Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant

"I say, Paul," said Sam, wheeling round, "if you're out of stamps, I've got a dollar or two that I can spare."

"Thank you, Sam; you're a brick! But I've saved my bank-book, and I've got plenty to start on. Much obliged to you, all the same."

It was true that Paul was in an unusually good position to withstand the blow which had so unexpectedly fallen upon him. He had a hundred and fifty dollars in the hands of Mr. Preston, a wealthy gentleman who took an interest in him, and moreover had a hundred dollars deposited to his credit in a savings-bank, beside his stock in trade, probably amounting to at least fifty dollars, at the wholesale price. So there was no immediate reason for anxiety. It would have been rather awkward, however, to look up a shelter for the night at such short notice, and therefore Sam Norton's invitation was particularly welcome.

Sam led the way to the lodgings occupied by his parents. They were located on Pearl street, not far from Centre, and were more spacious and well furnished than any in the burned tenement house.

"You go up first and tell your mother, Sam," said Paul. "She won't know what to make of it if we go in without giving her any notice."

"All right," said Sam. "I'll be down in a jiffy."

Two minutes were sufficient for Sam to explain the situation. His mother, a good, motherly woman, at once acknowledged the claim upon her hospitality. She came downstairs at once, and said heartily to Paul, whom she knew:

"Come right up, Paul. And so this is your mother. I am very glad to see you, Mrs. Hoffman. Come right up, and I'll do all I can to make you comfortable."

"I am afraid we shall give you trouble, Mrs. Norton," said Mrs. Hoffman.

"Not in the least. The more the merrier, that's my motto. I haven't got much to offer, but what there is you are very welcome to."

The room into which they were ushered was covered with a plain, coarse carpet. The chairs were wooden, but there was a comfortable rocking-chair, a cheap lounge, and a bookcase with a few books, besides several prints upon the wall. Sam's father was a policeman, while his mother was a New England woman of good common-school education, neat and thrifty, and so, though their means were small, she managed to make a comfortable home. Mrs. Hoffman looked around her with pleased approval. It was pleasant to obtain even temporary refuge in so homelike a place.

"Is this your little brother who draws such fine pictures?" asked Mrs. Norton.

Jimmy looked pleased but mystified. How should Mrs. Norton have heard of his pictures?

"You must draw me a picture to-night, won't you?" asked Mrs. Norton.

"I should like to, if I can have a pencil and some paper. All mine are burned up."

"Sam will give you some from his desk. But you must be hungry."

Sam was drawn aside by his mother, and, after a whispered conference, was dispatched to the butcher's and baker's, when he soon returned with a supply of rolls and beefsteak, from which in due time an appetizing meal was spread, to which all did full justice.

CHAPTER IV.

THE POLICEMAN'S HOME

It was not till later in the evening that Mr. Norton came in. He had been on duty all day, and to-night he was free. Though one of the constituted guardians of the public peace, he was by no means fierce or formidable at home, especially after he had doffed his uniform, and put on an old coat.

"Edward," said his wife, "this is Paul's mother, who was burned out to-day. So I have asked her to stay here till she can find a place of her own."

"That is right," said the policeman. "Mrs. Hoffman, I am glad to see you. Paul has been here before. He is one of Sam's friends."

"Paul likes to keep in with father," said Sam slyly, "considering he is on the police."

"If he is to be known by the company he keeps," said Mr. Norton, "he might have to steer clear of you."

Here I may explain why Sam was a newsboy, though his father was in receipt of a salary as a policeman. He attended school regularly, and only spent about three hours daily in selling papers, but this gave him two or three dollars a week, more than enough to buy his clothes. The balance he was allowed to deposit in his own name at a savings-bank. Thus he was accumulating a small fund of money, which by and by might be of essential use to him.

The group that gathered around the supper-table was a lively one, although half the party had been burned out. But Paul knew he was in a position to provide a new home for his mother, and thus was saved anxiety for the future.

"You have very pleasant rooms, Mrs. Norton," said Mrs. Hoffman.

"Yes, we have as good as we can afford. Twenty dollars a month is a good deal for us to pay, but then we are comfortable, and that makes us work more cheerfully."

"How do you like being a policeman, Mr. Norton?" asked Paul.

"I don't like it much, but it pays as well as anything I can get."

