Adventures of a Telegraph Boy or 'Number 91'

“I don’t accept a dismissal from you, madam,” he said, eying Mrs. Mercer with a steady glance. “I demand to see Mrs. Granville.”

“Hoity toity! Who are you, I’d like to know?” demanded the housekeeper, amazed and exasperated.

“A visitor to Mrs. Granville,” answered Paul; “you, I suppose, are a servant.”

“Do you dare to call me a servant, you impudent boy?” answered Mrs. Mercer, raising her voice.

“What are you, then?” asked Paul, calmly.

“I am Mrs. Mercer, the housekeeper, I’d have you to know.”

“So I suppose, and Mrs. Granville is your employer. By what right do you dare to send away her visitors?”

Mrs. Mercer was quite unused to being defied so boldly, and she could hardly express her indignation.

“Well, I never heard of such impudence!” she ejaculated.

In her anger she would have closed the door, but just at that moment a voice was heard from the floor above – the voice of Mrs. Granville, who had been attracted by the housekeeper’s loud tones.

“What is all this, Mrs. Mercer?” she asked, in a tone of authority.

“It’s a boy who wants to force his way in, ma’am,” said Mrs. Mercer, in a sulky tone.

“What boy is it?” asked her mistress.

Paul answered this question himself.

“I come from New York with a letter from your niece, Mrs. Holbrook,” he said.

“Then come in at once,” said the old lady, in an imperative tone. “Why did you not admit him at once?”

“I didn’t know,” answered the housekeeper, confused.

“I beg your pardon,” said Paul, “I told you this, and you said Mrs. Granville had a headache, and would not see me.”

“What do you mean by this misrepresentation, Mrs. Mercer?” demanded the old lady, sternly.

“I offered to take the letter up to you,” said Mrs. Mercer, a little alarmed at the evident anger of her mistress.

“When Mrs. Granville reads the letter she will understand why I preferred to hand it to her myself.”

“Why did you say I had a headache? Why do you presume to send away my visitors, Mrs. Mercer?” demanded the old lady, thoroughly aroused.

“I meant it for the best,” said the woman, sulkily.

“Never presume so far again. Now, young man, come up and let me see you.”

Paul passed the discomfited housekeeper, and, going upstairs, followed the old lady into a pleasant sitting room.

“I am sorry to have been the means of disturbing you,” said Paul, politely. “Mrs. Holbrook sends you this letter, and wishes me to give you her love.”

“You are a nice looking boy,” said the old lady, letting her glance rest approvingly on Number 91. “I hope Louisa is well.”

“Very well, thank you.”

She put on her glasses, and read the letter.

“So you are Paul Parton,” she said, as she folded up the letter.

“Yes, madam.”

“A New York boy?”

“Yes, madam.”

“I am afraid you will find it dull here.”

“O no, Mrs. Granville, I am sure I shall like the country, for a while at least.”

“Do you know how to drive?”

“Oh, yes; I am used to horses.”

“On the whole, I am glad Louisa sent you down here. Frost Mercer, who usually drives me, has been getting lazy of late, and makes excuses when I want to go out.”

“I won’t do that, Mrs. Granville. I shall be only too glad to go.”

“You are sure you won’t upset me?”

“I don’t believe I shall,” answered Paul, smiling. “I don’t care about being upset myself.”

“I think, on the whole, I shall like to have a boy about,” said the old lady, thoughtfully.

“I am afraid Mrs. Mercer might object to me.”

“I am the mistress of the house. Mrs. Mercer is only the housekeeper,” said the old lady, with an unwonted assumption of dignity. “Please ring the bell, Paul.”

Paul did so.

Presently the housekeeper entered in answer to the summons. She looked askance at Paul.

“Mrs. Mercer,” said her mistress, “you will prepare a room for this young gentleman. He will remain here, for the present.”

Mrs. Mercer looked disagreeably surprised.

“Perhaps you had better read this letter from my niece, Mrs. Holbrook, as it will save explanations.”

The housekeeper read the letter, and her thin lips tightened with displeasure.

“There is no need of your getting a boy to drive you around, ma’am,” she said. “My son is perfectly able to do it.”

“Your son is very apt to be engaged when I want to drive out,” returned the old lady, dryly.

“I will see that it don’t happen again,” said the housekeeper, anxious to keep Paul out of the house.

“There is no occasion for that. Mind, I don’t blame your son. Paul here will have nothing else to do, and can drive me as well as not. Besides, he will read to me, and spare my eyes.”

