The lady gazed at his flushed face admiringly.
“How could you have so much courage?” she asked. “You might have been
trampled to death under the hoofs of the horses.”
“I didn't think of that. I only thought of stopping the horses.”
“You are a brave boy. I shudder when I think of your danger and mine. I
shall not dare to get into the carriage again this afternoon.”
“Allow me to accompany you home?” said Paul, politely.
“Thank you; I will trouble you to go with me as far as Broadway, and
then I can get into an omnibus.”
She turned and addressed some words to the coachman, directing him to
drive home as soon as the horses were quieted, adding that she would
trust herself to the escort of the young hero, who had rescued her from
the late peril.
“You're a lucky boy,” thought John, the coachman. “My mistress is one
that never does anything by halves. It won't be for nothing that you
have rescued her this afternoon.”
As they walked along, the lady, by delicate questioning, succeeded in
drawing from our hero his hopes and wishes for the future. Paul, who
was of a frank and open nature, found it very natural to tell her all he
felt and wished.
“He seems a remarkably fine boy,” thought the lady to herself. “I should
like to do something for him.”
They emerged into Broadway.
“I will detain you a little longer,” said the lady; “and perhaps trouble
you with a parcel.”
“I shall be very glad to take it,” said Paul politely.
Appleton's bookstore was close at hand. Into this the lady went,
followed by her young companion.
A clerk advanced, and inquired her wishes.
“Will you show me some writing-desks?”
“I am going to purchase a writing-desk for a young friend of mine,” she
explained to Paul; “as he is a boy, like yourself, perhaps you can guide
me in the selection.”
“Certainly,” said Paul, unsuspiciously.
Several desks were shown. Paul expressed himself admiringly of one made
of rosewood inlaid with pearl.
“I think I will take it,” said the lady.
The price was paid, and the desk was wrapped up.
“Now,” said Mrs. Danforth, for this proved to be her name, “I will
trouble you, Paul, to take the desk for me, and accompany me in the
omnibus, that is, if you have no other occupation for your time.”
“I am quite at leisure,” said Paul. “I shall be most happy to do so.”
Paul left the lady at the door of her residence in Fifth Avenue, and
promised to call on his new friend the next day.
He went home feeling that, though he had met with no success in
obtaining a place, he had been very fortunate in rendering so important
a service to a lady whose friendship might be of essential service to
him.
XXIV.
PAUL CALLS ON MRS. DANFORTH.
“Mrs. Edward Danforth,” repeated the sexton, on hearing the story of
Paul's exploit.
“Why, she attends our church.”
“Do you know Mr. Danforth?” asked Paul, with interest.
“Only by sight. I know him by reputation, however.”
“I suppose he is very rich.”
“Yes, I should judge so. At any rate, he is doing an extensive
business.”
“What is his business?”
“He is a merchant.”
“A merchant,” thought Paul; “that is just what I should like to be, but
I don't see much prospect of it.”
“How do you like Mrs. Danforth?” inquired the sexton.
“Very much,” said Paul, warmly. “She was very kind, and made me feel
quite at home in her company.”
“I hope she may be disposed to assist you. She can easily do so, in her
position.”
The next day Paul did not as usual go out in search of a situation.
His mind was occupied with thoughts of his coming interview with Mrs.
Danforth, and he thought he would defer his business plans till the
succeeding day.
At an early hour in the evening, he paused before an imposing residence
on Fifth Avenue, which he had seen but not entered the day previous.
He mounted the steps and pulled the bell.
A smart-looking man-servant answered his ring.
“Is Mrs. Danforth at home?” asked Paul.
“Yes, I believe so.”
“I have called to see her.”
“Does she expect you?” asked the servant, looking surprised.
“Yes; I come at her appointment,” said Paul.
“Then I suppose it's all right,” said the man. “Will you come in?” he
asked, a little doubtfully.
Paul followed him into the house, and was shown into the drawing-room,
the magnificence of which somewhat dazzled his eyes; accustomed only to
the plain sitting-room of Mr. Cameron.
The servant reappeared after a brief absence, and with rather more
politeness than he had before shown, invited Paul to follow him to a
private sitting-room upstairs, where he would see Mrs. Danforth.
Looking at Paul's plain, though neat clothes, the servant was a little
puzzled to understand what had obtained for Paul the honor of being on
visiting terms with Mrs. Danforth.
“Good evening, Paul,” said Mrs. Danforth, rising from her seat and
welcoming our hero with extended hand. “So you did not forget your
appointment.”
