Strong and Steady

"So you've got back!" said Mr. Drummond, harshly.

"Yes, sir."

"You haven't been in any particular hurry. However, that was not what I wished to speak to you about. We have made a discovery since you went out."

"Have you, sir?" asked Walter, rather surprised by the peculiar tone which Mr. Drummond saw fit to adopt.

"Yes, and not a very agreeable one."

"I am sorry for that," said Walter, not knowing what else was expected of him.

"No doubt you are sorry," sneered Mr. Drummond. "I should think he would be, eh, Mr. Nichols?"

"I am sorry also," said Nichols, who, though rather weak-minded, was a good-hearted young man.

"So am I sorry," said Mr. Drummond. "It strikes me I have most reason to be sorry, considering that the loss has fallen on me."

All this was an enigma to Walter, and he had not the faintest idea of what his employer meant. He inferred, however, that some blame was about to be laid upon him.

"If you have no objection, Mr. Drummond," he said quietly, "perhaps you will tell me what has happened."

"I have found out your ingratitude, Conrad," said Mr. Drummond, preparing for a lecture, which he rather liked to indulge in, as his wife could have testified. "I have discovered how like a viper you have repaid me for my kindness. You didn't think I would find out, but your iniquity has providentially come to light. While I was loading you with benefits, you prepared to sting the hand of your benefactor."

"I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Drummond," said Walter, impatiently. "I wish you would stop talking in riddles, and let me know in what way I resemble a viper."

"Did you ever witness such brazen effrontery, Mr. Nichols?" demanded Mr. Drummond, turning to his head salesman; "even when he is found out, he brazens it out."

"Wouldn't it be as well to tell him what is the matter, Mr. Drummond?" asked Nichols, who was in hopes our hero would be able to prove his innocence.

"Won't you tell me, Mr. Nichols?" asked Walter.

"No," said Mr. Drummond, waving his hand; "it is my duty to tell him myself. I will do so briefly. Walter Conrad, when I admitted you into my house I little dreamed that I was harboring a thief."

"A thief!" exclaimed Walter, his eyes flashing with anger, and elevating his fist involuntarily. "Who dares to call me a thief?"

"No violence, Conrad," said Mr. Drummond. "Such a theatrical display of indignation and surprise won't help you any. We are not to be imposed upon by your artful demonstrations."

"Mr. Drummond," burst forth Walter, fairly aroused, "you are insulting me by every word you speak. I am no more a thief than you are."

"Do you call me a thief?" exclaimed Mr. Drummond, turning white about the lips.

"No, I don't; but I have as much right to call you one as you have to charge such a thing upon me."

"I can prove what I say," said his employer. "I have got you in a net."

"It won't take me long to get out of any net you may set for me. I insist upon your telling me at once what you mean."

"This language is rather extraordinary for a boy convicted of dishonesty to use towards his employer."

"I am not convicted of dishonesty. Mr. Nichols, I appeal to you to tell me, what Mr. Drummond does not seem disposed to do, what is the meaning of this false charge which he has trumped up against me."

"I am sure you can prove your innocence, Conrad," said Nichols, soothingly.

"Mr. Nichols, will you do me the favor to be silent?" said his employer, sharply. "The matter concerns Conrad and myself, and I don't choose that any one should communicate with him except myself. To come to the point, did you, or did you not, a fortnight since, sell one of those shawls, such as you see on the counter, for five dollars?"

"I did not," said Walter, promptly.

"It might not have been exactly a fortnight. Have you sold such a shawl within four weeks?"

"I have not sold such a shawl since I have been in your employ, Mr. Drummond."

"You hear what he says, Mr. Nichols," said Mr. Drummond. "You see how he adds falsehood to dishonesty. But that is not uncommon. It is only what I expected. Do you mean to say, Walter Conrad, that you didn't sell such a shawl for five dollars (only half price), and, instead of entering the sale, put the money into your own pocket?"

"I do deny it most emphatically, Mr. Drummond," said Walter, impetuously, "and I challenge you to prove it."

CHAPTER XIX.

THE TABLES ARE TURNED

"I shall soon be able to prove it," said Mr. Drummond. "The lady who bought the shawl came into the store half an hour since, and asked for another. When I told her that it would cost ten dollars, she said she only paid five for the one she had on. She then told us that she bought it of you a fortnight since."