“Frost would be willing to read to you.”

Mrs. Granville smiled.

“I don’t think reading aloud is one of your son’s accomplishments,” she said. “His voice is not exactly musical.”

This was certainly true, for Frost Mercer had a voice deep and croaking, like a frog’s.

“I am sorry you are so prejudiced against my poor boy,” said Mrs. Mercer, mortified and displeased.

“You are a foolish woman, Mrs. Mercer. I am only going to make it easier for Frost, and give this young gentleman something to do. Paul, you may go with Mrs. Mercer, and take possession of your room. Go where you please, till half past twelve, our dinner hour. After dinner, I may take a drive.”

“You’d better get your life insured, then, ma’am,” muttered Mrs. Mercer. “Boys ain’t to be trusted with horses.”

“Is your horse very lively or skittish?” asked Paul.

“No,” answered Mrs. Granville. “He is very gentle and tractable.”

“Then I don’t think there is any need of insuring your life, Mrs. Granville.”

“I wouldn’t ride out with you,” said the housekeeper, spitefully.

“Perhaps you will think better of me after a while, Mrs. Mercer,” said Paul, good naturedly.

The housekeeper closed her lips firmly and shook her head.

“I’ve made one enemy, that’s clear,” said Paul to himself – “probably two, for the housekeeper’s son isn’t likely to be my friend.”

Mrs. Mercer led the way to a small room on the next floor.

“You can go in there,” she said, ungraciously.

“Thank you,” said Paul.

It occurred to him to wonder why so small a room should be assigned him, while there seemed to be plenty of larger ones. In the arrangement of the room, however, there was nothing to be desired. Everything was neat and comfortable. To Paul, accustomed to a shabby tenement house, it seemed luxurious, and he was disposed to enjoy it for the time, be it long or short.

CHAPTER XXXII

FROST MERCER IS CONTRARY

Mrs. Mercer, the housekeeper, was seriously annoyed by the appearance of Paul upon the scene. For years she and her son had had charge of Mrs. Granville’s affairs, and they had taken care to turn the charge to profitable account. The wages which each received formed only a part of this advantage. They bought everything for the house, and levied tribute from every tradesman as a compensation for turning the trade in his direction. The result was that Mrs. Granville, without being aware of it, paid a larger price than any one else for what articles she purchased, the storekeepers and others compensating themselves in this way for the percentage they had to pay the housekeeper and her son.

It is for this reason that Mrs. Mercer never cared to have any visitor in the house. She feared her dishonesty might be found out. She was especially afraid of any one sent by Mrs. Holbrook, who during her stay had been bold enough to interfere with the housekeeper.

When she had ushered Paul into his chamber, she went out to the barn, where she found her son, not at work, but sitting on an old rocking chair which he had carried out for his convenience, smoking.

“Well, mother, what’s up?” he asked, on Mrs. Mercer’s entrance.

“We have got a visitor,” answered his mother, abruptly.

“We?”

“Well, Mrs. Granville.”

“Who is it – the Holbrook woman?” queried Frost, taking his pipe from his mouth.

“No, but it’s some one she sent.”

“Man, woman, or child?”

“It’s a boy – about sixteen, he looks.”

“What on earth should she send a boy for?” asked Frost, in surprise.

“To make mischief, I reckon.”

“What can a boy do?”

“I read the woman’s letter. She sends him to take your place.”

“What?” exclaimed Frost, in some alarm.

“Why, she hints that he can drive out the old lady, read to her, and make himself generally useful.”

“That will make it lighter for me,” said Frost, who was lazy, “if he does the driving.”

“Yes, but don’t you see what a chance he will have to work himself into the confidence of the old woman?”

“What sort of a boy does he seem to be?”

“I’ve only seen him five minutes, but I’ve found out that he is impudent. When I didn’t want to let him in, he actually defied me – asked by what right I sent away Mrs. Granville’s visitors.”

“So he is inclined to make trouble, is he?”

“Yes.”

“Suppose I give him a thrashing?”

“It won’t do, Frost.”

“You think I am not a match for a boy of sixteen?”

“No, not that; but we must not be imprudent. Better get rid of him by underhand means.”

“Such as what?”

“I don’t know yet; I will consider. Meantime I thought I would come out and put you on your guard.”

“All right, mother. I guess we can checkmate the young meddler. Is he in the house?”