“There was no fear of that,” said Paul, with his usual frankness. “I
have been looking forward to coming all day.”
“Have you, indeed?” said the lady with a pleasant smile.
“Then I must endeavor to make your visit agreeable to you. Do you
recognize this desk?”
Upon a table close by, was the desk which had been purchased the day
previous, at Appleton's.
“Yes,” said Paul, “it is the one you bought yesterday. I think it is
very handsome.”
“I am glad you think so. I think I told you that I intended it for a
present. I have had the new owner's name engraved upon it.”
Paul read the name upon the plate provided for the purpose. His face
flushed with surprise and pleasure. That name was his own.
“Do you really mean it for me,” he asked.
“If you will accept it,” said Mrs. Danforth, smiling.
“I shall value it very much,” said Paul, gratefully. “And I feel very
much indebted to your kindness.”
“We won't talk of indebtedness, for you remember mine is much the
greater. If you will open the desk you will find that it is furnished
with what will, I hope, prove of use to you.”
The desk being opened, proved to contain a liberal supply of stationery,
sealing wax, postage stamps, and pens.
Paul was delighted with his new present, and Mrs. Danforth seemed to
enjoy the evident gratification with which it inspired him.
“Now,” said she, “tell me a little about yourself. Have you always lived
in New York?”
“Only about three years,” said Paul.
“And where did you live before?”
“At Wrenville, in Connecticut.”
“I have heard of the place. A small country town, is it not?”
Paul answered in the affirmative.
“How did you happen to leave Wrenville, and come to New York?”
Paul blushed, and hesitated a moment.
“I ran away,” he said at length, determined to keep nothing back.
“Ran away! Not from home, I hope.”
“I had no home,” said Paul, soberly. “I should never have left there, if
my father had not died. Then I was thrown upon the world. I was sent
to the Poorhouse. I did not want to go, for I thought I could support
myself.”
“That is a very honorable feeling. I suppose you did not fare very well
at the Poorhouse.”
In reply, Paul detailed some of the grievances to which he had been
subjected. Mrs. Danforth listened with sympathizing attention.
“You were entirely justified in running away,” she said, as he
concluded. “I can hardly imagine so great a lack of humanity as these
people showed. You are now, I hope, pleasantly situated?”
“Yes,” said Paul, “Mr. and Mrs. Cameron treat me with as great kindness
as if I were their own child.”
“Cameron! Is not that the name of the sexton of our church?” said Mrs.
Danforth, meditatively.
“It is with him that I have a pleasant home.”
“Indeed, I am glad to hear it. You have been attending school, I
suppose.”
“Yes, it is not more than two months since I left off school.”
“And now I suppose you are thinking of entering upon some business.”
“Yes; I have been trying to obtain a place in some merchant's
counting-room.”
“You think, then, that you would like the career of a merchant?”
“There is nothing that would suit me better.”
“You have not succeeded in obtaining a place yet, I suppose?”
“No. They are very difficult to get, and I have no influential friends
to assist me.”
“I have heard Mr. Danforth say that he experienced equal difficulty when
he came to New York, a poor boy.”
Paul looked surprised.
“I see that you are surprised,” said Mrs. Danforth, smiling. “You think,
perhaps, judging from what you see, that my husband was always rich. But
he was the son of a poor farmer, and was obliged to make his own way in
the world. By the blessing of God, he has been prospered in business and
become rich. But he often speaks of his early discouragements and small
beginnings. I am sorry he is not here this evening. By the way, he left
word for you to call at his counting-room to-morrow, at eleven o'clock.
I will give you his address.”
She handed Paul a card containing the specified number, and soon
after he withdrew, bearing with him his handsome gift, and a cordial
invitation to repeat his call.
He looked back at the elegant mansion which he had just left, and could
not help feeling surprised that the owner of such a palace, should have
started in life with no greater advantages than himself.
XXV.
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
Paul slept late the next morning. He did not hear the breakfast-bell,
and when the sexton came up to awaken him he rubbed his eyes with
such an expression of bewilderment that Mr. Cameron could not forbear
laughing.
“You must have had queer dreams, Paul,” said he.
“Yes, Uncle Hugh,” said Paul, laughing, “I believe I have.”
“When you have collected your wits, which at present seem absent on
a wool-gathering expedition, perhaps you will tell what you have been
dreaming about.”
