far back as I can remember."
"Did you live in the same town?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Where?"
"Scranton."
"You must pardon my curiosity, but my brother—Chester's father—engaged this boy without apparently knowing much about him, except that he had been on the stage."
"He wasn't on the stage long."
"Perhaps not, but probably he didn't get any good from it. What is your opinion of him. Though, as you are his friend——"
"I am not his friend!" said Percy bluntly.
"Then you haven't a high opinion of him?" said Miss Holbrook eagerly.
"No; I never liked him."
"I don't like him myself, though I can't tell exactly why not, and I am bound to say that Chester and his father seem infatuated with him."
"I think you are quite right, Miss Holbrook."
"I can't help thinking there is some mystery about him."
"You are right, Miss Holbrook. There is a mystery about him."
"I was sure of it," exclaimed the spinster. "What is the character of his relations?"
"He has none that I know of."
"I believe he told me his parents were dead, and that he was brought up by a Mr. and Mrs. Avery."
"Ho, ho!" laughed Percy.
"Why do you laugh?"
"At his being brought up by Mr. and Mrs. Avery."
"Isn't it true, then?"
"Yes; but he probably didn't tell you that Mr. and Mrs. Avery had charge of the Scranton poorhouse."
"What!" ejaculated the spinster.
"It is as I say. Until a few weeks since Jed was an inmate of the Scranton poorhouse."
"And this boy is actually in charge of my nephew!" exclaimed Miss Holbrook, overwhelmed with horror.
"Yes; I was very much surprised to see Jed in such company."
"My poor brother must be quite unaware of this astounding fact!"
"No doubt, Miss Holbrook. Jed is cunning. He wouldn't be very apt to tell your brother that he is a pauper."
"A pauper! What a horrid thought! And that boy has actually the effrontery to push himself in among people of position. I can hardly believe it."
"If you have any doubt about it, Miss Holbrook, just write a note to Mr. Simeon Fogson, and ask him what he thinks of Jed Gilman."
"But I thought it was Mr. Avery who kept the poorhouse."
"He did; but when my father became Overseer of the Poor," said Percy with conscious pride, "he removed the Averys and put in Mr. and Mrs. Fogson, whom he considered more fit for the office. The Averys were weak people and pampered the paupers."
"Mr. Simeon Fogson, Scranton," Miss Holbrook entered on her tablets.
"Really, Mr. Dixon, I am very much obliged to you for the important information you have given me, and so ought my brother to be. He has been very careless and indiscreet in engaging a boy of unknown antecedents, but it is fortunate that Chester has an aunt who is keenly alive to his interests."
As she rose to go to her room to write to Mr. Fogson, Percy smiled.
"Jed Gilman will find that his goose is cooked," he said to himself. "Won't he be astonished when the thunderbolt falls?"
CHAPTER XVIII. MR. FOGSON RECEIVES A LETTER.
Let us go back to the Scranton poorhouse. Mr. Fogson was sawing wood near the house. It was a task which Jed had been accustomed to do, but in his absence it devolved upon Mr. Fogson, who was very much disinclined to that form of labor, but still more to paying for having it done.
He had thought of requiring Isaac Needham, one of the paupers, to do the sawing; but the old man, who was over seventy-five, proved physically unable to do the work, and very much against his will Mr. Fogson found himself compelled to undertake it himself.
"Drat that Jed!" he muttered, as he stopped to mop his forehead with his red cotton handkerchief. "It's an outrage for him to throw his work on me. I wish I had him here this blessed minute and could give him a taste of the strap."
At this point a neighbor's boy, Joe Coakley, entered the yard.
"Here's a letter for you, Mr. Fogson," he said. "I guess it's from a lady."
With considerable surprise Mr. Fogson took the letter in his hand. The envelope was square, and of fine paper, while the address was in a lady's handwriting.
Mr. Fogson examined the postmark curiously.
"Sea Spray!" he repeated. "Why, that's a fashionable watering-place. Who can have written me from there?"
Just then Mrs. Fogson came out from the side door.
"What letter have you there?" she asked.
"It is from a lady, Mrs. F.," answered her husband with a grin.
"What business has a lady writing to you?" demanded Mrs. Fogson suspiciously.
"Really I don't know, as I have not read the letter."
"Give it to me!"
"No, thank you. I read my own letters."
"Mr. Fogson, if you are engaged in a private correspondence with any lady I intend to find out all about it."
"Don't be a fool, Mrs. F.; I don't know who the writer is, and I have never had a letter from her before."
By this time he had opened the envelope, and his face quickly assumed an expression of interest.
"It's about Jed," he exclaimed. "I'll read it to you."
This was the letter:
My Dear Sir:
I am informed that you can give me information as to the past history of Jedediah Gilman. Some weeks ago my brother, Robert Holbrook, a well-known merchant of New York, engaged the boy as a companion and personal attendant of his young son Chester, without knowing much about him or taking the trouble to inquire. Having seen the boy, I have doubts as to whether he is a suitable companion for a boy in my nephew's high social station. I learn from young Mr. Percy Dixon, of your town, that you can give me full information as to the boy's antecedents. I shall feel indebted to you if you will take the trouble to communicate with me by letter.
