Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy, Jr. Horatio Alger [me reader .TXT] 📗

“Dry-goods store—Hatch & Macy. Old Hatch is a mean skinflint, and wouldn't pay me half what I was worth. I don't want to brag, but there wasn't a man in that store that sold as much as I did. And how much do you think I got?”

“I don't know.”

“Only seven dollars a week. If I hadn't made something another way. I couldn't have paid my expenses.”

“I should think you might live on seven dollars a week.”

This was before the war had increased the expenses of living.

“Couldn't do it. Board cost me four dollars a week, and that only left three for other expenses. My cigars cost me nearly that. Then I wanted to go to the theater now and then, and, of course, I must dress like a gentleman. I tell you what, seven dollars a week didn't begin to do me.”

“How did you manage, then?”

“Oh, I made so much more by banking.”

“By banking?” repeated Herbert, in astonishment.

“Yes; only it was a faro bank. I used to pick up considerable that way, sometimes.”

“A faro bank!” repeated Herbert, in dismay. “Why, that's the same as gambling, isn't it?”

“Well, what's the odds? You take your chance, and you may win or lose. It's a pretty fair thing.”

After this confession, Herbert became more than ever doubtful whether he should care to remain long in the company of his present companion.

Meanwhile, the cars were moving rapidly. Peter Greenleaf, as he called himself, talked volubly, and appeared to have a considerable familiarity with certain phases of life, the knowledge of which was not likely to have been very profitable to him. Still, Herbert was interested in his communications, though the opinion which he formed of him was far from favorable.

“Where are you going to stop when you get to New York?” inquired Peter.

“I don't know anything about the city. I suppose I shall have to go to a hotel first.”

“Suppose we go to French's Hotel?”

“Where is that?”

“Near the park. It's on the European plan. You pay fifty cents a day for your rooms, and whatever you please for your meals.”

“I think I shall like that. I shall want to get into a boarding-house as soon as possible.”

“All right. We'll take a room together at the hotel.”

This arrangement was not to Herbert's taste, but he did not care to offend his companion by objecting to it, so by his silence, he gave consent.

“What are you going to do in New York?” he asked.

“I shall look up a situation. I won't take less than fifteen dollars a week. A man of my experience ought to be worth that. Don't you think so?”

“Yes,” said Herbert, dubiously, though it occurred to him that if he were an employer, he would not be likely to engage such a clerk at any price. But it is rather fortunate, all things considered, that we are able to keep our thoughts to ourselves, otherwise, the complacency of our companions, and sometimes our own, would run the risk of being rudely disturbed.

In course of time the terminus of the road was reached, and, crossing over from Jersey City, Herbert found himself, for the first time in his life, in the noise and whirl of the great city.

“And I am actually to live here,” thought Herbert. “I wonder what Mr. Holden would say if he knew where I was?” Uncertain as his prospects were, he felt very glad that he was out of the clutches of the petty despot, whose chief pleasure was to make him uncomfortable. Here, at least, the future was full of possibilities of good fortune; there, it was certain discomfort and little to hope for.

“Where is the hotel you spoke of?” he asked, turning to Greenleaf.

“I'll lead you to it.”

They walked up to Broadway, then up by the Astor House, and across the park to the hotel.

“We'll go in and secure a room the first thing,” he said.

They entered, Greenleaf taking the lead.

“Show us a room with two beds,” said Peter to the clerk.

A servant was summoned, and the room assigned to them was indicated.

“Have you any baggage?” asked the clerk.

“No,” said Greenleaf, carelessly. “Mine was checked through from Philadelphia. I shan't send for it till morning.”

“Then I must ask you to pay in advance.”

“All right. Fifty cents, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Mason,” said Greenleaf, “have you got a dollar about you? I've got nothing less than a ten.”

Herbert drew out a dollar and paid for himself and his companion.

They were now shown up to a room on the third floor, which proved to be a very comfortable one, looking out on the street. Herbert was glad to get a chance to wash himself thoroughly after the dusty journey which he had just completed. This ceremony over, they went down to the restaurant connected with the hotel, and took a hearty meal. Greenleaf made an effort to have Herbert pay for both, but this time Herbert also had a bill to change. It was rather a suspicious circumstance, he thought, that Greenleaf, who had no bill smaller than a ten, paid for his meal out of a one-dollar bill.

After supper Greenleaf bought a couple of cigars, and offered Herbert one.

“No, thank you,” said our hero.

“Don't you smoke?”

“No.”

“Where have you been living all your life? I couldn't get along without my cigar.”

“Don't you think it hurtful to a boy to smoke?”

“I don't know about that. I'm a man now, but I've smoked ever since I was a boy. I think it does a fellow good.”

“But it's expensive.”

“Yes, that's so. I expect I've smoked a thousand dollars' worth of cigars in the course of my life.”

“Don't you wish you had the money instead?”

“Yes; I should rather like the money, but I shouldn't be half the man I am if I hadn't smoked. It's mostly milksops that don't smoke. Nothing personal, you know, Mason.”

“Of course not,” said Herbert, smiling.