"How did she know my name?"

"She did not mention your name. She said that it was a boy she bought it of, and of course that can only be you."

"There is some mistake about this, Mr. Drummond. She has made a mistake. She must have bought it somewhere else."

"She would not be likely to make such a mistake as this. Besides, the shawl is like others I have. How do you account for that?" queried Mr. Drummond, triumphantly.

"I don't pretend to account for it, and don't feel called upon to do so. All I have got to say is, that I did not sell the shawl, nor pocket the money."

"I shouldn't be surprised if you had the money about you at this very moment."

"You are mistaken," said Walter, firmly.

"Show me your pocket-book."

"My pocket-book is my own property."

"You are afraid to show it. Observe that, Mr. Nichols. Does not that look like guilt?"

"I am willing to show it to Mr. Nichols," said Walter.

He took it from his pocket, and handed it to Nichols, who took it rather unwillingly.

"Open that pocket-book, Mr. Nichols, and show me what is in it."

"Shall I do so, Walter?" asked Nichols.

"Yes, Mr. Nichols. There is nothing in it that I am ashamed of."

Nichols opened the pocket-book and took out three bills.

"What are those bills, Mr. Nichols?" asked his employer.

"There is a one, here is a two, and here is—" Nichols hesitated and looked disturbed—"here is a five."

Mr. Drummond's mean face was radiant with exultation.

"I told you so. I think we need no further proof. The stolen money has been found in Conrad's possession, and his falsehood and dishonesty are clearly proved. Hand me that five."

"Stop a minute, Mr. Drummond," said Walter, coolly. "You are altogether too much in a hurry. You have proved nothing whatever. That five-dollar bill I brought from home with me, and I have kept it ever since, having no occasion to spend it."

"Do you think I will believe any such story?" asked his employer, with a sneer. "That is very plausible, Conrad, but very improbable. I have no doubt whatever that the bill is the same one which was paid you for the shawl."

"Then you are entirely mistaken."

"That remains to be seen. Mr. Nichols, I will relieve you of that pocket-book. As the shawl should have been sold for ten dollars, the entire contents will not be sufficient to pay for the loss I have sustained."

"Mr. Nichols," said Walter, "I forbid your giving that pocket-book to Mr. Drummond. He has no claim to it whatever. You may give it to me."

"I forbid you giving it to Conrad," broke in his employer.

"I don't know what to do," said Nichols, perplexed, looking from one to the other.

"You know that it belongs to me, Mr. Nichols," said Walter.

"I—I think I had better lay it down on the counter," said Nichols, by the way of compromise.

Walter, who was on the outside, sprang to the counter, and seized it just in time to prevent Mr. Drummond's obtaining it. The latter was very angry at his want of success, and exclaimed violently, "Walter Conrad, give me that pocket-book instantly."

Walter, who had put it in an inside pocket of his coat, coolly buttoned the coat and answered, "If you had any claim to it, Mr. Drummond, you would not have to speak twice; but as it is mine, I prefer to keep it."

Mr. Drummond, though he had an irritable, aggravating temper, was not one to proceed to violence on ordinary occasions. But just now he was thoroughly provoked, and showed it. He sprang over the counter with an agility worthy of his youth, and advanced threateningly upon Walter.

"Walter Conrad," he exclaimed furiously, "how dare you defy me in this outrageous manner? Do you know that I can have you arrested; but in consideration of your being a relation, I may be induced to spare you the penalty of the law if you will give me what money you have towards making up my loss."

"So I would, if the loss had come through me. But I have already told you that this is not the case. I know nothing whatever about the shawl."

"And this," said Mr. Drummond, folding his arms, "this is the viper that I have warmed in my bosom. This is the friendless orphan that I admitted beneath my roof, and made a companion of my son. This is the ungrateful serpent who has crept into my confidence, and abused it!"

Mr. Drummond was an orator on a small scale, and the pleasure of giving utterance to this scathing denunciation caused him to delay his intention to obtain possession of the pocket-book by violence.

Walter ought to have been withered by this outburst of righteous anger, but he wasn't. He stood it very well, and did not seem in the least affected.

"Behold his hardened effrontery, Mr. Nichols," pursued Mr. Drummond, unfolding his arms, and pointing at our hero with quivering fore-finger. "I could not have believed that a boy of his years could be so brazen."

