Books: Helping Himself
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Horatio Alger >> Helping Himself
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Herbert took Grant afterward into his own room.
"See my books," he said, leading the way to a bookcase, containing
perhaps a hundred volumes, the majority of a juvenile character, but
some suited to more mature tastes. "Do you like reading?" asked
Grant.
"I have read all the books you see here," answered Herbert, "and
some of papa's besides. I like to read better than to play."
"But you ought to spend some of your time in play, or you will not
grow up healthy."
"That is what papa says. I try to play some, but I don't care much
about it."
Grant was no longer surprised at the little boy's delicacy. It was
clear that he needed more amusement and more exercise. "Perhaps," he
thought, "I can induce Herbert to exercise more."
"When do you take dinner?" he asked.
"At half-past six. There is plenty of time."
"Then suppose we take a little walk together. We shall both have a
better appetite."
"I should like to," replied Herbert; "that is, with you. I don't
like to walk alone."
"How far is Central Park from here?"
"A little over a mile."
"I have never seen it. Would you mind walking as far as that?"
"Oh, no."
So the two boys walked out together. They were soon engaged in an
animated conversation, consisting, for the most part, of questions
proposed by Grant, and answers given by Herbert.
Not far from the park they came to a vacant lot where some boys were
playing ball.
"Now, if we only had a ball, Herbert," said Grant, "we might have a
little amusement."
"I've got a ball in my pocket, but I don't use it much."
"Let me see it."
Herbert produced the ball, which proved to be an expensive one,
better than any Grant had ever owned.
"There, Herbert, stand here, and I will place myself about fifty
feet away. Now, throw it to me, no matter how swiftly."
They were soon engaged in throwing the ball to each other. Grant was
a good ball player, and he soon interested the little boy in the
sport. Our hero was pleased to see Herbert's quiet, listless manner
exchanged for the animation which seemed better suited to a boy.
"You are improving, Herbert," he said, after a while. "You would
make a good player in time."
"I never liked it before," said the little boy. "I never knew there
was so much fun in playing ball."
"We shall have to try it every day. I suppose it is about time to go
home to supper."
"And we haven't been to Central Park, after all."
"That will do for another day. Are boys allowed to play ball in the
park?"
"Two afternoons in the week, I believe, but I never played there."
"We shall have to try it some day."
"I should like to play--with you."
They reached home in full time for dinner. At the dinner table Mr.
Reynolds was struck by the unusually bright and animated face of his
son, and his good appetite.
"What have you been doing to make you so hungry, Herbert?" he asked.
"I took a walk with Grant, and we had a fine game of ball."
"I am glad to hear it," said the broker, much pleased. "If you want
to become stout and strong like Grant, that is the best thing for
you to do."
"I never liked playing ball before, papa."
"That is a compliment to you, Grant," said the broker, smiling.
"I think," he said to the prim, elderly lady who presided over the
household, acting as housekeeper, "Herbert will be the better for
having a boy in the house."
"I don't know about that," said Mrs. Estabrook, stiffly. "When he
came into the house he had mud on his clothes. He never did that
till this boy came."
"I won't complain of that, if his health is improved."
Mrs. Estabrook, who was a poor relation of Herbert's mother, pursed
up her mouth, but did not reply. In her eyes, it was more important
that a boy should keep his clothes whole and clean than to have
color in his cheeks, and health in his frame.
"I hope that boy won't stay here long," she thought, referring, of
course, to Grant. "He'll quite spoil Herbert by making him rough and
careless of his appearance."
"Well, Herbert, and how do you like Grant?" asked Mr. Reynolds, as
his son was bidding him good-night before going to bed.
"I am so glad you brought him here, papa. I shall have good times
now. You'll let him stay all the time, won't you?"
"I'll see about it, Herbert," answered his father, smiling.
CHAPTER XII
MRS. ESTABROOK'S PLANS
Grant was going home with Mr. Reynolds at the close of the fourth
day, when it occurred to him to say what had been in his mind for
some time: "Isn't it time, Mr. Reynolds, for me to be looking out
for a boarding place?"
The broker smiled, and said with assumed concern: "Are you
dissatisfied with your present boarding place?"
"How could I be, sir?" returned Grant, earnestly. "But you told me I
could stay with you a week, while I was looking about for a suitable
place to board."
"That is true. Now, however, there is a difficulty about your making
a change."
"What is that, sir?"
"Herbert would not give his consent. The fact is, Grant, Herbert
finds so much pleasure in your society, and derives so much
advantage from the increased exercise you lead him to take, that I
think you will have to make up your mind to stay."
