CHAPTER VI. SCOTT FINDS A RELATIVE AND A PLACE.
Loammi Little, for this was the name of the red-haired boy, regarded Scott with curiosity mingled with surprise.
"What is your name?" he asked, abruptly.
"Scott Walton."
"I never heard of you, though I have heard pa say that a cousin of his married a man named Walton. Where is your father?"
"He is dead," answered Scott, sadly. "He died on the voyage over."
"Humph!" said Loammi, in a tone far from sympathetic. "I suppose you are poor."
"I am not rich," replied Scott, coldly.
He began to resent the unfeeling questions with which his cousin was plying him.
"If you have come over here to live on pa, I don't think he will like it."
"I don't want to live on anyone," said Scott, his cheek flushing with anger. "I am ready to earn my own living."
"That's the way pa did. He came over here a poor boy, or rather a poor young man."
"I respect him the more for it."
"All the same I would rather begin life with a little money," said Loammi.
"I have a little money," rejoined Scott, with a half smile.
"How much?"
"I would rather wait and tell your father my circumstances."
"Oh, well, if you don't like to tell. Pa'll tell me all about it."
"That is as he chooses—but I would rather tell him first."
"How old are you?" asked Loammi, after a pause.
"Sixteen."
"So am I."
"Your father has a store on Eighth Avenue?"
"Yes; have you been in it?"
"Not yet. I only arrived in New York yesterday."
"Where are you living?"
"In a hotel on the Bowery."
"That isn't a fashionable street."
"So I judge; but I can't afford to board on a fashionable street."
"No, I suppose not. You are pretty well dressed, though."
"My father bought me this suit in London before we started for America. Are you working in your father's store?"
"No, I am attending school. I am not a poor boy, and don't have to work. Did you work any before you left the old country?"
"No, I was at school."
"Are you a good scholar?"
"That isn't for me to say. I stood very well in school."
"I am studying Latin and Greek," observed Loammi, proudly.
"I have studied them both," said Scott, quietly.
"How far were you in Latin?"
"I was reading Cicero's orations when I left school."
As this was considerably beyond the point to which Loammi had attained, he made no comment. He was considering what question to ask next, when his father entered the room.
There was a strong resemblance between father and son. Ezra Little was a slender man, about five feet ten inches in height, with hair of a yellowish-red, inclined to be thin toward the top of the head.
There was a feeble growth of side whiskers extending halfway down each cheek. His eyes were of a pale blue, and his look was shrewd and cold.
He gazed inquiringly at Scott.
"This boy says his mother was your cousin, pa," exclaimed Loammi.
"What name?" asked Ezra.
"Scott Walton."
Ezra Little nodded.
"I see. Your father was an artist?"
"Yes."
"Where is he?"
"He died on the voyage over."
"Leaving you alone in the world?"
"Yes," answered Scott, sadly.
"Well, what are your plans?"
This question was asked coldly.
"My father died so lately that I haven't had time to form any plans. I thought I would like to consult you about them."
"I suppose you haven't much money?"
"No, sir."
"You have some?"
"About ten pounds."
"Fifty dollars."
"Yes, sir."
"And that is all?"
"Yes, sir."
"That won't keep you long," said Loammi, disdainfully. "I s'pose you'll expect pa to take care of you."
"Have I hinted anything of the kind?" demanded Scott, indignantly. "I am young and strong, and I am quite ready to earn my own living. I don't want anybody to support me."
"Well spoken, lad!" said Ezra, in a tone of approval. "I'll think over your case. Loammi, tell your mother that Scott will stay to supper."
"Thank you, sir."
Mrs. Little was as plain in appearance as her husband and son, but Scott liked her better. She appeared to have a kindly disposition, and expressed sympathy for him when she heard of his father's death.
This was in contrast to Mr. Little and Loammi, upon whom it seemed to make no impression.
"And where are you staying, Scott?" she asked, in a tone of friendly interest.
"At a hotel on the Bowery."
"How much do they charge you?" inquired Ezra Little.
"Two dollars a day."
"It is very extravagant for a boy with your small stock of money to pay such a price."
"I know it, sir, but I only went there yesterday, I shall not think of staying."
Scott had decided not to mention his loss to Mr. Little, as he felt sure that it would bring upon him a reproof for his credulity in trusting a man of whom he knew so little as Crawford Lane.
"Why couldn't he come here, Ezra?" suggested Mrs. Little, turning to her husband.
Mr. Little coughed.
"After supper I shall speak to Scott about business," he said, "and that point will be discussed."
Scott looked forward to the interview with interest and anxiety. For him a great deal depended on it.
He hoped that Mr. Little would give him a place in the store where he would be in the line of promotion, and be able to earn his living.
He followed Mr. Little from the dining room into what might be called a library, though there were only about fifty books in a small bookcase. There was a desk, however, used by Mr. Little for letter writing, and for the keeping of his accounts. Here, too, he received business visitors.
"Well," he said, pointing Scott to a chair, "now we will discuss your plans. You want a chance to work?"
"Yes, sir."
"I may find a place for you in my store, but I warn you that you can't expect much pay to begin with."
