Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune

"What's that?" asked Felix, in surprise, for he was quite unaware of Chester's artistic gifts.

Chester showed it to him with a smile.

"Now you see how I am making my living," he said.

"Do you get pay for that?"

"Yes, certainly."

Then Felix bethought himself of his errand.

"There's a great row at the office," he said. "Mr. Fairchild has got home, Cousin David has run away and Mr. Ralston is arrested."

"That's a budget of news. When did Mr. Fairchild return?"

"This forenoon. He wants you to call to-morrow."

"All right. I will do so."

"And if he offers you back your old place you won't take it?" said Felix, anxiously. "If you don't, I think he'll keep me."

"Then I'll promise not to accept. I am better satisfied where I am. Have you had supper, Felix?"

"No."

"Then come and take supper with me. I go out about this time."

"It had certainly been a day of surprises," as Felix reflected when he found himself seated opposite a boy whom he had always disliked, as his guest.

CHAPTER XXXII.

EDWARD GRANGER

"I suppose you don't care to come back to the office, Chester?" said Mr. Fairchild, when Chester called upon him the next day at the office.

"I like my present position better," answered Chester; "besides, I suppose you are hardly prepared to offer me twenty-five dollars a week."

"Do you receive as much as that?" asked the broker, in amazement.

"Yes, sir."

"I congratulate you heartily," said Mr. Fairchild. "It is clear that you are too high priced for the real estate business."

"Felix tells me you may retain him."

"I will give him a chance. It depends upon himself whether he stays."

"I am very glad of it, sir. Felix has hardly been my friend, but now that his cousin is away he may improve. I certainly hope so."

"What shall you do about Ralston?" asked Chester, presently.

"I shall proceed against him. Such a man is a curse to the community. It was through him that my bookkeeper lost his integrity and ruined his prospects. If he is locked up he will be prevented from doing any more harm."

As Dick Ralston will not again figure in this story, it may be mentioned here that he was found guilty in the trial that soon followed, and was sentenced to a term of several years' imprisonment.

The bitterest reflection he had when sentence was pronounced was that his confederate, Mullins, had escaped and was a free man. Rogues may work together, but it is seldom that any tie of friendship exists between them.

Chester was now able to save money. Including what he received from Prof. Hazlitt, his income was about thirty-five dollars a week.

His personal expenses were greater than they had been, on account of having a more expensive room. Yet altogether they did not exceed twelve dollars per week, leaving him a balance of twenty-three.

Of this sum he proposed to send his mother a part, but she wrote that the liberal board paid by Miss Jane Dolby covered all her expenses.

"I hope if you have money to spare you will put it in some savings bank," she wrote. "At present we are well and prospering, but the time may come when our income will be diminished, and then it will be very comfortable to have some money laid aside."

Chester acted upon his mother's suggestion. He did not tell her how much he earned. He wished this to be an agreeable surprise at some future day.

Then Chester moved into a larger room. The hall bedroom which he had hitherto occupied was taken by a young man of nineteen named Edward Granger. He was slender and looked younger than he was.

He did not seem strong, and there was a sad expression on his face. Sometimes he called on Chester, but for several days they had not met. About six o'clock one afternoon Chester knocked at his door.

"Come in!" he heard, in a low voice.

Entering, he saw Edward lying on the bed face downward, in an attitude of despondency.

"What's the matter, Edward?" he asked. "Are you sick?"

"Yes, sick at heart," was the sad reply.

"How is that?" inquired Chester, in a tone of sympathy.

"I have lost my place."

"When was that?"

"Three days since. My employer has engaged in my place a boy from the country—his nephew—and I am laid aside."

"That is unfortunate, certainly, but you must try to get another place. Your employer will give you a recommendation, won't he?"

"Yes, I have one in my pocket, but it is not easy to get a new place, and meanwhile–" He hesitated.

"Meanwhile you are out of money, I suppose," said Chester.

"Yes; I couldn't save anything. I got only five dollars a week, and my room costs two. I suppose, when the week is up, Mrs. Randolph will turn me into the street."

"Not while you have a friend in the next room," said Chester, cordially.