"Mr. Drummond," said Walter, "I am sustained by a consciousness of my innocence, and therefore what you say has no effect upon me. It doesn't seem to be very just to convict me without evidence, and sentence me without trial."

"Will you give up that pocket-book?" demanded Mr. Drummond, furiously, having indulged in his little flight of oratory, and being now ready to proceed to business.

"No, sir, I will not," returned Walter, looking him firmly in the face.

Mr. Drummond made a dash for him, but Walter was used to dodging, and, eluding his grasp, ran behind the counter.

"Mr. Nichols, help me to catch him," said Mr. Drummond, quite red in the face.

But Nichols did not show any great readiness to obey. He let Walter pass him, and did not make the least effort to retain him.

Mr. Drummond was making ready to jump over the counter, when Nichols, to his great relief, observed the ladies, already referred to, coming up the steps from the street.

"Mr. Drummond, the ladies have returned," he said hastily.

"Aha!" said his employer, with exultation. "Now we will be able to prove your guilt, you young rascal! Here is the lady who bought the shawl of you."

Mrs. Blake and her friend, Mrs. Spicer, here entered the store.

Mr. Drummond went forward to meet them. His face was flushed, but he tried to look composed.

"I am glad to see you back, ladies," he said. "You told me that you bought your shawl of a boy?" turning to Mrs. Blake.

"Yes, sir."

"Come forward, Conrad," said Mr. Drummond, a malignant smile overspreading his face. "Perhaps you will deny now, to this lady's face, that you sold her the shawl she has on."

"I certainly do," said Walter. "I never, to my knowledge, saw the lady before, and I know that I did not sell her the shawl."

"What do you think of that, Mr. Nichols?" said Mr. Drummond. "Did you ever witness such unblushing falsehood?"

But here a shell was thrown into Mr. Drummond's camp, and by Mrs. Blake herself.

"The boy is perfectly right," she said. "I did not buy the shawl of him."

"What!" stammered Mr. Drummond.

Mrs. Blake repeated her statement.

"Didn't you say you bought the shawl of the boy?" asked Mr. Drummond, with a sickly hue of disappointment overspreading his face.

"Yes, but it was not that boy."

"That is the only boy I have in my employment."

"Come to think of it, I believe it was your son," said Mrs. Blake. "Isn't he a little older than this boy?"

"My son,—Joshua!" exclaimed Mr. Drummond.

"Yes, I think it must be he. He's got rather an old-looking face, with freckles and reddish hair; isn't so good-looking as this boy."

"Joshua!" repeated Mr. Drummond, bewildered. "He doesn't tend in the store."

"It was about dinner-time," said Mrs. Blake. "He was the only one here."

"Do you know anything about this, Mr. Nichols?" asked Mr. Drummond, turning to his head clerk.

Light had dawned upon Nichols. He remembered now Joshua's offer to take his place, and he felt sure in his own mind who was the guilty party.

"Yes, Mr. Drummond," he answered; "about a fortnight ago, as Walter was rather late in getting back, Joshua offered to stay in the store for a while. He must have sold the shawl, but he must have guessed at the price."

"A mistake has been made," said Mr. Drummond, hurriedly, to the ladies,—"a mistake that you have profited by. I shall not be able to sell you another shawl for less than ten dollars."

The ladies went out, and Mr. Drummond and his two clerks were left alone.

"Mr. Drummond," said Walter, quietly, "after what has happened, you will not be surprised if I decline to remain in your employ. I shall take the afternoon train to Willoughby."

He walked out of the store, and crossed the street to Mr. Drummond's house.

CHAPTER XX.

IN WHICH JOSHUA COMES TO GRIEF

Walter went up to his room, and hastily packed his trunk. He felt wronged and outraged by the unfounded charge that had been made against him. Why, he argued, should Mr. Drummond so readily decide that he had cheated him out of five dollars? He felt that he could not, with any self-respect, remain any longer under the same roof with a man who had such a poor opinion of him.

He was not sorry that his engagement was at an end. He had obtained some knowledge of the dry-goods business, and he knew that his services were worth more than his board. Then again, though he was not particular about living luxuriously, the fare at Mr. Drummond's was so uncommonly poor that he did sometimes long for one of the abundant and well-cooked meals which he used to have spread before him at home, or even at his boarding-house while a pupil of the Essex Classical Institute.