"I don't expect much pay, sir. If I can earn enough to support myself it will satisfy me."
"Eh, but that would require high pay. It costs a good deal to support a boy in New York."
This rather alarmed Scott, for he felt that he must manage somehow to support himself on what he earned.
"We generally pay a beginner only three dollars a week," proceeded Mr. Little.
"Three dollars a week!"
Why, Scott was paying two dollars a day for board and lodging at the hotel.
He looked at Mr. Little in dismay.
"I shouldn't think I could support myself on three dollars a week," he said.
"We might strain a point and pay you three dollars and a half."
"Is there any boarding house where I could live on three dollars and a half?"
"Well, no; perhaps not; but you have some money, you tell me."
"Yes, sir, I have fifty dollars."
"Just at first you can use a part of that to supply deficiencies."
"I thought I might need that for clothes."
"Ahem!" said Mr. Little. "I have thought a way out of the difficulty."
Scott looked at him hopefully.
"I think Mrs. Little can find a small room for you upstairs, and you can live here."
"Thank you, sir."
"Of course what you earn in the store won't pay for your keep, so I suggest that you hand me the fifty dollars to make up."
Scott did not like that suggestion. He did not feel like giving up the money bequeathed him by his father. It would make him feel helpless and dependent.
Besides, when he wanted clothing, where should he find money to pay for it? Yet, if he declined Mr. Little's offer, he knew that the fifty dollars would soon be exhausted, and he might have no other place offered him.
"When could I move here?" he asked.
"To-morrow, and on Monday morning, you can begin work at the store."
"Very well, sir."
"You can give me the money now."
"I will give you forty dollars, but I shall have to pay my hotel bill."
"You can keep five dollars for that. It will be sufficient."
So Scott handed over forty-five dollars to Mr. Little, who counted it over with evident satisfaction. Then the English boy started for the hotel.
He had secured a place, but somehow he felt depressed. His prospects did not seem very bright, after all.
CHAPTER VII. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
After Scott paid his hotel bill and reached his new home, he found that he had just sixty cents left in his purse. To be sure, he would be at no more expense for meals, but it made him feel poor.
When he left the ship he had one hundred dollars. There certainly had been a great shrinkage in his resources.
He was taken by the servant to an inside room on the upper floor. Of course there was no window, and the only light that entered the room was from the transom.
It seemed gloomy, and bade fair to be very close. If it had only been an outside room with a small window, Scott would have been more content. As it was, he found that the two servants were much better provided for than he.
The bed, however, was comfortable, and this was a partial compensation. But he reflected with disappointment that the room would be available only at night. He could not very well sit in it by day, as it was too dark for him to read.
"I shall be glad when I get to work," he thought. "That will take up my time."
Meanwhile, as it was but ten o'clock, it occurred to him that he would call upon Justin Wood at the Gilsey House. He easily found the hotel, which is on the corner of Twenty-ninth Street and Broadway.
He did not have to inquire for Mr. Wood, as he saw that gentleman through the window, sitting in the reading room.
Justin Wood looked up from the paper he was reading and recognized Scott at once.
"I am glad to see you, my young friend," he said, with a pleasant smile. "What luck have you had?"
"I have found a place, sir."
"That is good. It hasn't taken you long."
"No, sir."
"I am afraid it isn't a very good place. You don't look in good spirits."
"No, sir; I am afraid I shan't like it."
"How did you obtain it?"
"Through the relation I was telling you about. He keeps a dry-goods store on Eighth Avenue, and he will give me a place in his employ."
"Then he has treated you as a relation should."
"I am not so sure," said Scott, slowly. "He took all my money, and I am to board at his house."
"Why did he take your money?"
"He said I could not earn my board, and that would make up the deficit."
Justin Wood laughed.
"He seems to be a very shrewd man. Still, you will have a good home."
Again Scott looked doubtful, and told his new acquaintance of the small, dark room which had been assigned him.
"Yet you say that Mr. Little has only a small family."
"He has one son of about my age."
"Surely there ought to be a better room for you if he occupies a whole house."
"I should think so."
"He might have put you into the same room with his son."
"I don't think I should like to room with Loammi."
"Then you don't like him?"
Scott shook his head.
"We shouldn't agree," he answered.
"Why not?"
"He feels above me because of my poverty."
"The most prominent merchants in the city were once poor boys."
"Then there is hope for me," said Scott, smiling faintly.
"Have you been to your relative's store?"
"Not yet, sir."
"I remember seeing it. It is quite a large one. I think he must be prosperous."
"I shall be very glad to get to work. I don't know what to do with myself now. Besides, it makes me feel helpless to have only sixty cents in my pocket."
"You will have no trouble from the tax collector, that is certain. It is rather a pity you told Mr. Little how much money you had."
"I wish I hadn't now."
"I don't think I would have treated a poor cousin so if he had come across the Atlantic to put himself under my charge."
"I am sure you wouldn't, sir."
"What makes you say that? You don't know much about me," said Justin Wood, with a quiet smile.
"I can tell by your looks."
"Looks are deceptive," remarked the young man; but he looked pleased with the compliment. "So you don't go to work till Monday?"
"No, sir."
"And I suppose you have nothing to occupy you to-day?"
"No, sir."
"Then be my guest. I will show you something of the city."
"You are very kind," said Scott, gratefully.
"Oh, I shall be repaid. I was wondering what to do with myself. Now the problem is solved. Wait here a minute till I go up to my room, and we will start."
They passed through Twenty-ninth Street, and boarded a Sixth Avenue car.
"You have never been to Central Park, I presume," said Wood.
"No, sir. I have only been about in the lower part of the city."
"We think Central Park a very pleasant place," said the young man, "though in some respects it is not equal to the London parks."
"I like parks. I like green grass and trees. I was born in the country."
When they reached Fifty-ninth Street they entered the park, and walked leisurely to the lake. Scott's eyes brightened, and his step grew more elastic.
"This is fine," he said. "How large is the park?"
"It is about two miles and a half to the extreme northern boundary. We won't try to see the whole. I will only show you the most attractive features. You will be surprised when I tell you that I haven't been in the park for two years."
"Yes, I am surprised."
"I have no carriage, or I should drive here."
"But it is pleasant to walk."
"Yes, if you have a companion. Most of my friends are men of business, and have no time to spare for park rambles."
"Mr. Wood, I wish you were in business, and I were in your employ," said Scott, impulsively.
"Thank you, Scott. I do think we should get along well. So you think you would like me better than your new-found relatives?"
"Oh, ever so much!"
"Then I will try to foster the illusion," said the young man, smiling. "Suppose I adopt you as a cousin?"
"I wish you would."
"Very well! Then we will look upon each other in that light."
"Do you live in the city, Mr. Wood?"
"I am not stationary anywhere. I have no fixed home."
"Why don't you go into business?"
"Partly because I am blessed with a sufficiency of this world's goods."
"But I should think the time would hang heavy on your hands."
"Well, you see I have something to do in looking after my property. Besides, I am literary."
"Are you an author?"
"I occasionally write for magazines and reviews. I am a graduate of Columbia College. If I had the spur of necessity, perhaps I might make some mark in literature. As it is, I don't have that motive for working hard. I am rather glad I don't, for I am afraid I shouldn't be able to live at the Gilsey House if I depended upon what I could earn by my pen. Well, have you seen enough of Central Park?"
"I am ready to go anywhere else, sir."
"Then I will go with you to the other end of the city and beyond. Have you ever heard of Staten Island?"
"No, sir."
"It is a few miles to the south of the Battery. I own a small piece of property there—a couple of houses at New Brighton, which are let to tenants. They have sent me word that they need some repairs made, and I may as well go over and see them. I never like to travel alone, and as I have a companion I may as well utilize his company."
Half an hour on the Sixth Avenue Elevated train brought them from Fifty-ninth Street to South Ferry. Close beside it the Staten Island boats started from their pier.
Scott and his companion went on board, and ascended the stairs to the upper cabin. Here they found seats in front, and sat enjoying the fine breeze which is almost always to be found on this trip.
Mr. Wood pointed out Governor's Island, the Statue of Liberty and other notable sights.
Arrived at Staten Island, they took cars to New Brighton. Mr. Wood attended to his business, and then took Scott on an extended ride around the island. But first he stopped at a hotel and ordered dinner. This they both enjoyed.
When they left the dining room and went out on the piazza they were treated to a surprise. In an armchair, tilted back, with his feet on the balustrade, sat Crawford Lane, evidently enjoying the fine breeze.
CHAPTER VIII. SCOTT RECOVERS PART OF HIS MONEY.
Justin Wood smiled as he saw how unconscious Lane was of his presence. Then he walked forward quietly and laid his hand on Lane's arm.
"Mr. Lane," he said, "this is an unexpected pleasure."
Lane turned quickly, and looked very much disconcerted when he saw who it was that accosted him.
"I—I didn't expect to meet you here," he stammered.
"I presume not. Don't you recognize this boy?"
"Scott Walton?"
"Yes; I am glad you have not forgotten him. He is here on business."
"On business?"
"Yes; in a fit of absence of mind you relieved him of fifty dollars, or the equivalent in English bank notes. I don't say anything about the considerably larger sum which you took from me in London, for I can stand the loss, but this boy is poor and wants the money back."
"I can't give it to him," said Lane, desperately.
"Why not?"
"Because I have spent most of it."
"So you have spent nearly fifty dollars in one day?"
"Yes; I bet on the races."
"That was foolish. If you had lost your own money it would have served you right. But you had no business to squander the boy's money in that way. How much money have you got left?"
"I—don't know."
"Out with your pocketbook, man, and find out," said Wood, impatiently.
As Lane still hesitated, Justin Wood added, sternly: "Do as I tell you, or I will arrest you myself and march you to the station house."
The young man looked as if he were quite capable of carrying out his threat, and Lane very reluctantly took out his pocketbook.
"I have twelve dollars," he said.
"Then give ten dollars to the boy, and keep two dollars for yourself."
"It is all the money I have," whined Lane.
"That is no concern of mine. The money doesn't belong to you."
"I am a very poor man."
