Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune, Jr. Horatio Alger [good books for high schoolers .txt] 📗

and unexpected kindness on the part of a man whom he had regarded as an enemy. Was it possible that he had misjudged him?

The two boys went out together.

When they were fairly in the street, Felix produced his package of cigarettes.

“Have one?” he asked.

“No, thank you; I don’t smoke.”

“Don’t smoke!” repeated Felix, in apparent amusement. “You don’t mean that?”

“I never smoked a cigarette in my life.”

“Then it’s high time you learned. All boys smoke in the city.”

“I don’t think I should like it.”

“Oh, nonsense! Just try one for my sake.”

“Thank you, Felix. You are very kind, but I promised mother I wouldn’t smoke.”

“Your mother lives in the country, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Then she won’t know it.”

“That will make no difference. I made the promise, and I mean to keep it,” said Chester, firmly.

“Oh, well, suit yourself. What a muff he is!” thought Felix. “However, he’ll soon break over his virtuous resolutions. Do you know,” he continued, changing the subject, “that you have got the situation I was after?”

“I think I heard Mr. Mullins say something about it. I am sorry if I have stood in your way.”

“Oh, if it hadn’t been you it would have been some other boy. How do you think you shall like the city?”

“Very much, I think.”

“What pay do you get?”

“Five dollars a week.”

“You can’t live on that.”

“I will try to.”

“Of course, it is different with me. I should have lived at home. You’ll have to run into debt.”

“I will try not to.”

“Where do you live?”

“I am staying with a friend—Mr. Conrad, an artist—just now, but I shall soon get a boarding place.”

“I live on Eighty-sixth Street—in a flat. My father is in the custom house.”

“How long has your cousin—Mr. Mullins—been in this office?”

“About five years. He’s awfully smart, cousin David is. It’s he that runs the business. Mr. Fairchild is no sort of a business man.”

Chester wondered how, under the circumstances, Mr. Mullins should not have influence enough to secure the situation of office boy for Felix.

They soon reached Bleecker Street. Chester took notice of the way in order that he might know it again. He was sharp and observing, and meant to qualify himself for his position as soon as possible.

At five o’clock the office was vacated. Chester remained to sweep up. A piece of paper on the floor attracted his attention. He picked it up and found, to his surprise, that it was James Long’s missing receipt. It was on the floor of the clothes closet, and he judged that it had dropped from the bookkeeper’s pocket.

What should he do with it?

CHAPTER XIV.

THE TABLES TURNED.

Under ordinary circumstances, Chester would have handed the receipt to the bookkeeper, but he was convinced that it was the purpose of Mr. Mullins to defraud the tenant out of a month’s rent, and he felt that it would not be in the interest of the latter for him to put this power in the hands of the enemy. Obviously the receipt belonged to James Long, who had lost it.

Fortunately, Chester had the address of the mechanic on East Twentieth Street, and he resolved, though it would cost him quite a walk, to call and give him the paper. In twenty minutes after locking the office he found himself in front of a large tenement house, which was occupied by a great number of families. He found that Long lived on the third floor back.

He knocked at the door. It was opened to him by a woman of forty, who had a babe in her arms, while another—a little girl—was holding onto her dress.

“Does Mr. James Long live here?” asked Chester.

“Yes.”

“Is he at home?”

“No, but I am expecting him home from work every minute. Will you come in, or shall I give him your message?”

“Perhaps I had better see him, if it won’t inconvenience you.”

“Oh, no, if you will excuse my poor rooms,” said Mrs. Long, pleasantly.

“I am poor myself, and am not used to fine rooms.”

“Take the rocking-chair,” said Mrs. Long, offering him the best chair in the room. “If you will excuse me, I will go on preparing my husband’s supper.”

“Certainly. Shall I take the baby?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t like to trouble you.”

“I like babies.”

Chester had seen that the baby’s face was clean, and that it looked attractive. Babies know their friends instinctively, and this particular baby was soon in a frolic with its young guardian.

“I guess you are used to babies,” said the mother, pleased.

“No, I am the only baby in my family, but I am fond of children.”

I may remark here that manly boys generally do like children, and I haven’t much respect for those who will tease or tyrannize over them.

In ten minutes a heavy step was heard on the stairs, and James Long entered. His face was sober, for, after his interview with Chester Rand—he had not had time for a second call—he began to fear that he should have to pay his month’s rent over again, and this to him would involve a severe loss.

He looked with surprise at Chester, not immediately recognizing him.

“I come from Mr. Fairchild’s office,” explained Chester.

“Oh, yes; I remember seeing you there. Has the receipt been found?” he added, eagerly.

“Yes.”

James Long looked very much relieved.

“I am very glad,” he sighed. “Mr. Mullins wouldn’t have believed me. What does he say now?”

“He doesn’t know that the receipt is found.”

“How is that?” asked the mechanic, puzzled.

“I found it after Mr. Mullins went away.”

“Where did you find it?”

“In the clothes closet, just under where Mr. Mullins hangs his coat,” added Chester, significantly.

“And you bring it to me?”

“Yes, it belongs to you. Besides, after what I heard, I didn’t dare to trust it in the hands of the bookkeeper.”

“I see you think the same of him as I do.”

“I don’t like him.”

“You think he meant to cheat me?”

“It looks like it.”

“I am all right now. What do you think I had better do?”

