Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute, Jr. Horatio Alger [best electronic book reader TXT] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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“Mr. Roscoe,” said Hector, “Reuben Deane was in my father’s employ before I was born. Larry and I used to play together when we were little boys, and since when we were older.”
“A bootblack is a nice playmate,” said Guy, with his usual sneer.
“He was not a bootblack then,” retorted Hector, “nor would he be now but for your mean spite. Mr. Roscoe, as I happen to know, my father always valued the services of Reuben Deane, and I ask, in his name, that you give him back his place.”
“My brother may have been deceived in him,” said Allan Roscoe, coldly, emphasizing the first two words, in order to remind Hector that he was no longer to consider him as his father; “but I cannot promise to adopt all his views and protege’s. I have displaced Deane and substituted for him a gardener with whom I am better pleased.”
“Have you no sympathy for the poverty and distress of a man who has served our family faithfully for so many years?” asked Hector, half indignantly.
“My father is competent to manage his own affairs,” said Guy, offensively.
“You don’t appear to think so, or you would not answer for him,” retorted Hector.
“Boys, I must request you to desist from this bickering,” said Allan Roscoe. “I am sorry, Hector, that I cannot comply with your request. By the way, you did not tell me where you were staying.”
“With a gentleman on Forty-second Street.”
“What is his name?”
“Andrew Ross.”
“Not the eminent merchant of that name?” asked Allan Roscoe, in surprise.
“Yes, I believe so.”
“He is worth a million.”
“I supposed he was rich. He lives in an elegant house.”
“Where did you get acquainted with him, Hector?”
“At Saratoga, a year and a half ago.”
“Did you beg him to take you in?” asked Guy, unpleasantly.
Hector quietly ignored the question.
“Walter Boss and I have been very intimate, and I was invited to pay him a visit.”
“Does he know that you are a poor boy?” asked Guy.
“I have communicated to Mr. Ross what your father told me,” answered Hector, coldly. “He is a real friend, and it made no difference in his treatment of me. I hope to get a situation through his influence.”
“You are lucky to have such a man for a friend,” said Allan Roscoe, who would himself have liked to become acquainted with a man whose social position was so high. “I hope you will not misrepresent me to him. Should any opportunity occur, I will try to procure you employment.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Hector, but his tone lacked heartiness. He saw that his being a visitor to Mr. Ross and his son had made a difference in his favor. Guy, too, began to think he might be a little more gracious. He, like his father, liked to associate with boys of high social position, and he would have liked to be introduced to Walter Ross.
“What is your number?” he asked of Hector, “I don’t know but I’ll call and see you some time. Is Walter Ross generally at home?”
“Don’t put yourself to any inconvenience to call,” said Hector, significantly. “Walter and I are generally away in the afternoon.”
“Oh, I don’t care to call upon you,” said Guy, annoyed. “I can have all the company I want.”
“I won’t detain you any longer, Mr. Roscoe,” said Hector, realizing that the conversation had occupied considerable time. “Good-morning.”
“That boy is as proud as ever,” said Guy, after Hector had left them. “He doesn’t seem to realize that he has lost his money.”
“He has not had time to realize it yet. It won’t be long before he will understand the difference it makes.”
“I am glad he isn’t my cousin,” continued Guy. “I dislike him more than any boy I know.”
Allan Roscoe looked thoughtful.
“I fear that boy will give me trouble yet,” he said to himself. “He evidently suspects that something is wrong.”
CHAPTER XXIX. JIM SMITH EFFECTS A LOAN.
After parting with Allan Roscoe and Guy, Hector kept on his way downtown. He did not expect to meet any more acquaintances, but he was again to be surprised. Standing on the sidewalk having his boots blacked, he recognized the schoolfellow he had least reason to like—Jim Smith.
“What brings Jim here?” he asked himself, in some surprise.
He did not feel inclined to go up and claim acquaintance, but it chanced that he became witness of a piece of meanness characteristic of Jim.
When the young bootblack had finished polishing his shoes, he waited for his customary fee.
Jim fumbled in his pockets, and finally produced two cents.
“There, boy,” he said, placing them in the hand of the disgusted knight of the brush.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“It’s your pay.”
“Look here, mister, you’ve made a mistake; here’s only two cents.”
“I know it.”
“Do you think I work for any such price as that?”
“Perhaps you expect a dollar!” sneered Jim.
“No, I don’t; but a nickel’s my lowest price. Plenty of gentlemen give me a dime.”
“That’s too much; I’ve paid you all I’m going to.”
“Wait a minute. That boot don’t look as well as the other.”
Jim unsuspiciously allowed the boy to complete his work, but he had occasion to regret it. The bootblack hastily rubbed his brush in the mud on the sidewalk and daubed it on one of Jim’s boots, quite effacing the shine.
“There, that’ll do,” he said, and, scrambling to his feet, ran round the corner.
Then, for the first time, Jim looked down, and saw what the boy had done. He uttered an exclamation of disgust and looked round hastily to see where the offender had betaken himself. His glance fell upon Hector, who was quietly looking on, and not without a sense of enjoyment.
It often happens that we greet cordially those for whom we have even a feeling of aversion when we meet them unexpectedly
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