"You are smart enough to make a living by fair means. If you keep on as you are doing now, you will obtain your board at the expense of the State."
Lane, very unwillingly, handed two five-dollar bills to Scott.
"We are letting you off very easy," said Justin Wood. "We will give you a chance to reform, but if ever I catch you trying any of your tricks elsewhere, I will reveal what I know of you."
Crawford Lane rose from his chair and with a look of chagrin made haste to leave the hotel. He had already taken dinner there, and intended to remain until the next day, but now he felt unable to do so.
"I am glad to get some of my money back," said Scott, in a tone of satisfaction. "I was reduced to sixty cents. Ten dollars will last me for a good while."
"Take care not to let your worthy relative know you have so much money, or he will want you to give it up to him."
"But for you I should not have recovered it," said Scott, gratefully.
"I am very glad to have been the means of your getting it back. I have a personal grudge against that rascal."
"Of how much did he rob you?"
"I can't tell precisely, for I am rather careless about my money, and seldom know just how much I have. To the best of my knowledge he must have taken about three hundred dollars."
"That is a good deal of money."
"It was much less to me than the sum he took was to you. It did not especially inconvenience me. But it is getting late, and we had better take the next boat back to New York."
This they did. On the same boat, though they were unconscious of it, was Crawford Lane. He saw them, however, and reflected bitterly that the fifty dollars which he had taken from Scott was nearly all gone, though it was only the second day since he got possession of it.
It was half-past four when they reached the Gilsey House.
"I think I must be getting back to my new home," said Scott. "Thank you very much for your kindness to me."
"You have given me a pleasant day, Scott," replied the young man, genially. "Call and see me again when you have time."
"Thank you, sir."
When Scott reached the house in West Forty-seventh Street, he found Loammi already there. He had returned from school at about half-past two, and wondered what had become of his new-found cousin.
"Where have you been?" he asked, abruptly.
"First, I went to Central Park, and afterward I went to Staten Island."
Loammi looked surprised.
"What could take you to Staten Island? You seem to have plenty of money to go about with."
"It didn't cost me anything."
"How is that?"
"I went with a gentleman who lives at the Gilsey House."
"What made him take you? Is he a friend of yours?"
"Yes, he is a friend of mine, though I haven't known him long."
"Is he rich?"
"He seems to be."
"You might introduce me."
"I may have an opportunity to do so some time."
Scott felt obliged to say this, though he was convinced that Justin Wood would not care to make his cousin's acquaintance.
"Ma told me you were not at home to lunch. Where did you eat?"
"We dined at a hotel on Staten Island."
"Upon my word, you are getting to be quite a swell for a poor boy."
Scott smiled.
"I don't think I shall have much chance to be a swell," he said, "after I have begun work in the store."
"No, I guess not. It was a great thing to have pa take you up and give you a home."
"I hope to show my appreciation of it," said Scott; but under the circumstances, his gratitude was not as deep as if he had had a better room, and had not been obliged to give up all his money to his relative.
"How do you like your room?"
"The bed seems comfortable. Where is your room?"
"On the second floor. Follow me and I will show it to you."
Scott followed his cousin upstairs. Loammi opened the door and led the way into a large chamber about eighteen feet square, very neatly and comfortably furnished.
There was a bookcase in one corner containing over a hundred volumes. Near it was an upright writing desk. Through a half-open door Scott saw a closet well filled with suits of clothes. Certainly, there was a great contrast between this apartment, with its comforts and ample accommodations, and his own small, stifling room on the floor above. Scott could not quite suppress a feeling of envy.
"You have a fine room."
"Haven't I? My room is as nice as pa's."
Alongside of it was another room, not as large, but perhaps two-thirds the size.
"Who occupies that room?" asked Scott.
"No one. We have two spare rooms on this floor."
It naturally occurred to Scott to wonder why he had not been given one in place of the poor room that had been assigned him.
He found afterward that Mrs. Little had proposed giving him the room next to Loammi, but the latter had objected, saying that it was too good for a penniless boy. In this he had been backed up by Ezra Little, whose ideas agreed with those of his son.
At six o'clock the family assembled for supper.
"You will sit down to meals with us when we are alone," said Ezra Little. "When we have company you can eat in the kitchen."
Scott said nothing, but his face flushed. It was evident that his relatives did not look upon him as a social equal.
Yet Justin Wood, who, as Scott suspected, stood higher socially than the Little family, treated him like a brother. Though in no way related to him, Scott felt a greater regard for him than for any of the family with whom he had found a home.
"To-morrow is Saturday," said Ezra Little, as he rose from the table. "I had not intended to have you enter the store till Monday, but there is a little extra work to be done, and you can come in to-morrow."
"I should like to do so," said Scott, promptly.
"So you like to work," said Loammi, sneeringly.
"Yes; at any rate, I like it better than being idle."
"That is a very proper feeling," observed Ezra, approvingly.
"Yes," put in Loammi. "You ought to do all you can to pay pa for his kindness to you."
Scott did not answer, but he thought his young cousin about the most disagreeable boy he had ever met.
CHAPTER IX. BUSINESS EXPERIENCE.
Scott went with his uncle to the store the next morning. It was rather an humble imitator of the larger stores which keep everything for sale.