“Come round to-morrow, but don’t show the receipt unless Mr. Fairchild is in the office. He is a very different man from Mr. Mullins. The bookkeeper might still play a trick upon you?”

“I believe you’re right. Shall I tell him how you found and gave me back the receipt?”

“No; let Mr. Mullins puzzle over it. It is fortunate he didn’t destroy the receipt, or you would have had no resource.”

“You’re a smart boy, and I’ll take your advice. How long have you been in the office?”

“This is my first day,” answered Chester, smiling.

“Well, well! I couldn’t have believed it. You will make a smart business man. You’ve been a good friend to James Long, and he won’t forget it. I say, wife, perhaps this young gentleman will stay to supper.”

“Thank you,” answered Chester. “I would, but I am to meet a friend uptown at six o’clock. It is so late,” he added, looking at the clock on the mantel, “that I must go at once.”

When Chester met his friend the artist, he told him of what had happened.

“That Mullins is evidently a rascal, and a very mean one,” said Mr. Conrad. “If I were going to defraud anyone, it wouldn’t be a poor mechanic.”

“Mr. Mullins has already taken a dislike to me. If he should discover that I have found the receipt and given it to Mr. Long, he would hate me even worse.”

“You must look out for him. He will bear watching.”

“I wish he were more like Mr. Fairchild. He seems a fair, honorable man.”

“He is. I don’t understand why he should employ such a fellow as Mullins.”

“Perhaps he hasn’t found him out.”

“Mullins will find it hard to explain this matter. Let me know how it comes out. I suppose Long will call at the office to-morrow?”

“Yes; I advised him to.”

The next day, about twenty minutes after twelve, James Long entered the office. He looked about him anxiously, and, to his relief, saw that Mr. Fairchild was present. He went up to the table where the broker was seated.

“I came about my rent,” he said.

“You can speak to Mr. Mullins,” said the broker, going on with his writing.

“I would rather speak with you, sir.”

“How is that?” asked Mr. Fairchild, his attention excited.

“I will tell you, sir,” said the bookkeeper, with an ugly look. “This man came here yesterday and declined to pay his rent, because, he said, he had paid it already.”

“And I had,” said Long, quietly. “I am a mechanic on small wages, and I can’t afford to pay my rent twice.”

“Did you pay the rent to Mr. Mullins?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When?”

“Day before yesterday.”

“Then he gave you a receipt?”

“He did, sir.”

“It seems to me that than settles the question. Did you give him a receipt, Mr. Mullins?”

“If I had, he could show it now. He says that he left it behind in the office here. Of course, that’s too thin!”

“It is very important to take good care of your receipt, Mr. Long.”

“Did you ever lose or mislay a receipt, sir?”

“Yes, I have on two or three occasions.”

“So that I am not the only one to whom it has happened.”

“Mr. Mullins, did Mr. Long come to the office on the day when he says he paid the rent?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And he didn’t pay it?”

“No, sir. He said he hadn’t the money, but would bring it in a few days.”

James Long listened in indignant astonishment.

“That is untrue, sir. I made no excuse, but handed Mr. Mullins the amount in full.”

“There is a very extraordinary discrepancy in your statements. You say that he wrote out a receipt?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It is a pity that you can’t produce it.”

“Yes,” chimed in Mullins, with a sneer, “it is unlucky that you cannot produce it.”

Then came a sensation.

“I can produce it,” said Long. “The receipt has been found,” and he drew out the slip of paper and passed it to Mr. Fairchild.

The face of Mullins was a study. His amazement was deep and genuine.

“It must be a forgery,” he said. “Mr. Long can’t possibly have a receipt.”

“You are mistaken,” said Mr. Fairchild. “The receipt and the signature are genuine, and it is written on one of our letter heads.”

Mullins took the receipt and faltered:

“I don’t understand it.”

“Nor do I,” said the broker, sternly. “Did you make any entry on the books?”

“I—I don’t remember.”

“Show me the record.”

Mr. Fairchild opened the book, and saw an entry made, but afterward erased.

When the bookkeeper found the receipt on the table, a promising piece of rascality was suggested to him. He would keep the money himself, and conceal the record.

“Mr. Long,” said the broker, “here is your receipt. It is clear that you have paid your rent. You will have no more trouble.”

Then, as the mechanic left the office, the broker, turning to the bookkeeper, said, sternly:

“Another such transaction, Mr. Mullins, and you leave my employ.”

“But, sir——” stammered Mullins.

“You may spare your words. I understand the matter. If you had not been in my employ so long, I would discharge you at the end of this week.”

Mullins went back to his desk, crushed and mortified. But his brain was busy with the thought, “Where could James Long have obtained the receipt?” He remembered having put it into the pocket of his overcoat, and it had disappeared.

“I was a fool that I didn’t destroy it,” he reflected.

CHAPTER XV.

A PLOT AGAINST CHESTER.

The more the bookkeeper thought of it, the more he was of the opinion that Chester must have had something to do with the events that led to his discovery and humiliation. Otherwise, how could James Long have recovered the receipt? He, himself, had found it and kept it in his possession. Chester must have chanced upon the receipt and carried it to Long.

Though well convinced of it, he wished to find out positively. Accordingly, he took his cousin Felix into his confidence as far as was necessary, and sent him to the room of the mechanic to find out whether Chester had been there.

It was the middle of the forenoon when Felix knocked at the door of James Long’s humble home.

Mrs. Long, with the baby in her arms, answered the