CHAPTER XXIII
A BUSINESS CALL
It was certainly a startling discovery for Herbert to make, that out of sixty dollars he had only four left, now that he had paid for another day at the hotel, and this small sum must be further diminished by the expense of a breakfast. Unfortunately, too, he was quite hungry, for his misfortune had not taken away his appetite.
“I will make a good breakfast, at any rate,” said Herbert, philosophically. “Afterwards, I will consider what to do.”
He ordered a substantial breakfast, which, even at the low prices of a dozen years ago, amounted to fifty cents, and did full justice to what was set before him.
After paying at the desk, he went outside.
It was a bright, sunshiny morning, and this, with the comfortable feeling produced by having eaten a good breakfast, gave him courage for the new career upon which he was about to enter.
While considering what he should do first, the thought of the letter given him by Mr. Carroll flashed upon him. He felt for it hastily, and was rejoiced to find that that was safe, at least. Greenleaf had not taken that away, fortunately.
He looked at the direction. It was addressed to
“Messrs. Godfrey & Lynn,
“No. —— Pearl St.”
It was not sealed, and was probably meant to be read by Herbert. At any rate, our hero so concluded, and opened the letter, not without curiosity as to what Mr. Carroll had written about him. He knew it must be favorable, of course, but found it even more so than he anticipated.
Here it is:
“MY DEAR MR. GODFREY: This letter will be handed you by a young friend of mine, by name Herbert Mason. My acquaintance with him has been brief, but he has been able, by his coolness and bravery, to do me a most important service, having saved me from being robbed of a large sum of money while acting as my escort from Ohio to Philadelphia. I have talked with him freely about his plans, and find that he will reach New York without friends, and with a very small sum of money, hoping before it is gone to secure a place in some counting-room, where he can make an honest living. I feel a strong interest in his success, and am persuaded that wherever he is placed, he will show rare capacity and fidelity. I wish it might be in your power to receive him into your own counting-room. But, of course, that must be according to your convenience. At any rate, may I rely on you to act a friendly part by my young friend, and to exert your influence toward procuring him a position elsewhere, if you cannot employ him yourself? Anything that you may have it in your power to do for Herbert, I shall consider as a favor done to myself.
I have just left my daughter, who, with her family, is well. Sincerely, your friend,
JAMES CARROLL.”
“That is a very kind letter,” thought Herbert, gratefully. “I hope it will do me good.”
He decided to call and deliver it the same forenoon. If he had not been robbed of nearly the whole of his small capital, he would, first, have gone about the city, which was entirely new to him. But, with less than four dollars between himself and utter destitution, he felt that he had no time for sight-seeing. It was necessary that he should get to work as soon as possible.
He waited till ten o'clock, thinking it possible that the heads of the firm might not reach the counting-room till about that time. It was now eight o'clock only. He had two hours, therefore, to look about him.
“Shine yer boots?” said a ragged urchin, approaching, with a suggestive look at his soiled shoes.
It occurred to Herbert that it would be best to look as well as possible when visiting Godfrey.
“Ten cents.”
“It's too much,” said Herbert, thinking how few dimes constituted his entire worldly wealth.
“Well, five, then,” said the bootblack, coming down to his regular price.
“Do you get much to do?” asked our hero.
“Some days I get considerable.”
“How much do you make?”
“Pleasant days I makes a dollar, but when it rains, there ain't much to do.”
“How much do you have to pay for sleeping?”
“Six cents.”
“Six cents!” repeated Herbert, in surprise. “Where can you get lodged for that?”
“At the lodgin' house, corner of Fulton and Nassau Streets.”
“Well,” thought Herbert, “I needn't starve. If I can't get anything better to do, I can buy a box of blacking and a brush, and set up in business for myself.”
To be sure, this would not be an agreeable occupation, but Herbert was bound to make a living by honest labor. If one avenue was closed to him, he must enter such as were open to him. He could not afford to be particular.
After his shoes were brushed, he crossed the park, and walked up Broadway. It was a wonderful sight to the country-bred boy, this gay thoroughfare, with its busy and bustling crowds, and its throngs of vehicles, never ceasing wholly, save at the dead hours of night. He thought to himself what a quantity of business there must be to do. Certainly, there must be room for one more worker. So, on the whole, the busy scene gave him courage, and he sauntered along as cheerfully as if he were not next-door to a beggar.