My brother is now in Chicago, and I am in temporary charge of my nephew. I feel that it is my duty to inquire into the character of a boy who by his intimate association with him may, if he is unworthy, do incalculable harm to his young and trustful nature.
Yours very truly,
Maria Holbrook,
Spray Hotel,
Sea Spray, N. J.
"Well, upon my word!" ejaculated Mrs. Fogson. "So that young villain has wormed his way into the confidence of a rich New York merchant!"
"Like a snake in the grass," suggested Simeon Fogson.
"Exactly. It makes me shudder to think what an impostor he is. It is providential that Percy Dixon should find him out and show him up."
"I'll show him up!" said Fogson, nodding. "I'll just write to Miss Holbrook, and tell her of his goin's on. I reckon he won't keep his place long after they get my letter."
"You'd better let me write the letter, Simeon."
"No, Mrs. F., the letter was addressed to me, and I'm goin' to answer it."
"Just as you like, Mr. Fogson, but you are well aware that you are weak in your spelling."
"Never mind, Mrs. F., I reckon I can make myself understood."
"Just as you like, Fogson. Only make it strong enough."
"You can trust me for that."
CHAPTER XIX. DISCHARGED.
In a front room on the second floor of the Spray Hotel sat Miss Maria Holbrook with a letter in her hand. It was written on the cheapest note-paper, and inclosed in a plebeian brown envelope.
Of course it will be understood that it was the epistolary effort of Mr. Simeon Fogson.
"Just as I thought!" soliloquized the lady. "This boy seems to be a disreputable character of the lowest antecedents, and utterly unworthy to associate even as a servant with a member of my family."
Here Chester entered in his usual impetuous manner.
"Oh, Aunt Maria," he cried, "I had a bully bath."
"I am shocked to hear you use such a low term as 'bully,' Chester," said his aunt. "No doubt you learned it of Jedediah."
"No, I didn't. Jed never uses the word. At least I never heard him."
"Will you tell Jedediah that I wish to see him at once on important business?"
"It seems funny to hear you call him Jedediah, Aunt Maria."
"I apprehend that it is his right name; 'Jed' sounds low."
"Well, I'll tell him to come up."
When Jed made his appearance Miss Holbrook said: "You may go below, Chester. I wish to speak to Jedediah in private."
"What's up now, I wonder?" thought Jed.
The lady turned upon him a severe look.
"Jedediah," she said, "is it true that your earlier years were spent at the Scranton poorhouse?"
"Yes, madam," answered Jed, coloring.
"Did you apprise my brother of this fact when he engaged you?"
"No, madam. I suppose you learned it from Percy Dixon."
"I learned it from young Mr. Dixon, but I could hardly believe it. He referred me to Mr. Simeon Fogson, of Scranton, and I have a letter from that gentleman in my hand. You probably will not care to read it."
"I should like very much to read it, Miss Holbrook. I should like to know whether Mr. Fogson tells the truth."
"Here is the letter, then."
Jed read it with conflicting emotions.
Respected Madam:
I am glad to give you the informashun you ask about that young villen Jed Gilman, who ran away from the Poor House some weeks since after a violent assault on me, his offishul guardeen. Words cannot tell you how much trouble I have had with that boy.
Likewise he has been very impident to Mrs. Fogson. The reeson is that he was too much indulged by my predicesors in offis Mr. and Mrs. Avery. I have tried to do my dooty by the boy, but as Squire Dixon, the Overseer will tell you my efforts has been in vane. I am not supprised that your brother was took in by Jed for he is the artfulest boy I ever seen. I hope for the sake of your young nefew's welfare you will discharge him at once and not allow him to corrup his youthful mind.
Yours respectfully,
Simeon Fogson.
"Well," said Miss Holbrook triumphantly, "that doesn't seem to commend you very highly."
"No," answered Jed, returning the letter to the envelope. "It is such a letter as I should expect Mr. Fogson to write."
"Why?"
"Because he is unfit for his place," answered Jed boldly. "He half starves the poor people under his charge, treats them roughly, and is detested by all."
"He says you are impudent and troublesome."
"I did not allow him to impose upon me."
"He says you ran away."
"I had a right to leave, as I felt able to support myself. I was recommended to do so by Dr. Redmond, the best physician in Scranton, who is a friend of mine."
"I have listened to your side of the story," said Miss Holbrook coldly, "and the terms in which you speak of Mr. Fogson convince me that his charges are correct. Of course you will not expect me to keep you in charge of my nephew."
"Will you wait till Mr. Holbrook returns?" pleaded Jed, who felt sad at the prospect of parting with Chester.
"No; I shall not feel justified in doing so. I will pay you up to date, and assume the charge of Chester myself."
She drew a bill from her pocket and handed it to Jed, who took it mechanically and left the room with a sober face. He was dismissed from his position in disgrace, a disgrace which he felt was not deserved.
What was he to do next?
