Books: Helping Himself
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Horatio Alger >> Helping Himself
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"I hope you are right. He might try to revenge himself on you for
tripping him up."
"I don't think he saw me to recognize me. He was so drunk that he
didn't know what he was about. When he gets over his intoxication he
probably won't remember anything that has happened."
By this time they had reached the gate of the farmhouse where Carrie
was boarding, and Grant prepared to leave her.
"I think you are safe now," he said.
"Oh, but I shan't let you go yet," said the girl. "You must come in
and see mother."
Grant hesitated, but he felt that he should like to meet the mother
of a young lady who seemed to him so attractive, and he allowed
himself to be led into the yard. Mrs. Clifton was sitting in a
rustic chair under a tree behind the house. There Grant and his
companion found her. Carrie poured forth her story impetuously, and
then drawing Grant forward, indicated him as her rescuer.
Her mother listened with natural alarm, shuddering at the peril from
which her daughter had so happily escaped.
"I cannot tell how grateful I am to you for the service you have
done my daughter," she said, warmly. "You are a very brave boy.
There is not one in ten who would have had the courage to act as you
did."
"You praise me more than I deserve, Mrs. Clifton. I saw the man was
drunk, and I did not really run much risk in what I did. I am very
thankful that I was able to be of service to Miss Carrie."
"It is most fortunate that you were at hand. My daughter might have
been killed."
"What do you think, mother? He is a minister's son," said Carrie,
vivaciously.
"That certainly is no objection in my eyes," said Mrs. Clifton,
smiling, "for I am a minister's daughter. Where does your father
preach?"
"His church is only a mile distant, in the village."
"I shall hear him, then, next Sunday. Last Sunday Carrie and I were
both tired, and remained at home, but I have always been accustomed
to go to church somewhere."
"Papa will be here next Sunday," said Carrie. "He can only come
Saturday night on account of his business."
"Does he do business in New York?" asked Grant.
"Yes; his store is on Broadway."
"We live on Madison Avenue, and whenever you are in the city we
shall be very glad to have you call," said Mrs. Clifton, graciously.
"Thank you; I should like to call very much," answered Grant, who
was quite sincere in what he said. "But I don't often go to New
York."
"Perhaps you will get a place there some time," suggested Carrie.
"I should like to," replied Grant.
"Then your father does not propose to send you to college?" It was
Mrs. Clifton who said this.
"He wishes me to go, but I think I ought to go to work to help him.
He has two other children besides me."
"Is either one a girl?" asked Carrie.
"Yes; I have a sister of thirteen, named Mary."
"I wish you would bring her here to see me," said Carrie. "I haven't
got acquainted with any girls yet."
Mrs. Clifton seconded the invitation, and Grant promised that he
would do so. In fact, he was pleased at the opportunity it would
give him of improving his acquaintance with the young lady from New
York. He returned home very well pleased with his trip to Somerset,
though he had failed in the object of his expedition.
CHAPTER V
MRS. THORNTON'S PEARLS
The next Sunday Mrs. Clifton and her daughter appeared at church,
and Grant had the pleasure of greeting them. He was invited with his
sister to take supper with them on the next Monday afternoon, and
accepted the invitation. About sunset he met his new friends
walking, with the addition of the husband and father, who, coming
Saturday evening from New York, had felt too fatigued to attend
church. Mr. Clifton, to whom he was introduced, was a portly man in
middle life, who received Grant quite graciously, and made for
himself acknowledgment of the service which our hero had rendered
his daughter.
"If I ever have the opportunity of doing you a favor, Master
Thornton, you may call upon me with confidence," he said.
Grant thanked him, and was better pleased than if he had received an
immediate gift.
Meanwhile Deacon Gridley kept his promise, and advanced the minister
fifty dollars, deducting a month's interest. Even with this
deduction Mrs. Thornton was very glad to obtain the money. Part of
it was paid on account to Mr. Tudor, and silenced his importunities
for a time. As to his own plans, there was nothing for Grant to do
except to continue his studies, as he might enter college after all.
If any employment should offer of a remunerative character, he felt
that it would be his duty to accept it, in spite of his uncle's
objections; but such chances were not very likely to happen while he
remained in the country, for obvious reasons.
Three weeks passed, and again not only Mr. Tudor, but another
creditor, began to be troublesome.
"How soon is your father going to pay up his bill?" asked Tudor,
when Grant called at the store for a gallon of molasses.
"Very soon, I hope," faltered Grant.
"I hope so, too," answered the grocer, grimly.