But at last the time came when he might safely seek out the gentleman to whom he had an introduction. Being a stranger in the city, he had to inquire for Pearl Street from a policeman, who answered his inquiry very civilly. He followed the direction, and found it at length. But the number of which he was in search was not so easily found, for he found the street meandered in a very perplexing way, so that at times he was not quite sure whether he was still in it, or had wandered from his way.
At last he found the place. It was a large, solid-looking building, of four stories in height. There were a number of boxes outside on the sidewalk. Inside, there was a large apartment occupying the entire first floor, with the exception of a room in the rear, which had been partitioned off for a counting-room. The partition was of glass, and, as he looked from the entrance, he could see a couple of high desks and a table.
“Is this Godfrey & Lynn's?” he asked of a porter at the entrance.
“Yes,” said the porter.
“I want to see Mr. Godfrey.”
“I don't think he's in. You can go to the office and inquire.”
Accordingly, Herbert passed down the length of the warehouse, and, pausing a moment before the door, he opened it, and entered.
There were two persons in the office. One was a thin-faced man, who sat on a high stool at one of the desks, making entries apparently in the ledger. This was the bookkeeper, Mr. Pratt, a man with a melancholy face, who looked as if he had lived to see the vanity of all things earthly. He had a high forehead naturally—made still higher by the loss of his front hair. Apparently, he was not a man to enjoy conviviality, or to shine on any festive occasion.
Besides Mr. Pratt, there was a boy, if we may take the liberty of calling him such, of about Herbert's age. He was fashionably dressed, and his hair was arranged with exceeding care. In fact, as Herbert entered, he was examining the set of his necktie in a little hand-glass, which he had taken from his coat pocket. Not quite suiting him, he set himself to rearranging it.
“Have you copied that bill, Thomas?” asked Mr. Pratt, looking up.
“Not yet, sir.”
“You have been long enough about it. Put back that glass. You are quite too much troubled about your appearance.”
“Yes, sir.
“If I didn't look any better than some people,” said Thomas, sotto voce, “I shouldn't look in a glass very often.”
Herbert naturally concluded that Mr. Pratt was the man to whom his inquiries should be addressed.
“I would like to see Mr. Godfrey, sir.” he said.
“He is out of the city.”
“Out of the city!” repeated Herbert, disappointed. “When will he be back?”
“Nor till day after to-morrow.”
Herbert's countenance fell. In his reduced circumstances, he could hardly afford to wait two days. At his present rate of expenditure, he would be penniless by that time.
“Is Mr. Lynn likely to be in soon?” he asked, thinking that perhaps he would do in Mr. Godfrey's absence.
“No; he is sick at home. He may not be here for a week. Perhaps, I can attend to your business,” he added. “What is it?”
“I think,” said Herbert, “that I will wait till day after to-morrow, if you think Mr. Godfrey will be back then. I have a letter for him.”
“If it's a business letter, you had better leave it.”
“It is a letter of introduction,” said Herbert. “I would rather present it in person.”
“Very well,” and Mr. Pratt went back to his ledger.
Thomas looked critically at the boy who had a letter of introduction to Mr. Godfrey, and said to himself, “He got his clothes from a country tailor, I'll bet a hat.”
CHAPTER XXIV
FINDING A BOARDING PLACE
Herbert left the counting-room of Godfrey & Lynn, not a little depressed in spirits. The two days which must elapse before he could see Mr. Godfrey were to him a formidable delay. By that time his money would be almost exhausted. Then, suppose, which was very probable, Mr. Godfrey could do nothing for him immediately, but only hold out his promise of future assistance, how was he to live in the meantime? After all, he might have to realize his thought of the morning, and join the ranks of the bootblacks. That was not a pleasant thought to a boy of his education. All labor is honorable, to be sure, but, then, some occupations are more congenial than others.
If Greenleaf had not robbed him so basely, he could have afforded to wait. He felt sore and indignant about that. Nobody likes to own that he has been victimized, but Herbert was obliged to confess to himself that such was the case with him.
He walked about rather aimlessly, feeling miserable enough. But, all at once, it occurred to him, “Would it not be cheaper for him to take board by the week in some boarding-house?” Reckoning up, he found that his hotel bill would be three dollars and a half a week, while his meals, even if he were quite abstemious, would make as much more; in all, seven dollars. Surely, he could be boarded somewhere for less than that.