"I sometimes feel anxious about him," said Mrs. Norton. "He is liable to be attacked by ruffians at any time. The day he came home with his face covered with blood, I was frightened then, I can tell you."

"How did it happen?"

"I was called in to arrest a man who was beating his wife," said the policeman. "He was raging with drink at the time. He seized one of his wife's flatirons and threw it at me. It was a stunner. However, I managed to arrest him, and had the satisfaction of knowing that he would be kept in confinement for a few months. I have to deal with some tough customers. A policeman down in this part of the city has to take his life in his hand. He never knows when he's going to have a stormy time."

"I wish my husband were in some other business," said Mrs. Norton.

"There are plenty of men that would like my position," said her husband. "It's sure pay, and just as good in dull times as in good. Besides, some people think it's easy work, just walking around all day. They'd better try it."

"There's one part Mr. Norton likes," said his wife slyly. "It's showing ladies across the street."

"I don't know about that," rejoined the policeman. "It gets rather monotonous crossing the street continually, and there's some danger in it too. Poor Morgan was run over only three months ago, and injured so much that he's been obliged to leave the force. Then some of the ladies get frightened when they're halfway over, and make a scene. I remember one old woman, who let go my arm, and ran screaming in among the carriages, and it was a miracle that she didn't get run over. If she had clung to me, she'd have got over all right."

"I don't think I'll be a policeman," said Sam. "I might have to take you up, Paul, and I shouldn't like to do that."

"Paul isn't bad," said Jimmy, who was very apt to take a joke seriously, and who always resented any imputation upon his brother. "He never got took up in his life."

"Then he wasn't found out, I suppose," said Sam.

"He never did anything bad," retorted Jimmy indignantly.

"Thank you, Jimmy," said Paul, laughing. "I'll come to you when I want a first-class recommendation. If I never did anything bad, I suppose you won't call that horse bad that I drew the other day."

"It was a bad picture," said the little boy; "but people don't get took up for making bad pictures."

"That's lucky," said Sam, "or I shouldn't stand much chance of keeping out of the station-house. I move Jimmy gives us a specimen of his skill. I've got a comic paper here somewhere. He can copy a picture out of that."

"Where is it?" asked Jimmy eagerly.

The paper was found, and the little boy set to work with great enthusiasm, and soon produced a copy of one of the pictures, which was voted excellent. By that time he was ready to go to bed. Paul and he had to take up with a bed on the floor, but this troubled them little. They felt thankful, under the circumstances, to have so comfortable a shelter. Indeed, Jimmy troubled himself very little about the future. He had unbounded faith in Paul, to whom he looked up with as much confidence as he would have done to a father.

Early the next morning Mr. Norton was obliged to enter upon his daily duties. The poor must be stirring betimes, so they all took an early breakfast.

"Mother," said Paul, "it won't be much use to look up new rooms before the middle of the forenoon. I think I will open my stand as usual, and return at ten, and then we can go out together."

"Very well, Paul. I will help Mrs. Norton, if she will let me, till then."

"There is no need of that, Mrs. Hoffman."

"I would rather do it. I want to make some return for your kindness."

So the two women cleared away the breakfast dishes and washed them, and then Mrs. Hoffman sewed for two hours upon a shirt which his mother had commenced for Sam. Jimmy amused himself by copying another picture from the comic paper before mentioned.

Meantime Paul got out his stock in trade, and began to be on the watch for customers. He bought a copy of the Herald of his friend Sam, and began to pore over the advertisements headed "FURNISHED ROOMS AND APARTMENTS TO LET."

"Let me see," soliloquized Paul; "here are four elegantly furnished rooms on Fifth avenue, only fifty dollars a week, without board. Cheap enough! But I'm afraid it would be rather too far away from my business."

"I suppose that's the only objection," said Sam slyly.

"There might be one or two others, Sam. Suppose you pick out something for me."

"What do you say to this, Paul?" said Sam, pointing out the following advertisement:

"FURNISHED NEATLY FOR HOUSEKEEPING. Front parlor, including piano, with front and back bedrooms on second floor; front basement; gas, bath, hot and cold water, stationary tubs; rent reasonable. West Twenty-seventh street."

"That would be very convenient, especially the piano and the stationary tubs," observed Paul. "If I decide to take the rooms, you can come round any time and practice on the tubs."

