A BUSINESS PARTNERSHIP.
Mr. Randolph Fenton's voice had been raised to its highest pitch, and
thus the attention of every one in the offices had been attracted to
what was going on.
Ida Bartlett again came forward to speak in Matt's behalf, but ere she
could say a word the boy put up his hand warningly, and turned to the
book-keeper.
"I will take what is due me, Mr. Gaston," he said.
Mr. Gaston, a somewhat elderly man, nodded, and without a word, turned
to his desk and passed over to Matt two new one-dollar bills.
"I'm sorry, my boy, it isn't more," he whispered.
"Thank you," returned Matt. "Good-by," he went on, turning to the
other office workers. And with a smile and a bow to Ida Bartlett, he
passed out of the place.
Not until he was some distance away did he draw a deep breath. Somehow
he felt as if he had just emerged from a prison cell.
"It's a wonder to me that I stood it so long," he muttered to himself.
"Mr. Fenton is a regular tyrant, and ought to move to Russia. How poor
father ever came to invest in those mining shares through him is a
mystery to me." Matt gave a sigh, and for an instant an unusually
sober look crossed his handsome face. "If only I could learn what
became of poor father--if I could make sure whether he was alive or
dead--I wouldn't care how other matters went. I must continue my
searching as soon as I can afford to do so."
Matt boarded with a private family on Third avenue, and having nothing
else to do, he walked slowly to the place. He wished he might meet the
man with the red mustache or Andrew Dilks, but he saw nothing of
either. When he arrived at the boarding-house it was still an hour to
supper-time. He ascended to his roam and spent the time in looking
over his wardrobe, for Matt was handy with a needle, and disliked to
have buttons off or rent seams in his garments.
At length the bell for supper rang, and washing up and combing his
hair, he went below. He ate his portion leisurely, and was just
finishing when the landlady said there was a young lady to see him in
the parlor.
Matt at once thought of Ida Bartlett, who lived but a few blocks away,
with her two sisters and her mother. He was right; it was the young
lady stenographer.
"I could not wait, Matt, and so came over just as soon as we had tea,"
she explained. "I want you to tell me what you are going to do, now
you are out of Mr. Fenton's offices. You spoke of having something
else in view. I trust it is something better."
"I can't tell as to that yet," returned the boy, and then sitting down
beside her on the _tete-a-tete_, he told her of Andrew Dilks and the
auctioneer's proposition.
"That sounds as if it might be quite a good thing," said Ida Bartlett,
when he had finished. "You are sure this Dilks is no sharper? There
are lots of sharpers in the auction business, you know."
"Like the one who tried to make you pay?" laughed Matt.
"Exactly."
"Well, to tell the truth, I thought of that. But Dilks doesn't look
like a sharper; quite the contrary. Of course, I'll have to keep my
eyes open. We will have a written agreement, and I will not let the
outfit go out of my sight, at least not until I know him thoroughly."
"In that case I think you will be safe."
"It is possible that we may not come to any agreement. He has more
money than I. He may want somebody who can put up an equal amount."
"How much has he?"
"A hundred and thirty-five dollars."
"And that is a good deal more than you have, I suppose?"
"I have saved seventy-five dollars," returned Matt, and not without
some pride.
"Is it possible! And on a salary of four dollars a week!"
"Not much! That salary only paid my way. I saved the money out of
extras I earned from other brokers--running errands for them and doing
writing at home in the evenings."
"I see. It is very creditable to you."
"Yet Mr. Fenton said I was lazy," replied Matt bitterly.
"Don't you care what he said. He is a very mean man--I am finding that
out more and more every day. I myself intend to leave just as soon as
I can find another place. I have been there three months, and can
hardly bear it longer."
"The last stenographer only stayed two months, and the one before
that, a man, didn't stay the week out," grinned Matt. "They soon find
out what kind of a man he is."
"I would leave to-morrow, only I cannot afford to be out of work, and
times are somewhat dull. But, about your proposed venture. You will
need sixty dollars more to hold an equal share if you go in, won't
you?"
"Yes."
Ida Bartlett meditated for a moment.
"Perhaps I might let you have that money," she said slowly.
"Why--I--I--have you got it?" stammered Matt.
"Yes; I and my two sisters have saved quite a bit out of our earnings,
you must know. I'll have to ask Kate and Jennie and mother first. If
they are willing, I'll let you have the sixty dollars, and then you
and this Dilks can form an equal partnership."
"You are very kind," exclaimed the boy warmly, for the offer was
entirely unexpected.
"No more than I ought to be, Matt. You saved me from great annoyance
this noon, and I have not forgotten the many favors you have done me
from time to time. When did you say you were to meet this Dilks?"
"This evening. I ought to be on my way to his hotel now."
"Then do not let me detain you longer."
"I guess he'll wait."
"I will speak to my two sisters and my mother to-night, and I will let
you know to-morrow what they think of the matter. If they do not
consent, I can let you have twenty-five dollars on my own account,
anyway."
"Thank you. But, supposing the venture doesn't pay? We may go all to
pieces on the road."
"I'll risk that--with you," smiled Ida Bartlett. "If you cannot make
it pay in one place, I know you'll soon find some other place where it
will pay. The main thing is to make sure that this Andrew Dilks is
honest. I would not like to hear of you being swindled."
"Nor would I want to be swindled," smiled Matt. "It wouldn't pay, and,
besides, I might find it a hard job to pay back what I had borrowed."
"You may make a fortune!"
"I would be content if we made a good living."
"And you would be able to see a good part of the country."
"That's the best part of it--to me. I hate to stay in one place all
the while. Besides"--Matt lowered his voice--"it will give me a
chance to look for my father, if he is still alive."
"You poor boy," returned Ida Bartlett sympathetically. "Always
thinking of him! Well, I trust, with all my heart, that you may some
day find your father, alive and well."