In the reading-room of the hotel he found a daily paper, and carefully ran his eye down the advertisements for boarders and lodgers. The following attracted his attention:
“BOARDERS WANTED.—A few mechanics may obtain comfortable rooms and board at No. —— Stanton Street, at three dollars per week.”
This, be it remembered, was previous to the war, and before the price of board had doubled.
“Three dollars a week!” repeated Herbert. “Less than half my present rate of expense. I must go at once and secure it.”
He found the way to Stanton Street, and found that No. —— was a shabby-looking house in a shabby neighborhood. But he could not afford to be fastidious. He accordingly stepped up without hesitation, and rang the bell, which emitted a shrill sound in reply.
A middle-aged woman, with a red handkerchief tied around her head, and a broom in her hand, opened the door and looked inquiringly at our hero.
“What's wanted?” she said.
“I saw your advertisement for boarders,” said Herbert.
“Yes; I advertised in the paper this morning.”
“Will you let me see your rooms?”
“Who are you looking for?”
“Myself.”
“I don't know as you'll be suited. My price is low, and I can't give first-class accommodations for three dollars.”
“No; I suppose not.”
“Come up, if you would like to see what I've got.”
The interior of the house was shabby like the outside, the oilcloth carpet faded, and the wall paper torn off in places. The stairs, too, were narrow and uncarpeted. All this Herbert observed, but he could not afford to be critical.
On the third floor, his guide threw open the door of a dark, little hall bedroom, meagerly furnished.
“I could give you this room by yourself,” she said, “or a larger room with someone else.”
“I would rather be alone.”
“That's the only single room I have. Will you take it?”
“I think so,” said Herbert, though he did not anticipate much enjoyment in such a poor place.
“When do you want to come?”
“To-morrow morning.”
“Very well. I shall expect a deposit, so that I may be sure the room is let.”
“How much?”
“A dollar will do.”
Herbert drew a dollar from his pocket, and handed it to Mrs. Morgan, for such, she informed him, was her name.
Then he went downstairs and out into the air again.
“Well,” he said to himself, “I'm sure of a home, such as it is, for a week. In that time something must turn up.”
Examining his pocketbook he found that he had two dollars and a half left. Of that sum, two dollars must be reserved to pay the balance of his week's board. Out of the remaining fifty cents he must pay for his meals until the next morning, when he would take possession of his new boarding place. He wished that he had proposed to come to breakfast, but it was too late now.
With such a small sum in hand, he could not afford to dine on the same magnificent scale as he had breakfasted, but he must be rigidly economical. He decided that the cheapest food he could buy was a five-cent loaf at some baker's. This would probably last him through the day, and might prove sufficient for breakfast also, since he would take a regular dinner, though he doubted, from what he had seen of the establishment in Stanton Street, whether it would be a very inviting repast. But it was the best he could afford, and that was all he need consider.
Late in the afternoon, it occurred to Herbert to wonder where, in the city, his Uncle Stanton lived. Not that he had any intention of applying to him for assistance, even if matters came to a crisis, but he felt a natural curiosity as to how his uncle was situated. He found the directory readily, and, turning to the letter S, ran down the list of names till he came to Stanton, Benjamin.
He learned that his uncle's store was in the lower part of Broadway, while his house was in West Seventeenth Street, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues.
“I should like to see what sort of a house Uncle Benjamin lives in,” thought Herbert.
There was nothing to prevent his gratifying this wish, as he had plenty of time on his hands. If he had had more money, he would have taken the horse cars, but in his present circumstances this would be imprudent. He decided, as it was only five o'clock, to take a leisurely walk up Broadway, noticing his uncle's place of business on the way.
A few minutes brought him in front of the latter—an imposing-looking building, with all the appearance of belonging to a prosperous merchant. Appearances are deceitful, to be sure, and no doubt there are some merchants, as outwardly prosperous, who might profitably change places with their head clerks. But Herbert naturally judged from appearances, and he could not help contrasting in his mind his own condition with that of his uncle's. But he was too manly to be despondent on this account, and thought rather, “I am young and ready to work, Some time, if I am patient and work hard. I may be as well off as Uncle Benjamin.” The thought of applying to him for assistance was as far off as ever.
He pursued his way uptown, finding it a longer walk than he anticipated, arriving at half-past five at Union Square. At the upper end he turned off, and went down Seventeenth Street.
Carefully noting the numbers, he at length found his uncle's house. It was a handsome, substantial city mansion, and seemed appropriate as the residence of a rich New York merchant.