"Thank you, Paul, I think I'd rather try the piano."

"I thought you might be more used to the tubs. However, that's too far up town for me."

"Are you going to get furnished rooms?"

"I haven't spoken to mother about it, but as we have had all our furniture burned up, we shall probably get furnished rooms at first."

"Perhaps this might suit you, then," said Sam, reading from the paper:

"TO LET—FOR HOUSEKEEPING, several nicely furnished rooms; terms moderate. Apply at – Bleecker street."

"That must be near where Barry used to live."

"Would it be too far?"

"No, I don't think it would. It isn't far to walk from Bleecker street. But it will depend a little on the terms."

"Terms moderate," read off Sam.

"They might call them so, even if they were high."

"I wish there were some rooms to let in our building."

"I shouldn't mind taking them if they were as nice as yours. How long have you lived there?"

"We only moved on the first day of May."

"How much do you charge for your neckties, boy?" asked a female voice.

Looking up, Paul beheld a tall, hard-visaged female, who had stopped in front of his stand.

"Twenty-five cents," answered Paul.

"Seems to me they're rather high," returned the would-be customer. "Can't you sell me one for twenty cents?"

"I never take less than twenty-five, madam."

"I am looking for a nice birthday present for my nephew," said the hard-visaged lady, "but I don't want to spend too much. If you'll say twenty cents, I'll take two."

"I'm sorry, but I have only one price," said the young merchant.

"I'll give you twenty-two cents."

"I shall have to charge twenty-five."

"I suppose I must pay it then," said the lady in a dissatisfied tone. "Here, give me that blue one."

The necktie was wrapped up, and the money reluctantly paid.

"How would you like to be her nephew, Sam?" asked Paul, as soon as she was out of hearing. "You might get a nice birthday present now and then."

"Shouldn't wonder if that twenty-five cents bust the old woman! Do you often have customers like that?"

"Not very often. The other day a young man, after wearing a necktie for a week, came back, and wanted to exchange it for one of a different color."

"Did you exchange it?"

"I guess not. I told him that wasn't my style of doing business. He got mad, and said he'd never buy anything more of me."

"That reminds me of a man that bought a Tribune of me early in the morning, and came back after reading it through and wanted to exchange it for a Times. But I must be goin', or I'll be stuck on some of my papers."

CHAPTER V.

HOUSE HUNTING

At ten o'clock Paul closed up his business for the forenoon, and returning to their temporary home, found his mother waiting for him.

"Well, Paul," she said inquiringly, "have you heard of any good rooms?"

"Here is an advertisement of some nicely furnished rooms in Bleecker street;" and Paul pointed to the Herald.

"They may be above our means, Paul."

"At any rate we can go and look at them. We must expect to pay more if we take them furnished."

"Do you think we had better take furnished rooms?" asked Mrs. Hoffman doubtfully.

"I think so, mother, just now. All our furniture is burned, you know, and it would take too much of our capital to buy new. When we get richer we will buy some nice furniture."

"Perhaps you are right, Paul. At any rate we will go and look at these rooms."

"If they don't suit us, I have the paper with me, and we can look somewhere else."

"May I go, mother?" asked Jimmy.

"We might have to go about considerably, Jimmy," said Paul. "I am afraid you would get tired."

"If Mrs. Norton will let you stay here, I think it will be better," said his mother. "Are you sure he won't be in your way, Mrs. Norton?"

"Bless his heart, no," returned the policeman's wife heartily. "I shall be glad of his company. Mr. Norton and Sam are away most of the time, and I get lonely sometimes."

Jimmy felt rather flattered by the thought that his company was desired by Mrs. Norton, and readily resigned himself to stay at home. Paul and his mother went out, and got on board a Bleecker street car, which soon brought them to the desired number.

The house was quite respectable in appearance, far more so certainly than the burned tenement house. The time had been when Bleecker street was fashionable, and lined with the dwellings of substantial and prosperous citizens. That time had gone by. Still it was several grades above the streets in the lower part of the city.

Paul rang the bell, and the door was opened by a maid-servant.

"I saw an advertisement in the Herald about some rooms to let," said Paul. "Can we see them?"

"I'll speak to the mistress," was the reply. "Won't you come in?"