"Only three weeks ago I paid you thirty-three dollars," said Grant.
"And you have been increasing the balance ever since," said Tudor,
frowning.
"If father could get his salary regularly--" commenced Grant.
"That's his affair, not mine," rejoined the grocer. "I have to pay
my bills regular, and I can't afford to wait months for my pay."
Grant looked uncomfortable, but did not know what to say.
"The short and the long of it is, that after this week your father
must either pay up his bill, or pay cash for what articles he gets
hereafter."
"Very well," said Grant, coldly. He was too proud to remonstrate.
Moreover, though he felt angry, he was constrained to admit that the
grocer had some reason for his course.
"Something must be done," he said to himself, but he was not wise
enough to decide what that something should be.
Though he regretted to pain his mother, he felt obliged to report to
her what the grocer had said.
"Don't be troubled, mother," he said, as he noticed the shade of
anxiety which came over her face. "Something will turn up."
Mrs. Thornton shook her head.
"It isn't safe to trust to that, Grant," she said; "we must help
ourselves."
"I wish I knew how," said Grant, perplexed.
"I am afraid I shall have to make a sacrifice," said Mrs. Thornton,
not addressing Grant, but rather in soliloquy.
Grant looked at his mother in surprise. What sacrifice could she
refer to? Did she mean that they must move into a smaller house, and
retrench generally? That was all that occurred to him.
"We might, perhaps, move into a smaller house, mother," said he,
"but we have none too much room here, and the difference in rent
wouldn't be much."
"I didn't mean that, Grant. Listen, and I will tell you what I do
mean. You know that I was named after a rich lady, the friend of my
mother?"
"I have heard you say so."
"When she died, she left me by will a pearl necklace and pearl
bracelets, both of very considerable value."
"I have never seen you wear them, mother."
"No; I have not thought they would be suitable for the wife of a
poor minister. My wearing them would excite unfavorable comment in
the parish."
"I don't see whose business it would be," said Grant, indignantly.
"At any rate, just or not, I knew what would be said," Mrs. Thornton
replied.
"How is it you have never shown the pearl ornaments to me, mother?"
"You were only five years old when they came to me, and I laid them
away at once, and have seldom thought of them since. I have been
thinking that, as they are of no use to me, I should be justified in
selling them for what I can get, and appropriating the proceeds
toward paying your father's debts."
"How much do you think they are worth, mother?"
"A lady to whom I showed them once said they must have cost five
hundred dollars or more."
Grant whistled.
"Do you mind showing them to me, mother?" he asked.
Mrs. Thornton went upstairs, and brought down the pearl necklace and
bracelets. They were very handsome and Grant gazed at them with
admiration.
"I wonder what the ladies would say if you should wear them to the
sewing circle," he said, humorously.
"They would think I was going over to the vanities of this world,"
responded his mother, smiling. "They can be of no possible use to me
now, or hereafter, and I believe it will be the best thing I can do
to sell them."
"Where can you sell them? No one here can afford to buy them."
"They must be sold in New York, and I must depend upon you to attend
to the business for me."
"Can you trust me, mother? Wouldn't father--"
"Your father has no head for business, Grant. He is a learned man,
and knows a great deal about books, but of practical matters he
knows very little. You are only a boy, but you are a very sensible
and trustworthy boy, and I shall have to depend upon you."
"I will do the best I can, mother. Only tell me what you want me to
do."
"I wish you to take these pearls, and go to New York. You can find a
purchaser there, if anywhere. I suppose it will be best to take them
to some jewelry store, and drive the best bargain you can."
"When do you wish me to go, mother?"
"There can be no advantage in delay. If tomorrow is pleasant, you
may as well go then."
"Shall you tell father your plan?"
"No, Grant, it might make him feel bad to think I was compelled to
make a sacrifice, which, after all, is very little of a sacrifice to
me. Years since I decided to trouble him as little as possible with
matters of business. It could do no good, and, by making him
anxious, unfitted him for his professional work."
Mrs. Thornton's course may not be considered wise by some, but she
knew her husband's peculiar mental constitution, and her object at
least was praiseworthy, to screen him from undue anxiety, though it
involved an extra share for herself.
The next morning Grant took an early breakfast, and walked briskly
toward the depot to take the first train for New York.
The fare would be a dollar and a quarter each way, for the distance
was fifty miles, and this both he and his mother felt to be a large
outlay. If, however, he succeeded in his errand it would be wisely
spent, and this was their hope.