“So my uncle lives here,” thought Herbert, and there rose involuntarily in his mind the memory of the humble Western home where he and his mother had struggled against poverty, while his uncle, who was evidently so amply provided with the world's goods, coldly held aloof, and forbore to offer the assistance which he could so well afford.
“If I had a sister, I could never treat her like that,” thought Herbert, indignantly. “He would not help my mother. I will starve before I ask him to help me.”
He paused a moment on the opposite side of the street to look at his uncle's house. While he was standing there, a boy of about his own age, apparently, came down the street whistling, and ascended the steps of his uncle's house.
“I wonder if that is my cousin Tom,” thought Herbert. He knew the names of his cousins from his mother, though he had never seen them.
While he looked, he was struck by something familiar in the appearance of this boy. Where had he seen him before?
All at once it flashed upon him. It was the same boy he had seen in the counting-room of Godfrey He knew him by his dandified dress and his face, which he had noticed at the time.
This was certainly a strange coincidence, that his cousin, for it was doubtless he, should be the first boy he encountered after reaching New York. It would be still stranger if Mr. Godfrey should offer him employment, and he should find himself a clerk in the same office as the son of his rich uncle. But it was by no means certain that he would be lucky enough to obtain such employment. Therefore there was no need of wondering whether, under such circumstances, Tom would recognize him as a relation.
Herbert walked thoughtfully back, and on reaching his room ate the remainder of the loaf which he had purchased at the baker's in the morning. It was not a very luxurious repast, but his walk had given him an appetite, and he had no difficulty in disposing of all that was left.
CHAPTER XXV
GETTING A SITUATION
The next morning Herbert reported himself at his new boarding place. He found the fare very far from first-class, while his fellow-boarders appeared at the table mostly in shirt-sleeves, and were evidently workingmen. Our hero would have preferred a greater degree of neatness both in the table and in the guests, but he felt that he would be lucky, if he should find himself able to pay his expenses even here. He was not to be daunted by little annoyances, but looked for compensation in the future.
He waited impatiently for the next day, when Mr. Godfrey would return. Upon the success of the interview with him much depended.
At length it came, and Herbert once more set out for the warehouse on Pearl Street. He entered without question, and made his way to the counting-room. Looking through the glass door, he saw his cousin—whom he surveyed with new interest now that he knew the relationship—and the bookkeeper. But, besides these, there was an elderly gentleman, rather stout, with a pleasant face, the expression of which reassured him.
“Is Mr. Godfrey in?” he asked, on entering, with a look of inquiry at the gentleman just described.
“That is my name. What can I do for you?” said Mr. Godfrey, turning towards him.
“I have a letter for you, sir,” said Herbert, producing it from his pocket.
Mr. Godfrey held out his hand for it, and ran his eye rapidly over its contents.
“So your name is Herbert Mason?” he said, raising his eyes after finishing it.
“Yes, sir.”
At the mention of this name, Tom Stanton, whose curiosity had led him to listen to the conversation, wheeled rapidly round on his stool and surveyed our hero with intense curiosity. He knew that Herbert Mason was the name of his cousin. Could it be possible that this boy was the cousin whom he had never seen? A little later, and he was convinced of it.
“You have just come from Ohio, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir.”
“My friend, Mr. Carroll, writes me that you were instrumental in saving him from being robbed while acting as his escort to Philadelphia.”
“It wasn't worth mentioning,” said Herbert modestly.
Mr. Godfrey noticed his modest tone, and it pleased him—modesty not being an unvarying characteristic of young America.
“My friend refers to it as an important service. I should like to know the particulars. Mr. Carroll is a connection of mine, and I am naturally interested in all that relates to him.”
In reply Herbert gave a brief, but clear and intelligent account of the attempted burglary, passing over his own achievement as lightly as possible. But it was easy to infer, even from the little he said, that he had acted with bravery and self-possession.
“You behaved in a very creditable manner,” said Mr. Godfrey, approvingly. “Many boys would have lost their self-possession. You have come to New York in search of employment, Mr. Carroll writes me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don't, of course, know how you were situated in Ohio,” said the merchant, “but as a general rule I think boys make a mistake in leaving the country for the city. Here the competition for work is sharp, and there is a surplus of laborers in every department of labor. Still,” he proceeded, scanning Herbert's earnest face, “you look like a boy capable of making his way if an opportunity offers. You have but little money, Mr. Carroll writes.”