In any city but New York it would be considered a big store, but it could not, of course, compare with Macy's, Ehrich's, Simpson & Crawford's, and other large bazaars, equally well known. It followed the methods of these stores, however, and generally had some article in which special bargains were offered.
When Mr. Little led the way into the store, where from twenty-five to thirty salesmen were employed, besides cash boys and girls, Scott, who was not used to American shops, thought it a very large one, and his respect for Mr. Little increased, as a merchant on a large scale.
Ezra Little, followed by Scott, walked through the store and paused as he reached a tall man of about forty, with pretentious side whiskers.
"Mr. Allen," he said, "I have brought with me a new clerk. His name is Scott Walton, and he is a distant relative of mine. I suppose he has no experience, and I don't know whether he has any business capacity, but we will try him. Where can you make room for him?"
"In the handkerchief department, I think," replied the superintendent. "We have a drive in there, and there is more doing in that department than usual."
"Very well, give him the necessary instructions."
"Follow me, my boy," said the superintendent.
He led the way to the lower end of the store, where there was a large display of handkerchiefs, at prices ranging from five cents up to fifty.
"You can take your place at this counter," said Allen. "All the handkerchiefs are marked, so that you will have no trouble about the price. Take care that the different grades don't get mixed. It would not do, for instance, for a twenty-five cent handkerchief to get among the fifteen centers, or vice versa. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"I will give you a book, in which you will mark sales. When you have made one, call a cash boy and send the goods and money by him to the cashier's desk. It is rather lucky that Mr. Little brought you, as we are one clerk short. Mr. Cameron is absent on account of sickness."
Scott listened to these instructions with interest. He had never acted as salesman, but he felt instinctively that he had a taste for the work. He had a little feeling of exhilaration, as he felt he had been raised at once to a position of responsibility.
With mind alert and eyes on the lookout for customers, he began his work. He also watched his fellow clerks to see how they acted, and copied them as far as he was able.
Two things helped him. He had an agreeable, well-modulated voice and a very pleasant face, which seemed to attract customers. He soon found himself full of business, and bustled about like an experienced salesman.
From time to time the superintendent passed Scott's counter and glanced approvingly at the young salesman, who seemed so busy.
Meeting Mr. Little about noon, he said: "That boy is going to make a good salesman."
"Is he?"
"Yes; I have watched him carefully, and I can judge. He is a relation of yours, you say, Mr. Little."
"Yes; his mother was my cousin."
"Indeed! Is he an American?"
"No, he is an English boy."
"And you say he has never been in a store before?"
"Never, so he says."
"Then he is a born salesman."
"I am glad to hear it," said Ezra Little, indifferently. "He is penniless, and has his own way to make."
At twelve o'clock his uncle came up to the counter.
"Here is some money," he said. "You can go out and buy some lunch. We can't spare you to go home."
"Very well, sir."
"Mind you are not away more than half an hour."
"I suppose I shan't have to go far?"
"No, there is a place on the next block where you can buy what you need."
Scott put on his hat and left the store. He looked to see the amount of his lunch money. It was fifteen cents. This was not liberal, but he felt that he could make it do.
He joined another clerk, who guided him to a small place where, with his money, he was able to buy a cup of coffee, a sandwich and a piece of pie. His companion, who was a man of twenty-five, allowed himself a larger margin.
"Are you a new hand?" asked Mr. Sturgis, his fellow clerk.
"Yes, I only came in this morning."
"What are you in?"
"Handkerchiefs."
"They usually put beginners in that department. How'd you get the place?"
"Mr. Little is a cousin of my mother."
"Ah, that's it. Where do you live?"
"At his house."
"How do you like him?"
"I don't know him very well yet."
"I know him very well, for I have been here three years. There are not many who stay here so long—that is, in the store."
"Why not?"
"If you wasn't a relative, I'd tell you."
"I don't think that need prevent," said Scott, smiling.
"Well, Little has the reputation of paying very mean salaries. He is a very close-fisted man. How much does he pay you?"
"I get my board."
"How will you manage for clothes?"
"I don't know yet."
"Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. You look pretty well now, but Ezra Little won't clothe you in purple and fine linen."
"How is it you stay so long if the salaries are so poor?" was Scott's natural question.
"Well, I am well known and have a considerable trade of my own. I was once junior partner in a firm on Sixth Avenue, but we failed. By the way, Scott, how do you like your cousin, Loammi?"
"I am not in love with him," answered Scott, with a smile.
"We all dislike him here. He sometimes comes to the store, and puts on the airs of a boss."
At six o'clock the store closed for the day. On Saturday evenings it was kept open later. Scott did not accompany his uncle home, as Mr. Little had a little business that detained him.
It was about a mile to Forty-seventh Street, but Scott did not object to walking. It was pleasant for him after spending the day indoors to have a walk in the open air.
We will pass over a period of six weeks. Scott was no longer in the handkerchief department. He had been promoted to a more important position.
He still liked the business. The days passed quickly for him when trade was good. It was only when the weather was unpleasant and business dull that he found the time hang heavy on his hands.
