From Farm to Fortune; or, Nat Nason's Strange Experience, Jr. Horatio Alger [classic english novels txt] 📗

a boy!"

"You have been very lucky," put in Mrs. Balberry. "I wish Fred could strike a job like that."

"I'm to have a raise later on," added Nat.

"It wasn't right fer you to run away, Nat," continued his uncle.

"There are two ways of looking at it."

"An' you had no right to set fire to the barn."

"I never did that, Uncle Abner. I wouldn't be so mean."

"And you sold thet cow."

"She was my cow."

"No, she wasn't!"

"I say she was, and I can prove it!"

"Well, we won't quarrel about the cow. What I want to know is, are you behavin' yourself here in the city?"

"I am. I work every day, and I board with some very nice people."

"Ain't squanderin' your earnin's on theaters an' sech?"

"No, I have never seen the inside of a theater."

"Maybe you ain't seen the inside of a church either," came from Mrs. Balberry.

"Yes, I go to church every Sunday."

"Then you don't want to go back to the farm?" came from Abner Balberry.

"No, I am never going back there."

"Don't you know that I am your guardeen?"

"That may be so, Uncle Abner, but I am not going back to the farm."

"You'll go if I say so!"

"No, I won't!" and Nat's eyes flashed fire. "I'm going to support myself, and all I ask is to be let alone."

"Oh, leave him stay, Abner," broke in Mrs. Balberry. "You don't want him, now you have Fred."

The farmer was on the point of saying that Nat as a worker was worth two Freds, but he thought it best to keep silent on that point.

"I'd like to make certain you are stopping with decent folks," said he, after another pause.

"And you won't bother me if I can prove that?" cried our hero, eagerly.

"I guess so, Nat. But you mustn't come down on me fer board an' clothes, later on."

"I won't."

The matter was talked over for a few minutes longer, and in the end Nat led the way to his boarding house and introduced his uncle and Mrs. Balberry to Mrs. Talcott. The surroundings rather pleased Abner Balberry, and he ended by arranging to stay with Mrs. Talcott for several days.

"It's better'n them hotels," said the farmer. "It's more like hum, ain't it, Lucy?"

"Yes, but it ain't quite so high-toned," said the bride, who was inclined to cut a dash whenever the opportunity afforded.

CHAPTER XIX NAT BECOMES A PRIVATE CLERK

Abner Balberry and his bride remained in New York four days longer, and during that time Nat did all in his power to make their visit a pleasant one. He received Mr. Garwell's permission to remain away from work one day, and took his uncle and aunt to Central Park, and to the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Statue of Liberty. They were greatly pleased, and were frank enough to tell Nat so.

"I guess you are more cut out for the city than for the farm," said Abner to his nephew. "I hope you do well. You must write to us often, an' some day you must pay us a visit."

"I certainly will do that, Uncle Abner," said Nat, and then, to please the bride, he purchased for her a souvenir book, containing many illustrations of the metropolis. This book Mrs. Balberry prized highly, and from that moment she began to like Nat.

"He ain't half so bad as I was led to expect," she said, on the way home. "He seems to know what he is doing."

"He certainly is gettin' along," responded Abner. "Shouldn't wonder but what he'll be a regular business man some day."

"Do you think it would pay to send Fred down to the city?"

"No, he better stay on the farm. Fred ain't got the way about him thet Nat's got."

"He's just as smart," said the youth's mother, quickly.

"Maybe, but he ain't got the knack o' it."

"He would do just as well if he had the chance," continued Mrs. Balberry. As was perhaps natural she thought her own son as good as any boy.

On the day after Nat's uncle left New York John Garwell called the boy into his private office.

"Did you arrange matters with Mr. Balberry?" he asked, pleasantly.

"Yes, sir. He is going to leave me alone after this," and our hero smiled.

"I am glad to hear it, Nat. Then there is nothing in the way of your continuing here."

"No, sir."

"In that case I want to ask you a question. How would you like to take up stenography and typewriting?"

"I'd like it first-rate, if I thought I could do anything with them after I had learned them."

"I would like to have a private secretary who understood stenography, and the use of the typewriter."

"Oh, Mr. Garwell, do you think I would do?"

"Perhaps. You are bright, and I feel that I can trust you."

"If you want me to, I'll go at stenography and typewriting at once."

"You'll have to have some time for it."

"I can go at night. There are several evening schools I know of."

"Very well, then, you may start in at once, and I will pay your tuition fees."

"I can pay those out of my savings."

"No, bring the bills to me, Nat. And after this week your duties will be wholly as my private clerk," added John Garwell.

This made quite a change for our hero. But it was an agreeable one, and he went at his new duties with vigor. A good school was selected, which Nat attended five nights in the week.

"This kind of knocks me out," said Dick, when our hero told him of the change.

"No, it don't," said Nat, quickly. "I've made arrangements for you, Dick."

"Me? How?"

"You are to come three nights a week, for lessons in arithmetic and penmanship."

"Do they give the lessons free?"

"No, I am going to settle that."

"How much will you pay?"

"Three dollars a month."

"I ought to pay that."

"No, I am going to do it," said Nat, firmly, and he kept his word.

As John Garwell's private clerk, Nat received ten dollars per week, and as he had no school bills to pay for himself he found it easy to pay for Dick. The newsboy was making rapid progress, and this not only pleased his mother, but also the man who had promised to give Dick a position in his stationery store.

"I'm going to have a job in the store next month," said the newsboy one day. "Mr. Andrews' clerk is going to leave, and I am to take his place."

"And how much will Mr. Andrews give you?" asked Mrs. Talcott.

"Six dollars a week to start on, and he says he will give me eight dollars as soon as I can help on the books."

"I am glad to hear it, Dick."

"I guess I've got Nat to thank for the job," said the newsboy. "I had to do some writing for Mr. Andrews, and he said the writing was all right."

"Yes, you can certainly thank Nat," said Mrs. Talcott.

The days passed swiftly for Nat. He made good progress at the evening school, and Mr. Garwell was correspondingly pleased. Every day the real estate broker trusted Nat more and more, until the lad occupied a truly responsible position.

One day Nat was sent to Brooklyn, to have a certain document signed by a lady of wealth.

"You must get Mrs. Parloe's signature to this, Nat," said his employer, "and get somebody to witness the signature, and sign here," he added.

"Yes, sir."

"The paper is valuable, and I don't want you to let it go out of your sight," went on John Garwell.

"I'll take care to keep my eye on it," answered Nat.

He was soon on his way, and after crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, took a street car to the address given him. It was a fine brownstone house, with elegant lace curtains at the windows.

"Does Mrs. Parloe live here?" he asked of the girl who came to the door.

"Yes, sir."

"I would like to see her on business," and Nat handed out a card on which was printed: