Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy

If Greenleaf had not robbed him so basely, he could have afforded to wait. He felt sore and indignant about that. Nobody likes to own that he has been victimized, but Herbert was obliged to confess to himself that such was the case with him.

He walked about rather aimlessly, feeling miserable enough. But, all at once, it occurred to him, “Would it not be cheaper for him to take board by the week in some boarding-house?” Reckoning up, he found that his hotel bill would be three dollars and a half a week, while his meals, even if he were quite abstemious, would make as much more; in all, seven dollars. Surely, he could be boarded somewhere for less than that.

In the reading-room of the hotel he found a daily paper, and carefully ran his eye down the advertisements for boarders and lodgers. The following attracted his attention:

“BOARDERS WANTED.—A few mechanics may obtain comfortable rooms and board at No. – Stanton Street, at three dollars per week.”

This, be it remembered, was previous to the war, and before the price of board had doubled.

“Three dollars a week!” repeated Herbert. “Less than half my present rate of expense. I must go at once and secure it.”

He found the way to Stanton Street, and found that No. – was a shabby-looking house in a shabby neighborhood. But he could not afford to be fastidious. He accordingly stepped up without hesitation, and rang the bell, which emitted a shrill sound in reply.

A middle-aged woman, with a red handkerchief tied around her head, and a broom in her hand, opened the door and looked inquiringly at our hero.

“What’s wanted?” she said.

“I saw your advertisement for boarders,” said Herbert.

“Yes; I advertised in the paper this morning.”

“Will you let me see your rooms?”

“Who are you looking for?”

“Myself.”

“I don’t know as you’ll be suited. My price is low, and I can’t give first-class accommodations for three dollars.”

“No; I suppose not.”

“Come up, if you would like to see what I’ve got.”

The interior of the house was shabby like the outside, the oilcloth carpet faded, and the wall paper torn off in places. The stairs, too, were narrow and uncarpeted. All this Herbert observed, but he could not afford to be critical.

On the third floor, his guide threw open the door of a dark, little hall bedroom, meagerly furnished.

“I could give you this room by yourself,” she said, “or a larger room with someone else.”

“I would rather be alone.”

“That’s the only single room I have. Will you take it?”

“I think so,” said Herbert, though he did not anticipate much enjoyment in such a poor place.

“When do you want to come?”

“To-morrow morning.”

“Very well. I shall expect a deposit, so that I may be sure the room is let.”

“How much?”

“A dollar will do.”

Herbert drew a dollar from his pocket, and handed it to Mrs. Morgan, for such, she informed him, was her name.

Then he went downstairs and out into the air again.

“Well,” he said to himself, “I’m sure of a home, such as it is, for a week. In that time something must turn up.”

Examining his pocketbook he found that he had two dollars and a half left. Of that sum, two dollars must be reserved to pay the balance of his week’s board. Out of the remaining fifty cents he must pay for his meals until the next morning, when he would take possession of his new boarding place. He wished that he had proposed to come to breakfast, but it was too late now.

With such a small sum in hand, he could not afford to dine on the same magnificent scale as he had breakfasted, but he must be rigidly economical. He decided that the cheapest food he could buy was a five-cent loaf at some baker’s. This would probably last him through the day, and might prove sufficient for breakfast also, since he would take a regular dinner, though he doubted, from what he had seen of the establishment in Stanton Street, whether it would be a very inviting repast. But it was the best he could afford, and that was all he need consider.

Late in the afternoon, it occurred to Herbert to wonder where, in the city, his Uncle Stanton lived. Not that he had any intention of applying to him for assistance, even if matters came to a crisis, but he felt a natural curiosity as to how his uncle was situated. He found the directory readily, and, turning to the letter S, ran down the list of names till he came to Stanton, Benjamin.

He learned that his uncle’s store was in the lower part of Broadway, while his house was in West Seventeenth Street, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues.

“I should like to see what sort of a house Uncle Benjamin lives in,” thought Herbert.

There was nothing to prevent his gratifying this wish, as he had plenty of time on his hands. If he had had more money, he would have taken the horse cars, but in his present circumstances this would be imprudent. He decided, as it was only five o’clock, to take a leisurely walk up Broadway, noticing his uncle’s place of business on the way.