At the depot Grant found Tom Calder, a youth of eighteen, who had
the reputation of being wild, and had been suspected of dishonesty.
He had been employed in the city, so that Grant was not surprised to
meet him at the depot.
"Hello, Grant! Where are you bound?" he asked.
"I am going to New York."
"What for?"
"A little business," Grant answered, evasively. Tom was the last
person he felt inclined to take into his confidence.
"Goin' to try to get a place?"
"If any good chance offers I shall accept it--that is, if father and
mother are willing."
"Let's take a seat together--that's what I'm going for myself."
CHAPTER VI
GRANT GETS INTO UNEXPECTED TROUBLE
TOM CALDER was not the companion Grant would have chosen, but there
seemed no good excuse for declining his company. He belonged to a
rather disreputable family living in the borders of the village. If
this had been all, it would not have been fair to object to him, but
Tom himself bore not a very high reputation. He had been suspected
more than once of stealing from his school companions, and when
employed for a time by Mr. Tudor, in the village store, the latter
began to miss money from the till; but Tom was so sly that he had
been unable to bring the theft home to him. However, he thought it
best to dispense with his services.
"What kind of a situation are you goin' to try for?" asked Tom, when
they were fairly on their way.
"I don't know. They say that beggars mustn't be choosers."
"I want to get into a broker's office if I can," said Tom.
"Do you consider that a very good business?" asked Grant.
"I should say so," responded Tom, emphatically.
"Do they pay high wages?"
"Not extra, but a feller can get points, and make something out of
the market."
"What's that?" asked Grant, puzzled.
"Oh, I forgot. You ain't used to the city," responded Tom,
emphatically. "I mean, you find out when a stock is going up, and
you buy for a rise."
"But doesn't that take considerable money?" asked Grant, wondering
how Tom could raise money to buy stocks.
"Oh, you can go to the bucket shops," answered Tom.
"But what have bucket shops to do with stocks?" asked Grant, more
than ever puzzled.
Tom burst into a loud laugh.
"Ain't you jolly green, though?" he ejaculated.
Grant was rather nettled at this.
"I don't see how I could be expected to understand such talk," he
said, with some asperity.
"That's where it is--you can't," said Tom. "It's all like A, B, C to
me, and I forgot that you didn't know anything about Wall Street. A
bucket shop is where you can buy stock in small lots, putting down a
dollar a share as margin. If stocks go up, you sell out on the rise,
and get back your dollar minus commission,"
"Suppose they go down?"
"Then you lose what you put up."
"Isn't it rather risky?"
"Of course there's some risk, but if you have a good point there
isn't much."
This was Tom Calder's view of the matter. As a matter of fact, the
great majority of those who visit the bucket shops lose all they put
in, and are likely sooner or later to get into difficulty; so that
many employers will at once discharge a clerk or boy known to
speculate in this way.
"If I had any money I'd buy some stock to-day; that is, as soon as I
get to the city," continued Tom. "You couldn't lend me five dollars,
could you?"
"No, I couldn't," answered Grant, shortly.
"I'd give you half the profits."
"I haven't got the money," Grant explained.
"That's a pity. The fact is, I'm rather short. However, I know
plenty of fellows in the city, and I guess I can raise a tenner or
so."
"Then your credit must be better in New York than in Colebrook,"
thought Grant, but he fore-bore to say so.
Grant was rather glad the little package of pearls was in the pocket
furthest away from Tom, for his opinion of his companion's honesty
was not the highest.
When half an hour had passed, Tom vacated his seat.
"I'm going into the smoking car," he said, "to have a smoke. Won't
you come with me?"
"No, thank you. I don't smoke."
"Then it's time you began. I've got a cigarette for you, if you'll
try it."
"Much obliged, but I am better off without it."
"You'll soon get over that little-boy feeling. Why, boys in the city
of half your age smoke."
"I am sorry to hear it."
"Well, ta-ta! I'll be back soon."
Grant was not sorry to have Tom leave him. He didn't enjoy his
company, and besides he foresaw that it would be rather embarrassing
if Tom should take a fancy to remain with him in the city. He didn't
care to have anyone, certainly not Tom, learn on what errand he had
come to the city.
Two minutes had scarcely elapsed after Tom vacated his seat, when a
pleasant-looking gentleman of middle age, who had been sitting just
behind them, rose and took the seat beside Grant.
"I will sit with you if you don't object," said he.
"I should be glad of your company," said Grant, politely.
"You live in the country, I infer?"
"Yes, sir."
"I overheard your conversation with the young man who has just left
you. I suspect you are not very much alike."
