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

knock.

“Is this Mrs. Long?” asked Felix.

“Yes, sir.”

“I am the friend of Chester Rand.”

“I don’t think I know Mr. Rand,” said Mrs. Long, who had not heard Chester’s name.

“The boy from Mr. Fairchild’s office. He called here, I believe, one day last week.”

“Oh, yes and a good friend he was to me and mine.”

“In what way?” asked Felix, his face lighting with satisfaction at the discovery he had made.

“He brought my husband the receipt he had lost. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Oh, yes. I wasn’t thinking of that. He asked me to inquire if he left his gloves here?”

“I haven’t found any. I should have seen them if he left them here.”

“All right. I will tell him. He thought he might have left them. Good morning, ma’am.”

And Felix hurried downstairs. He was not partial to poor people or tenement houses, and he was glad to get away.

He reached the office in time to go out to lunch with the bookkeeper.

“Well?” asked Mullins, eagerly. “Did you go to Long’s?”

“Yes.”

“What did you find out?”

“I found out that your office boy had been there and carried them the receipt.”

“The young—viper! So he is trying to undermine me in the office. Well, he’ll live to regret it,” and the bookkeeper shook his head vigorously.

“I’d get even with him if I were you, Cousin David.”

“Trust me for that! I generally pay off all debts of that kind.”

“How will you do it?” asked Felix, curiously.

“I don’t know yet. Probably I’ll get him into some bad scrape that will secure his discharge.”

“And then you’ll get me into the place?”

“I am afraid I can’t. I am not on good terms with Mr. Fairchild, and my recommendation won’t do you much good, even if I do manage to get rid of Chester.”

“Then I don’t see how I am going to be benefited by working for you,” said Felix, dissatisfied.

“I’ll pay you in some way. To begin with, here’s a dollar. This is for your errand of this morning.”

“Thank you, Cousin David,” said Felix, pocketing the bill with an air of satisfaction. “I think I’ll go to Daly’s Theater to-night. Father doesn’t give me much spending money—only twenty-five cents a week, and what’s a fellow to do with such a beggarly sum as that?”

“It is more than I had at your age.”

“The world has progressed since then. A boy needs more pocket money now than he did fifteen years ago. How soon shall you try to get even with that boy?”

“I think it will be prudent to wait a while. Mr. Fairchild may suspect something if I move too soon. The boy has been with us less than a week.”

“He has been with you long enough to do some harm.”

“That’s true,” said Mullins, with an ugly look.

“Does he seem to suit Mr. Fairchild?”

“Yes; he appears to be intelligent, and he attends to his duties—worse luck!—but he’s a thorn in my side, a thorn in my side! I’d give twenty-five dollars if he was out of the office.”

“Do you want me to break off acquaintance with him?”

“No; keep on good terms with him. Let him think you are his intimate friend. It will give me a chance to plot against him—through you.”

CHAPTER XVI.

PROF. HAZLITT AT HOME.

Chester did not forget his engagement to call upon Prof. Hazlitt on Wednesday evening.

He was shown at once into the professor’s study. It was a large room, the sides lined with bookcases crowded with volumes. There seemed to be more books than Chester had ever seen before.

In the center of the room was a study table, covered with books, open as if in use. On one side was a desk, at which Prof. Hazlitt himself was seated.

“Good-evening, my young friend,” he said, cordially, as Chester entered the room. “You did not forget your appointment.”

“No, sir. I was not likely to forget such an engagement.”

“Have you grown to feel at home in the city?”

“Not entirely, sir, but I am getting a little used to it.”

“I think you mentioned that you were going into a real estate office?”

“Yes, sir. I have commenced my duties there.”

“I hope you find them agreeable.”

“I might, sir, but that the bookkeeper seems to have taken a dislike to me.”

“I suspect that you would like better to devote yourself to art work.”

“I think I should, sir, but Mr. Conrad thinks it better that I should only devote my leisure to drawing.”

“No doubt his advice is wise, for the present, at least. Now, suppose we come to business. I believe I told you I am writing a book on ethnology.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I find a good deal of help in rare volumes which I consult at the Astor Library. These I cannot borrow, but I have the use of anything I find suited to my needs in the library of Columbia College. Then I import a good many books. I shall spare no pains to make my own work valuable and comprehensive. Of course, I shall feel at liberty to copy and use any illustrations I find in foreign publications. It is here that you can help me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Here, for instance,” and the professor opened a French book, “are some sketches illustrating the dress and appearance of the natives of Madagascar. Do you think you can copy them?”

“I have no doubt of it, sir,” he answered.

“Sit down in that chair and try. You will find pencils and drawing paper before you. I will mention one or two particulars in which I want you to deviate from the original.”

Chester sat down and was soon deep in his task. He felt that it was important for him to do his best. He could understand that, though the professor was a kind-hearted man, he would be a strict critic.

He therefore worked slowly and carefully, and it was nearly an hour before he raised his head and said:

“I have finished.”

“Show the sketch to me,” said the professor.

Chester handed it to him.

He examined it with critical attention. Gradually his face lighted up with pleasure.

“Admirably done!” he exclaimed. “You have carried out my wishes.”

“Then you are satisfied, sir?”

“Entirely.”

“I am very glad,” said Chester, with an air of relief.