Edward looked up quickly.

"Will you really be my friend?" he asked.

"Try me. Have you had supper?"

"I have not eaten anything for two days," answered Granger, sadly.

"Why didn't you call upon me? I wouldn't have seen you suffer."

"I didn't like to ask. I thought you would consider me a beggar."

"You will understand me better after a while. Now put on your hat and come out with me."

Edward did so, but he was so weak from long fasting that he was obliged to lean upon Chester in walking to the restaurant, which was luckily near by.

"Let me advise you to take some soup first," said Chester. "Your stomach is weak, and that will prepare it for heartier food."

"I don't feel hungry," returned Edward. "I only feel faint."

"It may be well not to eat very much at first."

"How kind you are! I must be two or three years older than you, yet you care for and advise me."

"Consider me your uncle," said Chester, brightly. "Now tell me how it happens that you didn't apply to some friend or relative."

A shadow passed over the boy's face.

"I have none in New York—except yourself."

"Then you are not a city boy."

"No; I came from Portland."

"In Maine?"

"No; in Oregon."

"You have relatives there?"

"A mother."

"I suppose you hear from her?"

Edward Granger was silent.

"I don't wish you to tell me if you have an objection."

"Yes, I will tell you, for I think you are a true friend. My mother is married again, and my stepfather from the first disliked me. I think it is because my mother had money, and he feared she would leave it to me. So he got up a false charge against me of dishonesty. My mother became cold to me, and I—left home. I am of a sensitive nature, and I could not bear the cold looks I met with."

"How long ago was this?"

"About six months since."

"You came to New York directly?"

"Yes."

"Where did you get the money to come?"

"I came by it honestly," answered Edward, quickly. "I had a deposit in a savings bank, put in during my own father's life. I felt I had a right to use this, and I did so. It brought me to New York, and kept me here till I got a place in an insurance office."

"And you managed to live on five dollars a week?"

"Yes; it was hard, but I went to the cheapest eating houses, and I—got along."

"But you had no money to buy clothing."

"I brought a fair supply with me. Now I am beginning to need some small articles, such as handkerchiefs and socks."

"I wondered you would never go to supper with me."

"I didn't want you to know how little I ordered. You might have thought me mean."

"Poor fellow!" said Chester, pityingly. "You have certainly had a hard time. And all the while your mother was living in comfort."

"Yes, in luxury, for she is worth at least fifty thousand dollars in her own right."

"I hope your stepfather has not got possession of it."

"He had not when I came away. My mother is naturally cautious, and would not give it to him. He attributed this to my influence over her, but it was not so. She is of Scotch descent, and this made her careful about giving up her property. She allowed him the use of the income, only reserving a little for herself."

"Have you had any communication with her since you left Portland?"

"I wrote her once, but received no answer."

"The letter may not have reached her. It may have fallen into the hands of your stepfather. What is his name?"

"Trimble—Abner Trimble."

"Was he in any business?"

"Yes; he kept a liquor saloon, and patronized his own bar too much for his own good."

"I shouldn't think your mother would like to have him in that business."

"She asked him to change it, but he wouldn't. He had a set of disreputable companions who made his saloon their headquarters, and he did not wish to give them up, as he might have had to do if he had gone into another business."

By this time supper was over, and the two walked to Broadway. Edward felt stronger, and his eye was brighter.

Suddenly he gripped Chester's arm.

"Do you see that man?" he asked, pointing to a black-bearded man on the other side of the street.

"Yes; what of him?"

"It is a gentleman from Portland, a neighbor of ours. What can he be doing in New York?"

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A FRIEND FROM OREGON

"Go over and speak to him," suggested Chester.

"Come with me, then."

The two boys crossed the street and intercepted the man from Portland. He was of medium height, with dark hair, and had a brisk, Western way with him.

"Don't you remember me, Mr. Wilson?" said Edward.

"What! Edward Granger?" ejaculated the Oregonian. "Well, I am glad to see you. Didn't know what had become of you. Are you living here?"

"Yes, sir. Let me introduce my friend, Chester Rand."