"I hope not, sir. Perhaps Tom would say the same, for he thinks me
green."
"There is such a thing as knowing too much--that isn't desirable to
know. So you don't smoke?"
"No, sir."
"I wish more boys of your age could say as much. Do I understand
that you are going to the city in search of employment?"
"That is not my chief errand," answered Grant, with some hesitation.
"Still, if I could hear of a good chance, I might induce my parents
to let me accept it."
"Where do you live, my young friend?"
"In Colebrook. My father is the minister there."
"That ought to be a recommendation, for it is to be supposed you
have been carefully trained. Some of our most successful business
men have been ministers' sons."
"Are you in business in New York, sir?" asked Grant, thinking he had
a right by this time to ask a question.
"Yes; here is my card."
Taking the card, Grant learned that his companion was Mr. Henry
Reynolds and was a broker, with an office in New Street.
"I see you are a broker, sir," said Grant. "Tom Calder wants to get
a place in a broker's office."
"I should prefer that he would try some other broker," said Mr.
Reynolds, smiling. "I don't want a boy who deals with the bucket
shops."
At this point Tom re-entered the car, having finished his cigarette.
Observing that his place had been taken, he sat down at a little
distance.
"When you get ready to take a place," said the broker, "call at my
office, and though I won't promise to give you a place, I shall feel
well disposed to if I can make room for you."
"Thank you, sir," said Grant, gratefully. "I hope if I ever do enter
your employment, I shall merit your confidence."
"I have good hopes of it. By the way, you may as well give me your
name."
"I am Grant Thornton, of Colebrook," said our hero.
Mr. Reynolds entered the name in a little pocket diary, and left the
seat, which Tom Calder immediately took.
"Who's that old codger?" he asked.
"The gentleman who has just left me is a New York business man."
"You got pretty thick with him, eh?"
"We talked a little."
Grant took care not to mention that Mr. Reynolds was a broker, as
he knew that Tom would press for an introduction in that case.
When they reached New York, Tom showed a disposition to remain with
Grant, but the latter said: "We'd better separate, and we can meet
again after we have attended to our business."
A meeting place was agreed upon, and Tom went his way.
Now came the difficult part of Grant's task. Where should he go to
dispose of his pearls? He walked along undecided, till he came to a
large jewelry store. It struck him that this would be a good place
for his purpose, and he entered.
"What can I do for you, young man?" asked a man of thirty behind the
counter.
"I have some pearl ornaments I would like to sell," said Grant.
"Indeed," said the clerk, fixing a suspicious glance upon Grant;
"let me see them."
Grant took out the necklace and bracelets, and passed them over. No
sooner had he done so than a showily dressed lady advanced to the
place where he was standing, and held out her hand for the
ornaments, exclaiming: "I forbid you to buy those articles, sir.
They are mine. The boy stole them from me, and I have followed him
here, suspecting that he intended to dispose of them."
"That is false," exclaimed Grant, indignantly. "I never saw that
woman before in my life."
"So you are a liar as well as a thief!" said the woman. "You will
please give me those pearls, sir."
The clerk looked at the two contestants in indecision. He was
disposed to believe the lady's statement.
CHAPTER VII
MRS. SIMPSON COMES TO GRIEF
"Surely I have a right to my own property," said the showily dressed
lady in a tone of authority, which quite imposed upon the
weak-minded salesman.
"I dare say you are right, ma'am," said he, hesitatingly.
"Of course I am," said she.
"If you give her those pearls, which belong to my mother, I will
have you arrested," said Grant, plucking up spirit.
"Hoity-toity!" said the lady, contemptuously. "I hope you won't pay
any regard to what that young thief says."
The clerk looked undecided. He beckoned an older salesman, and laid
the matter before him. The latter looked searchingly at the two.
Grant was flushed and excited, and the lady had a brazen front.
"Do you claim these pearls, madam?" he said.
"I do," she answered, promptly.
"How did you come by them?"
"They were a wedding present from my husband."
"May I ask your name?"
The lady hesitated a moment, then answered:
"Mrs. Simpson."
"Where do you live?"
There was another slight hesitation. Then came the answer:
"No.--Madison Avenue."
Now Madison Avenue is a fashionable street, and the name produced an
impression on the first clerk.
"I think the pearls belong to the lady," he whispered.
"I have some further questions to ask," returned the elder salesman,
in a low voice.
"Do you know this boy whom you charge with stealing your property?"
"Yes," answered the lady, to Grant's exceeding surprise; "he is a
poor boy whom I have employed to do errands."