“Yes; I’ve put him in the small room.”

“Next to mine?”

“Yes.”

“All right; I’ll look him over at dinner time.”

In this, however, Frost counted without his host. Mrs. Granville was accustomed to have her meals brought up to her own room. Today she expressed the wish that Paul should dine with her. This displeased the housekeeper.

“I suppose Frost and I are not good enough company for the young man,” she said, sulkily.

“My good Mercer, you are much mistaken,” said Mrs. Granville, soothingly. “I thought he would be company for me; besides, it will give me a chance to ask him some questions about Louisa.”

“Very well, ma’am,” said the housekeeper, but she didn’t look satisfied.

“What do you think, Frost?” she said, as she went downstairs. “Master Paul – that’s his name – is to dine with the old woman upstairs. I suppose he is too good to eat with us.”

“I don’t know as I care much, mother; I don’t want his company.”

“Nor I, for the matter of that, but it’s putting this young popinjay over our heads. They’ll be getting thick together, and the boy will be pulling our noses out of joint.”

“If he does, I’ll pull his out of joint,” muttered Frost.

“Bide your time, Frost. We’ll put our heads together and see if we can’t send him packing.”

After dinner Mrs. Granville expressed a desire, as it was a fine day, to go out for a drive.

“I shall be very happy to drive you,” said Paul, cheerfully.

“You are sure you can drive?” asked the old lady, anxiously.

“I should smile,” Paul was about to reply, when it occurred to him that this form of expression did not sound exactly proper. “I am used to driving, ma’am,” he said, instead.

“Then about two o’clock you may go out to the barn and ask Frost to harness up.”

“O, I’ll do that, Mrs. Granville.”

When he went out to the barn, he found Frost Mercer sitting at his ease, engaged at his favorite business of smoking a pipe.

“I suppose you are Frost,” he said, with a smile.

“I am Mr. Mercer,” answered Frost, in a forbidding tone.

“I beg your pardon. I will call you Mr. Mercer, if you prefer it. I am Paul Parton.”

“I don’t know as that concerns me,” said Frost, staring at Paul in an unfriendly manner.

“It is just as well you should know my name, as I am living in the house,” said Paul, independently. “Mrs. Granville wishes me to drive her out If you will show me what carriage she uses and so forth, I will harness up.”

This was, on the whole, satisfactory to Frost, as he would not have the trouble of harnessing.

“There’s the carriage,” he said, “and there’s the harness. You can find the horses if you use your eyes.”

“Thank you; you are very obliging,” said Paul, with a little touch of sarcasm.

“The old lady doesn’t seem to value her neck,” observed Frost.

“What makes you think so?”

“In letting you drive her.”

“O, that’s it. I think I shall bring her back safe.”

“I don’t know about that. You’re a city boy, ain’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What chance have you had to learn about horses?”

“I know a little about them.”

“Well, I wash my hands of it. If the team is upset, Mrs. Granville will have herself to blame for it.”

“I don’t think you need to worry,” said Paul. “I’ll promise to bring her back safe.”

He set to work to harness the horses. Frost surveyed him with critical eyes, but he could see no evidence of ignorance on Paul’s part. He did his work quickly and skillfully, and then, opening wide the barn doors, led the horses out. Then he jumped into the carriage and was about to drive to the house.

“Come back and shut the barn doors!” called out Frost from his rocking chair.

Paul turned and looked back.

“I don’t think it will do you any harm to do that yourself,” he said, “if you can spare the time from smoking.”

“Hey, what’s that?” demanded Frost, angrily.

“I don’t think it will be necessary to repeat it,” said Paul, coolly; “you heard me.”

“None of yer sass, boy!” said Frost, wrathfully.

Paul did not deign to answer him. He saw that Frost did not intend to be pleased with anything he did, and that there was no use in trying to conciliate.

“I hate that boy!” reflected Frost, following Paul with a venomous expression. “My mother is perfectly right. He’s a dangerous visitor. We must get rid of him one way or another.”

Paul drove around to the front of the house and found Mrs. Granville ready at the door – with the housekeeper at her side.

“I do hope you won’t meet with an accident,” said Mrs. Mercer with an air of deep solicitude. “Frost is ready to drive you. It will be safer.”

“Thank you, my good Mercer, but Paul tells me he understands driving.”

“I shouldn’t mind if she broke her neck,” muttered the housekeeper, following the carriage with her eyes, “if I only knew it was all right now in her will.”

