MAURICE IS ASTONISHED.
Maurice Walton felt very much annoyed at the prospect of having Tom for
a fellow-clerk. He felt jealous of him on account of the evident
partiality of Bessie Benton for his society. He suspected, from Tom's
style of talking, that he was "low and uneducated," and he would have
given considerable to know that his hated rival had been a New York
bootblack. But this knowledge he could not obtain from Tom. The latter
delighted in mystifying him, and exciting suspicions which he afterward
learned to be groundless.
Bright and early Tom made his appearance in front of Mr. Ferguson's
establishment. As he came up one way, he met Maurice, looking sleepy
and cross, coming from a different direction.
"Good-morning, Maurice," said our hero, good-naturedly. "Have you just
got out of bed?"
"No," answered Maurice, crossly. "My name is Walton."
"How are you, Walton?"
"Mr. Walton, if you please," said Maurice, with dignity.
"Don't we feel big this morning, _Mr._ Walton?" said Tom,
mischievously.
"Do you mean to insult me?"
"Wouldn't think of such a thing, Mr. Walton. My name is _Mr._ Grey."
Maurice didn't think proper to answer this remark--perhaps because he
had nothing in particular to say. He opened the warehouse, and Tom
entered.
"I don't know what made Mr. Ferguson take you," he said, amiably.
"Nor I," said Tom; "particularly as he had your valuable services."
"Very likely he took you out of charity," said Maurice.
"Did he take you out of charity?" asked Tom, innocently--"Mr. Walton?"
"How dare you speak of me in that way?" demanded Maurice, haughtily.
"It didn't take much courage," said Tom, coolly. "How dared you speak
of me in that way?"
"That's different."
"Why is it?"
"You haven't got much money--you're almost a beggar."
"Where did you find out all that?"
"Anybody can tell by just looking at you."
"That's the way, then? Have you got much money?"
"My uncle has."
"So has my uncle."
"I don't believe it."
"That don't alter the fact."
"How much is he worth?"
"Over a hundred thousand dollars--I don't know how much more."
"Where does he live."
"He used to live in this city, but he's gone farther West."
Maurice was not decided whether to believe this statement or not. He
wanted to disbelieve it, but was afraid it might be true. He tried a
different tack.
"Where do you board? Are you at the Ohio Hotel? I hear it's a low
place--third-class."
"You're about right. It isn't first-class."
"I suppose you had to go there because it was cheap?"
"It was the first hotel I came across. But I'm not there now--I've
moved."
"Have you? Where are you now?"
"No. 12 Crescent Place."
Now Maurice knew that Crescent Place was in a fashionable quarter of
the city. It astonished him that our hero, whose salary was but five
dollars a week, should live in such a neighborhood.
"Twelve Crescent Place?" he repeated. "How much board do you pay?"
"That's a secret between me and the landlady," said Tom. "If you'll
come round and see me this evening, you can judge for yourself."
Having a strong curiosity about Tom's circumstances, Maurice accepted
the invitation.
"Perhaps there are two Crescent Places," he thought. "I don't believe
he can afford to live in a fashionable boarding-house."
"Mr. Mordaunt," said Tom, when they were getting ready for supper,
"I've invited a friend to call this evening."
"That's right. I shall be glad to see him."
"It's that boy that loves me so much, Maurice Walton. He's awfully
jealous of me--tries to snub me all the time."
"Then why did you invite such a fellow to call?"
"Because he thinks I live in a poor place, and it will make him mad to
find me in such a nice room."
"I see," said Mordaunt, laughing. "It isn't as a friend you invite
him."
"I'm as much his friend as he is mine."
"What makes him dislike you."
"I don't know, except because Bessie Benton is polite to me, and seems
to like my company."
Mordaunt laughed.
"That explains it fully," he said. "So you are rivals for the young
lady's hand?"
"Not quite. I ain't quite ready to be married yet. I'll wait awhile.
But Bessie's a tip-top girl."
"You must introduce me some time."
"All right. I'll try and get an invitation for you to call with me."
About eight o'clock Maurice reached Crescent Place, and, scanning the
numbers, found No. 12.
"He can't live in such a house," thought he. "It's ridiculous."