Grant's face showed the pleasure he felt.
"I shall be very glad to stay, Mr. Reynolds," he answered, "if you
are willing to have me."
"I had this in view from the first," said the broker, "but I wanted
to see how you and Herbert got along. I wished to be sure, also,
that your influence on him would be good. Of that I can have no
doubt, and I am glad to receive you as a member of my family."
There was one member of the household, however, who was not so well
pleased with the proposed arrangement. This was Mrs. Estabrook, the
housekeeper.
As the week drew to a close, she said, one evening after the boys
had retired:
"How much longer is the office boy to stay here, Mr. Reynolds?"
"Why do you ask?" inquired the broker.
"Only with reference to domestic arrangements," answered the
housekeeper, disconcerted.
"He will remain for a considerable time, Mrs. Estabrook."
"I--I thought he was only going to stay a week."
"He is company for Herbert, and I think it desirable to keep him."
"Herbert soils his clothes a deal more now than he used to do," said
the housekeeper, discontentedly. "I am sure I don't know where the
other boy carries him."
"Nor I, but I am not afraid to trust him with Grant. As to the
clothes, I consider them of very small account, compared with my
boy's health."
Mrs. Estabrook knitted in silence for five minutes. She was by no
means pleased with her employer's plan, having taken a dislike to
Grant, for which, indeed, her chief reason was jealousy. She had a
stepson, a young man of twenty-one, in Mr. Reynolds' office, whom
she would like to have in the house in place of Grant. But Mr.
Reynolds had never taken notice of her occasional hints to that
effect. The housekeeper's plans were far-reaching. She knew that
Herbert was delicate, and doubted if he would live to grow up. In
that case, supposing her stepson had managed to ingratiate himself
with the broker, why might he not hope to become his heir? Now this
interloper, as she called Grant, had stepped into the place which
her own favorite--his name was Willis Ford--should have had. Mrs.
Estabrook felt aggrieved, and unjustly treated, and naturally
incensed at Grant, who was the unconscious cause of her
disappointment. She returned to the charge, though, had she been
wiser, she would have foreborne.
"Do you think a poor boy like this Grant Thornton is a suitable
companion for a rich man's son, Mr. Reynolds? Excuse me for
suggesting it, but I am so interested in dear Herbert."
"Grant Thornton is the son of a country minister, and has had an
excellent training," said the broker, coldly. "The fact that he is
poor is no objection in my eyes. I think, Mrs. Estabrook, we will
dismiss the subject. I think myself competent to choose my son's
associates."
"I hope you will excuse me," said the housekeeper, seeing that she
had gone too far. "I am so attached to the dear child."
"If you are, you will not object to the extra trouble you may have
with his clothes, since his health is benefited."
"That artful young beggar has wound his way into his employer's
confidence," thought Mrs. Estabrook, resentfully, "but it may not be
always so."
A few minutes later, when the housekeeper was in her own
sitting-room, she was told that Willis Ford wanted to see her.
Mrs. Estabrook's thin face lighted up with pleasure, for she was
devotedly attached to her stepson.
"Bring him up here at once," she said.
A minute later the young man entered the room. He was a thin,
sallow-complexioned young man, with restless, black eyes, and a
discontented expression--as of one who thinks he is not well used by
the world.
"Welcome, my dear boy," said the housekeeper, warmly. "I am so glad
to see you."
Willis submitted reluctantly to his stepmother's caress, and threw
himself into a rocking chair opposite her.
"Are you well, Willis?" asked Mrs. Estabrook, anxiously.
"Yes, I'm well enough," muttered the young man.
"I thought you looked out of sorts."
"I feel so."
"Is anything the matter?"
"Yes; I'm sick of working at such starvation wages."
"I thought fifteen dollars a week a very good salary. Only last
January you were raised three dollars."
"And I expected to be raised three dollars more on the first of
July."
"Did you apply to Mr. Reynolds?"
"Yes, and he told me I must wait till next January."
"I think he might have raised you, if only on account of the
connection between our families."
"Perhaps he would if you would ask him, mother."
"I will when there is a good opportunity. Still, Willis, I think
fifteen dollars a week very comfortable."
"You don't know a young man's expenses, mother."
"How much do you pay for board, Willis?"
"Six dollars a week. I have a room with a friend, or I should have
to pay eight."
"That leaves you nine dollars a week for all other expenses. I think
you might save something out of that."
"I can't. I have clothes to buy, and sometimes I want to go to the
theatre, and in fact, nine dollars don't go as far as you think. Of
course, a woman doesn't need to spend much. It's different with a
young man."