They entered the hall, and were shown into the parlor, where they took seats on a hard sofa. Soon the door opened, and a tall lady entered.

"You would like to look at my rooms?" she inquired, addressing Mrs. Hoffman.

"If you please."

"They are on the third floor—all that I have vacant. If you will follow me, I will show you the way."

At the top of the second staircase she threw open the door of a good-sized room, furnished plainly but neatly.

"There is another room connected with this," she said, "and a bedroom on the upper floor can go with it."

"Is it arranged for housekeeping?" asked Mrs. Hoffman.

"Yes; you will find the back room fitted for cooking. Come in and I will show you."

She opened a door in the rear room, displaying a pantry and sink, while a cooking-stove was already put up. Both rooms were carpeted. In the front room there was a sofa, a rocking-chair, some shelves for books, while three or four pictures hung from the walls.

"I don't see any sleeping accommodations," said Mrs. Hoffman, looking around.

"I will put a bed into either room," said the landlady. "I have delayed doing it till the rooms were let."

"How do you like it, mother?" asked Paul.

"Very well, but–"

Mrs. Hoffman hesitated, thinking that the charge for such accommodations would be beyond their means. Paul understood, and asked in his turn:

"How much do you ask for these rooms by the month?"

"With the small room upstairs besides?"

"Yes."

"Thirty dollars a month."

Mrs. Hoffman looked at Paul in dismay. This was more than three times what they had been accustomed to pay.

"We can afford to pay more than we have hitherto," he said in a low voice. "Besides, there is the furniture."

"But thirty dollars a month is more than we can afford," said his mother uneasily.

"My mother thinks we cannot afford to pay thirty dollars," said Paul.

"The price is very reasonable," said the landlady. "You won't find cheaper rooms in this street."

"I don't complain of your price," said Mrs. Hoffman, "only it is more than we can afford to pay. Could you take less?"

"No," said the landlady decidedly. "I am sure to get tenants at that price."

"Then, Paul, I think we must look further," said his mother.

"If you don't find anything to your mind, perhaps you will come back," suggested the landlady.

"We may do so. How much would you charge for these two rooms alone?"

"Twenty-six dollars a month."

The prices named above are considerably less than the present rates; but still, as Paul's income from his business only amounted to fifty or sixty dollars a month, it seemed a good deal for him to pay.

"We may call again," said Mrs. Hoffman as they went downstairs. "But we will look around first."

"How much do you think we can afford to pay, Paul?" asked Mrs. Hoffman.

"We can easily afford twenty dollars a month, mother."

"That is more than three times as much as we pay now."

"I know it, but I want a better home and a better neighborhood, mother. When we first took the other rooms, six dollars a month was all we were able to pay. Now we can afford better accommodations."

"What other rooms have you got on your list, Paul?"

"There are some rooms in Prince street, near Broadway."

"I am afraid they would be too high-priced."

"At any rate we can go and look at them. They are near by."

The rooms in Prince street proved to be two in number, well furnished, and though not intended for housekeeping, could be used for that purpose. The rent was twenty-five dollars a month.

"I do not feel able to pay more than twenty dollars," said Mrs. Hoffman.

"That is too little. I'll split the difference and say twenty-two and a half. I suppose you have no other children?"

"I have one other—a boy of eight."

"Then I don't think I should be willing to let you the rooms," said the landlady, her manner changing. "I don't like to take young children."

"He is a very quiet boy."

"No boys of eight are quiet," said the landlady decidedly. "They are all noisy and troublesome."

"Jimmy is never noisy or troublesome," said Mrs. Hoffman, resenting the imputation upon her youngest boy.

"Of course you think so, as you are his mother," rejoined the landlady. "You may be mistaken, you know."

"Perhaps you object to me also," said Paul. "I am more noisy than my little brother."

"I look upon you as a young man," said the landlady—a remark at which Paul felt secretly complimented.

"I think we shall have to try somewhere else, mother," he said. "Perhaps we shall find some house where they don't object to noisy boys."

It seemed rather a joke to Paul to hear Jimmy objected to as noisy and troublesome, and for some time afterward he made it a subject for joking Jimmy. The latter took it very good-naturedly and seemed quite as much amused as Paul.

The Herald had to be consulted once more. Two other places near by were visited, but neither proved satisfactory. In one place the rooms were not pleasant, in the other case the price demanded was too great.