He felt now he could do all that was required of him, and, as the contract would pay him two hundred dollars, this success to-night was an important one.

“I won’t ask you to do any more this evening, but I will give you some work to do at home. I believe I agreed to pay you two dollars for each sketch?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Probably you are not over well provided with money, and I will pay you as you go on. Or, rather, I will give you ten dollars as an advance for future work.”

“Thank you, sir. You are very kind.”

“Only considerate. I have seen the time when a ten-dollar-bill would have been welcome to me. Now, thanks to a wealthy relative, who left me a fortune, I am amply provided for.”

At this moment the study door opened and a bright-looking boy of about fifteen entered.

“May I come in, uncle?” he asked, with a smile.

“Yes. Chester, this is my nephew, Arthur Burks. Arthur, this is Chester Rand, a young artist, who is assisting me.”

Arthur came forward and gave Chester his hand cordially.

“You ought to wear spectacles,” he said, “like uncle Edgar. You don’t look dignified enough to be his assistant.”

“That may come in time,” said Chester, with a smile.

“Arthur, I am done with Chester for this evening,” said the professor. “You may carry him off and entertain him. You may bring me the other two sketches whenever you are ready.”

“Come up to my den,” said Arthur. “I have the front room on the third floor.”

As they went upstairs, a prolonged, melancholy shriek rang through the house.

Chester stopped short in dismay, and an expression of pain succeeded the gay look on Arthur’s face.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHESTER TAKES A LESSON IN BOXING.

“That is my poor, little cousin,” explained Arthur.

“Is he sick or in pain?” asked Chester, in quick sympathy.

“He had a fever when he was three years old that left his mind a wreck. He is now eight. The most eminent physicians have seen him, but there seems little hope of his improvement or recovery.”

“Does he suffer pain?”

“You ask on account of the shriek you heard. As far as we can tell, he does not. The shriek comes, so the doctor tells us, from a nervous spasm. He would have been a bright boy if he had kept his health. Would you like to see him?”

Chester shrank back.

“I am afraid I should excite him,” he said.

He had, besides, an idea that a boy so afflicted would be repulsive in appearance.

“No,” said Arthur, “it may relieve him to see you by diverting his thoughts.”

Without further words, he opened the door of a room at the head of the staircase and entered, followed reluctantly by Chester.

“Ernest,” said Arthur, in a soothing tone, “I have brought you a friend. His name is Chester.”

Chester was amazed at the sight of the boy. He was wonderfully handsome, especially when at Arthur’s words the look of pain left his face and it brightened into radiant beauty. He seemed to fall in love with Chester at first sight. He ran up to him, seized his hand, kissed it, and said:

“I love you.”

Arthur, too, looked amazed.

“He never took to anyone so before,” he said. “You have fascinated him.”

“Sit down. Let me sit in your lap,” pleaded Ernest.

All feeling of repugnance, all thoughts of the boy’s malady were forgotten. Chester sat in a low rocking-chair and Ernest seated himself in his lap, touching his face and hair softly with a caressing hand.

“What a charming boy he is!” thought Chester.

“Did you come to see me?” asked Ernest, softly.

“Yes, I came with Arthur.”

“Will you stay with me a little while?”

“A little while, but I must soon go. Why did you scream so loud a little while ago?”

“I—don’t know.”

“Were you in pain?”

“N—no,” answered Ernest, softly.

“Do you like to cry out in that manner?”

“No, but—I have to do it. I can’t help it.”

“I think he gives the right explanation,” said Arthur. “It is a nervous impulse, and has nothing to do with pain.”

“Does he ever sit in your lap, like this?”

“No; I think he likes me in a way, for I am always kind to him, but you seem to draw him to you irresistibly.”

At that moment the professor came in. When he saw Ernest sitting in Chester’s lap, he stopped short in astonishment.

“This is strange,” he said.

“Isn’t it, uncle? Chester seems to fascinate my little cousin. No sooner did he enter the room than Ernest ran up to him, kissed his hand, and caressed him.”

“I can’t explain it,” said the professor, “but Chester seems to have a wonderful influence over my poor boy. I never saw him look so happy or contented before.”

All this while Ernest continued to stroke Chester’s cheek and his hair, and regarded him with looks of fond affection.

“I am afraid Ernest annoys you,” said the professor.

“No; I am glad he likes me. I never had a little brother. I think I should enjoy having one.”

“If he could only be always like this,” said the professor, regretfully.

Just then Margaret entered. She was the nurse, who had constant charge of Ernest. She paused on the threshold, and her looks showed her surprise.

“Ernest has found a friend, Margaret,” said the professor.

“I never saw the like, sir. Come here, Ernest.”

The boy shook his head.

“No, I want to stay with him,” indicating Chester.

“Did Ernest ever see him before, sir?”

“No; it seems to be a case of love at first sight.”

“He has cut me out,” said Arthur, smiling. “Ernest, which do you like best, me or him?”

“Him,” answered Ernest, touching Chester’s cheek.

“I must tell Dr. Gridley of this new manifestation on the part of my poor boy,” said the professor. “Perhaps he can interpret it.”

For twenty minutes Chester retained Ernest on his lap. Then Arthur said:

“Chester must go now, Ernest.”

The boy left Chester’s lap obediently.

“Will you come and see me again?” he pleaded.

“Yes, I will come,” said Chester, and, stooping over, he