A LUCKY RESOLVE.
"Well, Richard, we are gentlemen of leisure now."
It was Frank who spoke, and the occasion was the Monday morning
following their final week with Williams & Mann.
"Yes; but it doesn't suit me in the least," returned Richard. "To be
idle is the hardest work I can do. Have you anything in view?"
"Not a thing. I put in twelve applications last week to as many
different houses, but as yet I haven't heard from a single one."
"What do you intend to do?"
"I hardly know. I don't think it will pay to make any personal
applications."
"I'm going to try it," returned Richard, resolutely. "They can't say
any more than no, and each no will save just two cents in postage if
nothing else."
"When do you intend to start out," asked Frank, who could not help
admiring Richard's pluck.
"In about an hour. It is too early yet to catch the heads of the firms."
"Going to start at any particular place?"
"Yes."
"Where?--or perhaps you don't care to tell," added Frank hastily.
"Yes, I do," replied Richard, smiling quietly. "I am going to try the
stationer on the corner."
"Who? Martin? Why, he has such a small store I'm sure he doesn't need
help. He and his son and a boy do all the business."
"Never mind. I made up my mind to stop at every place, and his is the
first on the route; so I'll call, if only for the principle of the
thing."
"That's an idea!" cried Frank. "You are bound to have a place if there
is a single one vacant. Well, Dick, I trust with all my heart that
you'll succeed," he added warmly.
"You had better start out, too, Frank."
"Oh--I--I don't think it's much use," said the other hesitatingly.
"Oh, yes, it is, and you know it. Now confess that it is only your
lack of 'nerve' that keeps you from it."
Frank colored slightly.
"Well, I guess it is," he admitted. "I never was a good hand at
approaching people."
"Then you ought to break yourself in at once. Just break the ice and
you'll have no further trouble. I remember just how bad I felt when
I first came to New York to look for work. But I'm over it now, thank
goodness!"
And truth to tell in the past few weeks Richard had lost much of his
former shyness.
Frank Massanet was silent for a moment.
"I guess I will," he said finally. "I'll start out and have the thing
over at once. Which way do you intend to go--up or down?"
"I thought I would try down town first."
"Then I'll go up. We can compare notes at supper-time."
"So we can. I hope we both have luck," said Richard.
But he did not feel particularly elated over the prospects. His former
search for employment had convinced him that desirable situations were
rarely to be had--there was always some one on hand to fill a vacancy
as soon as it occurred.
He felt, however, that he must obtain employment of some kind, and
that quickly. The small amount of money he had in hand would not last
him long, and though kind-hearted Mrs. Massanet might be willing to
let him remain awhile without paying board, he knew that now, with her
son idle, the good woman could not afford so generous a course.
Richard had not gone to see Mr. Joyce as yet. He hesitated for several
reasons. In the first place the leather merchant had been so kind to
him that the boy felt it would be encroaching upon good nature to
solicit further aid, and in the second place, Mr. Joyce must know he
was out of a place, and would help him if he could, without being
bothered about it.
"I won't go to him until after I've done all I can for myself," had
been Richard's conclusion. "I would rather show him that I can help
myself."
Richard had written home about the fire, and had added that he would
probably lose his place in consequence, but he had not sent word home
that he was now idle, thinking it would be time enough to do so when
he found himself unable to obtain another situation.
The store to which Richard had referred was a small but neat one,
situated upon the corner of the street in which the Massanets lived
and Second Avenue. It was kept by Jonas Martin, an elderly man, and
his son, James. The stock consisted principally of books and stationery,
although the proprietors also kept papers and magazines, for which
there was a steady daily demand.
"I suppose there is hardly any use in striking him," thought Richard,
as he entered the store. "But I said every place, so here goes."
He found the elderly Mr. Martin behind a desk, writing a letter. The
storekeeper's face wore a troubled look.
"Good-morning," began Richard. "Is this Mr. Martin?"
"That's my name," was the reply. "What can I do for you?"
"I am looking for a place, sir. I worked for Williams & Mann, but they
burned out, as, no doubt you know, and that threw me out of work. Have
you anything open? I can furnish good recommendations."
Richard had carefully rehearsed this little speech, and now delivered
it so that his hearer might understand every word that was uttered.
Mr. Martin looked at him sharply, and then rubbed his chin reflectively.
"What made you think I needed help?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know, sir. Every proprietor needs help at one time or
another, and I've made up my mind to find a place if there is any
open."
"You have recommendations, you say?"
"Yes, sir."
And Richard handed over those he had received from Williams & Mann.
Mr. Martin read them carefully.
"It seems to be all right," he said, as he handed back the paper. "If
I thought you would answer my purpose I would look you up."
"Then you need help?" asked Richard, quickly, glad to think he had
struck an opening with so little trouble.
"Yes, I do. My son James who helps me is sick in Philadelphia, and
consequently I have only the errand boy to relieve me. It is too much
for me and I must get a clerk."
"I would like you to try me," said Richard eagerly. "I would do my
best to suit, even if the place was only a temporary one."
"It might be permanent. The business is growing. But of course when
my son came back I could not pay a clerk so much."
"How much would you pay now?"
"How much do you expect?" asked Mr. Martin cautiously.
"I was getting eight dollars a week at my last place."
"I would be willing to pay that. But I want some one who is trustworthy
and willing to learn. Have you other recommendations?"
"I can refer you to Mr. Timothy Joyce," replied Richard; and he wrote
down the leather merchant's name and address on a bit of wrapping
paper.
Mr. Martin looked at the neat handwriting.
"Come round to-morrow morning this time," he said. "I will look up the
references this afternoon and if I find them satisfactory you can come
to work at once."
"Thank you, sir. Good-morning."
By this time there were two customers waiting, so not wishing to detain
the storekeeper longer. Richard nodded pleasantly and left the place.