He was packing his trunk when a step was heard on the stairs, and his door was opened by Mr. Drummond, considerably to Walter's surprise.

The fact is, that Mr. Drummond, on realizing what a mistake he had made, and that Joshua was the real culprit, felt that he had gone altogether too far, and he realized that he would be severely censured by Walter's friends in Willoughby. Besides, it was just possible that Walter might, after all, recover a few thousand dollars from his father's estate, and therefore it was better to be on good terms with him. Mr. Drummond determined, therefore, to conciliate Walter, and induce him, if possible, to remain in his house and employ.

"What are you doing, Conrad?" he asked, on entering Walter's chamber.

"Packing my trunk, sir," said Walter.

"Surely you are not going to leave us."

"I think it best," said Walter, quietly.

"You won't—ahem!—bear malice on account of the little mistake I made. We are all liable to mistakes."

"It was something more than a mistake, Mr. Drummond. What had you seen in me to justify you in such a sudden charge of dishonesty?"

"Almost anybody would have been deceived under the circumstances," said Mr. Drummond, awkwardly.

"You did not give me an opportunity to defend myself, or rather you disbelieved all I said."

"Well, Conrad, I was mistaken. I shall be glad to have you come back to the store as before."

"Thank you, Mr. Drummond, but I have decided to go back to Willoughby for a short time. I want to consult Mr. Shaw about the future. It is time I formed some plans, as I shall probably have to earn my living."

"Don't you think you had better wait a few months?"

"No, sir, I think not."

"If you have made up your mind, all I have to say is that my humble dwelling will be ever open to receive you in the future. Perhaps, after a short visit at your old home, you may feel inclined to return to my employment. I will give you a dollar a week besides board."

Mr. Drummond looked as if he felt that this was a magnificent offer, for which Walter ought to feel grateful. But our hero knew very well that he could command better pay elsewhere, and was not particularly impressed. Still he wished to be polite.

"Thank you for your offer, Mr. Drummond," he said; "but I am not prepared to say, as yet, what I will do."

"I hope," said Mr. Drummond, rather embarrassed, "you won't speak of our little difference to your friends at Willoughby."

"No, sir, not if you wish me not to do so."

By this time the trunk was packed, and Walter, locking it, rose from his knees.

"If it won't be too much trouble, Mr. Drummond," he said, "I will send for my trunk to-morrow."

"Certainly. Why won't you wait till to-morrow yourself?"

"As I am ready, I may as well take the afternoon train."

"Very well; just as you think best."

"I will go down and bid good-by to Mrs. Drummond."

Mrs. Drummond had just come from the kitchen. She looked with surprise at Walter and her husband, whose presence in the house at that hour was unusual.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"Conrad is going home a short time on business," explained Mr. Drummond.

"When shall we see you back again, Walter?" asked Mrs. Drummond.

"That is uncertain," said Walter. "It depends upon my plans for the future."

"I have offered him increased pay," said Mr. Drummond, "if he will return to the store. I hope he may decide to do so. Our humble roof will ever be ready to shelter him."

Considering that Mr. Drummond had not lately made any such hospitable references to the humble roof, his wife looked somewhat puzzled.

Just at that moment Joshua, unconscious of the damaging discovery that had been made relative to himself, entered the room.

"Hallo! what's up?" he asked.

It was the first time his father had seen him since the discovery of his dishonesty, and his anger was kindled.

"You ought to be ashamed to show your face here, you young reprobate!" he exclaimed.

Joshua stared in amazement, and Mrs. Drummond exclaimed, "What makes you talk so, Mr. Drummond? What has he done?"

"What has he done?" ejaculated Mr. Drummond, adding, rather ungrammatically, "He's a thief, that's what he's done."

"How can you say such things of your own son?"

"Shut up, Mrs. Drummond; you don't know what you're talking about, or you wouldn't defend him. It would serve him right if I should flog him within an inch of his life."

"If you try it," said Joshua, sullenly, "I'll have you arrested for assault and battery."

"Take care, boy! or you may find yourself in custody for theft."

"What do all these dreadful words mean?" asked Mrs. Drummond, distressed. "Tell me, Walter, if you know."

"I would rather Mr. Drummond informed you," said Walter.

"I'll tell you, Mrs. Drummond," said her husband. "That boy sold a shawl a fortnight ago, when alone in the store, and pocketed the money."

