The Store Boy, Jr. Horatio Alger [best fiction books to read .txt] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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"How can I thank you for this information?" said Ben. "We shall not be forced to give up our little cottage, after all. But how could Squire Davenport so wickedly try to cheat us of our little property?"
"My dear boy," said the tramp, shrugging his shoulders, "your question savors of verdancy. Learn that there is no meanness too great to be inspired by the love of money."
"But Squire Davenport was already rich."
"And for that reason he desired to become richer."
"When shall we go to see the squire and tell him about the note?"
"I prefer that you should wait till the day the mortgage comes due. When is that?"
"On the twentieth of December."
"Then on the nineteenth of December we will both go to Pentonville and wait till the squire shows his hand."
"You seem to be—excuse me—in better circumstances than when we last met."
"I am. An old uncle of mine died last month, and considerately left me ten thousand dollars. Perhaps if he had known more about my way of life he would have found another heir. It has led me to turn over a new leaf, and henceforth I am respectable, as befits a man of property. I even keep a card case."
He drew out a card case and handed a card to Ben. It bore the name of Harvey Dinsmore.
"Mr. Dinsmore," said our young hero, I rejoice at your good fortune."
"Thank you. Shall we be friends?"
"With pleasure."
"Then I have more good news for you. Your father owned twenty-five shares in a Western railway. These shares are selling at par, and a year's dividends are due."
"Why, we shall be rich," said Ben, fairly dazzled by this second stroke of good fortune.
"I hope so; though this is only a beginning."
"How can we prove that the railway shares belong to us?"
"Leave that to me. On the nineteenth of December you will meet me in Pentonville. Till then we probably shall not meet."
At this moment Mr. Taylor made his appearance, returning from the smoking-car, and Harvey Dinsmore left them.
"Well, Ben, has your friend entertained you?" asked Taylor.
"He has told me some very good news."
"I am glad to hear it."
In due time they reached New York, and Ben started uptown to call upon Mrs. Hamilton.
CHAPTER XXXIV — CONRAD GOES INTO WALL STREET
When Conrad succeeded Ben as Mrs. Hamilton's private secretary, he was elated by what he considered his promotion. His first disappointment came when he learned that his salary was to be but five dollars a week. He did not dare to remonstrate with his employer, but he expressed himself freely to his mother.
"Cousin Hamilton might afford to pay me more than five dollars a week," he said bitterly.
"It is small," said his mother cautiously, "but we must look to the future."
"If you mean till Cousin Hamilton dies, it may be twenty or thirty years. Why, she looks healthier than you, mother, and will probably live longer."
Mrs. Hill looked grave. She did not fancy this speech.
"I don't think we shall have to wait so long," she said. "When you are twenty-one Cousin Hamilton will probably do something for you."
"That's almost five years," grumbled Conrad.
"At any rate we have got Ben Barclay out of the house, that's one comfort."
"Yes, I am glad of that; but I'd rather be in my old place than this, if I am to get only five dollars a week."
"Young people are so impatient," sighed Mrs. Hill. "You don't seem to consider that it isn't alone taking Ben's place, but you have got rid of a dangerous rival for the inheritance."
"That's true," said Conrad, "and I hated Ben. I'd rather any other boy would cut me out than he."
"Do you know what has become of him?"
"No; I expect that he has gone back to the country—unless he's blacking boots or selling papers downtown somewhere. By Jove, I'd like to come across him with a blacking-brush. He used to put on such airs. I would like to have heard Cousin Hamilton give him the grand bounce."
Nothing could be more untrue than that Ben putting on airs, but Conrad saw him through the eyes of prejudice, and persuaded himself that such was the fact. In reality Ben was exceedingly modest and unassuming, and it was this among other things that pleased Mrs. Hamilton.
Conrad continued to find his salary insufficient. He was still more dissatisfied after an interview with one of his school companions, a boy employed in a Wall Street broker's office.
He was just returning from an errand on which Mrs. Hamilton had sent him, when he overtook Fred Lathrop on his way uptown.
The attention of Conrad was drawn to a heavy gold ring with a handsome stone on Fred's finger.
"Where did you get that ring?" asked Conrad, who had himself a fancy for rings.
"Bought it in Maiden Lane. How do you like it?"
"It is splendid. Do you mind telling me how much you paid?"
"I paid forty-five dollars. It's worth more."
"Forty-five dollars!" ejaculated Conrad. "Why, you must be a millionaire. Where did you get so much money?"
"I didn't find it in the street," answered Fred jocularly.
"Can't you tell a feller? You didn't save it out of your wages, did you?"
"My wages? I should say not. Why, I only get six dollars a week, and have to pay car fare and lunches out of that."
"Then it isn't equal to my five dollars, for that is all clear. But, all the same, I can't save anything."
"Nor I."
"Then how can you afford to buy forty-five dollar rings?"
"I don't mind telling you," said Fred. "I made the money by speculating."
"Speculating!"
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