Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience, Jr. Horatio Alger [websites to read books for free .txt] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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“Marriage doesn’t seem to be in his thoughts. Hannah makes him so comfortable that he will probably remain a bachelor to the end of his days.”
“Perhaps he will leave his money to her.”
“He is likely to live as long as she.”
“She is a good deal longer than he,” said Leonard, with a laugh.
The bookkeeper condescended to smile at this joke, though it was not very brilliant.
“Before this boy Carl came,” he resumed thoughtfully, “I hoped he might take a fancy to you. He must die some time, and, having no near blood relative, I thought he might select as heir some boy like yourself, who might grow into his favor and get on his blind side.”
“Is it too late now?” asked Leonard, eagerly.
“Perhaps not, but the appearance of this new boy on the scene makes your chance a good deal smaller.”
“I wish we could get rid of him,” said Leonard, frowning.
“The only way is to injure him in the estimation of Mr. Jennings.”
“I think I know of a way.”
“Mention it.”
“Here is an advertisement of a lottery,” said Leonard, whose plans, in view of what his uncle had said, had experienced a change.
“Well?”
“I will write to the manager in Carl’s name, inquiring about tickets, and, of course, he will answer to him, to the care of Mr. Jennings. This will lead to the suspicion that Carl is interested in such matters.”
“It is a good idea. It will open the way to a loss of confidence on the part of Mr. Jennings.”
“I will sit down at your desk and write at once.”
Three days later Mr. Jennings handed a letter to Carl after they reached home in the evening.
“A letter for you to my care,” he explained.
Carl opened it in surprise, and read as follows:
“Office Of Gift Enterprise.
“Mr. Carl Crawford:—Your letter of inquiry is received. In reply we would say that we will send you six tickets for five dollars. By disposing of them among your friends at one dollar each, you will save the cost of your own. You had better remit at once.
“Yours respectfully, Pitkins & Gamp,
“Agents.”
Carl looked the picture of astonishment when he read this letter.
CHAPTER XX. REVEALS A MYSTERY.
“Please read this letter, Mr. Jennings,” said Carl.
His employer took the letter from his hand, and ran his eye over it.
“Do you wish to ask my advice about the investment?” he said, quietly.
“No, sir. I wanted to know how such a letter came to be written to me.”
“Didn’t you send a letter of inquiry there?”
“No, sir, and I can’t understand how these men could have got hold of my name.”
Mr. Jennings looked thoughtful.
“Some one has probably written in your name,” he said, after a pause.
“But who could have done so?”
“If you will leave the letter in my hands, I may be able to obtain some information on that point.”
“I shall be glad if you can, Mr. Jennings.”
“Don’t mention to anyone having received such a letter, and if anyone broaches the subject, let me know who it is.”
“Yes, sir, I will.”
Mr. Jennings quietly put on his hat, and walked over to the post office. The postmaster, who also kept a general variety store, chanced to be alone.
“Good-evening, Mr. Jennings,” he said, pleasantly. “What can I do for you?”
“I want a little information, Mr. Sweetland, though it is doubtful if you can give it.”
Mr. Sweetland assumed the attitude of attention.
“Do you know if any letter has been posted from this office within a few days, addressed to Pitkins & Gamp, Syracuse, New York?”
“Yes; two letters have been handed in bearing this address.”
Mr. Jennings was surprised, for he had never thought of two letters.
“Can you tell me who handed them in?” he asked.
“Both were handed in by the same party.”
“And that was——”
“A boy in your employ.”
Mr. Jennings looked grave. Was it possible that Carl was deceiving him?
“The boy who lives at my house?” he asked, anxiously.
“No; the boy who usually calls for the factory mail. The nephew of your bookkeeper I think his name is Leonard Craig.”
“Ah, I see,” said Mr. Jennings, looking very much relieved. “And you say he deposited both letters?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you happen to remember if any other letter like this was received at the office?”
Here he displayed the envelope of Carl’s letter.
“Yes; one was received, addressed to the name of the one who deposited the first letters—Leonard Craig.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sweetland. Your information has cleared up a mystery. Be kind enough not to mention the matter.”
“I will bear your request in mind.”
Mr. Jennings bought a supply of stamps, and then left the office.
“Well, Carl,” he said, when he re-entered the house, “I have discovered who wrote in your name to Pitkins & Gamp.”
“Who, sir?” asked Carl, with curiosity.
“Leonard Craig.”
“But what could induce him to do it?” said Carl, perplexed.
“He thought that I would see the letter, and would be prejudiced against you if I discovered that you were investing in what is a species of lottery.”
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