IN WHICH HARRY MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF A VERY IMPORTANT PERSONAGE
Major Phillips was in the counting room, where Harry, dreading his
anger, presented himself before him. His employer was a violent man.
He usually acted first, and thought the matter over afterwards; so
that he frequently had occasion to undo what had been done in haste
and passion. His heart was kind, but his temper generally had the
first word.
"So you have come, Harry," exclaimed he, as our hero opened the door.
"Where have you been?"
"I have been out a little while," replied Harry, whose modesty
rebelled at the idea of proclaiming the good deed he had done.
"Out a little while!" roared the major, with an oath that froze the
boy's blood. "That is enough--enough, sir. You know I don't allow man
or boy to leave the stable without letting me know it."
"I was wrong, sir; but I--"
"You little snivelling monkey, how dared you leave the stable?"
continued the stable keeper, heedless of the boy's submission. "I'll
teach you better than that."
"Will you?" said Harry, suddenly changing his tone, as his blood began
to boil. "You can begin as quick as you like."
"You saucy young cub! I have a great mind to give you a cowhiding,"
thundered the enraged stable keeper.
"I should like to see you do it," replied Harry, fixing his eyes on
the poker that lay on the floor near the stove.
"Should you, you impertinent puppy?"
The major sprang forward, as if to grasp the boy by the collar; but
Harry, with his eyes still fixed on the poker, retreated a pace or
two, ready to act promptly when the decisive moment should come.
Forgetting for the time that he had run away from one duty to attend
to another, he felt indignant that he should be thus rudely treated
for being absent a short time on an errand of love and charity. He
gave himself too much credit for the good deed, and felt that he was a
martyr to his philanthropic spirit. He was willing to bear all and
brave all in a good cause; and it seemed to him, just then, as though
he was being punished for assisting Joe Flint's family, instead of for
leaving his place without permission. A great many persons who mean
well are apt to think themselves martyrs for any good cause in which
they may be engaged, when, in reality, their own want of tact, or the
offensive manner in which they present their truth, is the stake at
which they are burned.
"Keep off!" said Harry, his eyes flashing fire.
The major was so angry that he could do nothing; and while they were
thus confronting each other, Joe Flint staggered into the counting
room. Intoxicated as he was, he readily discovered the position of
affairs between the belligerents.
"Look here--hic--Major Phillips," said he, reeling up to his employer,
"I love you--hic--Major Phillips, like a--hic--like a brother, Major
Phillips; but if you touch that boy, Major Phillips, I'll--hic--you
touch me, Major Phillips. That's all."
"Go home, Joe," replied the stable keeper, his attention diverted from
Harry to the new combatant. "You are drunk."
"I know I'm drunk, Major Phillips. I'm as drunk as a beast; but I
ain't--hic--dead drunk. I know what I'm about."
"No, you don't. Go home."
"Yes, I dzoo. I'm a brute; I'm a hog; I'm a--dzwhat you call it? I'm a
villain."
Joe tried to straighten himself up, and look at his employer; but he
could not, and suddenly bursting into tears, he threw himself heavily
into a chair, weeping bitterly in his inebriate paroxysm. He sobbed,
and groaned, and talked incoherently. He acted strangely, and Major
Phillips's attention was excited.
"What is the matter, Joe?" he asked; and his anger towards Harry
seemed to have subsided.
"I tell you I am a villain, Major Phillips," blubbered Joe.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Haven't I been on a drunk, and left my family to starve and freeze?"
groaned Joe, interlarding his speech with violent ebullitions of
weeping. "Wouldn't my poor wife, and my poor children--O my God," and
the poor drunkard covered his face with his hands, and sobbed like an
infant.
"What is the matter? What do you mean, Joe?" asked Major Phillips, who
had never seen him in this frame before.
"Wouldn't they all have died if Harry hadn't gone and fed 'em, and
split up wood to warm 'em?"
As he spoke, Joe sprang up, and rushed towards Harry, and in his
drunken frenzy attempted to embrace him.
"What does this mean, Harry?" said the stable keeper, turning to our
hero, who, while Joe was telling his story, had been thinking of
something else.
"What a fool I was to get mad!" thought he. "What would she say if she
had seen me just now? Poor Julia! perhaps she is dead, even now."
"My folks would have died if it hadn't been for him," hiccoughed Joe.
"Explain it, Harry," added the major.
"The lame girl, Katy, came down here after her father early in the
evening. She seemed to be in trouble and I thought I would go up and
see what the matter was. I found them in rather a bad condition,
without any wood or anything to eat. I did what I could for them, and
came away," replied Harry.
"Give me your hand, Harry!" and the major grasped his hand like a
vise. "You are a good fellow," he added, with an oath.
"Forgive me, Mr. Phillips, for saying what I did; I was mad," pleaded
Harry.
"So was I, my boy; but we won't mind that. You are a good fellow, and
I like your spunk. So you have really been taking care of Joe's family
while he was off on a drunk?"
"I didn't do much, sir."
"Look here, Harry, and you, Major Phillips. When I get this rum out of
me I'll never take another drop again," said Joe, throwing himself
into a chair.
"Bah, Joe! You have said that twenty times before," added Major
Phillips.
"You dzee!" exclaimed Joe, doubling his fist, and bringing it down
with the intention of hitting the table by his side to emphasize his
resolution; but, unfortunately, he missed the table--a circumstance
which seemed to fore-shadow the fate of his resolve.
Joe proceeded to declare in his broken speech what a shock he had
received when he went home, half an hour before--the first time for
several days--and heard the reproaches of his suffering wife; how
grateful he was to Harry, and what a villain he considered himself.