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Rand," said Wilson, heartily. "So you are a friend of Edward's."

"Indeed he is, an excellent friend!" exclaimed young Granger. "Have you—seen my mother lately?"

"Come over to my hotel and I'll answer all your questions. I'm stopping at the Continental, on the next block."

"All right! Will you come, Chester?"

"Yes; I shall be glad to."

They were soon sitting in the office of the Continental Hotel, at the corner of Broadway and Twentieth Street.

"Now I'll answer your questions," said Nathaniel Wilson. "Yes, I saw your mother the day before I set out."

"And is she well?" asked Edward, anxiously.

"She was looking somewhat careworn. She probably misses you."

"She never writes to me," said Edward, bitterly.

"It may be because she doesn't know your address. Then your stepfather keeps her prejudiced against you."

"I suppose there is no change in him?"

"No; except that he is drinking harder than ever. His business is against him, though he would drink even if he didn't keep a saloon."

"Does he treat my mother well?"

"I think he does. I have never heard anything to the contrary. You see, he wouldn't dare to do otherwise, as your mother has the property, and he wants to keep in with her in order to get a share."

"I have been afraid that she would give a part to him."

"Thus far I am confident she hasn't done it. She is Scotch, isn't she?"

"Yes; her name was Downie, and she was born in Glasgow, but came to this country at an early age."

"The Scotch are careful and conservative."

"She probably gives most of her income to Trimble—indeed, he collects her rents—but the principal she keeps in her own hands. Once I heard your stepfather complaining bitterly of this. 'My wife,' he said, 'treats me very badly. She's rolling in wealth, and I am a poor man, obliged to work early and late for a poor living.'"

"He pays nothing toward the support of the house," said Edward, indignantly. "Mother pays all bills, and gives him money for himself besides."

"I don't see how she could have married such a man!"

"Nor I. He seems coarse, and is half the time under the influence of drink."

"I wonder whether he has induced your mother to make a will in his favor," said Wilson, thoughtfully. "If he did, I think her life would be in danger."

Edward turned pale at this suggestion.

"I don't care so much for the property," he said, "but I can't bear to think of my mother's life as being in danger."

"Probably your mother's caution will serve her a good turn here also," said Wilson. "It isn't best to borrow trouble. I will keep watch, and if I see or hear of anything alarming I will write you. But now tell me about yourself. Are you at work?"

"Not just at present," replied Edward, embarrassed.

"But I think I can get him another place in a day or two," said Chester, quickly.

"If you need a little money, call on me," added the warm-hearted Westerner. "You know you used to call me your uncle Nathaniel."

"I wouldn't like to borrow," said Edward, shyly.

"When was your birthday?"

"A month ago."

"Then I must give you a birthday present You can't object to that," and Mr. Wilson took a ten-dollar gold piece from his pocket and pressed it upon Edward.

"Thank you very much. I can't decline a birthday gift."

"That's what I thought. I am an old friend, and have a right to remember you. Was Mr. Rand in the same office with you?"

"No; Chester is an artist."

"An artist! A boy like him!" ejaculated the Oregonian in surprise.

Chester smiled.

"I am getting older every day," he said.

"That's what's the matter with me," rejoined Mr. Wilson. "You haven't any gray hair yet, while I have plenty."

"Not quite yet," smiled Chester.

"What kind of an artist are you?"

"I make drawings for an illustrated weekly. It is a comic paper."

"And perhaps you put your friends in occasionally?"

"Not friends exactly, but sometimes I sketch a face I meet in the street."

"You may use me whenever you want a representative of the wild and woolly West."

"Thank you, Mr. Wilson."

"But in that case you must send me a copy of the paper."

"I won't forget it."

"How long are you staying in New York, Mr. Wilson?" asked Edward.

"I go away to-morrow. You must spend the evening with me."

"I should like to do so. It seems good to see an old friend."

"By and by we will go to Delmonico's and have an ice cream. I suppose you have been there?"

"No; office boys don't often patronize Delmonico. They are more likely to go to Beefsteak John's."

"I never heard that name. Is it a fashionable place?"

