The Telegraph Boy, Jr. Horatio Alger [books on motivation .txt] 📗

wish that chap would come here again," said Johnny, indignantly. "But I've come out best, after all," he added, brightening up. "I've made ten cents out of him." CHAPTER XVIII. A RICH WOMAN'S SORROW.

One day Frank was summoned to a handsome residence on Madison avenue.

"Sit down in the parlor," said the servant "and I will call Mrs. Graham."

As Frank looked around him, and noted the evidences of wealth in the elegant furniture and rich ornaments profusely scattered about, he thought, "How rich Mrs. Graham must be! I suppose she is very happy. I should be if I could buy everything I wanted."

It was a boy's thought, and betrayed our hero's inexperience. Even unlimited means are not sure to produce happiness, nor do handsome surroundings prove wealth.

Five minutes later an elderly lady entered the room. She was richly dressed, but her face wore a look of care and sorrow.

As she entered, Frank rose with instinctive politeness, and bowed.

"You are the telegraph boy," said the lady, inquiringly.

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Graham looked at him earnestly, as if to read his character.

"I have sent for you," she said, at length, "to help me in a matter of some delicacy, and shall expect you not to speak of it, even to your employers."

"They never question me," said Frank, promptly. "You may rely upon my secrecy."

Frank's statement was correct. The business entrusted to telegraph messengers is understood to be of a confidential nature, and they are instructed to guard the secrets of those who make use of their services.

"I find it necessary to raise some money," continued the lady, apparently satisfied, "and am not at liberty, for special reasons, to call upon my husband for it. I have a diamond ring of considerable value, which I should like to have you carry, either to a jeweller or a pawnbroker, and secure what advance you can upon it."

"And I believed she had plenty of money," thought Frank, wondering.

"I will do the best I can for you, madam," said our hero.

Mrs. Graham drew from her pocket a small box, containing a diamond ring, which sparkled brilliantly in the sunshine.

"It is beautiful," said Frank, admiringly.

"Yes, it cost originally eight hundred dollars," said the lady.

"Eight hundred dollars!" echoed Frank, in wonder. He had heard of diamond rings, and knew they were valuable, but had no idea they were so valuable as that.

"How much do you expect to get on it?" he asked.

"Nothing near its value, of course, nor is that necessary. Two hundred dollars will be as much as I care to use, and at that rate I shall be able the sooner to redeem it. I believe I will tell you why I want the money."

"Not unless you think it best," said Frank.

"It is best, for I shall again require your services in disposing of the money."

The lady sat down on the sofa beside Frank, and told him the story which follows:—

"I have two children," she said, "a daughter and a son. The son has recently graduated from college, and is now travelling in Europe. My daughter is now twenty-six years of age. She was beautiful, and our social position was such that my husband, who is a proud man, confidently anticipated that she would make a brilliant match. But at the age of nineteen Ellen fell in love with a clerk in my husband's employ. He was a young man of good appearance and character, and nothing could be said against him except that he was poor. This, however, was more than enough in Mr. Graham's eyes. When Lawrence Brent asked for the hand of our daughter, my husband drove him from the house with insult, and immediately discharged him from his employ. Ellen was high-spirited, and resented this treatment of the man she loved. He soon obtained a place quite as good as the one he had lost, and one day Ellen left the house and married him. She wrote to us, excusing her action, and I would gladly have forgiven her; but her father was obdurate. He forbade my mentioning her name to him, and from that day to this he has never referred to her.

"I am now coming to the business in which you are to help me. For years my son-in-law was able to support his wife comfortably, and also the two children which in time came to them. But, a year since, he became sick, and his sickness lasted till he had spent all his savings. Now he and his poor family are living in wretched lodgings, and are in need of the common necessaries of life. It is for them I intend the money which I can secure upon this ring."

Frank could not listen without having his sympathies aroused.

"I shall be still more glad to help you," he said, "now that I know how the money is to be used."

"Thank you," said the lady. "You are a good boy, and I see that I can trust you implicitly."

She handed Frank the box, enjoining upon him to be careful not to lose it.

"It is so small that it might easily slip from your pocket," she said.

"I shall take the best care of it," said Frank. "Where would you advise me to go first?"

"I hardly know. If I wished to sell it I would carry it to Tiffany; but it was purchased there, and it might in that case come to my husband's ears. There is a pawnbroker, named Simpson, who, I hear, is one of the best of his class. You may go there first."

"How much shall I say you want on it?" asked Frank.

"Don't mention my name at all," said the lady, hastily.

"I suppose I shall have to give some name," said Frank, "in order that the ticket may be made out."

"What is your own name?"

"Frank Kavanagh."

"Have you a mother living?"

"No," said Frank, gravely.

"Then let the ticket be made out in your name."

"If you wish it."

"Shall I bring the money to you, Mrs. Graham?"

"No; my husband might be at home, and it would arouse his suspicions. At twelve o'clock I will meet you at Madison Park, at the corner opposite the Union League Club House. You can then report to me your success."

"Very well," said Frank.

He went at once to the pawnbroker mentioned by Mrs. Graham. But for his uniform he would have been questioned closely as to how he came by the ring; but telegraph boys are so often employed on similar errands that the pawnbroker showed no surprise. After a careful examination he agreed to advance two hundred dollars, and gave Frank the money and the ticket. When Frank gave his own name, he said, "That is your name, is it not?"