CHAPTER XX. JED'S POOR PROSPECTS.
Jed walked around to the office of his friend Harry Bertram.
The telegraph operator noticed at once that he looked disturbed.
"What has happened, Jed?" he asked.
"I am discharged! That is all."
"Discharged? Who discharged you?"
"Miss Holbrook."
"What is her reason? What have you done?" asked Bertram, much surprised.
"I have done nothing, but she has discovered that I was brought up in the Scranton poorhouse," announced Jed despondently.
"As if that made you any the worse!" ejaculated Bertram indignantly.
"It isn't to my credit, at any rate. I am ashamed of it myself."
"I don't know why you should be ashamed. You have left it, and are now earning your own living."
"I was, but I am out of work now, and I may find it hard to get another position."
"You can perhaps go back to the stage."
"If I can take my part in the 'Gold King' I shall be satisfied," said Jed hopefully. "When will the season commence?"
"September 7—three weeks from next Thursday."
At that moment one of the bell boys came to the telegraph office with a letter in his hand.
"I have a letter for you, Mr. Bertram," he said.
"Ha! This is from Mordaunt. Now we shall know."
He tore open the envelope hastily. His countenance fell, and he handed it in silence to Jed.
This is the letter.
Dear Bertram:
Season of the Gold King opens at Jersey City on the seventh of September. As we shall have two new actors I shall call rehearsals for the Tuesday previous. Please report at Middleton Agency in New York on the first.
John Mordaunt, Manager.
P. S.—Ralph Clinton has recovered from his sickness, and will be ready to resume his part.
"That settles it!" said Jed soberly, as he handed back the letter. "That opening is closed to me."
"I am awfully sorry, Jed," returned Bertram in a tone of sympathy. "Perhaps if you enroll your name at the agency you can get a chance in some other play. I will speak a good word for you, and so I am sure will Mordaunt."
Jed shook his head.
"I don't think my chance would be very good," he said, "as I have had so little experience. Besides, it is three weeks from now. I must try to get work before then."
"Stay here, Jed. I will pay your expenses."
"Thank you, Mr. Bertram, but I have more than money enough for that, and you will need all yours. It will be better for me to leave Sea Spray, and go out in the world in search of work."
"I hate to have you go, Jed. I shall feel lonesome."
"So shall I, Mr. Bertram, but we are sure to meet again," said Jed with forced cheerfulness.
"You must promise if things don't go well with you to write to me. You can learn from the Clipper or any of the dramatic papers where we are playing."
"I'll promise that, Harry," said Jed, pressing the hand of his friend.
"That's right, Jed! Don't call me Mr. Bertram again."
"I will remember."
"Don't go till to-morrow."
"No, I won't. I shall need a little time to get ready."
At this point a message came for Bertram to transmit, and Jed walked over to the beach, feeling dull and despondent. As he sauntered on slowly with his eyes on the sand some one called out, "Hallo, there!"
Looking up, he met the gaze of Percy Dixon.
"Where's Chester?" asked Percy.
"In the hotel, I suppose."
"Why isn't he with you?"
"Because he is no longer under my charge," answered Jed eyeing Percy fixedly.
"Ho, ho! you don't mean to say that you're bounced!" queried Percy, with a look of malicious pleasure.
"That is about the size of it."
"Well, I am surprised," returned Percy cheerfully. "What have you been up to?"
"Nothing."
"Then why are you discharged?" asked Percy with a look of innocent wonder.
"I don't think you need ask, Percy Dixon," said Jed coldly. "If you had not made your appearance at Sea Spray I should have kept my place."
"Ho, ho! What have I been doing, I should like to know?" asked Percy smiling.
"I don't need to tell you. You told Miss Holbrook that I had been brought up in the Scranton poorhouse."
"Well, it's true, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is true, but you understood very well what would be the result of your communication."
"As she asked me about you, I had to tell."
"You gave her the name of Mr. Fogson, and led to her writing to him."
"So he's written, has he."
"Yes; Miss Holbrook showed me the letter this morning."
"What did he say?" asked Percy, smiling.
"Probably Miss Holbrook will show you the letter if you ask her."
"I will. I should like to see what old Fogson says. He don't admire you very much."
"There is no love lost between us."
"Well, what are you going to do?" inquired Percy, whose weak point was curiosity.
"I shall try to get another position."
"Do you expect to go back to the stage?"
"No; my old part in the 'Gold King' has been taken by the actor whose place I filled during his sickness."
"Then you haven't anything in view."
"Nothing particular."
"Then I advise you to go back to the poorhouse. Fogson will be glad to see you. I will arrange it with father."
"You are very kind, but I have no more idea of returning to the poorhouse than you have of making your home there."
"I'll thank you not to mention my name in connection with the poorhouse," said Percy, coloring and speaking angrily.
"I will make the same request of you."
"You are getting on your high horse," remarked Percy sarcastically.
"Perhaps so. Good morning."
"That fellow's the proudest beggar I ever saw," mused Percy, as he stood still on the beach and watched Jed's receding figure. "It's so ridiculous, too! A boy brought up in a poorhouse! I wonder if he has any idea what a fool he is making of himself."