“I have lost nearly all I had,” said Herbert, “so that now I have very little left.”
“You have met with a loss? Tell me about it. Indeed, I should be glad if you would confide to me freely your situation and hopes, and then I shall be better able to help you.”
“I am almost ashamed to tell you how I was taken in,” said our hero. “I suppose I ought to have been more prudent.”
He recounted the manner in which Greenleaf had robbed him. Mr. Godfrey listened with interest, and so did Tom Stanton, who burst into a laugh when the narrative was concluded.
“What are you laughing at, Thomas?” asked the merchant, rather sharply.
“I was thinking how neatly he was taken in,” said Tom, a little abashed.
“I should apply a different word to it,” said Mr. Godfrey. “It appears to me the height, or rather the depth of meanness, to take advantage of a boy's confidence, and defraud him so scandalously. How much money have you left, Herbert?”
“Forty cents, sir.”
“Only forty cents to begin life with in a great city!”
“Yes, sir; I have paid my board in advance for a week.”
“Where do you board?”
“In Stanton Street.”
Tom turned up his nose at the name of this street, which he knew was very far from fashionable, but this demonstration our hero did not observe.
“What board do you pay?”
“Three dollars a week, sir.”
“A poor place, probably.”
“Yes, sir, but I could afford no better.”
“You are sensible to accommodate yourself to circumstances. Well, my young friend, it appears that you can't wait long for employment. Mr. Carroll has asked me to do something for you, and I am disposed to oblige him, not wholly for his sake, but partly for your own, for you seem to me a very modest and sensible boy. Mr. Pratt, do we need another boy?”
“No, sir, I don't think we do.”
“Well, business will be brisker by and by. I think you can find a little for this young man to do in the meantime. He can go to the post office, and I believe I have a little extra writing to be done. Pass him a pen, and let him give us a specimen of his handwriting.”
Fortunately, Herbert was a handsome writer, and this went a considerable way in his favor.
“Very neat,” said the merchant. “By the way, Herbert, I suppose, of course, you know nothing of French?”
“Yes, sir, I can read it pretty well.”
“Indeed!” said Mr. Godfrey, surprised. “Then you can be of service to me, that is, if you know it well enough. I received, this morning, a letter from a silk house at Lyons, a part of which I don't quite understand. The fact is, my French is rather poor. Do you think you could help me translate it?”
“If you will show me the letter, I will try, sir.”
The merchant took a letter from the table before him and handed it to Herbert.
Our hero ran his eye rapidly over it, and then rendered it into English in a clear and grammatical way.
“Bless me, you're quite a scholar,” said Mr. Godfrey. “I understand now. You've made it all plain. Where did you learn so much French?”
“My father taught me, sir. He also taught me Latin.”
“Indeed, I congratulate you on possessing so good an education. Latin, however, isn't so much in my way. I haven't many Latin correspondents.”
“I suppose not, sir,” said Herbert, laughing.
“Still, it does no harm to know something of it.”
Tom Stanton had listened with considerable surprise, mingled with mortification, to what had passed. It appeared then, that his country cousin, whom he had looked upon as a country boor, was his superior in education, and, as Tom secretly knew, in courage. And now he was going to be his fellow-clerk. He felt jealous and angry, fearing that Herbert, who appeared to be high in favor already, would eclipse him in the office.
“How much can you live upon economically?” asked the merchant.
“I know little of the city,” said Herbert. “You can judge better than I, sir.”
“You pay three dollars a week board. You'll need double that amount. Mr. Pratt, you may pay him six dollars a week. He will come to work to-morrow morning, and you may pay him Saturday, as if it was a whole week.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Herbert, gratefully. “You are very kind.”
“Do your duty, my young friend, and I shall be satisfied.”
Tom Stanton listened in indignant surprise. He only got four dollars a week, and here was a country boy placed over his head. He was imprudent enough to give expression to his feelings.
“Won't you give me six dollars a week, also?” he said.
“Why should I?”
“Don't I deserve as much as he?”
“Perhaps you do. But I don't give it to Herbert because he earns it, for it is not likely that he will do so at present. But he has no other resources. You have a comfortable home, and are not obliged to pay for your board out of your wages.”
“No, I hope not,” said Tom.
“Therefore you do not need as much as he does. You are not entitled to this explanation, but I give it, nevertheless, that you may know my motives.”