“So I will,” said Paul, “and perhaps you can interpret it for me. I
dreamed that I was back again at Mr. Mudge's, and that he sent me out
into the field to dig potatoes. I worked away at the first hill, but
found no potatoes. In place of them were several gold pieces. I picked
them up in great surprise, and instead of putting them into the basket,
concluded to put them in my pocket. But as all the hills turned out
in the same way I got my pockets full, and had to put the rest in the
basket. I was just wondering what they would do for potatoes, when all
at once a great dog came up and seized me by the arm----”
“And you opened your eyes and saw me,” said the sexton, finishing out
his narrative.
“Upon my word, that's very complimentary to me. However, some of our
potatoes have escaped transformation into gold pieces, but I am afraid
you will find them rather cold if you don't get down to breakfast pretty
quick.”
“All right, Uncle Hugh. I'll be down in a jiffy.”
About half-past ten Paul started on his way to Mr. Danforth's
counting-room. It was located on Wall Street, as he learned from the
card which had been given him by Mrs. Danforth. He felt a little awkward
in making this call. It seemed as if he were going to receive thanks for
the service which he had rendered, and he felt that he had already been
abundantly repaid. However, he was bound in courtesy to call, since he
did so at the request of Mrs. Danforth.
It was a large stone building, divided up into offices, to which Paul
had been directed. Mr. Danforth's office he found after a little search,
upon the second floor.
He opened the door with a little embarrassment, and looked about him.
In one corner was a small room, used as a more private office, the door
of which was closed. In the larger room the only one whom he saw, was
a boy, apparently about his own age, who was standing at a desk and
writing.
This boy looked around as Paul entered, and he at once recognized in him
an old acquaintance.
“George Dawkins!” he exclaimed in surprise.
The latter answered in a careless indifferent tone, not exhibiting any
very decided pleasure at meeting his old schoolmate.
“Oh, it's you, Prescott, is it?”
“Yes,” said Paul, “I haven't met you since you left our school.”
“No, I believe we have not met,” said Dawkins, in the same tone as
before.
“How long have you been in this office?” asked our hero.
“I really can't say,” said Dawkins, not looking up.
“You can't say!”
“No, I'm rather forgetful.”
Paul could not help feeling chilled at the indifferent manner in which
his advances were met. He had been really glad to see Dawkins, and had
addressed him with cordiality. He could not conceal from himself that
Dawkins did not seem inclined to respond to it.
“Still,” thought Paul, extenuatingly, “perhaps that is his way.”
As the conversation began to flag, Paul was reminded of his errand by
Dawkins saying, in a tone which was half a sneer, “Have you any business
with Mr. Danforth this morning, or did you merely come in out of
curiosity?”
“I have called to see Mr. Danforth,” said Paul.
“He is usually pretty busy in the morning,” said Dawkins.
“He directed me to call in the morning,” said Paul, sturdily.
“Oh, indeed!” said Dawkins, a little surprised. “I wonder,” he thought,
“what business this fellow can have with Mr. Danforth. Can he be fishing
for a place?”
“Mr. Danforth is engaged with a visitor just now,” he at length
condescended to say; “if your time is not too valuable to wait, you can
see him by-and-by.”
“Thank you,” said Paul, rather nettled, “you are very polite.”
To this Dawkins made no reply, but resumed his pen, and for the next ten
minutes seemed entirely oblivious of Paul's presence.
Our hero took up the morning paper, and began, as he had so often done
before, to look over the list of wants, thinking it possible he might
find some opening for himself.
About ten minutes later the door of the inner office opened, and two
gentlemen came out. One was a gentleman of fifty, a business friend of
Mr. Danforth's, the other was Mr. Danforth himself.
The former remarked, on seeing Paul, “Is this your son, Danforth?”
“No,” said the merchant, nodding in a friendly manner to Paul.
“That's a good joke,” thought Dawkins, chuckling to himself; “Mr.
Danforth must be immensely flattered at having a sexton's adopted son
taken for his.”
After a final word or two on business matters, and arrangements for
another interview, the visitor departed, and Mr. Danforth, now at
leisure, turned to Paul.
“Now my lad,” he said kindly, “if you will follow me, we shall have a
chance to talk a little.”
Paul followed the merchant into his office, the door of which was
closed, much to the regret of Dawkins, who had a tolerably large share
of curiosity, and was very anxious to find out what business Paul could
possibly have with his employer.
“Take that seat, if you please;” said Mr. Danforth, motioning Paul to
an arm-chair, and sitting down himself, “Mrs. Danforth told me from how
great a peril you rescued her. You are a brave boy.”
