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

went at once to the office of Messrs. Gripp & Co., on his arrival in the city. He found the financial agents occupying handsome offices, well furnished and covered with a thick Turkey carpet. Everything betokened prosperity, and Mr. Tripp was dazzled. The result was that he made the investment and laid away in his old-fashioned wallet five new bonds, assuring a dividend of ten per cent.

“I calc’late it’s safe,” he said to Mr. Gripp, a stout man with a florid face, expensively dressed and sporting a large and showy diamond ring.

“Assuredly, my dear sir,” said Gripp, with suavity. “I congratulate you, Mr. Tripp, on making an unusually profitable investment. I venture to say that within the year, besides the regular dividend, there will be an extra dividend of five per cent., making fifteen per cent. in all. It is a pity you had not more invested.”

“Mebby I’ll bring you in some more bimeby,” said Mr. Tripp, cautiously.

“I trust you will, for your own sake. To us it is not important, as we have plenty of capital offered. Indeed, we have had to limit investments to five thousand dollars for each person. Why, a millionaire, whose name would be very familiar to you if I could venture to mention it, came here last week and wanted to invest fifty thousand dollars in our bonds, but I firmly refused to take more than five thousand.”

“I don’t see why you should,” said Silas, puzzled.

“I will tell you why. We wish to give a chance to smaller investors, like yourself, for instance. Rich men have plenty of ways in which to invest their money to advantage, while you probably don’t know where to get over six per cent.”

“No; I never got more’n that.”

“I dare say you have considerable invested at that small interest.”

“Well, mebbe.”

“Think how much it would be for your advantage to get four per cent. more.”

“To be sure, sartin! Well, I’ll think of it, Mr. Gripp. Mebbe I’ll come and see you ag’in soon.”

Mr. Gripp smiled to himself. He saw that the bait was likely to prove effective.

“Well, good-by, Mr. Gripp. You’ll send me any information about the bonds?”

“Yes, Mr. Tripp, with pleasure. Whenever you are in the city, even if you have no business with us, make our office your home. Whenever you have any letters to write, we will furnish you a desk and all facilities.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gripp; you’re very obleeging.”

So the old man went out, feeling very complacent over his new investment, and much pleased with the handsome way he was treated by Mr. Gripp.

“Lemme see,” he reflected. “I’ve got five thousand dollars invested. At ten per cent. it would amount to five hundred dollars, and with an extra dividend of two hundred and fifty dollars more. I’ll have to think it over. All seems safe and square, and Mr. Gripp is a real gentleman.”

Silas Tripp looked at his watch. It was only half-past ten. How should he occupy his spare time?

“I guess I’ll go and see Chester Rand,” he said. “His mother told me where he was working. Perhaps he’ll know of some cheap place where I can get dinner. The last time I was in the city it cost me forty cents. That’s a terrible price.”

Mr. Tripp knew the location of Mr. Fairchild’s office, and after some inquiry he found his way there. He felt so much like a stranger in the big city that he anticipated with pleasure seeing a familiar face. Perhaps Chester would invite him out to lunch, and Mr. Tripp, in his frugality, would not have declined the offer even of an office boy, as long as it would save him expense.

Felix Gordon was just leaving the office on an errand.

“Is that Mr. Fairchild’s office?” inquired Silas.

“Yes,” answered Felix, with rather a disdainful glance at Silas Tripp’s rusty garments.

“Much obleeged to ye,” said Silas.

He entered the office and glanced about, expecting to see Chester.

David Mullins came forward, and with some show of civility greeted the old country merchant. Though he was not naturally polite, he knew that the size of a man’s purse could not always be judged from the cut or quality of his garments, and he was just as ready to make money out of Silas as out of any fashionably dressed customer.

“Is Mr. Fairchild in?” asked Silas.

“No; Mr. Fairchild is out West. I am Mr. Mullins, his bookkeeper, and represent him.”

“Just so! Have you a boy workin’ for you named Chester—Chester Rand?”

“Are you a friend of his?” asked the bookkeeper.

“Well, yes. I come from Wyncombe, where he lives, and I know his folks. I was told he was workin’ here.”

“Yes, he was working here,” answered Mullins, emphasizing the past tense.

“Isn’t he here now?” demanded Silas, with surprise.

“No.”

“How’s that?”

“It’s rather a delicate matter, as you are a friend of his, but some days since I was obliged to discharge him.”

“You don’t say!” ejaculated Silas, in manifest surprise.

“I am sorry to say it.”

“But what was the matter? What did he do?”

“Well, as to that, he did nothing very serious, but he wasted time when he was sent out on an errand, and I felt that it was injurious to the interests of Mr. Fairchild to retain him.”

“He used to be spry enough when he worked for me.”

“When he worked for you?”

“Yes. I keep a store out in Wyncombe, and he was in my employ most a year. I used to think him quite a lively boy.”

“I dare say he would do very well in a country store, but in the city we want boys to be active and wide awake. I don’t want to say anything against him. He was perfectly honest, so far as I know.”

“Has he got another place?”

“I don’t think he has. It is difficult for a boy to get a place in this city—that is, a good place, and he wouldn’t be likely to refer any employer to me.”

“I’m afraid he’ll be put to it to live, for his mother was poor. How much wages did you pay him?”

“Five dollars a week.”

“That’s pretty high pay.”

“So it is, and we expect a first-class boy for that.”

“Have you got a better boy in his place?”