"Yes, with those of small pocketbooks. It is a perfectly respectable place, but people living on Fifth Avenue prefer the Brunswick or Delmonico's."

Edward brightened up so much owing to the presence of a friend from his distant home that Chester could hardly believe that it was the same boy whom he had found but a short time before in the depths of despondency.

About nine o'clock they adjourned to Delmonico's and ordered ices and cake.

"This seems a tiptop place," said the Oregonian, looking about him. "We haven't got anything equal to it in Portland, but we may have sometime. The Western people are progressive. We don't want to be at the tail end of the procession. Mr. Rand, you ought to come out and see something of the West, particularly of the Pacific coast. You may not feel an interest in it at present, but–"

"I have more interest in it than you imagine, Mr. Wilson. I have some property at Tacoma."

"You don't mean it! What kind of property?"

"I own five lots there."

"Then you are in luck. Lots in Tacoma are rising every day."

"But it wouldn't be well to sell at present, would it?"

"No; the railroad has only recently been completed, and the growth of Tacoma has only just begun."

"I hope to go West some day."

"When you do you must call on me. Perhaps you will come, too, Edward?"

Edward Granger shook his head.

"It won't be worth while for me to go back while Mr. Trimble is alive. He seems to have such an influence over my mother that it would not be pleasant for me to go there and have a cold reception from her."

"I will call on her and mention your name. Then I can see how the land lays. How she can prefer such a man as Abner Trimble to her own son I can't understand."

About ten o'clock the two boys left Mr. Wilson, who had been going about all day and showed signs of fatigue.

"Shan't I see you again, Mr. Wilson?" asked Edward.

"No; I must take an early start in the morning. You had better let me lend you a little money."

"No, thank you, sir. Your generous gift will help me till I get a place."

So the farewells were said, and the boys walked home.

"Now," said Edward, "I must try to get a place. This money will last me two weeks, and in that time I ought to secure something."

He went from place to place, answering advertisements the next day, but met with no luck. He was feeling rather depressed when Chester came into his room.

"I have found a place for you," he said, brightly.

"You don't mean it! Where is it?" asked young Granger.

"At the office of The Phœnix. You will be in the mailing department. The salary is small—only seven dollars a week—but–"

"I shall feel rich. It is two dollars more than I received at my last place. When am I to go to work?"

"To-morrow. The mailing clerk has got a better place, and that makes an opening for you."

"And I owe this good fortune to you," said Edward, gratefully. "How can I repay you?"

"By being my friend!"

"That I shall be—for life!" replied Edward, fervently.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

AFTER A YEAR

A year passed. Chester remained in the service of The Phœnix, which had become an established success. His artistic work was so satisfactory that his salary had been raised from twenty-five to thirty dollars per week. Yet he had not increased his personal expenses, and now had nearly a thousand dollars deposited in different savings banks.

He had concealed the extent of his prosperity from his mother, meaning in time to surprise her agreeably.

About this period he received a letter from Wyncombe. It was from his mother. It ran thus:

"Dear Chester: I am sorry to write you bad news. Miss Jane Dolby has decided to visit a sister in Chicago and remain a year. Of course this cuts off the liberal income I have received from her, and which has been adequate to meet my expenses. I may be able to earn something by sewing, but it will be only a little. I shall, therefore, have to accept the offer you made me sometime since to send me a weekly sum. I am sorry to be a burden to you, but it will only be for a year. At the end of that time Miss Dolby promises to come back and resume boarding with me.

"I think we have reason to feel grateful for your continued success in New York. Silas Tripp called a few evenings since. He has had a great deal of trouble with boys. He says he has not had anyone to suit him since you left. He asked me if I thought you would come back for four dollars a week. This he seemed to consider a very liberal offer, and it was—for him. I didn't give him any encouragement, as I presume you prefer art to the grocery business.

"You need not begin to send me money, at once, as I have been able to save a little from Miss Dolby's board.

"Your affectionate mother,

"Sarah Rand."