"Yes, sir."

"But the ring does not belong to you?"

"No; it belongs to a lady who does not wish her name known."

"It is all the same to us."

"That was easily done," thought Frank. "Now I must go and meet Mrs. Graham."

"Have you got the money?" asked Mrs. Graham, anxiously, as Frank made his appearance.

"Yes," replied Frank.

"How much?"

"The amount you asked for."

"That is well. Now I shall be able to relieve my poor daughter. I cannot bear to think of her and her poor children suffering for the lack of bread, while I am living in luxury. I wish Mr. Graham was not so unforgiving."

"Will you take the money now?" asked Frank.

"I wish you to take fifty dollars to my daughter."

"I will do so with pleasure. What is her address?"

Mrs. Graham drew out a card, on which she had pencilled her daughter's address. It proved to be a tenement-house on the east side of the city, not far from Fourteenth street.

"I wish I could go myself," said Mrs. Graham, sadly; "but I do not dare to do so at present. Give Ellen this money, with my best love; and say to her that a month hence I will again send her the same sum. Tell her to keep up good courage. Brighter days may be in store."

"I will be sure to remember," said Frank, in a tone of sympathy.

The errand was to his taste; for he was about to carry help and comfort to those who needed both.

CHAPTER XIX. A MESSENGER OF GOOD TIDINGS.

There stands a large tenement-house on East Fourteenth street, five stories in height, and with several entrances. Scores of barefooted and scantily attired children play in the halls or on the sidewalk in front, and the great building is a human hive, holding scores of families. Some of them, unaccustomed to live better, are tolerably content with their squalid and contracted accommodations; but a few, reduced by gradual steps from respectability and comfort, find their positions very hard to bear.

On the third floor three small rooms were occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Robert Morgan, and their two children. She was the daughter of Mrs. Graham, and had been reared in affluence. How she had incurred her father's displeasure has already been told. He had been taken sick some months before, his little stock of money had melted away, and now he was unable even to pay the small expenses of life in a tenement-house.

Just before Frank made his appearance there was sadness in the little household.

"How much money is there left, Ellen?" asked Robert Morgan.

"Seventy-five cents," she answered, in a tone which she tried to make cheerful.

"And our week's rent will become due to-morrow."

"I may hear from mother," suggested Mrs. Morgan.

"If you don't, I don't know what will become of us all. We shall be thrust into the street. Even this squalid home will be taken from us."

"Don't get discouraged, Robert."

"Isn't there enough to make me despondent, Ellen? I can see now that I did very wrong to marry you."

"Do you regret our marriage, then, Robert?" asked his wife.

"Only because it has brought you poverty and discomfort."

"I have not yet regretted it."

"How different a position you would have occupied if I had not dragged you down! You would still be living in luxury."

"I should not have you and these dear children."

"And will they compensate you for what has come upon you?"

"Yes," she answered, emphatically.

"You have more philosophy than I have, Ellen."

"More trust, perhaps. Do you know, Robert, I think we are on the eve of good fortune?"

"I hope so, but I see no prospects of it."

Just then there was a knock at the door.

Thinking that it might be some humble neighbor, on a borrowing expedition, Mrs. Morgan opened the door. Before her stood our hero in his uniform.

"Is this Mrs. Robert Morgan?" asked Frank.

"Yes," she answered.

"I come from your mother."

"From my mother? Robert, do you hear that?" said the poor woman, in a voice of gladness. "Here is a messenger from my mother. Didn't I tell you there was good luck in store for us?"

Mr. Morgan did not answer. He waited anxiously to hear what Frank had to communicate.

"Your mother sends you her love, and fifty dollars," continued Frank. "She hopes to call soon herself."

"Fifty dollars!" exclaimed Ellen Morgan, in delight. "It is a fortune."

"Thank Heaven!" ejaculated her husband, in great relief.

"A month hence you may expect a similar sum," said Frank. "I suppose I shall bring it. Shall I find you here?"

Ellen Morgan looked at her husband.

"No," said he. "Let us get out of this neighborhood as soon as possible. Can't you find a respectable place to-day?"

"Yes," said his wife. "I shall be glad to move. I saw some neat rooms on West Twentieth street on Monday. They will cost us but little more, and will suit us better."

"I will send my mother my new address," she said to Frank.

"Then you may send it under cover to me, and I will see that she gets it privately," said Frank, who had received instructions to that effect from Mrs. Graham.

When Frank had left the room the little household seemed quite transformed. Hope had entered, and all looked more cheerful.

"We are provided for, for two months, Robert," said his wife. "Is not that a piece of good luck?"

"Yes, indeed it is," he answered heartily. "Before that time I can get to work again, and with health and employment I shall not need to ask favors of any one."

"I wish father were as forgiving as mother," said Ellen Morgan.

"Your father is a hard man. He will never forgive you for marrying a poor man. He would punish you by starvation."

"He is very proud," said Mrs. Morgan. "I was an only daughter, you know, and he had set his heart upon my making a brilliant marriage."

"As you might have done."

"As I did not care to do. I preferred to make a happy marriage with the man of my choice."

"You are a good wife, Ellen."

"I hope you