A few minutes brought him in front of the latter—an imposing-looking building, with all the appearance of belonging to a prosperous merchant. Appearances are deceitful, to be sure, and no doubt there are some merchants, as outwardly prosperous, who might profitably change places with their head clerks. But Herbert naturally judged from appearances, and he could not help contrasting in his mind his own condition with that of his uncle’s. But he was too manly to be despondent on this account, and thought rather, “I am young and ready to work, Some time, if I am patient and work hard. I may be as well off as Uncle Benjamin.” The thought of applying to him for assistance was as far off as ever.

He pursued his way uptown, finding it a longer walk than he anticipated, arriving at half-past five at Union Square. At the upper end he turned off, and went down Seventeenth Street.

Carefully noting the numbers, he at length found his uncle’s house. It was a handsome, substantial city mansion, and seemed appropriate as the residence of a rich New York merchant.

“So my uncle lives here,” thought Herbert, and there rose involuntarily in his mind the memory of the humble Western home where he and his mother had struggled against poverty, while his uncle, who was evidently so amply provided with the world’s goods, coldly held aloof, and forbore to offer the assistance which he could so well afford.

“If I had a sister, I could never treat her like that,” thought Herbert, indignantly. “He would not help my mother. I will starve before I ask him to help me.”

He paused a moment on the opposite side of the street to look at his uncle’s house. While he was standing there, a boy of about his own age, apparently, came down the street whistling, and ascended the steps of his uncle’s house.

“I wonder if that is my cousin Tom,” thought Herbert. He knew the names of his cousins from his mother, though he had never seen them.

While he looked, he was struck by something familiar in the appearance of this boy. Where had he seen him before?

All at once it flashed upon him. It was the same boy he had seen in the counting-room of Godfrey He knew him by his dandified dress and his face, which he had noticed at the time.

This was certainly a strange coincidence, that his cousin, for it was doubtless he, should be the first boy he encountered after reaching New York. It would be still stranger if Mr. Godfrey should offer him employment, and he should find himself a clerk in the same office as the son of his rich uncle. But it was by no means certain that he would be lucky enough to obtain such employment. Therefore there was no need of wondering whether, under such circumstances, Tom would recognize him as a relation.

Herbert walked thoughtfully back, and on reaching his room ate the remainder of the loaf which he had purchased at the baker’s in the morning. It was not a very luxurious repast, but his walk had given him an appetite, and he had no difficulty in disposing of all that was left.

CHAPTER XXV

GETTING A SITUATION

The next morning Herbert reported himself at his new boarding place. He found the fare very far from first-class, while his fellow-boarders appeared at the table mostly in shirt-sleeves, and were evidently workingmen. Our hero would have preferred a greater degree of neatness both in the table and in the guests, but he felt that he would be lucky, if he should find himself able to pay his expenses even here. He was not to be daunted by little annoyances, but looked for compensation in the future.

He waited impatiently for the next day, when Mr. Godfrey would return. Upon the success of the interview with him much depended.

At length it came, and Herbert once more set out for the warehouse on Pearl Street. He entered without question, and made his way to the counting-room. Looking through the glass door, he saw his cousin—whom he surveyed with new interest now that he knew the relationship—and the bookkeeper. But, besides these, there was an elderly gentleman, rather stout, with a pleasant face, the expression of which reassured him.

“Is Mr. Godfrey in?” he asked, on entering, with a look of inquiry at the gentleman just described.

“That is my name. What can I do for you?” said Mr. Godfrey, turning towards him.

“I have a letter for you, sir,” said Herbert, producing it from his pocket.

Mr. Godfrey held out his hand for it, and ran his eye rapidly over its contents.

“So your name is Herbert Mason?” he said, raising his eyes after finishing it.

“Yes, sir.”

At the mention of this name, Tom Stanton, whose curiosity had led him to listen to the conversation, wheeled rapidly round on his stool and surveyed our hero with intense curiosity. He knew that Herbert Mason was the name of his cousin. Could it be possible that this boy was the cousin whom he had never seen? A little later, and he was convinced of it.

“You have just come from Ohio, I suppose?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My friend, Mr. Carroll, writes me that you were instrumental in saving him from being robbed while acting as his escort to Philadelphia.”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning,” said Herbert modestly.

