Paul the Peddler; Or, The Fortunes of a Young Street Merchant, Jr. Horatio Alger [drm ebook reader TXT] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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“Can I sell you a necktie, Mr. Barry?” he asked, in a joke.
“I almost feel like a stranger,” said Barry, “it's so long since I have been here.”
“Do you feel strong enough to take charge now?” asked Paul.
“I am not so strong as I was, and the walk from our rooms would tire me; but I think if I rode both ways for the present I shall be able to get along.”
“Then you won't need me any longer?”
“I would like to have you stay with me to-day. I don't know how I shall hold out.”
“All right! I'll stop.”
George Barry remained in attendance the rest of the day. He found that his strength had so far returned that he should be able to manage alone hereafter, and he told Paul so.
“I am glad you are well again, George,” said Paul. “It must have been dull work staying at home sick.”
“Yes, it was dull; but I felt more comfortable from knowing that you were taking my place. If I get sick again I will send for you.”
“I hope you won't get sick; but if you do, I will do what I can to help you.”
So the two parted on the best of terms. Each had been of service to the other, and neither had cause to complain.
“Well,” said Paul to himself, “I am out of work again. What shall I go at next?”
It was six o'clock, and there was nothing to be done till the morrow. He went slowly homeward, revolving this subject in his mind. He knew that he need not remain idle. He could black boots, or sell newspapers, if nothing better offered, and he thought it quite possible that he might adopt the latter business, for a few days at least. He had not forgotten Mr. Preston's injunction to let him know when he got out of business; but, as the second half dozen shirts would be ready in three or four days, he preferred to wait till then, and not make a special call on Mr Preston. He had considerable independence of feeling, and didn't like to put himself in the position of one asking a favor, though he had no objection to accept one voluntarily offered.
“Well, mother,” he said, entering his humble home, “I am out of business.”
“Has George recovered, then?”
“Yes, he was at the stand to-day, but wanted me to stay with him till this evening.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry!” said Jimmy.
“Sorry that George has got well? For shame, Jimmy!”
“No, I don't mean that, Paul. I am sorry you are out of work.”
“I shall find plenty to do, Jimmy. Perhaps Mr. Stewart will take me in as senior partner, if I ask him.”
“I don't think he will,” said Jimmy, laughing.
“Then perhaps I can get a few scholars in drawing. Can't you recommend me?”
“I am afraid not, Paul, unless you have improved a good deal.”
CHAPTER XIV THE DIAMOND RING
Paul was up betimes the next morning. He had made up his mind for a few days, at least, to sell newspapers, and it was necessary in this business to begin the day early. He tool a dollar with him and invested a part of it in a stock of dailies. He posted himself in Printing House square, and began to look out for customers. Being an enterprising boy, he was sure to meet with fair success in any business which he undertook. So it happened that at ten o'clock he had sold out his stock of papers, and realized a profit of fifty cents.
It was getting late for morning papers, and there was nothing left to do till the issue of the first edition of the afternoon papers.
“I'll go down and see how George Barry is getting along,” thought Paul.
He crossed Broadway and soon reached the familiar stand.
“How's business, George?” he inquired.
“Fair,” said Barry. “I've sold four ties.”
“How do you feel?”
“I'm not so strong as I was, yet. I get tired more easily. I don't think I shall stay in this business long.”
“You don't? What will you do then?”
“I've got a chance in Philadelphia, or I shall have by the first of the month.”
“What sort of a chance?”
“Mother got a letter yesterday from a cousin of hers who has a store on Chestnut street. He offers to take me as a clerk, and give me ten dollars a week at first, and more after a while.”
“That's a good offer. I should like to get one like it.”
“I'll tell you what, Paul, you'd better buy out my stand. You know how to sell ties, and can make money.”
“There's only one objection, George.”
“What's that?”
“I haven't got any capital.”
“It don't need much.”
“How much?”
“I'll sell out all my stock at cost price.”
“How much do you think there is?”
“About twenty-five dollars' worth. Then there is the frame, which is worth, say ten dollars, making thirty-five in all. That isn't much.”
“It's more than I've got. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll take it, and pay you five dollars down and the rest in one month.”
“I would take your offer, Paul, but I need all the money how. It will be expensive moving to Philadelphia and I shall want all I can get.”
“I wish I could buy you out,” said Paul, thoughtfully.
“Can't you borrow the money?”
“How soon do you want to give up?”
“It's the seventeenth now. I should like to get rid of it by the twenty-second.”
“I'll see what I can do. Just keep it for me till to-morrow.”
“All right.”
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