"It's twelve o'clock already," said Paul, listening to the strokes of a neighboring clock. "I had no idea it was so hard finding rooms. I wonder whether Mrs. Norton would keep us a day longer."

"Perhaps we can go out this afternoon and prove more successful, Paul."

"I've a great mind to consult Mr. Preston, mother. I think I'll call at his place of business at any rate, as I may need to draw some of the money we have in his hands. You know we've all got to buy new clothes."

"Very well, Paul. Do as you think best. You won't need me."

"No, mother."

Mrs. Hoffman returned to her temporary quarters, and reporting her want of success, was cordially invited by Mrs. Norton to remain as her guest until she succeeded in obtaining satisfactory rooms.

CHAPTER VI.

PAUL TAKES A HOUSE ON MADISON AVENUE

Paul kept on his way to the office of Mr. Preston. Those who have read the previous volume will remember him as a gentleman whose acquaintance Paul had made accidentally. Attracted by our hero's frank, straightforward manner and manly bearing, he had given him some work for his mother, and on other occasions had manifested an interest in his welfare. He now held one hundred and fifty dollars belonging to Paul, or rather to Mrs. Hoffman, for which he allowed legal interest.

On entering the mercantile establishment, of which Mr. Preston was at the head, Paul inquired for him of one of the salesmen.

"He is in his office," said the latter.

"Can I see him?"

"I don't know. Do you want to see him personally?"

"Yes, if he has time to see me."

"From whom do you come?"

"I come on my own business."

"Then I don't think you can see him," said the clerk, judging that a boy's business couldn't be very important.

"If you will be kind enough to carry in my name," said Paul, "Mr. Preston will decide that."

Paul happened to have in his pocket a business card of the firm from which he bought the silk used in making up his neckties. He wrote on the back his name, PAUL HOFFMAN, and presented it to the clerk.

The latter smiled a little superciliously, evidently thinking it rather a joke that a boy of Paul's age should think himself entitled to an interview with Mr. Preston during business hours, and on business of his own. However, he took the card and approached the office.

"There's a boy outside wishes to see you, Mr. Preston," he said.

"From whom does he come?" asked his employer, a portly, pleasant-looking gentleman.

"On business of his own, he says. Here is his card."

"Oh, to be sure. Paul Hoffman!" repeated Mr. Preston, glancing at the card. "Tell him to come in."

"I wonder what business he can have with Mr. Preston," thought the clerk, considerably surprised.

"You can go in," he said on his return.

Paul smiled slightly, for he observed and enjoyed the other's surprise.

"Well, my young friend," said Mr. Preston cordially, "how are you getting on?"

"Pretty well in business, sir," answered Paul. "But we got burned out yesterday."

"How burned out?"

"I mean the tenement house in which we lodged was burned down."

"No one injured, I hope."

"No, sir; but we lost what little we had there."

"Were you at home at the time?"

"No, sir; my mother and little brother and myself were at Barnum's Museum. But for that we might have saved some of our clothing."

"Well, have you got a new place?" "No, sir; we are stopping at the rooms of some friends. I am looking out for some furnished rooms, as I don't want to buy any new furniture. As all our clothes are burned, I may have to draw fifty dollars of the money in your hands."

"How much rent do you expect to pay?"

"I suppose we must pay as much as twenty dollars a month for comfortable furnished rooms."

"Can you afford that?"

"My business brings me in as much as fifty dollars a month."

"You haven't engaged rooms yet?"

"No, sir; my mother and I went out to look at some this morning. We only saw one place that suited us. That we could have got for twenty-two dollars and a half rent, but when they heard of my little brother they wouldn't take us."

"I see. Some persons object to young children. I am glad you have not engaged a place yet."

Paul looked at Mr. Preston inquiringly.

"A gentleman of my acquaintance," proceeded the merchant, "is about sailing to Europe with his family. He is unwilling to let his house, fearing that his furniture would be injured. Besides, the length of his stay is uncertain, and he would want to go into it at once if he should return suddenly. What I am coming to is this. He wants some small family to go in and take care of the house while he is away. They would be allowed to live in the basement and use the chambers on the upper floor. In return they would receive the rent free. How would your mother like to make such an arrangement?"