"Why is Percy so malicious?" thought Jed, as he pursued his way, feeling, if anything, a little more despondent than before. "If our situations were changed I should delight in helping him along. He seems determined to force me back to the poorhouse. But I won't go! I'll starve first."
To one who has been steadily employed enforced idleness is tedious and tiresome. As Jed paced the sands his life seemed perfectly aimless, and he wondered how he was going to get through the day.
Moreover he missed Chester. The boy's warm heart and affectionate ways had endeared him to his young guardian, and Jed felt sad to think that in all probability he should never again be on terms of intimacy with the little fellow.
Plunged in thought and despondent he sauntered along till suddenly he heard a young fresh voice, that brought a brighter look to his face.
"Jed, Jed!"
Jed turned, and saw only a couple of rods distant the boy of whom he had been thinking, walking beside his tall and stately aunt, who, after discharging Jed, had felt obliged to undertake the charge of her young nephew herself.
"Why, Chester!" said Jed with a bright smile.
Chester broke away from his aunt, and running up to Jed took his hand confidingly.
"Aunt Maria says you are going away!" he broke out. "What makes you go away?"
"Your aunt has sent me away," announced Jed.
"But I won't let you go," said the little boy, taking a firmer grip of Jed's hand.
"Come back directly, Chester!" said Miss Holbrook frowning.
"I want to stay with Jed," said Chester rebelliously.
"But I don't want you to stay with him. Come back directly, you naughty boy!" exclaimed Miss Holbrook angrily.
"I'd rather stay with Jed!"
"Jedediah!" said Miss Holbrook, turning a look of displeasure upon Jed. "I am sorry that you incite Chester to acts of disobedience."
"Miss Holbrook," returned Jed independently, "I don't think I have done what you charge me with. I like Chester, and I cannot drive him away."
"That is all very well, but I understand your motives. You want to force me to take you back."
"Excuse me, I have no such thought. If your brother will take me back I shall be glad to return to him."
"I will see that he does not recall you. Chester, if you don't come back at once I will punish you."
Looking at his aunt's angry face, Chester very reluctantly felt compelled to obey.
"Kiss me, Jed!" he said.
Jed bent over and kissed the little boy. Tears nearly came to his eyes when he felt that it might be for the last time.
"I trust, Jedediah," said Miss Holbrook stiffly, "that your sense of propriety will prevent your speaking to Chester again."
"Miss Holbrook," said Jed with a tremor in his voice, "as I am to leave Sea Spray to-morrow morning I shall hardly meet Chester again."
Then, as Chester walked away unwillingly with his aunt, Jed's heart sank within him. In all the world he seemed to be alone, and he cared little at that moment what was to become of him in the future.
CHAPTER XXI. JED ARRIVES IN NEW YORK.
Jed counted over his money and found he had thirty-nine dollars and thirty-seven cents. He would have had more, but he had supplied himself with clothes, so that he was on the whole very well provided in that way.
He resolutely refused to borrow from Harry Bertram, though the actor pressed a loan upon him.
"No, Harry," he said, "I have almost forty dollars, and I am sure that will last me till I can earn some more."
"Well, perhaps so," replied the actor, "but you have no idea how fast money melts away. What are your plans?"
"I am afraid I haven't any," answered Jed, looking perplexed. "I want to make a living, but I don't know what I am fit for."
"Where do you mean to go?"
"I think I should like to go to New York," answered Jed. "I have never been there."
"You will find the city very dull at this time of year. Business is very quiet in August."
"But there must be a good many chances in a city of over a million inhabitants."
"Well, perhaps you may as well find out for yourself. I am afraid you will be disappointed."
Jed attached considerable importance to the opinion of his friend Bertram, but in his own mind there was a conviction that the other exaggerated the chances of failure. He was of a sanguine temperament himself, and this made him hopeful.
There were two ways of reaching New York from Sea Spray. One was a combination of cars and boat, the other took one all the way by steamer. This, on the whole, Jed preferred.
With his modest gripsack in his hand he passed over the gang-plank and took a seat forward. Next to him was a tall, thin man, dressed in shabby attire, who did not appear to have shaved for several days. Though the weather was warm, he had his coat buttoned tight across his chest, possibly to conceal the lack of a vest.
When the boat had been perhaps fifteen minutes under way, he turned and eyed Jed with some attention.
"Are you staying at Sea Spray this summer, young man?" he asked.
"I have spent some weeks there," answered Jed.
"I suppose you are going to New York for the day?"
"No; I am going for good. That is I hope I am going for good."
"You are going to fill a business position, perhaps?"
"I hope so, but I have none engaged."
"Are you acquainted in New York?"
"No; I have never been there. This will be my first visit."
"Indeed! This is very interesting. I should be glad to help you to a position."
Jed thought privately that his new acquaintance must stand quite as much in need of a place as he, but courtesy led him to say, "Thank you."
"Have you any particular choice as to the business you take up?"