He did not see much of Loammi. Though they lived in the same house they were not often together, except at meals.
Usually after supper, Loammi took a walk, but he never invited Scott to go with him. Once when Scott proposed to do so, his cousin declined the companionship curtly.
"I have a special engagement," he said. "I don't care for company."
After that Scott, who had his share of pride, kept to himself. He saw that Loammi looked upon him as a poor relation.
One evening when he returned from the store, he was surprised to have Loammi meet him just outside the door.
"I am glad you have come," he said. "There's an old frump inside who says he is a cousin of pa's. He is old and shabby, and I expect he wants to live on pa. It looks as if he would be overwhelmed with poor relations."
"I suppose he is a cousin of mine, too."
"Yes; for Heaven's sake, go in and keep him company. I'll introduce you."
"If he is a cousin of mother's, I shall be glad to know him."
"You can have him all to yourself. Goodness knows I never want to see him again."
Scott followed Loammi into the house, and into the reception room.
There on a sofa sat a small old man, whose clothing, though scrupulously clean, was worn and shabby. His face was wrinkled, but the expression was pleasant.
"I think I shall like him better than Mr. Little," thought Scott.
The time was coming when he would need a friend, and this old man was destined to play an important part in his future experiences.
CHAPTER X. SETH LAWTON.
"Mr. Lawton," said Loammi, "this boy is Scott Walton. His mother was a cousin of ours. Pa has given him a place in the store, because he hasn't any money."
Seth Lawton looked at Scott eagerly.
"My boy," he said, grasping Scott's hand, "your mother was my favorite cousin. Poor Lucy, when I last saw her she was just married to your father. Is she—is she dead?"
"Yes, sir," answered Scott. "She died when I was but five years old."
"Poor Lucy, poor girl!" said the old man, sighing. "And your father?"
"He is dead, too. He died but a few weeks since on the ship that brought us over from Liverpool."
"And there were no other children?"
"No, I was the only one."
"Mr. Lawton," said Loammi, who had been listening impatiently, "you must excuse me, as I must go upstairs and prepare for dinner."
Mr. Lawton scarcely noticed Loammi's unceremonious exit, he was so occupied with Scott.
"So you are my cousin, too," he said, in a softened voice. "I never saw you before, but I know I shall like you. You have a look like your mother."
"I was thought to look like mother," said Scott.
"How old are you?"
"I shall be sixteen in a few weeks."
"You are young to be an orphan. I judge from what your cousin says that you were left poor."
"Yes, father was unfortunate. He was so honest himself that he allowed people to cheat him."
"There are too many such cases. But I am glad that Cousin Ezra has opened his heart and given you a home."
"Yes," said Scott, briefly.
He was not disposed to be ungrateful, but it did not seem to him that he owed a very large debt of gratitude to Mr. Little, who had taken all his money and merely gave him his board in return for his services in the store.
"Do you find your cousin—what is his name?—a pleasant companion?"
"Loammi and I do not see much of each other, Mr. Lawton."
Seth Lawton looked at Scott shrewdly.
"I am not surprised to hear it," he said. "Loammi reminds me of his father very strongly."
"He looks upon me as a poor relation," continued Scott, smiling.
"Do you mind that much?"
"A little. I don't mean to be poor always."
"A wise determination. So you have a place in the store?"
"Yes, sir."
"How do you like that?"
"Very much. I like business. I don't have much to do with Mr. Little there, but the superintendent, Mr. Allen, is just, and encourages me to do my best."
"I am glad to hear that. Do you think Ezra is prosperous?"
"I should think so. He seems to be doing a good business."
"Does he strike you as a good manager?"
"He keeps down expenses. The clerks say that he pays poorer wages than anyone in the trade."
"That isn't always the sign of a good manager," said Seth Lawton, slowly. "Clerks will always work better for a generous employer. So, on the whole, Ezra may be considered well-to-do?"
"Yes, sir."
"I am always glad to hear that my friends—and relatives are prospering."
"You don't look as if you were very prosperous yourself," thought Scott. "I suppose you, too, are a poor relation."
"How much does Ezra pay you?"
"My board."
"That wouldn't be bad if you were a stranger. But how do you manage about clothes?"
"My father left me fifty dollars. Mr. Little took charge of it, and I suppose he will buy me clothing out of it."
"Humph!" said Seth Lawton, dryly. "He seems to put everything on a business basis."
Just then the door opened, and Ezra Little entered the room. He was prepared to see Mr. Lawton, Loammi having apprised him of his arrival.
He came forward, eying Mr. Lawton closely.
"He's as poor as poverty!" he said to himself. "He doesn't seem to have made much of a success."
"This is a surprise, Seth," said he, offering his hand coldly. "I had almost forgotten you."
"Very natural, Cousin Ezra," said the old man, smiling.
"Where have you been all these years?"
"I have been a wanderer, Ezra. I have been in America for the last few years. I came from Michigan last."
"Have you married?"
"No; I am alone."
"Perhaps it is just as well. You have been at less expense."
"True. You, however, have married, and, as I judge, are prosperous."
"Yes, I have a good business on Eighth Avenue," said Ezra Little, complacently. "I haven't been a rolling stone."