CHAPTER XXXIII

A STARTLING DISCOVERY

Paul proved a satisfactory driver, and the old lady’s fears were soon dissipated.

“You drive better than Frost Mercer,” she said in a tone of satisfaction.

“I am glad to hear you say so, Mrs. Granville,” said Paul, well pleased.

“Frost nearly upset me one day. I don’t think he is generally intemperate, but I suspect he had been drinking something that day.”

“He doesn’t seem to like me,” Paul ventured to say.

“What makes you think so?”

Hereupon Paul related his reception when he went to the barn to harness the horses.

Mrs. Granville listened thoughtfully.

“He should not have acted so,” she said; “I presume he didn’t like the idea of being superseded.”

“Has he been with you a long time?”

“He and his mother have been in my service for a long time. I think Mrs. Mercer is of a jealous disposition. She never wishes me to have any one here, but she is very faithful and loyal.”

“I wonder if that is the case,” thought Paul. The housekeeper did not seem to him like one who would be unselfishly devoted to the service of any one.

Several days passed. Every day Mrs. Granville rode out, sometimes in the forenoon, sometimes in the afternoon, and the effect was perceptible in her improved health and spirits.

“It is fortunate for me that you came here,” she said one day. “Before you came I rode out only once or twice a week. It seems to do me great good to drive every day.”

“Why did you not go out every day, Mrs. Granville?” asked Paul.

“Frost did not seem to like the trouble of going out with me,” she answered. “He often sent word that he was at work, and could not go conveniently.”

Paul wondered whether he was engaged smoking in the barn. In his guess he came near the truth.

“Besides,” added the old lady, “I did not like to ride out with him as well as with you.”

Paul thanked her for the compliment.

“I like to talk with you, but Frost was not very social, and we had very little conversation.”

One afternoon Mrs. Granville asked Paul to drive round to the grocery store. She wished to get a supply of a particular kind of cheese which she had neglected to order through the housekeeper.

It so happened that there were several customers ahead of her, and she had to wait her turn. These were being supplied with various articles, and the old lady could not help overhearing what passed between them and the storekeeper. One thing in especial attracted her attention – the prices that were charged. They were in every instance below those charged on the bills handed in to her by Mrs. Mercer. Mrs. Granville made careful note of these prices, and on the way home broached the matter to Paul.

“What does it mean, Paul, do you think?” she asked.

Paul’s wits had been sharpened by his city experience, and he rapidly penetrated the secret.

“You always buy through Mrs. Mercer, do you not?” he asked.

“Yes; but what of that?”

“If I answer it may prejudice you against the housekeeper, and perhaps unjustly.”

“Still it is only right that you should tell me.”

“Can Mrs. Mercer buy wherever she pleases?”

“Yes; I leave the choice of the place to her.”

“Is there another grocer in the village?”

“Yes; there are two.”

“Then I think she charges this grocer a commission for carrying your trade to him, and he makes up for it by charging you a higher price.”

“Is that often done?” asked Mrs. Granville, surprised.

“Yes, I feel sure of it. I remember one evening in the city listening to a conversation between two coachmen employed in private families. They were boasting of the amount of their commissions obtained from blacksmiths, dealers in hay and oats, and so on.”

“But that is dishonest,” said the old lady, indignantly.

“They don’t look upon it in that way,” answered Paul.

“And do you agree with them?” asked the old lady, half suspiciously.

“No, I don’t,” answered Paul, promptly. “I think they ought to be satisfied with their wages.”

“You are right. As for Mrs. Mercer and Frost, they are paid more than most employers would pay, for I am rich, and, thank Heaven, not mean.”

“Don’t condemn them without feeling certain,” said Paul; “I may be wrong in their case.”

“I won’t feel satisfied until I have ferreted the matter out,” said Mrs. Granville. She was very good and liberal, but any attempt at imposition made her very angry.

“How will you find out?”

“You will see.”

The old lady relapsed into silence, and was evidently busy with her thoughts. When she reached home, she called Paul’s services into requisition.

“Paul,” she said, “open the drawer of my bureau – the upper drawer – and take out a file of bills you will find in the left hand corner.”

Paul did so.

“They are Mr. Talbot’s bills.”

Mr. Talbot was the grocer whose store she had left.

“Now we will compare the bills with the prices I heard being charged to the customers who were being waited on in the store.”

This she did with Paul’s help.