“Yes; I have taken in a cousin of mine who knows my ways and satisfies me.”

“Was it the boy I saw just after I came in—a dark-complexioned boy with black hair?”

“Yes, that is Felix.”

“And you find him better than Chester?”

“Yes.”

Silas Tripp did not make any comments, but he had not been very favorably impressed by the little he had seen of Chester’s successor.

“Mebbe Chester isn’t adapted to the city,” Silas said.

“I think you are right. It would be better for him to go back into your store, but country boys fancy they must come to the city and become city business men.”

“That’s so. Mebbe I wouldn’t succeed in the city myself, though I’m doin’ a tidy business in Wyncombe. I’d like to see Chester. Can you tell me where he lives?”

“No, I haven’t his address.”

“I wonder he hasn’t gone back home. Mebbe he hasn’t got the money.”

“I presume you are correct in your conjecture.”

“His mother hasn’t said anything to me about Chester bein’ out of work. I’m surprised at that.”

“Perhaps he did not like to tell her.”

“Very like, very like! I’m really sorry to hear Chester ain’t done no better.”

“He isn’t quite up to our mark, but I dare say he will do very well in the country or in some small business.”

“Are you doin’ a large business? You don’t seem to have much stock here.”

“My dear sir, we can’t get brownstone houses and country villas into an office like this.”

“Is that what you sell?”

“Yes; I sold a fifty-thousand-dollar house this morning up on Forty-fifth Street, and yesterday I sold a summer hotel for forty thousand dollars. Our commission in each case would be several hundred dollars.”

“Sho! Well, you be doin’ a good business. Can you tell where I can get a good dinner moderate?”

Felix came in at this moment.

“Felix,” said his cousin, “you may keep the office while I go out to lunch. Mr. —— You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Silas Tripp.”

“Mr. Tripp, it will give me pleasure if you will go out and take lunch with me.”

“Well, I am sure you’re very polite,” said Silas, pleased to think he would be saved expense; “I’m much obliged.”

So the two went out together. Mullins continued to say considerable that was derogatory to Chester, and left Mr. Tripp under the impression that he was a failure so far as New York business was concerned.

CHAPTER XXVII.

MR. TRIPP IS DISAPPOINTED.

Silas Tripp returned home full of the news he had heard in New York.

“Just as I thought,” he said to himself, “Chester Rand ought never to have left Wyncombe. He ain’t calc’lated to succeed in the city. He’d orter have stayed in my store. In two or three years he might have been earnin’ four or five dollars a week, and he could have boarded at home. It costs a sight to live in the city. I ain’t sure that I could afford it myself.”

Mr. Tripp decided to offer Chester his old place at two dollars and a half a week. Abel Wood was again in his employ, but he didn’t like him as well as Chester.

The latter he had always found reliable, while Abel was rather apt to forget what Silas told him. Once he had stopped in the street and played ball, losing ten or fifteen minutes in that way. Mr. Tripp was obliged to confess that he never had a more satisfactory boy than Chester.

The store closed at nine, and Silas, instead of going into the house, walked over to Mrs. Rand’s cottage.

She was rather surprised when she saw who her visitor was.

“Good-evening, Mr. Tripp,” she said, politely. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you, widder. It’s rather late to call, but I thought you might like to hear about York, seein’ Chester is there.”

“Have you been to New York to-day?”

“Yes; I went up on a little business.”

“Did you see Chester?”

“No, I didn’t see him,” answered Silas, significantly.

“Did you hear anything of him?” Mrs. Rand naturally asked.

Mr. Tripp coughed.

“Well, yes, I heered somethin’ about him.”

“Is he—sick?” asked the mother, anxiously, made apprehensive by his tone.

“Not that I know of. Hain’t he writ anything special to you?”

“I had a letter yesterday, but there was nothing special in it.”

“I suppose he didn’t say nothin’ about his place?”

“Yes; he likes it very much.”

“I don’t like to say it, widder, but he’s deceivin’ you. I saw his employer myself, and he said that he had to discharge Chester.”

Somehow Mrs. Rand did not seem so much disturbed by this intelligence as the storekeeper thought she would be.

“Oh, you mean the real estate office,” she said.

“Yes; I was treated quite handsome by Mr. Mullins, the bookkeeper, who is runnin’ the business while Mr. Fairchild is away. He says Chester wasn’t spry enough, that he wasn’t wide awake enough to work in the city.”

Mrs. Rand actually smiled.

“So that is what he said,” she returned. “I can tell you why Chester was discharged. Mr. Mullins wanted to give the place to his nephew.”

“Mebbe so,” answered Silas, dubiously. “Anyhow, it’s unfortunate for Chester to lose his place. I feel for you, Mrs. Rand, as I always liked Chester myself, and I came here to-night to say that I’m ready to take him back into the store, and give him two dollars and a half a week. He suits me.”

Mr. Tripp leaned back in the rocking-chair and looked as if he had made a very handsome proposal.

“I see, Mr. Tripp,” said Mrs. Rand, smiling, “that you think Chester is out of a position.”

“So he is. Wasn’t he discharged? I know from what Mr. Mullins said he won’t take him back.”

“Chester would not be willing to go back. He has a new and better place.”

“You don’t say!” ejaculated Mr. Tripp, surprised and, it must be confessed, disappointed. “What sort of a place is it?”

“He is working for a New York paper or magazine.”

“Sho! Does he