"No; anything that will enable me to pay my expenses will satisfy me."
"Just so. You have heard of H. B. Claflin, probably?"
"Yes; he is a dry goods merchant."
"On a very large scale. I have a mind to give you a letter to him."
"Do you know him?" asked Jed doubtfully.
"Yes; Horace and I used to go to school together. He was older than I, but we were pretty intimate."
"Why don't you apply for a position for yourself?"
"Dry goods are not in my line. I am an editor—that is, an editorial writer."
"Indeed!"
Jed had read from time to time squibs and witty paragraphs touching the poverty of editors, and this seemed to explain the shabby appearance of his new friend.
"What paper do you write for?" he ventured to ask.
"I contribute editorially to most of the city dailies. Sometimes I get as high as fifteen and twenty dollars a column."
Jed was rather surprised at this. He concluded that Mr. Hamilton Barry—for this was the name the stranger had given—was not a very good financial manager.
"That seems a high price," said Jed.
"Yes, but brain-work ought to be paid handsomely. Do you ever write for publication yourself?"
"Oh, no," said Jed, flattered nevertheless by the question. "I haven't education enough."
"I thought if you did I might get you something to do. But perhaps business is more in your line?"
"I think it will be."
"Then I had better write you a note to Mr. Claflin. When we get to the city I will run into some hotel and write you a letter of recommendation."
"But, Mr. Barry, you don't know me. How can you recommend me?"
"My dear boy, I judge you by your appearance. Besides, I know something of phrenology, and you have a good head—a very good head. I read in it honesty, integrity, enterprise and fidelity. Those qualities certainly ought to qualify you to succeed in business."
"I don't know anything about phrenology, but I hope it's true."
"My young friend you may rely implicitly on the verdict of the wonderful science."
"I shall be glad to," said Jed smiling, "since, as you say, it is so favorable to me."
When they reached the pier Hamilton Barry passed his arm familiarly through Jed's, and led the way to a small public house, the office of which seemed also to be a bar.
"Won't you take a glass of something?" asked the editor.
"I don't drink," answered Jed, rather embarrassed.
"Take a glass of sarsaparilla. It won't harm an infant."
"Thank you. I don't mind."
Upon this Mr. Barry stepped up to the bar and ordered one sarsaparilla and one whisky straight. While Jed was solemnly drinking the first, the editor poured down the whisky at one gulp.
Then he felt in his pockets for the fifteen cents which were due. But somehow no silver was forthcoming.
"Upon my word," he exclaimed, "I must have left my money at home. Mr. Gilman, can you oblige me with a quarter?"
Jed produced the required coin. Taking it, Barry paid the score, and quietly pocketed the change.
"Now for the letter!" he said. "Where is your writing-room?"
"Haven't got any," answered the barkeeper.
"Can't you scare up a sheet of paper and an envelope?"
After some time these were produced, also a pen and a bottle of ink. Barry sat down at one of the tables generally used for bar customers, and in a short time produced a letter which he handed to Jed.
It ran thus:
Dear Horace:
This letter will be handed to you by a talented young friend, who is in search of a business position. Mr. J. Gilman is in my judgment possessed of superior business qualifications, and will prove a valuable man in your store. I advise you to engage him at once.
Your old friend,
Hamilton Barry.
This note was placed in an envelope directed to Horace B. Claflin. In the corner Barry wrote: "To introduce Mr. J. Gilman."
"There," he said. "Take this letter round to Claflin and he will undoubtedly give you a good place."
He spoke with so much confidence that Jed was led to think himself in luck to be the recipient of such a testimonial.
"Thank you," he said. "I feel very much obliged."
"Oh don't mention it!" said Barry in an airy way. "It gives me pleasure to assist you, Mr. Gilman, I assure you. When you have ascended round by round until you are at the top of the ladder, I trust you will not forget your chance acquaintance, Hamilton Barry."
"I certainly will not, Mr. Barry," said Jed warmly, grasping the hand of the editor. "I hope some day to thank you as I wish."
"My dear boy, the sentiment does you credit. I know you are sincere."
"Certainly," said Jed.
"It is because I know this that I venture to suggest that you may do me a favor at once."
"What is it?"
"Let me have a fiver till next Monday. I shall then call at the office of the Tribune for twenty dollars due me for two editorials published early this week."
This request rather staggered Jed. Now that he had paid his fare to New York he had only about thirty-seven dollars, and five dollars would cut rather seriously into his small balance.
"I am afraid," he said awkwardly, "that I can hardly spare five dollars. If two dollars would help you——"
"It would materially," interposed Barry. "Of course it is only a loan. Meet me here next Monday, at six o'clock, say, after your duties are over at Claflin's, and I will gladly repay you."
This off-hand allusion to Claflin, taking for granted his engagement there, made Jed ashamed of his temporary distrust, and he drew from his pocketbook a two-dollar note, which he handed to Mr. Barry.
"Thanks," said the editor, as he carelessly slipped it into his pocket. "Be here on Monday at six o'clock sharp."
Then with a jaunty air he touched his hat and walked rapidly around the corner.
"I think I will go around to Claflin's at once," decided Jed. "I may as well strike while the iron is hot."
CHAPTER XXII. JED MAKES TWO CALLS.
On Church Street Jed found an imposing-looking building which a passing policeman informed him was Claflin's place of business. The size rather impressed Jed, accustomed as he had been hitherto to the small stores in Scranton, but he felt that it was no time for diffidence. So he opened the outer door and entered.
He found himself in a scene of activity. The shelves were filled with goods, and behind the counters were numerous salesmen. No one took any notice of Jed at first till a tall, stout man, in walking across the room, espied him.
"Any one waiting on you, young man?" he asked.
"No," answered Jed.
"Here, Wilkins," said the floor-walker, "attend to this young man. What house do you represent?"
"None, sir," answered Jed uncomfortably, feeling out of place.
"Ah, you want to buy at retail. Go into the next room."
"No, sir, I didn't come to buy anything," stammered Jed. "I have a letter for Mr. Claflin."
The great merchant is now dead, but at the time of Jed's call he was living.
"Wilkins, you may take the letter and carry it to Mr. Claflin."
Wilkins took the letter from Jed's hands, walked across the room, and ascended to Mr. Claflin's office on the second floor. He reappeared within five minutes and signaled to Jed to approach.
"Mr. Claflin will see you," he said. "Follow me."
Presently Jed found himself in the presence of the great merchant, who surveyed him curiously.
"Are you Mr. J. Gilman?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," answered Jed, blushing.
"You bring a letter from—" here Mr. Claflin referred to a note—"from a man who calls himself Hamilton Barry?"
"Yes, sir."
"I don't know any such man. How did he happen to offer you a letter?"
"I told him I wanted a position."
"Exactly. Did he say he knew me?"
"Yes, sir. He said he used to go to school with you."
Mr. Claflin laughed.
"Did he borrow any money from you?"
"Yes," answered Jed, surprised that the merchant should have guessed this.
"Not much, I hope."
"Two dollars."
"That was all?"
"No, sir; he treated me to some sarsaparilla and did not have the money to pay for it."
"He is evidently a fraud and an impostor. Did he say he ever worked for me?"
"No, sir; he said he was an editor—that he wrote articles for the daily papers."
"When did he offer to repay you?"
"Next Monday, when he had received pay from the Tribune for some articles he had written."
"What was the man's appearance?"
"He was tall, and not very well dressed."
"It is hardly likely that he ever wrote an article for the Tribune or any other of the city dailies. I hope he did not get all your money?"
"No, sir. I have considerable besides."
"I advise you to take good care of it, and to steer clear of questionable acquaintances."
Mr. Claflin turned to a letter which he was writing, and Jed felt that he was dismissed. Mr. Claflin had said nothing about taking him into his employment, and he went down stairs feeling mortified and depressed.
Mingled with these feelings was one of anger at having been so cruelly deceived by his steamboat acquaintance.
"I'd just like to meet him again!" soliloquized Jed, involuntarily doubling up his fist.
"I wonder whether he really writes for the Tribune?" he asked himself.
He decided to solve this question at once, though he had not much doubt on the subject. He wanted to know exactly what he had to depend on.
He walked up to Broadway, then down to the City Hall Park, and asked a boy whom he met, "Where is the Tribune office?"
"There it is across the park," said the boy, pointing to a tall building with a lofty tower. "What do you want to do—sell papers?"
"No," answered Jed. "I want to ask about one of the editors."
"You're from the country, ain't you?"
"Yes. What makes you think so?"
"Because all the boys in the city know the Tribune building. Say, what do you do for a livin'?" inquired the boy confidentially.
This was rather a puzzling question, but Jed, remembering that he had been on the stage for a time, felt justified in answering, "I am an actor."
"Cracky! you don't say. You ain't little Lord Fauntleroy, are you?"
"No; I played the telegraph boy in the play of 'The Gold King.'"
"How did you like it?" asked the newsboy, becoming interested.
"Very much."
"Are you goin' to play it again?"
"No; I took the place of the regular actor for a few weeks while he was sick. Now he is well, and I am not needed."
"Say, does actin' pay well?" asked the boy curiously.
"I was paid pretty well."
"Do you think you could get me a chance?"
"I am afraid I can't get another chance myself."
The newsboy had no more questions to ask, and Jed, following directions, crossed the park and the street beyond to the Tribune building.
He entered the office, and walked up to a window, beyond which stood a young man who was handing out papers to a purchaser who wanted some back numbers.
Jed presented himself next, and the clerk looked at him inquiringly.
"Do you wish to subscribe?" asked the clerk, as Jed remained silent.
"No; I want to ask whether you have an editor named Hamilton Barry?"
"I don't think so. Why do you ask?"
"He borrowed some money of me, and said he would pay me when he collected some money due him from the Tribune."
The clerk smiled.
"I am sure none of our editors borrow money from boys," he said. "You have been imposed upon, young man."
"I guess you are right," responded Jed, coloring.