Mr. Godfrey noticed his modest tone, and it pleased him—modesty not being an unvarying characteristic of young America.

“My friend refers to it as an important service. I should like to know the particulars. Mr. Carroll is a connection of mine, and I am naturally interested in all that relates to him.”

In reply Herbert gave a brief, but clear and intelligent account of the attempted burglary, passing over his own achievement as lightly as possible. But it was easy to infer, even from the little he said, that he had acted with bravery and self-possession.

“You behaved in a very creditable manner,” said Mr. Godfrey, approvingly. “Many boys would have lost their self-possession. You have come to New York in search of employment, Mr. Carroll writes me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t, of course, know how you were situated in Ohio,” said the merchant, “but as a general rule I think boys make a mistake in leaving the country for the city. Here the competition for work is sharp, and there is a surplus of laborers in every department of labor. Still,” he proceeded, scanning Herbert’s earnest face, “you look like a boy capable of making his way if an opportunity offers. You have but little money, Mr. Carroll writes.”

“I have lost nearly all I had,” said Herbert, “so that now I have very little left.”

“You have met with a loss? Tell me about it. Indeed, I should be glad if you would confide to me freely your situation and hopes, and then I shall be better able to help you.”

“I am almost ashamed to tell you how I was taken in,” said our hero. “I suppose I ought to have been more prudent.”

He recounted the manner in which Greenleaf had robbed him. Mr. Godfrey listened with interest, and so did Tom Stanton, who burst into a laugh when the narrative was concluded.

“What are you laughing at, Thomas?” asked the merchant, rather sharply.

“I was thinking how neatly he was taken in,” said Tom, a little abashed.

“I should apply a different word to it,” said Mr. Godfrey. “It appears to me the height, or rather the depth of meanness, to take advantage of a boy’s confidence, and defraud him so scandalously. How much money have you left, Herbert?”

“Forty cents, sir.”

“Only forty cents to begin life with in a great city!”

“Yes, sir; I have paid my board in advance for a week.”

“Where do you board?”

“In Stanton Street.”

Tom turned up his nose at the name of this street, which he knew was very far from fashionable, but this demonstration our hero did not observe.

“What board do you pay?”

“Three dollars a week, sir.”

“A poor place, probably.”

“Yes, sir, but I could afford no better.”

“You are sensible to accommodate yourself to circumstances. Well, my young friend, it appears that you can’t wait long for employment. Mr. Carroll has asked me to do something for you, and I am disposed to oblige him, not wholly for his sake, but partly for your own, for you seem to me a very modest and sensible boy. Mr. Pratt, do we need another boy?”

“No, sir, I don’t think we do.”

“Well, business will be brisker by and by. I think you can find a little for this young man to do in the meantime. He can go to the post office, and I believe I have a little extra writing to be done. Pass him a pen, and let him give us a specimen of his handwriting.”

Fortunately, Herbert was a handsome writer, and this went a considerable way in his favor.

“Very neat,” said the merchant. “By the way, Herbert, I suppose, of course, you know nothing of French?”

“Yes, sir, I can read it pretty well.”

“Indeed!” said Mr. Godfrey, surprised. “Then you can be of service to me, that is, if you know it well enough. I received, this morning, a letter from a silk house at Lyons, a part of which I don’t quite understand. The fact is, my French is rather poor. Do you think you could help me translate it?”

“If you will show me the letter, I will try, sir.”

The merchant took a letter from the table before him and handed it to Herbert.

Our hero ran his eye rapidly over it, and then rendered it into English in a clear and grammatical way.

“Bless me, you’re quite a scholar,” said Mr. Godfrey. “I understand now. You’ve made it all plain. Where did you learn so much French?”

“My father taught me, sir. He also taught me Latin.”

“Indeed, I congratulate you on possessing so good an education. Latin, however, isn’t so much in my way. I haven’t many Latin correspondents.”

“I suppose not, sir,” said Herbert, laughing.

“Still, it does no harm to know something of it.”

Tom Stanton had listened with considerable surprise, mingled with mortification, to what had passed. It appeared then, that his country cousin, whom he had looked upon as a country boor, was his superior in education, and, as Tom secretly knew, in courage. And now he was going to be his fellow-clerk. He felt jealous and angry, fearing that Herbert, who appeared to be high in favor already, would eclipse him in the office.