"Like me?"
"Well, yes, like you."
"And so you have gathered some moss."
"Yes; I think it a duty to succeed."
"If possible."
"A man can succeed if he goes to work the right way," said Ezra, dogmatically.
"Well, perhaps so," admitted Seth, slowly.
"How long have you been in New York?"
"I arrived last week."
"From Michigan?"
"Yes."
"Do you plan to stay here?"
"Well, I have not quite decided. I took a little while to get settled, and then I looked you up in the directory. But I have found more than I bargained for. I did not know that any of Lucy's family were in America," and he nodded in the direction of Scott.
"Yes," answered Ezra, with a slight frown; "Scott's father took it into his head to come to America when he was in the last stages of consumption. He died on the passage leaving his son to the cold mercies of the world."
"And you kindly took him into your home?"
"Well, I couldn't see him starve," said Mr. Little, ungraciously. "So I gave him a place in my store."
"I hope he is doing well there."
"Oh, yes, he is doing well enough. The work is not hard."
"So that you receive some equivalent for your kindness."
"Oh, I could get a boy to do the same work for three dollars a week."
"Well, Ezra, I think you won't lose anything by your kindness to an orphan relative."
"I will do what I can for him, but I can't undertake to help any more poor relations."
His tone was significant, and Seth understood it, but his feelings did not seem to be hurt.
"Possibly you were thinking of me, Ezra," he said, mildly.
"Are you a poor relation?" asked Ezra Little, bluntly.
"That is hard to tell. Ideas of poverty are comparative. I have always supported myself, and I hope I shall continue to do so. In a great city like this I can surely find something to do."
"I think you would better have remained in Michigan. What were you doing there?"
"I kept books for a man in the lumber business," answered Seth.
"You couldn't get a chance to keep books here. Your age would be against you, for one thing, Seth."
"I am only fifty-six, Ezra."
"That is old when you are seeking a position. I hope you have some money to fall back upon."
"I have a little, and then I was always able to live frugally."
"That is wise. You might, perhaps, expect that I would give you a place in my store, but you would not do for the dry-goods business."
"I don't think I should," said the old man, candidly. "I have never been accustomed to very close confinement."
"Pa, supper's ready!" announced Loammi, opening the door.
"Will you walk out and take supper with us, Seth?"
"Thank you, Ezra. It will be pleasant to sit down with relations. It is many years since I have done so."
Seth Lawton was introduced to Mrs. Little, who greeted him kindly, though, like her husband and son, she looked upon him as a poor relation. She had a better disposition than they, and was not so worldly minded.
Seth Lawton was seated next to Scott on one side of the table. Opposite sat Loammi.
"Put the two poor relations together, ma," he had said to his mother, beforehand. "Pa'll have his hands full if any more come to the city."
"They are not to blame for their poverty," returned Mrs. Little.
"I should hate to be poor," said Loammi, emphatically.
"Your father and I were poor once."
"But you got bravely over it. That's because pa was smart. This old man—Seth Lawton—looks as if he wasn't worth a hundred dollars, and he must be ten years older than pa."
CHAPTER XI. SCOTT CALLS ON HIS POOR RELATION.
Ezra Little asked a good many questions of his new-found relative, but Seth Lawton's answers were vague.
"I don't see why you ever came to New York," said his host.
"I feel repaid already," replied Seth. "It does me good to see my relations. I am glad especially to find you doing so well."
"I wish I could return the compliment," said Ezra, pointedly.
"Oh, I don't complain," responded Mr. Lawton.
"Don't you ever consider what would become of you if you should get sick?"
"I am in pretty fair health, thank you, Ezra. I am not likely to injure my health with rich living."
Loammi indulged in a boisterous laugh. He evidently thought this a good joke.
Seth Lawton eyed his young relative with a glance of curiosity. Scott flushed, for he felt that Loammi was disrespectful.
"Loammi thinks it a joke to be poor," he said to himself.
When they rose from the table, Ezra Little said: "You will have to excuse me, Seth. There is a meeting this evening of some bank directors, and, as I am one of them, I ought to attend."
"Oh, don't mind me, Ezra. I can call again."
"Of course we expect you to do so," said his wealthy relative, but there was no cordiality in his tone.
"Perhaps the boys will take a walk with me," suggested Seth. "I shall be glad to have them call at my room."
"Where is your room?" asked Loammi.
"In West Sixteenth Street."
"I have an engagement," said Loammi, very brusquely.
"How is it with you?" asked Mr. Lawton, turning to Scott.
"I shall be happy to go with you, Cousin Seth," answered Scott, pleasantly.
Seth Lawton looked pleased.
Mr. Little had gone off in a hurry, followed by Loammi. Mr. Lawton and Scott remained a short time in conversation with Mrs. Little; then they, too, went out.
"I invited your cousin out of politeness," said Mr. Lawton, "but I am quite as well pleased to have you alone. I don't think Loammi will ever care much for me."
"He doesn't like poor relations," observed Scott. "He takes very little notice of me."
Seth Lawton smiled.
"Then if I were rich you think Loammi would be more polite?"
"I am sure of it."