Tom did not reply, feeling that it would be imprudent to do so, but he bent sullenly to his work, by no mans satisfied with the explanation. He began to feel a dislike for his cousin, and determined to injure him, if he could, in the estimation of the firm. It would have been satisfactory if he could have looked down upon him as an inferior, but that was not easy.
“I hope the fellow won't find out the relationship between us,” he said to himself. “He'd be calling me Cousin Tom all the time, and I don't care about owning a cousin that lives in Stanton Street.”
Tom need not have troubled himself. Herbert had no idea of claiming relationship, though, as we know, he was fully aware of its existence.
CHAPTER XXVI
A FAMILY COUNCIL
As soon as he was released from business, Tom Stanton hurried home to impart the unexpected intelligence that his cousin Herbert had arrived in the city. As might be expected, the news gave no particular pleasure in the Stanton homestead.
“Did you tell him who you were, Thomas?” asked his mother.
“Catch me doing it!” said Tom. “I ain't quite a fool. I don't care about owning any pauper relations.”
“He isn't a pauper,” said Mr. Stanton, who, hard man of the world as he was, could not forget that Herbert was the son of his sister.
“He's the next door to it,” said Tom, carelessly.
“Thomas is right,” said Mrs. Stanton. “You may depend upon it, Mr. Stanton, that when this boy finds you out, he will apply to you for assistance.”
“Possibly he may.”
“I hope you won't be such a fool as to encourage him in his application.”
“If he were in actual distress, my dear,” said Mr. Stanton, “I should feel that I ought to do something.”
“Then you'd allow yourself to be imposed upon, that's all I've got to say. There is no need of his being in distress. He is a stout boy, and capable of earning his own living.”
“He might get sick,” suggested Mr. Stanton, who was not so hard-hearted as his wife.
“Then let him go to the hospital. It's provided for such cases.”
“Is Herbert good-looking?” asked Maria, with interest.
“He won't get a prize for his beauty,” said Tom, disparagingly.
“Is he homely?”
“No,” said Tom, reluctantly. “I suppose he'll pass; but he's countrified. He hasn't got any style,” and he glanced complacently at his own reflection in a mirror, for Tom was vain of his personal appearance, though by no means as good-looking as Herbert. In fact, he was compelled secretly to confess this to himself, and for this reason was more than ever disposed to view his cousin with prejudice.
“I should like to see Herbert,” said Maria, who had her share of female curiosity, and thought it would be pleasant to have a cousin to escort her round.
“Perhaps I'd better invite him round to dinner tomorrow,” said Thomas, sarcastically.
“I wish you would.”
“Thomas will do no such thing!” said Mrs. Stanton, decidedly. “It's my opinion that the less notice we take of him the better. Your father is in good circumstances, to be sure, but whatever he is able to do, ought, of right, to go to his own family. We don't want any poor relations coming here to get their living out of us.”
“Just my sentiments, mother,” said Tom Stanton, approvingly.
“It doesn't seem quite right,” said Mr. Stanton, uncomfortably, “to neglect my sister's child.”
“Don't make yourself ridiculous with your scruples, Mr. Stanton,” said his wife. “It's the boy's duty to take care of himself. It would only do him harm, and lead to false expectations, if we allowed him the run of the house.”
“Besides,” said Tom, “I shouldn't want to have Tom Paget and Percy Mortimer, and other fellows that I associate with, ask me who he is, and have to tell them that he is my cousin.”
This argument had considerable weight with Mr. Stanton, who was anxious to elevate himself in society, and looked with complacency upon the school acquaintances Tom had formed with the scions of distinguished families.
“Well,” said he, rising from the table, “let it be as you will. We won't go out of our way to invite the boy here, but if he presents himself, as he doubtless will, we must take a little notice of him.”
“I don't see why he couldn't have stayed in the country,” said Mrs. Stanton. “It was the best place for him.”
“Of course, it was,” said Tom.
“He could have had no other object than to seek us out, and see what he could get out of us. For my part, I would advise you to recommend him to go back.”
“He has secured a place, it seems, and would not be likely to give it up.”
“It's a great pity he should have got into the same counting-room with Tom. He will presume on the relationship as soon as he finds it out.”
Mrs. Stanton need not have been alarmed, for Herbert was too high-spirited to seek an intimacy where he had reason to think it would be disagreeable. But his aunt knew nothing of him, and judged him by herself.