“How much can you live upon economically?” asked the merchant.

“I know little of the city,” said Herbert. “You can judge better than I, sir.”

“You pay three dollars a week board. You’ll need double that amount. Mr. Pratt, you may pay him six dollars a week. He will come to work to-morrow morning, and you may pay him Saturday, as if it was a whole week.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Herbert, gratefully. “You are very kind.”

“Do your duty, my young friend, and I shall be satisfied.”

Tom Stanton listened in indignant surprise. He only got four dollars a week, and here was a country boy placed over his head. He was imprudent enough to give expression to his feelings.

“Won’t you give me six dollars a week, also?” he said.

“Why should I?”

“Don’t I deserve as much as he?”

“Perhaps you do. But I don’t give it to Herbert because he earns it, for it is not likely that he will do so at present. But he has no other resources. You have a comfortable home, and are not obliged to pay for your board out of your wages.”

“No, I hope not,” said Tom.

“Therefore you do not need as much as he does. You are not entitled to this explanation, but I give it, nevertheless, that you may know my motives.”

Tom did not reply, feeling that it would be imprudent to do so, but he bent sullenly to his work, by no mans satisfied with the explanation. He began to feel a dislike for his cousin, and determined to injure him, if he could, in the estimation of the firm. It would have been satisfactory if he could have looked down upon him as an inferior, but that was not easy.

“I hope the fellow won’t find out the relationship between us,” he said to himself. “He’d be calling me Cousin Tom all the time, and I don’t care about owning a cousin that lives in Stanton Street.”

Tom need not have troubled himself. Herbert had no idea of claiming relationship, though, as we know, he was fully aware of its existence.

CHAPTER XXVI

A FAMILY COUNCIL

As soon as he was released from business, Tom Stanton hurried home to impart the unexpected intelligence that his cousin Herbert had arrived in the city. As might be expected, the news gave no particular pleasure in the Stanton homestead.

“Did you tell him who you were, Thomas?” asked his mother.

“Catch me doing it!” said Tom. “I ain’t quite a fool. I don’t care about owning any pauper relations.”

“He isn’t a pauper,” said Mr. Stanton, who, hard man of the world as he was, could not forget that Herbert was the son of his sister.

“He’s the next door to it,” said Tom, carelessly.

“Thomas is right,” said Mrs. Stanton. “You may depend upon it, Mr. Stanton, that when this boy finds you out, he will apply to you for assistance.”

“Possibly he may.”

“I hope you won’t be such a fool as to encourage him in his application.”

“If he were in actual distress, my dear,” said Mr. Stanton, “I should feel that I ought to do something.”

“Then you’d allow yourself to be imposed upon, that’s all I’ve got to say. There is no need of his being in distress. He is a stout boy, and capable of earning his own living.”

“He might get sick,” suggested Mr. Stanton, who was not so hard-hearted as his wife.

“Then let him go to the hospital. It’s provided for such cases.”

“Is Herbert good-looking?” asked Maria, with interest.

“He won’t get a prize for his beauty,” said Tom, disparagingly.

“Is he homely?”

“No,” said Tom, reluctantly. “I suppose he’ll pass; but he’s countrified. He hasn’t got any style,” and he glanced complacently at his own reflection in a mirror, for Tom was vain of his personal appearance, though by no means as good-looking as Herbert. In fact, he was compelled secretly to confess this to himself, and for this reason was more than ever disposed to view his cousin with prejudice.

“I should like to see Herbert,” said Maria, who had her share of female curiosity, and thought it would be pleasant to have a cousin to escort her round.

“Perhaps I’d better invite him round to dinner tomorrow,” said Thomas, sarcastically.

“I wish you would.”

“Thomas will do no such thing!” said Mrs. Stanton, decidedly. “It’s my opinion that the less notice we take of him the better. Your father is in good circumstances, to be sure, but whatever he is able to do, ought, of right, to go to his own family. We don’t want any poor relations coming here to get their living out of us.”

“Just my sentiments, mother,” said Tom Stanton, approvingly.

“It doesn’t seem quite right,” said Mr. Stanton, uncomfortably, “to neglect my sister’s child.”

