SAM'S LUCK.
When towns and cities find their income insufficient to meet their
expenditures, they raise money by selling bonds. Sam would gladly have
resorted to this device, or any other likely to replenish his empty
treasury; but his credit was not good. He felt rather bashful about
applying to his roommate for money, being already his debtor, and, in
his emergency, thought of the senior clerk, William Budd.
"Mr. Budd," he said, summoning up his courage, "will you lend me a
dollar?"
"What for?" inquired the young man, regarding him attentively.
"I haven't got anything to pay for my meals the rest of the week,"
said Sam.
"How does that happen?"
"I can't live on five dollars a week."
"Then suppose I lend you a dollar, I don't see that you will be able
to repay me."
"Oh, I'll pay you back," said Sam, glibly.
"Have you got any security to offer me?"
"Any security?" asked Sam, who was inexperienced in business.
"Yes. Have you got any houses or lands, any stocks or bonds, which you
can put in my hands as collateral?"
"I guess not," said Sam, scratching his head. "If I had any houses,
I'd sell 'em, and then I wouldn't have to borrer."
"So you can't get along on five dollars a week?"
"No."
"The boy that was here before you lived on that."
"I've had to pay a lot of money for clothes," Sam explained,
brightening up with the idea.
"How much?"
"Well, I had to buy the suit I have on, and then I had to get some
shirts the other day."
"How much does it cost you for billiards?" asked William Budd,
quietly.
Sam started and looked embarrassed.
"Billiards?" he stammered.
"Yes, that's what I said."
"Who told you I played billiards?"
"No one."
"I guess you're mistaken, then," said Sam, more boldly, concluding
that it was only a conjecture of his fellow clerk.
"I don't think I am. I had occasion to go into French's Hotel, to see
a friend in the office, and I glanced into the billiard room. I saw
you playing with another boy of about your age. Did he beat you?"
"Yes."
"And you had to pay for the game. Don't you think, as your income is
so small, that you had better stop playing billiards till you get
larger pay?"
"I don't play very often," said Sam, uneasily.
"I advise you not to let Mr. Dalton know that you play at all. He
would be apt to think that you were receiving too high pay, since you
could afford to pay for this amusement."
"I hope you won't tell him," said Sam, anxiously.
"No, I don't tell tales about my fellow clerks."
"Then won't you lend me a dollar?" inquired Sam, returning to the
charge.
"I would rather not, under the circumstances."
Sam was disappointed. He had five cents left to buy lunch with, and
his appetite was uncommonly healthy.
"Why wasn't I born rich?" thought Sam. "I guess I have a pretty hard
time. I wish I could find a pocket-book or something."
Sam was a juvenile Micawber, and trusted too much to something turning
up, instead of going to work and turning it up himself.
However, strangely enough, something did turn up that very afternoon.
Restricted to five cents, Sam decided to make his lunch of apples. For
this sum an old woman at the corner would supply him with three, and
they were very "filling" for the price. After eating his apples he
took a walk, being allowed about forty minutes for lunch. He bent his
steps toward Wall Street, and sauntered along, wishing he were not
obliged to go back to the office.
All at once his eye rested on a gold ring lying on the sidewalk at his
feet. He stooped hurriedly, and picked it up, putting it in his pocket
without examination, lest it might attract the attention of the owner,
or some one else who would contest its possession with him.
"That's almost as good as a pocket-book," thought Sam, elated. "It's
gold--I could see that. I can get something for that at the
pawnbroker's. I'll get some supper to-night, even if I can't borrer
any money."
Some boys would have reflected that the ring was not theirs to pawn;
but Sam, as the reader has found out by this time, was not a boy of
high principles. He had a very easy code of morality, and determined
to make the most of his good fortune.
When he got a chance he took a look at his treasure.
There was a solitary diamond, of considerable size, set in it. Sam did
not know much about diamonds, and had no conception of the value of
this stone. His attention was drawn chiefly to the gold, of which
there was considerable. He thought very little of the piece of glass,
as he considered it.
"I'd orter get five dollars for this," he thought, complacently. "Five
dollars will be a great help to a poor chap like me. I'll go round to
the pawnbroker's just as soon as I get out of the store."
William Budd was rather puzzled by Sam's evident good spirits.
Considering that he was impecunious enough to require a loan which he
had been unable to negotiate, it was rather remarkable.
"Have you succeeded in borrowing any money, Sam?" he asked, with some
curiosity.
"No," answered Sam, with truth; "I haven't asked anybody but you."
"You don't seem to mind it much."
"What's the use of fretting?" said Sam. "I'm expecting a legacy from
my uncle."
"How much?"
"Five dollars."
"That isn't very large. I hope you won't have to wait for it too
long."
"No, I hope not. I guess I'll get along."
"Did you get any lunch?"
"Yes, I bought three apples."
"Did they fill you up?" asked Budd, with a smile.
"There's a little room left," answered Sam, "if you'd like to try the
experiment."
"There's a peanut, then."
"Thankful for small favors. I'm afraid it'll be lonely if you don't
give me another."
"Take that, then; it's the last one I have."
"He's a good-natured boy, after all," thought the young clerk. "Some
boys would have been offended with me for having refused to lend."
He did not understand the cause of Sam's good spirits, but thought him
unusually light hearted.
When the office closed, and Sam was released from duty, he took his
way at once to a small pawn office with which he had become familiar
in the course of his varied career, though he had not often possessed
anything of sufficient value to pawn.
The pawnbroker, a small old man, a German by birth, scanned Sam
attentively, regarding him as a possible customer.
"How do you do, my boy?" he said, politely.
"Oh, I'm tiptop. Have you got any money to give away?"
"What shall I give it for?" asked the old man.
"I've got a ring here," said Sam, "that I want to pawn."
"Show it to me."
The pawnbroker started in surprise and admiration when his eye fell on
the sparkling brilliant.
"Where did you get it?" he asked.
"It was left by my grandmother," said Sam, promptly.
The pawnbroker shrugged his shoulders, not believing a word of the
story.
"Isn't it a nice ring?" asked Sam.
"So so," answered the old man. "I have seen much better. How much do
you want for it?"
"How much will you give me?"
"Two dollars," answered the old man.
"Then you won't get it," said Sam. "You won't get it for a cent under
five."
"That is too much," said the old man, from force of habit. "I'll give
you four."
"No, you won't. You'll give me five; and I won't sell it for that,
neither. I may want to get it back, as it was my aunt's."
"You said your grandmother left it to you," said the old man,
shrewdly.
"So she did," answered Sam, unabashed; "but she left it to my aunt
first. When my aunt died it came to me."
Without dwelling upon the efforts which the pawnbroker made to get the
ring cheaper, it is sufficient to say that Sam carried his point, and
marched out of the store with five dollars and a pawn ticket in his
pocket.