A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY
On the day that Abner Balberry started for New York to look for Nat, our
hero was called into Mr. Garwell's private office.
"Nat, how would you like to take a run down to Trenton with me?" asked
the gentleman, pleasantly.
"I'd like it first-rate, Mr. Garwell," was the prompt answer.
"Very well, we'll go in half an hour. I wish to look up certain records
concerning some property."
"When will we be back, Mr. Garwell?"
"Oh, some time this evening," answered the gentleman.
It may be mentioned here that John Garwell was a real estate broker. He
handled only high-class properties, and chiefly those used for business
purposes. He had started years before in a modest way, but was now
fairly well-to-do, and his business was steadily increasing. He had
taken a great fancy to Nat, and was wondering if he could not use the
lad as a private secretary.
"I'd do it in a minute if the boy knew shorthand and typewriting," he
told himself. "Perhaps I can get him to learn those branches."
At the appointed time our hero was ready for the trip to Trenton. His
employer had stuffed a valise full of legal papers, and Nat took
possession of the bag.
"Be careful of that valise," cautioned Mr. Garwell. "The contents are
very valuable."
"I'll look out for it," was the answer.
They walked to the ferry, and there took a boat to Jersey City, and then
boarded a train bound for the capital city of New Jersey. Mr. Garwell
had obtained seats in a parlor car, and the elegant furnishings
impressed Nat deeply.
"These cars are like palaces," he said.
"They are certainly comfortable," was his employer's response.
On the trip to Trenton Mr. Garwell asked Nat much about himself, and at
last the boy told his tale from beginning to end.
"I don't suppose you care to go back to the farm," said Mr. Garwell,
with a quiet smile.
"No, sir, I want to stay in New York. I believe there is more of a
future here for me than on the farm."
"Possibly that is true. You had positively nothing to do with that fire
at your uncle's barn?"
"No, sir--I didn't even have a light around the place."
"But you saw somebody near by."
"Yes, sir. I thought it was my uncle."
"It must have been a tramp."
"Just what I think, Mr. Garwell."
"And you think your uncle is coming to New York to look for you?"
"He'll come, if the carfare doesn't scare him off. He is a very close
man."
"Hum!" The real estate broker mused for a moment. "Well, if he comes,
supposing you let me know? Maybe I can persuade him to allow you to
remain in the city."
At this Nat's face brightened.
"Oh, Mr. Garwell, will you do that? I suppose, as my guardian, he has a
legal right to order me back to the farm."
"We'll have to see about that. But he hasn't found you yet."
"That is true."
"You ought to let him know that you are well, and have a position. You
need not give him your address."
"I'll write the letter to-morrow."
"Was your father a farmer?"
"Yes, sir, although when he was a young fellow like myself he lived in
Brooklyn. His father and his grandfather were both born in New York."
"I see. Then you have city blood in your veins. That may account for
your liking New York so much."
In a short time after the conversation came to an end, Trenton was
reached, and calling a cab, Mr. Garwell had himself and Nat driven to
one of the public buildings.
Here both spent some time in looking over legal records, and one of the
records Nat had to copy off in pencil for his employer. After this, came
a visit to a lawyer's office, and Nat was sent on a short errand.
When the business in Trenton was over, both found they had two hours to
wait before they could get a train for home.
"Let us go and get a lunch," said Mr. Garwell, and led the way to a fine
restaurant in that vicinity.
The real estate broker was on the point of entering the eating place
when a child of five ran up to him, exclaiming:
"Papa, I want you to buy me some candy, please."
Now, as it happened, Mr. Garwell was a bachelor, so he was taken much by
surprise, and so was our hero.
"Did you speak to me, my dear?" he asked, kindly.
"Why, yes, papa," answered the little one, readily.
"But I am not your father, child," and the real estate broker began to
flush up.
"Oh, yes, you are!" came from the child.
"No. What is your name?"
At this the child laughed heartily.
"What a funny papa you are, to ask me my name. But won't you buy me the
candy? Please, do," went on the little one, pleadingly.
"What a funny mistake," said Mr. Garwell to Nat.
"Don't you know the little girl?"
"Not in the least."
"Get the candy!" cried the child, petulantly.
"All right, I'll get you some candy, only don't call me papa," answered
the real estate broker. And he slipped into a candy shop, and purchased
some chocolates. He had just passed the confectionery over, when a
middle-aged lady hurried up.
"Oh, mamma, see the candy papa bought me!" cried the little girl,
gleefully.
"You shouldn't have bought her so much candy, Horace," said the lady to
Mr. Garwell, severely. "Chocolates make Lulu sick."
Being thus addressed, John Garwell turned redder than ever.
"Excuse me, madam," he stammered. "I--er--this is a mistake. My name is
not Horace."
"Not Horace. The idea!"
"My name is John--John Garwell, and I am from New York."
At this answer the lady looked perplexed, and then indignant.
"Horace, quit your fooling!" she said, coldly.