“I don't know,” said Paul, modestly, “I didn't think of the danger. If I
had, perhaps I should have hesitated.”
“If you had not been brave you would have thought of your own risk. My
wife and myself are under very great obligations to you.”
“That more than repays me for all I did,” said Paul, in a tone of
mingled modesty and manliness.
“I like the boy,” thought Mr. Danforth; “he is certainly quite superior
to the common run.”
“Have you left school?” he inquired, after a pause.
“Yes, sir. Last term closed my school life.”
“Then you have never been in a situation.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Indeed! Before you left school?”
“No, sir, since.”
“You did not like it, then?”
“No, sir,” said Paul.
“And was that the reason of your leaving?”
“No, sir; my employer was not satisfied with me,” said Paul, frankly.
“Indeed! I am surprised to hear this! If you have no objection, will you
tell me the circumstances?”
Paul related in a straightforward manner the difficulty he had had with
Smith & Thompson.
“I hope you don't think I did wrong,” he concluded.
“By no means,” said Mr. Danforth, warmly. “Your conduct was entirely
creditable. As for Smith, I know of him. He is a sharper. It would have
done you no good to remain in his employ.”
Paul was pleased with this commendation. He had thought it possible that
his dismissal from his former situation might operate against him with
the merchant.
“What are your present plans and wishes?” asked Mr. Danforth, after a
slight pause.
“I should like to enter a merchant's counting-room,” said Paul, “but as
such places are hard to get, I think I shall try to get into a store.”
Mr. Danforth reflected a moment, then placing a piece of paper before
our hero, he said, “Will you write your name and address on this piece
of paper, that I may know where to find you, in case I hear of a place?”
Paul did as directed. He had an excellent handwriting, a point on which
the merchant set a high value.
The latter surveyed the address with approval, and said, “I am glad you
write so excellent a hand. It will be of material assistance to you in
securing a place in a counting-room. Indeed, it has been already, for I
have just thought of a place which I can obtain for you.”
“Can you, sir?” said Paul, eagerly.
“Where is it?”
“In my own counting-room,” said Mr. Danforth, smiling.
“I am very much obliged to you,” said Paul, hardly believing his ears.
“I was prepared to give it to you when you came in, in case I found you
qualified. The superiority of your handwriting decides me. When can you
come?”
“To-morrow, if you like, sir.”
“I like your promptness. As it is the middle of the week, however, you
may take a vacation till Monday. Your salary will begin to-morrow.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I will give you five dollars per week at first, and more as your
services become more valuable. Will that be satisfactory?”
“I shall feel rich, sir. Mr. Smith only gave me a dollar and a quarter.”
“I hope you will find other differences between me and Mr. Smith,” said
the merchant, smiling.
These preliminaries over, Mr. Danforth opened the door, and glancing
at Dawkins, said, “Dawkins, I wish you to become acquainted with your
fellow clerk, Paul Prescott.”
Dawkins looked surprised, and anything but gratified as he responded
stiffly, “I have the honor of being already acquainted with Mr.
Prescott.”
“He is a little jealous of an interloper,” thought Mr. Danforth,
noticing the repellent manner of young Dawkins. “Never mind, they will
get acquainted after awhile.”
When George Dawkins went home to dinner, his father observed the
dissatisfied look he wore.
“Is anything amiss, my son?” he inquired.
“I should think there was,” grumbled his son.
“What is it?”
“We've got a new clerk, and who do you think it is?”
“Who is it?”
“The adopted son of old Cameron, the sexton.”
“Indeed,” said Mrs. Dawkins. “I really wonder at Mr. Danforth's bad
taste. There are many boys of genteel family, who would have been glad
of the chance. This boy is a low fellow of course.”
“Certainly,” said her son, though he was quite aware that this was not
true.
“What could have brought the boy to Danforth's notice?” asked Dawkins,
senior.
“I don't know, I'm sure. The boy has managed to get round him in some
way. He is very artful.”
“I really think, husband, that you ought to remonstrate with Mr.
Danforth about taking such a low fellow into his counting-room with our
George.”
“Pooh!” said Mr. Dawkins, who was a shade more sensible than his wife,
“he'd think me a meddler.”
“At any rate, George,” pursued his mother, “there's one thing that is
due to your family and bringing up,--not to associate with this low
fellow any more than business requires.”
“I certainly shall not,” said George, promptly.
He was the worthy son of such a mother.
XXVI.
A VULGAR RELATION.