Still, he rang the bell, and, when the servant appeared, he asked,
rather hesitatingly:
"Does Gilbert Grey live here?"
"Yes, sir," said the servant. "Will you go up to his room?"
"I don't know where his room is. Will you ask him to come down?"
"There is somebody to see you, Mr. Grey," said the servant, after
mounting the stairs.
"He's come," said our hero, in a low voice, to Mordaunt. "I'll go down
and bring him up."
Tom descended the stairs and welcomed Maurice.
"I'm glad you're come, Mr. Walton," he said. "Come up stairs to my
room."
Finding that he did, after all, live in this handsome house, Maurice
expected that it was on the upper floor, and was surprised when Tom led
the way into a handsome parlor on the second floor.
"My roommate, Mr. Mordaunt, Mr. Walton," said Tom, introducing the
visitor.
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Walton," said Mordaunt. "Take
a seat," and he indicated a luxurious armchair.
Maurice sank into its depths, and looked around him with wonder. How in
the world could a fellow like Tom, earning a salary of five dollars a
week, afford to board so luxuriously? Why, it quite eclipsed even his
uncle's rooms. Handsome pictures, books, statuary, and choice
furniture, under the brilliant blaze of an argand burner, made a
beautiful apartment.
"You've got a nice room," he could not help saying.
"Won't you look at the bedroom?" said Mordaunt, politely.
Maurice looked in, and found it in proportion to the parlor.
"Gilbert and I manage to make ourselves comfortable," said Mordaunt.
"We enjoy it ourselves, and are glad to have a pleasant place to invite
our friends to."
Maurice was astonished; but such is the influence of wealth, or
apparent wealth, upon a disposition like his, that he thawed, and made
up his mind that he had better change his manner toward one who was
able to afford living in such a style.
"He must have money," he thought. "Perhaps it's his rich uncle. I
thought he was lying, but I guess it's true, after all."
Tom saw the change in his manner, and it amused him.
"He thinks I'm somebody, after all," he said to himself. "What would he
say if he knowed what I used to be?--how I went round the streets of
New York calling out: 'Shine yer boots!' and was glad if I could earn a
dollar a day that way? I don't believe Mordaunt would mind. I'm going
to tell him some time, and see."
"Do you ever play checkers, Mr. Walton?" asked Mordaunt.
"Sometimes."
"Then suppose we try a game, or perhaps you will play with him,
Gilbert?"
"I'd rather look on," said Tom. "I don't know how to play, but maybe
I'll learn lookin' at you."
"Very well."
Two games were played, and then a waiter appeared from a neighboring
restaurant with some cake and ice-cream, of which Maurice partook with
evident enjoyment. His ideas with regard to our hero were quite
revolutionized. He was a good fellow, after all. So when he took leave,
at the close of the evening, he readily promised to come again, and did
not forget to do so.
"He'll take more notice of me now," said Tom, laughing. "He'll think
I'm somebody."
"It's the way of the world, Gilbert," said Mordaunt. "We must take it
as it comes."
"Maybe," said Tom, looking at his companion earnestly, "you wouldn't
like to have me room with you if you knew what I used to be."
"What did you used to be?" asked Mordaunt, not without curiosity.
"A New York bootblack."
"Is it possible?"
"Don't you want me to go?"
"No, Gilbert; my friendship is too strong for that. But I want to hear
about your former life. Sit down and tell me all about it."
Mordaunt listened with interest and surprise to the story of his
roommate.
"It seems," he said, in conclusion, "that there is a fortune somewhere
to which you are entitled."
"Yes," said our hero, "but my uncle will take pretty good care that I
don't get it."
"From your description he doesn't seem to be a credit to the family.
What are you going to do about it? Have you any plan?"
"Mr. Ferguson advises me to stay here for the present. He says I am as
likely to hear of my uncle, if I stay in Cincinnati, as if I travel
round the country after him."
"I presume he is right. As your uncle was formerly in business here, he
is likely to come here some time on a visit. If he does, he will be
likely to call at your establishment. The best thing you can do is to
attend to your business, learn as much as possible, and keep your eyes
open."
"I guess you're right," said Tom. "I ain't very old yet. I'll try to
learn something, so that, when I come into my fortune, I can appear
like a gentleman."