Chester answered at once:

"Dear Mother: Don't feel any anxiety about your loss of income through Miss Dolby's departure, and don't try to earn any money by sewing. My income is larger than you suppose, and I will send you weekly as much as you have been accustomed to receive from your boarder. Should it be more than you need, you can lay aside any surplus for future use.

"Tell Mr. Tripp I prefer New York to Wyncombe as a place of business, and I am obliged to decline his generous offer. I cannot help thinking sometimes how fortunate it was that he declined over a year since to increase my pay, as in that case I might still have been working for him instead of establishing a reputation as an artist here. Last week I received a larger offer from another publication, but as the publishers of The Phœnix have always treated me well, I didn't think that I would be justified in making a change. I mean in a week or two to come home to pass Sunday. I shall feel delighted to see my friends in Wyncombe, and most of all, my mother.

"Your loving son, Chester."

Mrs. Rand protested against Chester sending her eight dollars a week, but he insisted upon it, advising her to lay aside what she did not need.

One evening about this time Edward Granger, who still occupied the small apartment adjoining, came into Chester's room, looking agitated.

"What is the matter?" asked Chester. "Have you had bad news?"

"Yes; I have had a letter from Mr. Wilson, of Portland, whom you recollect we met about a year ago."

"I remember him."

"I will read you his letter. You will see that I have reason to feel anxious."

The letter ran as follows:

"Dear Edward: I promised to send you any news I might pick up about your mother and her premising husband. Trimble is indulging in liquor more than ever, and I don't see how he can stand it unless he has a castiron constitution. From what I hear he has never given up trying to get your mother's property into his hands. She has held out pretty firm, but she may yield yet. I hear that he is circulating reports that you are dead. In that case he thinks she may be induced to make a will leaving her property to Mr. Trimble; having, as I believe, no near relatives, so that he would seem to be the natural heir.

"I may be doing Trimble an injustice, but I think if such a will were made she wouldn't live long. Your stepfather is in great straits for money, it seems, and he might be tempted to do something desperate. As far as I can hear, Abner Trimble's plan is this: He took a pal of his around to the house who had been in New York recently, and the latter gave a circumstantial account of your dying with typhoid fever. Evidently your mother believed it, for she seemed quite broken down and has aged considerably since the news. No doubt her husband will seize this opportunity to induce her to make a will in his favor. Here lies the danger; and I think I ought to warn you of it, for your presence here is needed to defeat your stepfather's wicked plans. Come out at once, if you can.

"Your friend,

"Nathaniel Wilson."

"What do you think of that, Chester?" asked Edward, in a troubled voice.

"I think it very important. Your mother's life and your interests both are in peril."

"And the worst of it is that I am helpless," said Edward, sadly. "I ought to go out there, but you know how small my salary is. It has required the utmost economy to live, and I haven't as much as five dollars saved up. How can I make such a long and costly journey?"

"I see the difficulty, Edward, but I need time to think it over. To-morrow afternoon come in and I may have some advice to give you."

"I know that you will advise me for the best, Chester."

"There is a good deal in age and experience," said Chester, smiling.

When Edward left the room Chester took from his pocket a letter received the day previous, and postmarked Tacoma. It was to this effect:

"Mr. Chester Rand.

"Dear Sir: We learn that you own five lots on Main Street, numbered from 201 to 205. We have inquiries as to three of those lots as a location for a new hotel, which it is proposed to erect at an early date. We are, therefore, led to ask whether you are disposed to sell, and, if so, on what terms. We should be glad to have a personal interview with you, but if it is impracticable or inconvenient for you to come on to Tacoma we will undertake, as your agents, to carry on the negotiations.

"Yours respectfully,

"Dean & Downie,

"Real Estate Agents."

"Why shouldn't I go to Tacoma?" thought Chester. "I can probably sell the lots to better advantage than any agents, and should be entirely unable to fix upon a suitable price unless I am on the ground. In case I go on, I can take Edward with me, and trust to him to repay the money advanced at some future time."

The more Chester thought of this plan the more favorable it struck him.

He went the next day to the office of The Phœnix, and after delivering his sketches, said: "I should like leave of absence for two months. Can you spare me?"

"Does your health require it, Mr. Rand?" asked the editor.