"If you like, I will send up to the city editor to inquire if there is a man named Barry in his department."
"I guess I won't trouble you."
Jed turned away quite satisfied in his own mind that he had been cleverly swindled and would never see his two dollars again. He reflected that it might have been more, and stoutly resolved not to let any designing persons wheedle him out of any more money.
He had never visited New York before, and the streets were all new to him. So he strolled about for a couple of hours, gazing curiously at shops, buildings, streets, and street scenes.
This naturally led to a feeling of hunger, and at twelve o'clock he began to look around for a restaurant. He found one on Fulton Street, and went in.
He took a seat on the right-hand side, about midway up the room, and consulted the bill of fare. He found that roast meats were fifteen and twenty-five cents, the latter being for large plates. Tea and coffee were five cents each, and pie or pudding was ten cents.
He ordered a large plate of roast beef, feeling quite hungry, and a cup of coffee.
Jed had about half finished his dinner when his attention was drawn by a familiar voice at the next table. Looking up, he saw that two men had entered the restaurant since he had been served and were sitting with their backs to him. One of them he recognized, with a thrill of excitement, as his acquaintance of the morning, Hamilton Barry.
"I say, Barry," said his companion, "you've had a streak of luck. How do you happen to be in funds?"
"I negotiated a loan, my boy."
"That is interesting. Would the party accommodate me, do you think?"
"Depends upon your invention, my boy. I told him a plausible story, and did him a favor."
"Explain."
"He was looking for a position, and I gave him a letter of introduction to H. B. Claflin."
The friend burst into a fit of laughter.
"I admire your cheek," he said. "What do you know of Claflin?"
"I told him that Claflin and I went to school together."
"A lie, of course?"
"Yes; I never set eyes on the man in my life."
"And on the strength of that you negotiated a loan."
"Precisely."
"How much?"
"I struck him for a five, but he only let me have two."
"Which, of course, you promised to repay."
"I told him I would repay him next Monday when the Tribune paid me for two editorial articles I wrote for them."
This tickled the fancy of both, and they burst into uproarious laughter.
It may be imagined with what feelings of indignation poor Jed listened to these rascals, and understood how adroitly he had been swindled. He felt tempted to get up and address the man who had swindled him in fitting terms, but concluded to wait until he had finished his dinner.
He felt particularly angry when Barry ordered a high-priced dish—a plate of roast turkey—to be paid for with his money.
At last his dinner was over, and taking the check in his hand, Jed made his way to the table in front.
"Mr. Barry," he said as calmly as he could, "I believe you owe me two dollars. I shall be glad if you will pay me now."
Barry looked up quickly, and actually seemed embarrassed when he recognized Jed.
"Confusion!" he ejaculated. "The kid!"
CHAPTER XXIII. JED'S BAD LUCK.
"Yes," answered Jed coolly, "it is the kid. I have called upon Mr. Claflin, and also at the office of the Tribune. Probably you can guess what I was told at both places."
Mr. Barry felt that he was in a tight place, but reflecting that Jed was only a boy, he determined to bluff him off.
"I don't know what you are talking about, boy," he said. "I know nothing of Mr. Claflin, and have nothing to do with the Tribune office."
"I am aware of that, but you gave me a letter of introduction to H. B. Claflin, and borrowed two dollars of me, promising to pay me when you settled with the Tribune for editorial contributions."
"There is not a word of truth in this," said Barry, fidgeting in his chair.
"I have been listening to your conversation for fifteen minutes," continued Jed, "and I heard you give an account of the matter to your friend here."
Barry hesitated a moment. Even his brazen hardihood was scarcely adequate to the emergency. He was the more uneasy because a policeman was sitting at the next table but one.
"It was only a practical joke, boy," he said hurriedly. "I'll pay you back the two dollars."
"That will be satisfactory," returned Jed.
"But I can't do it to-day. I'll meet you on Monday afternoon, as I said. I am in rather a hurry now and must be going."
He rose from the table precipitately, and went up to the desk followed by his friend.
"Shall I stop him?" thought Jed.
He decided not to do so, as he felt sure Barry could not pay him. The loss was not a serious one, but it would not do to make a second mistake. He paid his check and left the restaurant.
Jed knew very little of New York, even for a country boy. Some Scranton people doubtless had visited the great city, but, as an inmate of a poorhouse, he had not been thrown in their way. Accordingly he was like a mariner without a compass. He could only follow where impulse led.
He turned into Broadway, and with his gripsack in his hand walked up the great thoroughfare, looking in at shop windows as he strolled along. Travelling in this leisurely manner, it was perhaps four o'clock when he reached Union Square.
He was by this time fatigued and ready to rest on one of the benches which he found in the park. One person was sitting there already. It was a slender young man with a diamond ring on one of the fingers of his right hand. At least it looked to be a diamond.
He was dressed in rather a showy manner. He was perhaps twenty-two, but so slender that he must have weighed a dozen or fifteen pounds less than Jed, who was only sixteen. He looked casually at the country boy as the latter sat down, and presently turned and addressed him.
"It is a warm day," he said.