"I am not fooling, madam."
"Oh, such a man! Perhaps you'll say next that I am not your wife!"
continued the lady, with a black look.
"You certainly are not my wife, for I am a bachelor, madam," and now Mr.
Garwell began to grow more embarrassed than ever, while Nat was
completely mystified.
"Not my husband? Oh, you wretch, to say such a thing!" The lady turned
to the child. "Lulu, who is this?"
"Why, that's papa," answered the little girl, promptly.
"Now, Horace, do you hear that?"
"I--I heard what she said," answered the real estate broker, feebly.
"But--but----"
"If you are not her father, why did you buy her candy?"
"Just to keep her from calling me papa."
"Indeed! Did you want to bribe her? Oh, Horace, this is infamous!
I--I--have you lost your mind?"
"No, but I think you and this child have."
At this the lady stared, and gave a gasp. She fainted, and would have
fallen to the pavement had not Nat caught and supported her. Instantly a
crowd began to collect.
"What's the trouble here?" asked one.
"The gentleman's wife has fainted," answered another.
"Excuse me, but she is not my wife," said John Garwell. "I don't know
her."
"Certainly, she is your wife," cried a bystander. "I've seen you
together lots of times, Mr. Mann."
"Wait," put in Nat. "Did you call this gentleman Mr. Mann?"
"Yes, and that's his name."
"You are mistaken. This gentleman is Mr. John Garwell."
"Go on with you, I know Mr. Mann too well to believe such a yarn."
"I don't care what you say, this gentleman is Mr. John Garwell, and he
is from New York City."
"Then he has been playing a part here in Trenton, where he is known as
Horace Q. Mann," said the bystander.
By this time the lady was coming to her senses. She clutched at the real
estate broker.
"Take me home!" she murmured. "Oh, this is too much!"
"Better take her home," said several.
"I don't even know where she lives," answered John Garwell, blankly.
"She lives at 19 Hallock Street," said a boy in the crowd. "I'll show
you the place, mister."
"Why not take her and the little girl home?" suggested Nat. "Perhaps you
can clear up this mystery there?"
"All right, I will," answered his employer. "Nat, call a coach. I'm
going to see this affair through. It's the oddest thing I ever had
happen to me."
The coach was called, and the lady and the girl got in, and John Garwell
and Nat followed.
"I knew you were coming home to-day from that trip to Washington," said
the lady, with a tearful look in her face, "but I never dreamed you
would act this way, Horace."
"Madam, will you answer me one question. Have you a husband who went to
Washington?"
"Oh, Horace!"
Seeing he could make no headway, Mr. Garwell became silent. Inside of
ten minutes they reached 19 Hallock Street, and the coach came to a
halt. A servant let them into the mansion. As she did this she stared at
the real estate broker and gave a low cry of surprise.
"Why, I--er--I thought Mr. Mann was in the library!" she stammered. "I
didn't know he went out to meet you, Mrs. Mann."
"Let us go to the library," said John Garwell.
The lady of the house was willing, and hurried hither, followed by her
daughter, the real estate broker, and Nat. As they entered, a gentleman
who had been seated in an arm-chair, reading a book, arose to meet them.
"Well, Clara, I'm back," he said, cheerily.
"Oh!" screamed the lady, and fainted again, and not without good reason,
for before her stood a gentleman who was almost the exact facsimile of
Mr. Garwell in face, form, and general appearance.
"Why, which one of you is my papa?" cried little Lulu.
"I'm your papa!" answered the gentleman of the house. "Why--er--who--who
is this?" he stammered, looking at John Garwell.
"Let us attend to your wife first," was the answer, and soon the lady of
the house was restored to her senses. Then began a series of
explanations.
"It was dreadful of me to make such a mistake," said Mrs. Mann,
hysterically. "But--but----"
"I don't wonder at it--now," answered John Garwell. "Your husband could
pass for my twin brother."
"I can hardly tell one from the other, myself," said Nat.
"Never mind; he bought me some candy," put in little Lulu, and this made
all laugh.
"I am going to ask you to do something," said John Garwell, to Horace
Mann. "I think you owe it to me to walk down town, so that your fellow
citizens can see that there are really two of us."
"Yes, Horace," pleaded his wife. "I made a lot of trouble for Mr.
Garwell."
Horace Mann agreed readily, and soon he and the real estate broker and
Nat left the residence. On the main streets of Trenton many stopped to
stare after them. Among the number was the man who had spoken to Mr.
Garwell, and insisted that the real estate broker was Mr. Mann.
"I apologize," said the man, promptly. "But I reckon you'll admit the
resemblance is simply wonderful."
"I do admit it," was the answer. "Still, that doesn't make me anybody
but myself."
Horace Mann insisted upon taking John Garwell and Nat to dinner, and
treated them to the best the restaurant afforded.
"After this I'm going to wear a badge, so my wife will know me," said
the Trenton man. "And I'll never dare to come to New York, for fear of
being taken for you."