At the end of the first week, Paul received five dollars, the sum which
the merchant had agreed to pay him for his services. With this he felt
very rich. He hurried home, and displayed to the sexton the crisp bank
note which had been given him.
“You will soon be a rich man, Paul,” said Mr. Cameron, with a benevolent
smile, returning the bill.
“But I want you to keep it, Uncle Hugh.”
“Shall I put it in the Savings Bank, for you, Paul?”
“I didn't mean that. You have been supporting me--giving me board and
clothes--for three years. It is only right that you should have what I
earn.”
“The offer is an honorable one on your part, Paul,” said the sexton;
“but I don't need it. If it will please you, I will take two dollars
a week for your board, now, and out of the balance you may clothe
yourself, and save what you can.”
This arrangement seemed to be a fair one. Mr. Cameron deposited the five
dollar note in his pocket-book, and passed one of three dollars to Paul.
This sum our hero deposited the next Monday morning, in a savings bank.
He estimated that he could clothe himself comfortably for fifty dollars
a year. This would leave him one hundred towards the payment of the debt
due to Squire Conant.
“By-and-by my salary will be raised,” thought Paul. “Then I can save
more.”
He looked forward with eager anticipation to the time when he should be
able to redeem his father's name, and no one would be entitled to cast
reproach upon his memory.
He endeavored to perform his duties faithfully in the office, and to
learn as rapidly as he could the business upon which he had entered.
He soon found that he must depend mainly upon himself. George Dawkins
seemed disposed to afford him no assistance, but repelled scornfully
the advances which Paul made towards cordiality. He was by no means as
faithful as Paul, but whenever Mr. Danforth was absent from the office,
spent his time in lounging at the window, or reading a cheap novel, with
one of which he was usually provided.
When Paul became satisfied that Dawkins was not inclined to accept his
overtures, he ceased to court his acquaintance, and confined himself to
his own desk.
One day as he was returning from dinner, he was startled by an
unceremonious slap upon the shoulder.
Looking up in some surprise, he found that this greeting had come from a
man just behind him, whose good-humored face and small, twinkling eyes,
he at once recognized.
“How do you do, Mr. Stubbs?” inquired Paul, his face lighting up with
pleasure.
“I'm so's to be round. How be you?” returned the worthy pedler, seizing
our hero's hand and shaking it heartily.
Mr. Stubbs was attired in all the glory of a blue coat with brass
buttons and swallow tails.
“When did you come to New York?” asked Paul.
“Just arrived; that is, I got in this mornin'. But I say, how you've
grown. I shouldn't hardly have known you.”
“Shouldn't you, though?” said Paul, gratified as most boys are, on being
told that he had grown. “Have you come to the city on business?”
“Well, kinder on business, and kinder not. I thought I'd like to have a
vacation. Besides, the old lady wanted a silk dress, and she was sot on
havin' it bought in York. So I come to the city.”
“Where are you stopping, Mr. Stubbs?”
“Over to the Astor House. Pretty big hotel, ain't it?”
“Yes, I see you are traveling in style.”
“Yes, I suppose they charge considerable, but I guess I can stand it. I
hain't been drivin' a tin-cart for nothin' the last ten years.
“How have you been enjoying yourself since you arrived?”
“Oh, pretty well. I've been round seeing the lions, and came pretty near
seeing the elephant at one of them Peter Funk places.”
“You did! Tell me about it.”
“You see I was walkin' along when a fellow came out of one of them
places, and asked me if I wouldn't go in. I didn't want to refuse such
a polite invitation, and besides I had a curiosity to see what there was
to be seen, so I went in. They put up a silver watch, I could see that
it was a good one, and so I bid on it. It ran up to eight dollars and
a quarter. I thought it was a pity it should go off so cheap, so I bid
eight and a half.”
“'Eight and a half and sold,' said the man; 'shall I put it up for you?”
“'No, I thank you,' said I, 'I'll take it as it is.'
“'But I'll put it up in a nice box for you,' said he.
“I told him I didn't care for the box. He seemed very unwilling to let
it go, but I took it out of his hand and he couldn't help himself. Well,
when they made out the bill, what do you suppose they charged?”
“I don't know.”
“Why, eighteen and a half.”
“'Look here,' said I, 'I guess here's something of a mistake. You've got
ten dollars too much.'
“'I think you must be mistaken,' said he, smiling a foxy smile.
“'You know I am not,' said I, rather cross.
“We can't let that watch go for any thing shorter,' said he, coolly.
“Just then a man that was present stepped up and said, 'the man is
right; don't attempt to impose upon him.'