"Yes," answered Jed, who felt lonely and was glad to be social with some one.
"I judge from your bag," he glanced at the gripsack, "that you are a visitor to New York."
"Yes," answered Jed frankly. "I have never been in New York before."
"That was my case two years ago. Now I feel quite like an old resident. Are you staying at a hotel?"
"No; that is what I should like to ask about. I must spend the night somewhere. Can you recommend a cheap hotel?"
"Why do you go to a hotel? No hotel is cheap in the long run. It is much better to hire a room in a lodging-house and take your meals at restaurants."
"Yes, I suppose it would be. But I don't know where to find such a lodging-house."
"Come, I'll make you an offer. I have a room on Twenty-Seventh Street. You shall pay for my supper, and I will let you stay in my room without charge till to-morrow. Then if you like it well enough to room with me, I shall be glad to have you."
"Thank you; how much do you pay for your room?"
"Four dollars a week. That will be two dollars a piece. That is cheap for the city. You can't get a room at a hotel for less than a dollar a night."
"Is that so?" asked Jed. "That would be seven dollars a week."
"Precisely."
"I couldn't afford to pay that."
"There is no reason why you should. I couldn't afford it myself. Well, do you accept my offer? Do just as you please. Of course I have no motive except to give a helping hand to a stranger in the city."
"You are very kind," said Jed gratefully. "I know so little of New York that I feel quite helpless."
"Quite natural. I've been through it all."
"Are you—in business?" rather wondering how his companion should be free at that hour.
"Yes, I am in a broker's office down town. We have easy hours. I am off for the day at three o'clock."
"Are you well paid? But perhaps you don't care to tell."
"Oh, yes, I don't mind. I get twenty dollars a week."
"I wish I could get twelve," said Jed wistfully. "I shall have to get work soon."
"You have some money to keep you while you are waiting for work?" said the other quickly.
"Yes. I have about thirty-five dollars."
The young man's face brightened up.
"I am glad for you," he said. "You can make that last a good while, if you are guided by me, and keep down your expenses."
"That is exactly what I want to do," responded Jed earnestly.
"Oh well, I will put my experience at your service. I hope you will conclude to room with me. I feel rather lonesome at times. Of course I could easily get a roommate, but I am rather particular."
"You might not like me," said Jed.
"I am sure I shall. I can tell in five minutes whether I am going to like a person or not. How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"Indeed! You look older. That's going to help you, you know, about a situation. You can pass for a young man, and they won't think of offering you boy's pay."
"Perhaps you will be able to advise me about the kind of place I had better apply for."
"Of course I will. I already begin to take a great interest in you. What kind of work have you done?"
"Well, I have acted a little."
"You don't say so!" ejaculated his new friend in genuine surprise, for he had looked upon Jed as an unsophisticated country boy who probably had never seen the inside of a theatre. "I suppose you mean," he suggested as an afterthought, "in some village entertainment."
"No; I played in 'The Gold King' for some time."
"You don't say so! What part did you take?"
"The boy's part."
The young man regarded Jed with more respect.
"I shouldn't have thought it," he said. "How did you happen to get such a fine chance as that?"
"I knew one of the actors—Harry Bertram—and the one who played the boy's part regularly was taken sick. I only played about four or five weeks all together."
"Still that makes you a regular actor. Do you think of trying to get a place at Daly's or Palmer's?"
"Oh, no. I don't suppose I should stand any show. I could only take a boy's part."
"Well, we can talk over our plans later. I don't mind confessing that I am hungry. How about yourself?"
"I think I could eat some supper."
"Come along, then. I'll take you to a good restaurant. It's some way off, but it is near my room."
"All right."
The two rose, and leaving the park, walked up Broadway, past the Fifth Avenue Hotel, the Hoffman House, and the St. James, till they reached a well-known eating-house known as Smith & Green's, situated on the east side of Broadway, between Twenty-Seventh and Twenty-Eighth Streets.
"Come in here. I won't take you to Delmonico's, a little further down, as you haven't a private bank to draw from. This is a nice restaurant and moderate in its charges."
They entered, sat down at a round table and studied the bill of fare. The prices seemed to be moderate. Jed's dinner cost thirty-five cents, but his companion was more lavish in his orders, and ran up a bill of sixty-five cents.
"That makes just a dollar," he remarked.
It seemed considerable to Jed, who decided that he would rather order and pay for his own meals separately hereafter.
During the repast Jed learned that his new friend's name was Maurice Graham.
"Now we'll go around to my room, and you can dispose of your gripsack."
"I shall be glad to do so. I am tired of carrying it about."
Graham led the way to a three-story brick house near Seventh Avenue, and mounted to a small square room on the upper story. It was plainly furnished with a three-quarters bed, a bureau, and the usual chamber furniture.
"You can leave your bag anywhere, and then we will go out for a walk."
"I think I would rather stay here and lie down."
"All right! Make yourself at home. I will go out. Shall probably be back by ten."
When Graham returned at a little past ten he found Jed in bed and fast asleep. His eyes sparkled with pleasure.