"I am afraid it can't be helped then. I am too old to start in to make a fortune; but you are young. You may be a rich man in time."
"It doesn't look much like it now."
"Most of the rich men in New York and other American cities were once poor boys."
"I don't think my chances will be very good while I work for Mr. Little. I hope you will remain in New York."
"That will depend on circumstances. As Ezra Little said, a man of my age doesn't stand a good chance to get a position."
"I think you said you kept books in the West?"
"Yes, a part of the time."
"Shall you try to get a bookkeeper's place here?"
"I have not decided. I think I must call at Ezra's store to-morrow. I have some curiosity to see it."
"I wish it were your store instead of his."
"He would not join you in the wish. Besides, I don't think I should care to be in the dry-goods business. I suppose you mean that you would rather work for me than for him?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for the compliment, Scott. It doesn't look likely at present that I shall ever be your employer. I hope, however, that our friendship will continue and become more intimate."
They had walked to Broadway, and sauntered slowly down that brilliant thoroughfare. As they were passing the Fifth Avenue Hotel a fine-looking man, who had just left it, espied Scott's companion.
"How are you, Mr. Lawton?" he said, cordially, offering his hand.
"Very well, thank you, Mr. Mitchell."
"I didn't expect to see you here."
"I haven't been here for a good many years, but I took a fancy to make a brief visit, and see how the city has changed. I suppose you are here on particular business?"
"Well, perhaps so," laughed the other. "I am staying at this hotel. Call if you have time. I shall be here three days. That is not your son?"
"No; I am not married. It is a young cousin, Scott Walton."
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, my boy," said Mr. Mitchell, pleasantly.
"Thank you, sir."
Here the conference ended.
"That is a member of Congress from Michigan," explained Seth Lawton, in response to a look of inquiry. "I suppose he has run on from Washington for a few days."
"Is he a smart man?"
"Yes, he may be governor some time. He is a rising man."
Scott was somewhat surprised to find that his poor relation had such a prominent acquaintance; it seemed to indicate that even if he were poor and dressed shabbily, he held a good social position in his western home.
At length they reached West Sixteenth Street, and stopped at a plain three-story house. Mr. Lawton took out a night key and led the way inside and upstairs.
He occupied a front room on the second floor. It was of good size and well, though plainly, furnished.
Scott was agreeably surprised. He thought his cousin would probably occupy a small hall bedroom, for he had been long enough in New York to know that lodgings were expensive. Everything looked comfortable. There was a lounge in one corner with the head toward the window.
"I lie down here when I feel lazy," said Mr. Lawton.
"Do you board here also, Cousin Seth?"
"Partially. I breakfast in the house, but it is more convenient to take my other meals outside."
Mr. Lawton's trunk was on one side of the fireplace. It was a substantial-looking trunk, somewhat the worse for wear.
"I have in my trunk, somewhere," he said, "a picture of your mother, taken at the age of twenty. Would you like to see it?"
"Very much," answered Scott, eagerly. "I have one taken a few months before she died, but she was in ill health then."
Seth Lawton opened the trunk and soon found a small photograph album. The second picture represented the attractive face of a young woman of twenty.
"Do you recognize it?" asked Seth.
"Yes," answered Scott, the tears coming to his eyes. "I wish I had one like it."
"I will have it copied, and you shall have one of the copies."
"I don't like to put you to that expense, Cousin."
"The expense will be small. In return, you must show me the later picture of your mother. She was my favorite cousin."
"I will be glad to do so. You have a very comfortable room."
"Yes. I hope you have a good room at Mr. Little's."
Scott shook his head.
"I don't want to complain, but I should like it better if there were a window in it."
"No window?" repeated Seth, puzzled.
"No. It is an inside room on the third floor."
"Small, I suppose?"
"Yes; I don't think it is more than eight feet by ten."
"It must be close."
"It is. Still, the bed is comfortable."
"What sort of a room does your cousin Loammi have?"
"A fine room on the second floor, large and handsomely furnished."
"Is there no larger and better room which you could occupy?"
"Yes, there are two, but they consider my little room good enough for me."
Seth Lawton looked thoughtful.
"I am sorry you are not more comfortably accommodated," he said. "There may be better things in store for you, however. By the way, I see your trousers are frayed about the bottoms."
"Yes; they are getting shabby."
"You ought to have a new pair."
"Yes; but I don't like to speak to Mr. Little."
"You need feel no hesitation. He has fifty dollars of yours, you told me."
"Forty dollars."
"Enough, at any rate, to provide you with new clothes. Your coat is beginning to show signs of wear."
"Yes; I am as careful of it as possible, but it will wear."
"Take my advice and ask Mr. Little at once to give you some new clothes."
"I will if you advise it."
"I do; and let me know how your application is received. This is Tuesday. Call on me again Thursday evening if you can."
"I will, Cousin Seth."
The rest of the evening was spent in talking of old times and scenes. Scott was much interested in what Mr. Lawton told him of his mother's early days. When he left the house Seth Lawton accompanied him as far as the Fifth Avenue Hotel.
"I will go in and see if Mr. Mitchell is in," he said. "Good-night, Scott."