The result was that she found herself charged two cents a pound extra on sugar, five cents on butter, three cents on cheese, five cents each on tea and coffee, and so on. Besides she found that excessive quantities of each had been bought, more than three persons could possibly have consumed. What became of the surplus, unless it was thrown away, she could not possibly divine. Of course the housekeeper’s commission increased with increased sales. The real explanation, however, was that Mrs. Mercer had a widowed sister living in the next town. She often called on Mrs. Mercer, and never went away without a liberal supply of groceries, taken from the private stores of Mrs. Granville.

This the old lady did not learn till afterwards.

If Mrs. Mercer had known in what way her mistress and Paul were engaged, she would have quaked with apprehension, but of this she had no suspicions.

The next afternoon Mrs. Granville drove over once more to Mr. Talbot’s store, and asked for a private interview with him.

“Certainly, ma’am,” said the unsuspecting grocer, obsequiously.

“Why is it, Mr. Talbot,” asked the old lady, coming straight to the point, “that you charge me higher prices than you do to your other customers?”

“What makes you think I do?” stammered the grocer.

“I’ll tell you. Yesterday I was present when some of your customers were buying butter, sugar, and other articles. I noted the prices, and then went home and examined my bills. I find you charge me from two to five cents a pound more than to others. Tell me frankly why this is, and I may overlook it.”

“I don’t make any more profit out of you than out of them,” said the grocer.

“But how is this – you charge me more?”

“The extra charge does not go into my pocket.”

“I suspected as much. Into whose then?”

“If I must tell you, it is Mrs. Mercer’s. It is the only condition on which she gives me your trade.”

“Thank you; it is right that I should know.”

“Shall you speak to Mrs. Mercer about this when you get home?” asked Paul, as they were driving homeward.

“Not immediately. I want to observe her a little more. It is a shock to find that one to whom I have been kind for so many years has deceived me so basely.”

Meanwhile Mrs. Mercer, who was becoming more and more jealous of Paul, was arranging a scheme to injure him with Mrs. Granville.

CHAPTER XXXIV

A PLOT AGAINST PAUL

The housekeeper and her son had seen, with increasing alarm, the growing attachment of Mrs. Granville for Paul.

“Something’s got to be done, Frost,” she said, decidedly. “That boy is setting the old woman against us.”

“That’s so, mother; she never wants me to go with her now. I might as well be out of the house, so far as any notice of me goes.”

“She’s mighty cool to me, too, Frost. I suspected how it would be when that boy came into the house. He’s the artfulest young one I ever knew.”

“The two of us ought to be a match for him,” grumbled Frost. “I’ll give him a lickin’ if you say so.”

“It would do no good. She’d only take his part, and as likely as not send you packing. No, we must adopt a different course.”

“What shall it be? You’re smarter than I am, mother. I’ll do whatever you think best.”

“I’ve thought of a plan, Frost,” said Mrs. Mercer, and she proceeded to communicate it to him.

“That’ll do,” said the son, in a tone of satisfaction. “We’ve got to give her a bad opinion of her favorite, and then we’ll get rid of him.”

This conversation took place in Frost’s room one evening. This room adjoined Paul’s, and it so happened that in the upper part of the room there was a round hole in the partition, made probably for the entrance of a funnel, which rendered it easy for conversation to be heard in the adjoining room. Paul had been spending the evening in Mrs. Mercer’s room, but was dismissed earlier than usual, and had retired to his own bed room. So it chanced that he heard the details of the plot against him.

It did not surprise him much, for he was quite aware of the housekeeper’s hostility towards him. He had been on the point of lighting his lamp, but decided not to do so, and noiselessly prepared for bed. He felt that forewarned was forearmed, and he determined to tell Mrs. Granville what he had heard.

This he did the next morning. The old lady listened attentively.

“I did not believe Mrs. Mercer capable of such wickedness,” she said. “After all the kindness I have heaped upon her, too!”

“I suppose she is jealous of me,” suggested Paul. “For my part, I wish her no harm. I would not have told you, except to defend myself in advance of any charges she may make against me.”

“You have done right, Paul,” said the old lady, kindly. “Mrs. Mercer selfishly wishes to monopolize all my favors. Whatever I may do for you would not have interfered with her, if she had behaved properly. Now she must take the consequences of her folly.”

Early in the afternoon, Mrs. Granville directed Paul to bring the carriage round to the door. When they had driven a quarter of a mile, she said: “You may drive me to Coleraine, Paul.”