"Your income would be a good deal increased if you had no board to
pay."
"Of course. You don't know any generous minded person who will board
me for nothing, do you?"
"There's a new office boy in your office, isn't there?"
"Yes, a country boy."
"Did you know he was boarding here?"
"No; is he?"
"Mr. Reynolds told me to-night he was going to keep him here
permanently, as a companion for his little son."
"Lucky for him."
"I wish Mr. Reynolds would give you a home here."
"I would rather he would make it up in money, and let me board where
I please."
"But you forget. It would give you a chance to get him interested in
you, and if Herbert should die, you might take his place as heir."
"That would be a splendid idea, but there's no prospect of it. It
isn't for me."
"It may be for the office boy. He's an artful boy, and that's what
he's working for, in my opinion."
"I didn't think the little beggar was so evil-headed. He seems quiet
enough."
"Still waters run deep. You'd better keep an eye on him, and I'll do
the same."
"I will."
The next day Grant was puzzled to understand why Willis Ford spoke
so sharply to him, and regarded him with such evident unfriendliness.
"What have I done to offend you?" he thought.
CHAPTER XIII
TWO VIEWS OF TOM CALDER
Thus far nothing had been said about the compensation Grant was to
receive for his work in the broker's office. He did not like to ask,
especially as he knew that at the end of the first week the matter
would be settled. When he found that he was to remain for the
present at the house of his employer he concluded that his cash pay
would be very small, perhaps a dollar a week. However, that would be
doing quite as well as if he paid his own board elsewhere, while he
enjoyed a much more agreeable and luxurious home. He would be unable
to assist his father for a year or two; but that was only what he
had a right to expect.
When Saturday afternoon came, Mr. Reynolds said: "By the way, Grant,
I must pay you your week's wages. I believe no sum was agreed upon."
"No, sir."
"We will call it six dollars. Will that be satisfactory?"
"Very much so, Mr. Reynolds; but there will be a deduction for
board."
Mr. Reynolds smiled.
"That is a different matter," he said. "That comes to you as
Herbert's companion. It is worth that to me to have my boy's
happiness increased."
Grant was overjoyed at the bright prospect opened before him, and he
said, with glowing face: "You are very kind, Mr. Reynolds. Now I
shall be able to help my father."
"That is very creditable to you, my boy. Willis, you may pay Grant
six dollars."
Willis Ford did so, but he looked very glum. He estimated that,
including his board, Grant would be in receipt of twelve dollars a
week, or its equivalent, and this was only three dollars less than
he himself received, who had been in the office five years and was a
connection of the broker.
"It's a shame," he thought, "that this green, country boy should be
paid nearly as much as I--I must call and tell mother."
Grant was a very happy boy that evening. He resolved to lay aside
three dollars a week to send to his mother, to save up a dollar a
week and deposit it in some savings bank, and make the other two
dollars answer for his clothing and miscellaneous expenses.
On the next Monday afternoon Grant walked home alone, Mr. Reynolds
having some business which delayed him. He thought he would walk up
Broadway, as there was much in that crowded thoroughfare to amuse
and interest him.
Just at the corner of Canal Street he came across Tom Calder. Tom
was standing in a listless attitude with his hands in his pockets,
with apparently no business cares weighing upon his mind.
"Hello, Grant!" he said, with sudden recognition.
"How are you, Tom?"
"I'm all right, but I'm rather hard up."
Grant was not surprised to hear that.
"You see, there's a feller owes me seven dollars, and I can't get it
till next week," continued Tom, watching Grant's face to see if he
believed it.
Grant did not believe it, but did not think it necessary to say so.
"That's inconvenient," he remarked.
"I should say it was. You couldn't lend me a couple of dollars,
could you?"
"I don't think I could."
Tom looked disappointed.
"How much do you get?" he asked.
"Six dollars a week."
"That's pretty good, for a boy like you. I wish you'd take a room
with me. It would come cheaper."
"I shall stay where I am for the present," said Grant.
He did not care to mention, unless he were asked, that he was making
his home at the house of Mr. Reynolds, as it might either lead to a
call from Tom, whom he did not particularly care to introduce to his
new friends, or might lead to a more pressing request for a loan.
"Where are you boarding?" asked Grant, after a pause.
"In Clinton Place. I have a room there, and get my meals where I
like. There's a chap from your office that lives in the same house."
"Who is it?" asked Grant, anxiously.
"It's Willis Ford."