Either the sufferings of his family, or the rum he had drunk, melted
his heart, and he was as eloquent as his half-paralyzed tongue would
permit. He was a pitiable object; and having assured himself that
Joe's family were comfortable for the night, Major Phillips put him to
bed in his own house.
Harry was not satisfied with himself; he had permitted his temper to
get the better of him. He thought of Julia on her bed of suffering,
wept for her, and repented for himself. That night he heard the clock
on the Boylston market strike twelve before he closed his eyes to
sleep.
The next day, while he was at work in the stable, a boy of about
fifteen called to see him, and desired to speak with him alone. Harry,
much wondering who his visitor was, and what he wanted, conducted him
to the ostlers' chamber.
"You are Harry West?" the boy began.
"That is my name, for the want of a better," replied Harry.
"Then there is a little matter to be settled between you and me. You
helped my folks out last night, and I want to pay you for it."
"Your folks?"
"My name is Edward Flint."
"Then you are Joe's son."
"I am," replied Edward, who did not seem to feel much honored by the
relationship.
"Your folks were in a bad condition last night."
"That's a fact; they were."
"But I didn't know Joe had a son as old as you are."
"I am the oldest; but I don't live at home, and have not for three
years. How much did you pay out for them last night?"
"One dollar and twenty cents."
"As much as that?"
"Just that."
Edward Flint manifested some uneasiness at the announcement. He had
evidently come with a purpose, but had found things different from
what he had expected.
"I didn't think it was so much."
"What matters how much?" asked Harry.
"Why, I want to pay you."
"You needn't mind that."
"The fact is, I have only three dollars just now; and I promised to go
out to ride with a fellow next Sunday. So, you see, if I pay you, I
shall not have enough left to foot the bills."
Harry looked at his visitor with astonishment; he did not know what to
make of him. Was he in earnest? Would a son of Joseph Flint go out to
ride--on Sunday, too--while his mother and his brothers and sisters
were on the very brink of starvation? Our hero had some strange,
old-fashioned notions of his own. For instance, he considered it a
son's duty to take care of his mother, even if he were obliged to
forego the Sunday ride; that he ought to do all he could for his
brothers and sisters, even if he had to go without stewed oysters,
stay away from the theatre, and perhaps wear a little coarser cloth on
his back. If Harry was unreasonable in his views, my young reader will
remember that he was brought up in the country, where young America is
not quite so "fast" as in the city.
"I didn't ask you to pay me," continued Harry.
"I know that; but, you see, I suppose I ought to pay you. The old man
don't take much care of the family."
Harry wanted to say that the young man did not appear to do much
better; but he was disposed to be as civil as the circumstances would
permit.
"You needn't pay me."
"Oh, yes, I shall pay you; but if you can wait till the first of next
month, I should like it."
"I can wait. Do you live out?"
"Live out? What do you mean by that? I am a clerk in a store
downtown," replied Edward, with offended dignity.
"Oh, are you? Do they pay you well?"
"Pretty fair; I get five dollars a week."
"Five dollars a week! Thunder! I should think you did get paid pretty
well!" exclaimed Harry, astonished at the vastness of the sum for a
week's work.
"Fair salary," added Edward, complacently. "What are you doing here?"
"I work in the stable and about the house."
"That's mean business," said Mr. Flint, turning up his nose.
"It does very well."
"How much do you get?"
"Six dollars a month and perquisites."
"How much are the perquisites?"
"From one to two dollars a month."
"Humph! I wonder you stay here."
"It is as well as I can do."
"No, it isn't; why don't you go into a store? We want a boy in our
store."
"Do you?"
"We do."
"How much do you pay?"
"We pay from two to four dollars a week."
"Can't you get me the place?" asked Harry, now much interested in his
companion.
"Well, yes; perhaps I can."
"What should I have to do?"
"Make the fires, sweep out in the morning, go on errands, and such
work. Boys must begin at the foot of the ladder. I began at the foot
of the ladder," answered Mr. Flint, with an immense self-sufficiency,
which Harry, however, failed to notice.
"I should like to get into a store."
"You will have a good chance to rise."
"I am willing to do anything, so that I can have a chance to get
ahead."
"We always give boys a good chance."
Harry wanted that mysterious "we" defined. As it was, he was left to
infer that Mr. Flint was a partner in the concern, unless the five
dollars per week was an argument to the contrary; but he didn't like
to ask strange questions, and desired to know whom "he worked for."
Edward Flint did not "work for" anybody. He was a clerk in the
extensive dry goods establishment of the Messrs. Wake & Wade, which,
he declared, was the largest concern in Boston; and one might further
have concluded that Mr. Flint was the most important personage in the
said concern.
Mr. Flint was obliged to descend from his lofty dignity, and compound
the dollar and twenty cents with the stable boy by promising to get
him the vacant place in the establishment of Wake & Wade, if his
influence was sufficient to procure it. Harry was satisfied, and
begged him not to distress himself about the debt. The visitor took
his leave, promising to see him again the next day.
About noon Joe Flint appeared at the stable again, perfectly sober.
Major Phillips had lent him ten dollars, in anticipation of his
month's wages, and he had been home to attend to the comfort of his
suffering family. After dinner he had a long talk with Harry, in
which, after paying him the money disbursed on the previous evening,
he repeated his solemn resolution to drink no more. He was very
grateful to Harry, and hoped he should be able to do as much for him.
"Don't drink any more, Joe, and it will be the best day's work I ever
did," added Harry.
"I never will, Harry--never!" protested Joe.