GILBERT IN A TIGHT PLACE.
Gilbert called upon the Vivians the same evening. He was received with
as much cordiality as on his first visit.
“Now,” said Mr. Vivian, laying down the evening paper, which he had been
reading at Gilbert’s entrance, “tell me how you came to lose your
place.”
Gilbert told his story in the fewest possible words.
“It’s a great shame,” said Fred, indignantly; “I’d like to put a head on
that book-keeper.”
“I sympathize with you, Fred,” said Laura; “but I think you might have
expressed yourself differently.”
“Your sister is right, Fred,” said Mr. Vivian; “you must not be too
ready to employ street phrases.”
“That’s what I mean, any way,” said Fred.
“Do you think your employer will do you justice when he returns?” asked
Mr. Vivian.
“Yes, sir. Mr. Sands is an excellent man, and he knows very well that
Mr. Moore is prejudiced against me.”
“Then you expect to be taken back?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If anything should occur to prevent, come at once and let me know.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Before the evening was over Gilbert managed to introduce the subject of
the little flower-girl whom he had befriended. He gave an account of the
father’s sickness, and the little girl’s devotion. Fred and Laura were
much interested, and asked many questions, which Gilbert answered as
well as he could.
“You think these people really worthy of assistance, Gilbert?” asked Mr.
Vivian.
“Yes, sir, I have no doubt of it.”
“You know there are many impostors, who live by working on the
sympathies of the benevolent?”
“Yes, sir; but in this case I have no hesitation at all. I am sure Mr.
Talbot and the little girl deserve help.”
“In that case,” said the merchant, “I am willing to do something for
them.”
He drew from his pocket a ten-dollar bill and handed it to Gilbert.
“It may be best,” he suggested, “not to give them this money all at
once, but a dollar or two at a time, in order to insure its careful
use.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Gilbert, joyfully; “this money will be like a
fortune to them. I will see that your wishes are carried out.”
“Papa,” said Fred, “may I give Gilbert my five-dollar gold piece for the
little girl and her father?”
“Not at present, Fred; though I am glad you feel like offering it. When
this money is expended, Gilbert will let us know, and then we will see
what else is to be done.”
“You are a dear, good boy, to offer the money,” said Laura, giving her
brother an unexpected kiss; “you have got a good heart, though you don’t
always keep your face and hands clean.”
“A fellow can’t be always washing his face and hands,” said Fred. “You
needn’t kiss me if you are afraid of the dirt.”
Laura laughed. “I will risk it this time,” she said.
“Won’t you play me a game of checkers, Gilbert?” asked Fred.
“What am I to do while you two are playing?” asked Laura.
“Oh, you can be umpire,” said Fred.
“I should be sure to decide against you,” said Laura.
“That’s because you like Gilbert,” said Fred, who was just at the age
when a boy is apt to make disconcerting speeches.
Laura blushed a little, and so did Gilbert.
“I think we both like him,” said Laura.
“I do,” said Fred.
“Thank you both,” said Gilbert. “I suppose there isn’t such a thing as
three playing a game of checkers. That would bring us all in.”
“No,” said Laura; “but we can play the Mansion of Happiness, if Fred is
willing.”
“I don’t mind,” said Fred. “That’s good fun, too.”
So the game referred to was brought out, and an hour was consumed in
this way. Fred, to his great delight, was the victor each time, and was
disposed to exult over his vanquished opponents.
“Never mind, Fred; it will be our turn next time,” said Laura.
At half-past nine Gilbert set out for home. He felt that he had passed a
pleasant evening, and was cheered by the thought that his discharge had
not alienated these true friends from him.
Two days later he went into the office of Mr. Briggs. He was accustomed
to make a weekly call, when Mr. Briggs would give him money to pay his
week’s board.
“Is Mr. Briggs in?” he asked, after looking about him in vain for that
gentleman.
“Mr. Briggs will not be in for a long time,” said the clerk addressed.
“He has gone to Europe.”
“Gone to Europe!” exclaimed Gilbert, in genuine astonishment.
“Business of importance called him very suddenly,” said the clerk.
“How long is he to be gone?”
“It is uncertain. From two to three months, I should say.”
“Did he leave any letter or message for me,—Gilbert Greyson?”
The clerk shook his head.
“Nothing at all,” he answered.
Gilbert left the office in great perplexity. How was he to pay the
week’s board now due, he asked himself, with less than a dollar in hand,
and no income?