"Who said I did?" asked Joshua, boldly, though he looked a little pale.

"The woman who bought it of you was in the store to-day."

"Did she say I sold it to her?"

"Yes."

"Did she know my name?"

"No, but she described you."

"So I did," said Joshua, finding it advisable to remember. "I remember now I sold it for five dollars."

"What made you keep the money?"

"I didn't. I waited till Conrad came into the store, and gave the money to him. What he did with it, I don't know. Perhaps he forgot to put it in the drawer," he added, with a spiteful look at Walter.

"That's a lie, Joshua Drummond!" said Walter, quietly, "and you know it is. I think your father knows it is also."

"Do you mean to say I lie?" blustered Joshua.

"I wouldn't if I wasn't obliged to; but in my own defence I am compelled to do so."

"What could I want of the money?" demanded Joshua, with a look of virtuous indignation.

"I might as well ask the same question of myself; but that would be a poor defence. If you really want me to answer that question, I will do it."

"Go ahead, then," said Joshua. "I hope my word is better than that of a beggar living on charity."

"Joshua!" said his mother, in a tone of remonstrance.

"I think you wanted the money to buy lottery tickets with," said Walter, calmly.

Joshua turned pale, and looked thunderstruck.

"To buy lottery tickets with!" he gasped, staring at Walter in dismay.

"What's that?" asked Mr. Drummond, pricking up his ears.

"Your son can tell you," said Walter.

"What does this mean, Joshua?" demanded his father, sternly.

"It's a lie," said Joshua, unblushingly.

"Have you bought no lottery tickets?"

"No."

"Can you prove this charge which you have made against my son?" asked Mr. Drummond, turning to Walter.

"I can, but I am sorry to do so. I picked up this letter a day or two since, and intended to give it back to Joshua, but it escaped my mind. I would not have exposed him if he had not tried to charge me with theft."

He placed in Mr. Drummond's hands the letter already given, announcing to Joshua that he had drawn a blank.

Mr. Drummond read it with no little anger, for he detested lotteries.

"Unhappy boy!" he said, addressing Joshua. "I understand now what became of the five dollars. This decides me to do what I had intended to do sooner. I have supported you in laziness long enough. It is time you went to work. Next week you must go to work. I will take you into my store; but as I am not sure of your honesty, if I find you appropriating money to your own use, I will put you into a shoe-shop and make a shoemaker of you."

This was an alarming threat to Joshua, who had a foolish pride, which led him to look upon a trade as less respectable than the mercantile profession. He slunk out of the house, and Mr. Drummond went back to the store, while Walter set out on foot for the railway station, three-quarters of a mile distant.

CHAPTER XXI.

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE

"Give me a ticket to Willoughby," said Walter, offering the five-dollar bill which he had come so near losing.

The ticket was handed him, and three dollars and seventy-five cents were returned to him.

"How long are you going to stay away?" asked the station-master, with whom Walter had some acquaintance.

"I may not come back at all."

"Have you left Drummond's store?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that rather sudden?"

"A little so; but I didn't mean to stay long."

The shriek of the locomotive now became audible, and Walter went out on the platform. Five minutes later found him occupying a seat, or rather half a seat, for there sat next to him a brisk, energetic-looking man, of about thirty years of age.

He had been reading the morning paper, but apparently he had got through with it, for he folded it up, and put it in his pocket.

"Fine day," he said, briskly.

"Yes, sir, very fine," answered Walter.

"Some people are affected by the weather; I am not," pursued his fellow-traveller. "I feel as smart one day as another."

"It isn't quite so cheerful when it rains," observed Walter.

"I'm always cheerful. I've got too much business to do to mope. When a man's got enough to busy himself about, he hasn't time to be in the dumps."

"There's a good deal in that," said Walter.

"Of course there is. Push along, keep moving, that's my motto. Are you in business?"

"No, sir, not at present."

"I'm in the subscription-book business,—got an office in New York. We send out agents everywhere to canvass for our publication. Lots of money in it."

"Is there?"

"Yes. I used to be an agent myself, and, though I say it, I don't think there are many agents that can get ahead of me. Sometimes I used to make twenty dollars a day. At last I thought I'd like to settle down, so I bought a partnership, and now, instead of being an agent, I send out agents."

"Isn't twenty dollars a day pretty large for an agent to make?" asked Walter.