“He's there, and it can't be helped,” said Mr. Stanton.
“At any rate, if he does stay in the city,” persisted Mrs. Stanton, “I hope you'll give him to understand that he needn't call here more than once in three months. That is as much as he can expect.”
“After all, he is my sister's son,” said Mr. Stanton. “I can't feel that this would be quite kind in us.”
“Leave it to me, then. If you're too soft-hearted, Mr. Stanton, I will take all the responsibility, and the blame, if there is any.”
“Well, I think you've said enough on the subject,” said her husband. “Tom, run upstairs and bring me a cigar. You know where I keep the cigar box.”
“You'd better send a servant, father,” said Tom, coolly.
“It appears to me you are getting lazy, Thomas,” said his father.
“Thomas is right,” said Mrs. Stanton. “What do we keep servants for but to run errands?”
“Still, Tom might have obliged me in such a little matter.”
“You shouldn't have asked him, Mr. Stanton. You seem to forget that we are not living in the style of half a dozen years ago. You should adapt yourself to circumstances.”
Mr. Stanton said no more, but sent a servant in Tom's place. But he could not help thinking that the outward prosperity for which he was striving was not without its drawbacks, since it compelled him to look to servants for the most ordinary services.
The next morning Tom went to the counting-room, fully expecting that Herbert would claim relationship as soon as he discovered his name. While he would be compelled to admit it, he determined to treat Herbert with such a degree of coolness that he would take the hint, and keep his distance.
When he arrived at the counting-room, Herbert was already there, and Mr. Pratt also.
“Good-morning,” said Herbert.
“Morning,” muttered Tom.
“This is Thomas Stanton, your fellow-clerk,” said Mr. Pratt, the bookkeeper. “I believe you have not been introduced.”
“Now for it,” thought Tom.
But rather to his surprise, Herbert made no demonstration, but merely bowed slightly.
“What does it mean?” thought Tom, a little perplexed. “Is it possible that he is not my cousin, after all?”
“I think you came from Ohio?” inquired Tom, impelled by his curiosity to ask the question.
“Yes,” said Herbert.
“Why didn't you stay there? Couldn't you make a living there?” asked Tom, not over-politely.
“Probably I might,” said Herbert, quietly.
“Then I think you should have stayed there.”
“Which do you like best, the city or the country?” asked our hero.
“The city.”
“So do I.”
“But there's a difference. I have always lived in the city.”
“I suppose boys often do come from the country to the city,” said Herbert. “Was your father born in the city?”
“No,” said Tom, glancing keenly at Herbert, to see if he meant anything by the question.
“Then it seems he must have preferred the city to the country.”
Tom had his share of curiosity. He knew that it would be better not to pursue this subject further if he wished his cousin to remain ignorant of the relationship between them. Still, he was anxious to know what Herbert's actual knowledge was, and whether he would be likely to avail himself of it. He was therefore tempted to say, “I suppose you have no relations in the city?”
“What makes you think I haven't?” asked Herbert, looking at Tom rather peculiarly.
“I don't think anything about it. I only asked,” said Tom, a little confused.
“Yes, I have an uncle in the city,” said Herbert, quietly.
“Oh, indeed,” said Tom.
He said nothing more, for he felt that he might betray his knowledge of the relationship unintentionally. Herbert's manner left him as much in the dark as ever.
Mr. Pratt set Herbert to work on some writing, and Tom, also, was soon busy. After a while Mr. Godfrey came in.
“Good-morning, Herbert,” he said, pleasantly, offering his hand. “So Mr. Pratt has set you to work, has he?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think we shall find enough for him to do, eh, Mr. Pratt?”
“Yes, sir, I think so,” said the bookkeeper, who perceived that Herbert was in favor, and it was as well to fall in with his employer.
“That's well. How do you like your boarding place, Herbert?”
“It isn't a very nice one, sir, but it is as good a one as I have a right to expect for the money I pay.”
“Come round and dine with us to-night,” said the merchant. “Mrs. Godfrey will be glad to see you. I'll give you my street and number.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Herbert. “I shall be glad to accept your kind invitation.”
Tom listened to this invitation with envy. Mr. Godfrey occupied a high social position. Moreover, he had a pretty daughter, whom he, Tom, had met at dancing school, and he would have been very glad to receive the invitation which had been extended to “that beggar, Herbert,” as he mentally styled him.