"Is that so?" returned Grant, in surprise. "Do you know him?"
"Only a little. I don't like him. He's too stuck up."
Grant made no comment, but in his heart he agreed with Tom.
"Are you doing anything?" he asked.
"Not just yet," answered Tom, "I expect a good job soon. You haven't
a quarter to spare, have you?" Grant produced the desired sum and
handed it to his companion. He didn't fancy Tom, but he was willing
to help him in a small way.
"Thanks," said Tom. "That'll buy my supper. I'll give it back to you
in a day or two."
Grant did not think there was much likelihood of that, but felt that
he could afford to lose this small sum.
Four days later he met Tom in Wall Street. But what a change! He was
attired in a new suit, wore a fancy necktie, while a chain, that
looked like gold, dangled from his watch pocket. Grant stared at him
in amazement.
"How are you, Grant?" said Tom, patronizingly.
"Very well, thank you."
"I hope you are a-doin' well."
"Very well. You seem to be prosperous."
"Yes," answered Tom, languidly, evidently enjoying his surprise. "I
told you I expected to get into something good. By the way, I owe
you a quarter--there it is. Much obliged for the accommodation."
Grant pocketed the coin, which he had never expected to receive, and
continued to regard Tom with puzzled surprise. He could not
understand what business Tom could have found that had so altered
his circumstances. He ventured to inquire.
"I wouldn't mind tellin' you," answered Tom, "but, you see, it's
kind of confidential. I'm a confidential agent; that's it."
"It seems to be a pretty good business," remarked Grant.
"Yes, it is; I don't work for nothin', I can tell you that."
"I'm glad of your good luck, Tom," said Grant, and he spoke
sincerely. "I hope you'll keep your agency."
"Oh, I guess I will! A feller like me is pretty sure of a good
livin', anyway. Hello, Jim!"
This last was addressed to a flashily dressed individual--the same
one, in fact, that Grant had seen on a former occasion with Tom.
"Who's your friend?" asked Jim, with a glance at Grant.
"Grant Thornton. He's from my place in the country. He's in the
office of Mr. Reynolds, a broker in New Street."
"Introduce me."
"Grant, let me make you acquainted with my friend, Jim Morrison,"
said Tom, with a flourish.
"Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Thornton," said Jim Morrison,
jauntily, offering his hand.
"Thank you," said Grant, in a reserved tone; for he was not
especially attracted by the look of Tom's friend. He shook hands,
however.
"Come 'round and see us some evenin', Grant," said Tom. "We'll take
you round, won't we, Jim?"
"Of course we will. Your friend should see something of the city."
"You're the feller that can show him. Well, we must be goin'. It's
lunch time."
Tom pulled out a watch, which, if not gold, was of the same color as
gold, and the two sauntered away.
"What in the world can Tom have found to do?" Grant wondered.
CHAPTER XIV
WILLIS FORD'S NEW FRIENDS
When Harry Decker left the office at the end of two weeks, Grant was
fully able to take his place, having, with Harry's friendly
assistance, completely mastered the usual routine of a broker's
office. He had also learned the names and offices of prominent
operators, and was, in all respects, qualified to be of service to
his employer.
Mr. Reynolds always treated him with friendly consideration, and
appeared to have perfect confidence in him. For some reason which he
could not understand, however, Willis Ford was far from cordial,
often addressing him in a fault-finding tone, which at first
disturbed Grant. When he found that it arose from Ford's dislike, he
ceased to trouble himself about it, though it annoyed him. He had
discovered Ford's relationship to Mrs. Estabrook, who treated him in
the same cool manner.
"As it appears I can't please them," Grant said to himself, "I won't
make any special effort to do so." He contented himself with doing
his work faithfully, and so satisfying his own conscience.
One evening some weeks later, Grant was returning from a concert, to
which the broker had given him a ticket, when, to his great
surprise, he met Willis Ford walking with Tom Calder and Jim
Morrison. The three were apparently on intimate terms.
"Good-evenin', Grant," said Tom.
"Good-evening, Tom."
Grant looked at Willis Ford, but the latter's lip curled and he did
not speak. Grant, however, bowed and passed on. He was surprised at
the intimacy which had grown up between Ford and those two, knowing
Ford's spirit of exclusiveness. He would have been less surprised
had he known that Morrison had first ingratiated himself with Ford
by offering to lend him money, and afterward had lured him into a
gambling house, where Ford, not knowing that he was a dupe, had been
induced to play, and was now a loser to the extent of several
hundred dollars, for which Morrison held his notes.