"Has he had the run of your house?"
"Yes, that's the way of it. He must have managed to find his way to
the second floor, and opened the bureau drawer where I kept the
pearls."
"What have you to say to this?" asked the elder salesman.
"Please ask the lady my name," suggested Grant.
"Don't you know your own name?" demanded the lady, sharply.
"Yes, but I don't think you do."
"Can you answer the boy's question, Mrs. Simpson?"
"Of course I can. His name is John Cavanaugh, and the very suit he
has on I gave him."
Grant was thunderstruck at the lady's brazen front. She was
outwardly a fine lady, but he began to suspect that she was an
impostor.
"I am getting tired of this," said the so-called Mrs. Simpson,
impatiently. "Will you, or will you not, restore my pearls?" "When
we are satisfied that they belong to you, madam," said the elder
salesman, coolly. "I don't feel like taking the responsibility, but
will send for my employer, and leave the matter to him to decide."
"I hope I won't have long to wait, sir."
"I will send at once."
"It's a pretty state of things when a lady has her own property kept
from her," said Mrs. Simpson, while the elder clerk was at the other
end of the store, giving some instructions to a boy.
"I don't in the least doubt your claim to the articles, Mrs.
Simpson," said the first salesman, obsequiously. "Come, boy, you'd
better own up that you have stolen the articles, and the lady will
probably let you off this time."
"Yes, I will let him off this time," chimed in the lady. "I don't
want to send him to prison."
"If you can prove that I am a thief, I am willing to go," said
Grant, hotly.
By this time the elder salesman had come back.
"Is your name John Cavanaugh, my boy?" he asked.
"No, sir."
"Did you ever see this lady before?"
"No, sir."
The lady threw up her hands in feigned amazement.
"I wouldn't have believed the boy would lie so!" she said.
"What is your name?"
"My name is Grant Thornton. I live in Colebrook, and my father is
Rev. John Thornton."
"I know there is such a minister there. To whom do these pearls
belong?"
"To my mother."
"A likely story that a country minister's wife should own such
valuable pearls," said Mrs. Simpson, in a tone of sarcasm.
"How do you account for it?" asked the clerk.
"They were given my mother years since, by a rich lady who was a
good friend of hers. She has never had occasion to wear them."
Mrs. Simpson smiled significantly.
"The boy has learned his story," she said. "I did not give you
credit for such an imagination, John Cavanaugh."
"My name is Grant Thornton, madam," said our hero, gravely.
Five minutes later two men entered the store. One was a policeman,
the other the head of the firm. When Grant's eye fell on the
policeman he felt nervous, but when he glanced at the gentleman his
face lighted up with pleasure.
"Why, it's Mr. Clifton," he said.
"Grant Thornton," said the jeweler, in surprise. "Why, I thought--"
"You will do me justice, Mr. Clifton," said Grant, and thereupon he
related the circumstances already known to the reader.
When Mrs. Simpson found that the boy whom she had selected as an
easy victim was known to the proprietor of the place, she became
nervous, and only thought of escape.
"It is possible that I am mistaken," she said. "Let me look at the
pearls again."
They were held up for her inspection.
"They are very like mine," she said, after a brief glance; "but I
see there is a slight difference."
"How about the boy, madam?" asked the elder clerk.
"He is the very image of my errand boy; but if Mr. Clifton knows
him, I must be mistaken. I am sorry to have given you so much
trouble. I have an engagement to meet, and must go."
"Stop, madam!" said Mr. Clifton, sternly, interposing an obstacle to
her departure, "we can't spare you yet."
"I really must go, sir. I give up all claim to the pearls."
"That is not sufficient. You have laid claim to them, knowing that
they were not yours. Officer, have you ever seen this woman before?"
"Yes, sir, I know her well."
"How dare you insult me?" demanded Mrs. Simpson; but there was a
tremor in her voice.
"I give her in charge for an attempted swindle," said Mr. Clifton.
"You will have to come with me, madam," said the policeman. "You may
as well go quietly."
"Well, the game is up," said the woman, with a careless laugh.
"It came near succeeding, though."
"Now, my boy," said the jeweler, "I will attend to your business.
You want to sell these pearls?"
"Yes, sir; they are of no use to mother, and she needs the money."
"At what do you value them?"
"I leave that to you, sir. I shall be satisfied with what you think
them worth."
The jeweler examined them attentively. After his examination was
concluded, he said: "I am willing to give four hundred dollars for
them. Of course they cost more, but I shall have to reset them."
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