“Don’t make yourself ridiculous with your scruples, Mr. Stanton,” said his wife. “It’s the boy’s duty to take care of himself. It would only do him harm, and lead to false expectations, if we allowed him the run of the house.”

“Besides,” said Tom, “I shouldn’t want to have Tom Paget and Percy Mortimer, and other fellows that I associate with, ask me who he is, and have to tell them that he is my cousin.”

This argument had considerable weight with Mr. Stanton, who was anxious to elevate himself in society, and looked with complacency upon the school acquaintances Tom had formed with the scions of distinguished families.

“Well,” said he, rising from the table, “let it be as you will. We won’t go out of our way to invite the boy here, but if he presents himself, as he doubtless will, we must take a little notice of him.”

“I don’t see why he couldn’t have stayed in the country,” said Mrs. Stanton. “It was the best place for him.”

“Of course, it was,” said Tom.

“He could have had no other object than to seek us out, and see what he could get out of us. For my part, I would advise you to recommend him to go back.”

“He has secured a place, it seems, and would not be likely to give it up.”

“It’s a great pity he should have got into the same counting-room with Tom. He will presume on the relationship as soon as he finds it out.”

Mrs. Stanton need not have been alarmed, for Herbert was too high-spirited to seek an intimacy where he had reason to think it would be disagreeable. But his aunt knew nothing of him, and judged him by herself.

“He’s there, and it can’t be helped,” said Mr. Stanton.

“At any rate, if he does stay in the city,” persisted Mrs. Stanton, “I hope you’ll give him to understand that he needn’t call here more than once in three months. That is as much as he can expect.”

“After all, he is my sister’s son,” said Mr. Stanton. “I can’t feel that this would be quite kind in us.”

“Leave it to me, then. If you’re too soft-hearted, Mr. Stanton, I will take all the responsibility, and the blame, if there is any.”

“Well, I think you’ve said enough on the subject,” said her husband. “Tom, run upstairs and bring me a cigar. You know where I keep the cigar box.”

“You’d better send a servant, father,” said Tom, coolly.

“It appears to me you are getting lazy, Thomas,” said his father.

“Thomas is right,” said Mrs. Stanton. “What do we keep servants for but to run errands?”

“Still, Tom might have obliged me in such a little matter.”

“You shouldn’t have asked him, Mr. Stanton. You seem to forget that we are not living in the style of half a dozen years ago. You should adapt yourself to circumstances.”

Mr. Stanton said no more, but sent a servant in Tom’s place. But he could not help thinking that the outward prosperity for which he was striving was not without its drawbacks, since it compelled him to look to servants for the most ordinary services.

The next morning Tom went to the counting-room, fully expecting that Herbert would claim relationship as soon as he discovered his name. While he would be compelled to admit it, he determined to treat Herbert with such a degree of coolness that he would take the hint, and keep his distance.

When he arrived at the counting-room, Herbert was already there, and Mr. Pratt also.

“Good-morning,” said Herbert.

“Morning,” muttered Tom.

“This is Thomas Stanton, your fellow-clerk,” said Mr. Pratt, the bookkeeper. “I believe you have not been introduced.”

“Now for it,” thought Tom.

But rather to his surprise, Herbert made no demonstration, but merely bowed slightly.

“What does it mean?” thought Tom, a little perplexed. “Is it possible that he is not my cousin, after all?”

“I think you came from Ohio?” inquired Tom, impelled by his curiosity to ask the question.

“Yes,” said Herbert.

“Why didn’t you stay there? Couldn’t you make a living there?” asked Tom, not over-politely.

“Probably I might,” said Herbert, quietly.

“Then I think you should have stayed there.”

“Which do you like best, the city or the country?” asked our hero.

“The city.”

“So do I.”

“But there’s a difference. I have always lived in the city.”

“I suppose boys often do come from the country to the city,” said Herbert. “Was your father born in the city?”

“No,” said Tom, glancing keenly at Herbert, to see if he meant anything by the question.

“Then it seems he must have preferred the city to the country.”

Tom had his share of curiosity. He knew that it would be better not to pursue this subject further if he wished his cousin to remain ignorant of the relationship between them. Still, he was anxious to know what Herbert’s actual knowledge was, and whether he would be likely to avail himself of it. He was therefore tempted to say, “I suppose you have no relations in the city?”