"I don't know when I can pay you," said Ford, gloomily, when he came
to realize his situation.
"Oh, something will turn up." said Jim Morrison, lightly. "I shan't
trouble you."
Two weeks later, however, he lay in wait for Ford when he left Wall
Street.
"I want to speak to you a moment, Mr. Ford," he said.
"Well, what is it?" asked Ford, uncomfortably.
"I am hard up."
"So am I," responded Willis Ford.
"But you owe me a matter of six hundred dollars."
"I know it, but you said you wouldn't trouble me."
"I didn't expect I should be obliged to," said Morrison, smoothly.
"But 'Circumstances alter cases,' you know. I shall have to ask you
for it."
"That's all the good it will do," said Willis, irritably. "I haven't
a cent to my name."
"When do you expect to have?"
"Heaven knows; I don't."
Ford was about to leave his companion and walk away, but Morrison
had no intention of allowing the matter to end so. He laid his hand
on Ford's shoulder and said, firmly: "Mr. Ford, this won't do. Yours
is a debt of honor, and must be paid."
"Will you be kind enough to let me know how it is to be paid?"
demanded Ford, with an ugly sneer.
"That is your business, not mine, Mr. Ford."
"Then, if it is my business, I'll give you notice when I can pay
you. And now, good-afternoon."
He made another attempt to walk away, but again there was a hand
placed upon his shoulder.
"Understand, Mr. Ford, that I am in earnest," said Morrison. "I
can't undertake to tell you how you are to find the money, but it
must be found."
"Suppose it isn't?" said Ford, with a look of defiance.
"Then I shall seek an interview with your respected employer, tell
him of the debt, and how it was incurred, and I think he would look
for another clerk."
"You wouldn't do that!" said Ford, his face betraying consternation.
"I would, and I will, unless you pay what you owe me."
"But, man, how am I to do it? You will drive me to desperation."
"Take three days to think of it. If you can't raise it, I may
suggest a way."
The two parted, and Willis Ford was left to many uncomfortable
reflections. He knew of no way to raise the money; yet, if he did
not do it, he was menaced with exposure and ruin. Would his
stepmother come to his assistance? He knew that Mrs. Estabrook had a
thousand dollars in government bonds. If he could only induce her to
give him the custody of them on any pretext, he could meet the
demand upon him, and he would never again incur a debt of honor. He
cursed his folly for ever yielding to the temptation. Once let him
get out of this scrape, and he would never get into another like it.
The next evening he made a call upon Mrs. Estabrook, and made
himself unusually agreeable. The cold-hearted woman, whose heart
warmed to him alone, smiled upon him with affection.
"I am glad to see you in such good spirits, Willis," she said.
"If she only knew how I really felt," thought her stepson. But it
was for his interest to wear a mask.
"The fact is, mother," he said, "I feel very cheerful. I've made a
little turn in stocks, and realized three hundred dollars."
"Have you, indeed, Willis? I congratulate you, my son. No doubt you
will find the money useful."
"No doubt of that. If I had the capital, I could make a good deal
more."
"But there would be the danger of losing," suggested Mrs. Estabrook.
"That danger is very small, mother. I am in a situation to know all
about the course of stocks. I wouldn't advise another to speculate,
unless he has some friend in the Stock Exchange; but for me it is
perfectly safe."
"Pray be careful, Willis."
"Oh, yes. I am sure to be. By the way, mother, haven't you got some
money in government bonds?"
"A little," answered Mrs. Estabrook, cautiously.
"How much, now?"
"About a thousand dollars."
"Let me manage it for you, and I will make it two thousand inside of
a month."
Mrs. Estabrook had a large share of acquisitiveness, but she had
also a large measure of caution, which she had inherited from her
Scotch ancestry.
"No, Willis," she said, shaking her head, "I can't take any risk.
This money it has taken me years to save. It is the sole dependence
I have for my old age, and I can't run the risk of losing it."
"But two thousand dollars will be better than one, mother. Just let
me tell you what happened to a customer of ours: He had above five
hundred dollars in the savings bank, drawing four per cent
interest--only twenty dollars a year. He had a friend in the Stock
Exchange who took charge of it, bought stocks judiciously on a
margin, then reinvested, and now, after three months, how much do
you think it amounts to?"
"How much?" asked the housekeeper, with interest.
"Six thousand five hundred dollars--just thirteen times as much!"
answered Willis, glibly.
This story, by the way, was all a fabrication, intended to influence
his stepmother. Mrs. Estabrook never doubted Ford's statement, but
her instinctive caution saved her from falling into the trap.
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