The Errand Boy; Or, How Phil Brent Won Success, Jr. Horatio Alger [beach read .TXT] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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Phil answered this question and several others which his honest country friend asked, but his mind was preoccupied, and he answered some of the questions at random. Finally he excused himself on the ground that he must be getting back to the store.
That evening Phil thought seriously of his position. Something must be done, that was very evident. His expenses exceeded his income, and he needed some clothing. There was no chance of getting his wages raised under a year, for he already received more pay than it was customary to give to a boy. What should he do?
Phil decided to lay his position frankly before the only friend he had in the city likely to help him—Mr. Oliver Carter. The old gentleman had been so friendly and kind that he felt that he would not at any rate repulse him. After he had come to this decision he felt better. He determined to lose no time in calling upon Mr. Carter.
After supper he brushed his hair carefully, and made himself look as well as circumstances would admit. Then he bent his steps toward Twelfth Street, where, as the reader will remember, Mr. Carter lived with his niece.
He ascended the steps and rang the bell. It was opened by Hannah, who recognized him, having admitted him on the former occasion of his calling.
“Good-evening,” said Phil pleasantly. “Is Mr. Carter at home?”
“No, sir,” answered Hannah. “Didn't you know he had gone to Florida?”
“Gone to Florida!” repeated Phil, his heart sinking. “When did he start?”
“He started this afternoon.”
“Who's asking after Uncle Oliver?” asked a boy's voice.
Looking behind Hannah, Phil recognized the speaker as Alonzo Pitkin.
CHAPTER XXI. “THEY MET BY CHANCE.”
“Who was asking after Uncle Oliver?” demanded Alonzo superciliously.
“I was,” answered Philip.
“Oh! it's you, is it?” said Alonzo, rather disdainfully.
“Yes,” answered Phil calmly, though he felt provoked at Alonzo's tone, which was meant to be offensive. “You remember me, don't you?”
“You are the boy that got round Uncle Oliver, and got him to give you a place in pa's store.”
“I deny that I got round him,” returned Phil warmly. “I had the good luck to do him a favor.”
“I suppose you have come after money?” said Alonzo coarsely.
“I sha'n't ask you for any, at any rate,” said Phil angrily.
“No; it wouldn't do any good,” said Alonzo; “and it's no use asking ma, either. She says you are an adventurer, and have designs on Uncle Oliver because he is rich.”
“I shall not ask your mother for any favor,” said Phil, provoked. “I am sorry not to meet your uncle.”
“I dare say!” sneered Alonzo.
Just then a woman, poorly but neatly dressed, came down stairs. Her face was troubled. Just behind her came Mrs. Pitkin, whose face wore a chilly and proud look.
“Mr. Carter has left the city, and I really don't know when he will return,” Phil heard her say. “If he had been at home, it would not have benefited you. He is violently prejudiced against you, and would not have listened to a word you had to say.”
“I did not think he would have harbored resentment so long,” murmured the poor woman. “He never seemed to me to be a hard man.”
Phil gazed at the poorly dressed woman with a surprise which he did not attempt to conceal, for in her he recognized the familiar figure of his landlady. What could she have to do in this house? he asked himself.
“Mrs. Forbush!” he exclaimed.
“Philip!” exclaimed Mrs. Forbush, in a surprise as great as his own, for she had never asked where her young lodger worked, and was not aware that he was in the employ of her cousin's husband and well acquainted with the rich uncle whom she had not seen for years.
“Do you know each other?” demanded Mrs. Pitkin, whose turn it was to be surprised.
“This young gentleman lodges in my house,” answered Mrs. Forbush.
“Young gentleman!” repeated Alonzo, with a mocking laugh.
Philip looked at him sternly. He had his share of human nature, and it would have given him satisfaction to thrash the insolent young patrician, as Alonzo chose to consider himself.
“And what do you want here, young man?” asked Mrs. Pitkin in a frosty tone, addressing Phil of course.
“I wished to see Mr. Carter,” answered Phil.
“Really, Mr. Carter seems to be very much in request!” sneered Mrs. Pitkin. “No doubt he will be very much disappointed when he hears what he has lost. You will have to go to Florida to see him, I think, however.” She added, after a pause: “It will not be well for either of you to call again. Mr. Carter will understand the motive of your calls.”
“How cruel you are, Lavinia!” said Mrs. Forbush sadly.
“My name is Mrs. Pitkin!” said that lady frigidly.
“You have not forgotten that we are cousins, surely?”
“I do not care to remember it, Mrs. Forbush. Good-day.”
There was no alternative but for Mrs. Forbush to say “good-day” also, and to descend the steps.
Philip joined her in the street.
“Are you really the cousin of Mrs. Pitkin?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Mrs. Forbush. “I bear the same relationship to Mr. Carter that she does. We were much together as girls, and were both educated at the same expensive schools. I offended my relatives by marrying Mr. Forbush, whose fault was that he was poor, and chiefly, I think, through the efforts of Lavinia Pitkin I was cast out by the family. But where did you meet Uncle Oliver?”
Philip explained the circumstances already known to the reader.
“Mr. Carter seems to me to be a kind-hearted man,” he said. “I don't believe he would have cast you off if he had not been influenced by other parties.”
“So I think,” said Mrs. Forbush. “I will tell you,” she continued, after a pause, “what drew me here this afternoon. I am struggling hard to keep my head above water, Mr. Brent, but I find it hard to meet my expenses. I cannot meet my rent due to-morrow within fifteen dollars, and I dared to hope that if I could meet
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