“A BAD PENNY.”
THE boarding house to which Sam conducted his friend was not externally
prepossessing. It was a shabby brick house, between Seventh and Eighth
avenues. It was occupied by clerks and salesmen employed, like Sam, on
Eighth avenue, and the price and accommodations were both adapted to the
small salaries which, as a rule, they received. The hall was covered
with oilcloth, dirty, and in places worn away, while the stair-carpeting
was of the same material.
Sam opened the door with a latchkey, and led the way upstairs.
“Come up to my room, Joshua,” he said. “While you are fixing your hair,
I’ll go down and let Mrs. Jones know you are here.”
Sam’s room was a hall bedroom on the third floor. It was barely large
enough for a narrow bedstead, a trunk, a chair, and a washstand. There
was no bureau, and no room for any; but in place, there were nails to
hang his clothes upon just opposite the bed. It fell below Joshua’s
anticipations, being quite inferior to the room he occupied at home. He
had supposed that Sam, who had strutted about Stapleton the summer
before, was handsomely situated. So it was with a feeling of
disappointment that he regarded the small room, the thin, cheap carpet,
the common wooden bedstead, and untidy washstand.
“It’s rather small,” said Sam, in a tone of apology, “but there’s a
larger room on this floor. We will take it together. I’ll speak to Mrs.
Jones about it. There’s a brush and comb; you can be fixing your hair,
while I run down and see about a seat at the table for you.”
Joshua proceeded to arrange his toilet, while Sam did as proposed. He
returned in a couple of minutes and announced his success.
“The old lady’ll be glad enough to take you,” he said. “We can have the
other room. We’ll go into it after dinner.”
“After dinner?” repeated Joshua, who had been accustomed to regard the
third meal as supper.
“Yes, we always have dinner at this hour,” explained Sam. “We never take
supper except Sunday evening.”
“That seems strange, Sam.”
“Oh, you’ll get used to it very soon.”
“Don’t you eat anything in the middle of the day?”
“We take lunch then. You’ll find New York a different sort of a place
from Stapleton.”
Joshua was ready to believe this. He was not used to it yet, but had no
doubt he should like it after a while.
“Now, if you are ready, we will go down to dinner.”
The dining-room proved to be in the front basement. Three or four young
men were already seated at the table, while a red-haired girl was
waiting upon them. The mistress of the boarding house was a thin,
tired-looking woman, who, to judge from her appearance, found her
business rather a wearing one.
“Mrs. Jones, Mr. Drummond,” introduced Sam.
“I am glad to see you, Mr. Drummond,” said Mrs. Jones; and she really
was glad, for a new boarder was a welcome addition to her household.
“Sit down there, if you please, next to Mr. Crawford.”
Joshua took his seat as directed, and the waitress came to receive her
orders.
“Will you have roast beef or roast lamb?” she asked of Sam.
“Beef for me,” answered Sam. “What will you have, Joshua?”
“The same,” said Joshua.
I suppose it is useless to say that Mrs. Jones did not keep a
first-class boarding house. The fare she furnished to her boarders was
considerably inferior to that at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, or a good many
other hotels of lower standing; but this was a point in which Joshua was
not likely to be disappointed. His father, as has been explained in the
preceding volume, was a man so fond of money that he always furnished a
very mean table, and neither he nor any of his family had ever been in
danger of gout or dyspepsia. So to Joshua the fare at Mrs. Jones’
boarding house seemed excellent. His wanderings had given him quite an
appetite, and he did substantial justice to the food before him.
When they rose from the table Mrs. Jones said, “I will come upstairs
immediately, Mr. Crawford, and show you and your friend the large room
next to yours.”
“Well, Joshua, how do you like the feed?” asked Sam, as they were going
upstairs.
“It’s very good,” answered Joshua, in a tone of satisfaction. “Do you
always have as good a dinner?”
“Yes, always. On Sundays we have something extra.”
“I think I shall like it. How much does Mrs. Jones charge for board?”
“For room and board, six dollars.”
“Ain’t that rather high?” asked the frugal-minded Joshua, who had been
used to Stapleton prices.
“No, it’s very cheap, for the city. Of course, board’s much higher here
than in the country.”
“Is it?”
“Certainly. There’s a friend of mine pays fifteen dollars a week for
board.”
“Does he? Why, that’s enough to support a family in Stapleton.”
“We do things on a larger scale here in New York, as you will soon find
out,” said Sam. “We make money fast, and we spend it fast.”
“That’s just what I want.”
“To spend money fast?”
“No, to make money fast.”
“Oh, well, you can do it after a while. I’ll help you get a place by my
influence,” continued Sam, loftily.
By this time Mrs. Jones made her appearance at the head of the stairs.
She opened the door of an adjoining room and invited them in.
It was a room about twelve feet square, with a double bed in the middle.
The carpet was the same quality as that in Sam’s smaller room, but there
was a little more furniture, and there were two windows. Two cheap
prints in pine frames gave an elegant, artistic look to the apartment.
Joshua was not, however, as favorably impressed with it as with the
dinner.
“How’ll this do, Joshua?” said Sam.
“Very well, I think.”
“We shall want to sleep here to-night, Mrs. Jones,” said Sam.
“It shall be ready, Mr. Crawford. I suppose you will be going out this
evening?”
“Yes,” answered Sam. “My friend and I are going to the theatre.”
“It shall be ready by the time you return, then.”
“Joshua,” said his friend, “just give me a lift with my trunk, and I’ll
move now.”
“All right.”
“I suppose you didn’t bring a trunk, did you? Came away in too great a
hurry, eh?”
“Yes,” answered Joshua, smiling.
“You can buy one to-morrow or next day. I wonder if there is a closet?
Oh, yes, here’s one. I tell you what would improve the looks of the
room.”
“What’s that?”
“A sofa.”
“So it would.”
“I don’t suppose the old lady would put one in. What do you say to
buying one?”
“I buy a sofa?” ejaculated Joshua, alarmed.
“Yes, or a lounge. I guess you could get a decent one for fifteen
dollars.”
“I don’t think we need any,” said Joshua, hastily; “but if you want to
buy one----”
“Oh, it’s no matter,” said Sam. “It’ll be pretty hard to get money out
of him,” he thought to himself. “However, I guess I can manage him.”
This was likely to prove true. Joshua had got into dangerous company,
and under the auspices of Sam Crawford the fund of money, which he
considered as so large, was not likely to last long. Could his father
have looked in upon him, and realized the manner in which the money he
had scraped together was likely to be expended, he would have been angry
and horror-stricken. But up to this moment he did not suspect the double
loss he had incurred.
Let us return to Stapleton for a moment, and look in upon the home which
Joshua had deserted.
When the supper table was spread Mr. Drummond came in from the store.
“Where is Joshua?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said his wife, anxiously. “He wasn’t here to dinner. I
hope he hasn’t gone out on the pond and got drowned.”
“No fear,” said her husband, philosophically. “He’s got a sullen fit and
wandered off somewhere. He’ll be back some time this evening.”
“I wish I was sure nothing had happened to him,” said Mrs. Drummond.
“I’ll risk him. His being away won’t spoil my appetite,” said the
father, rather contemptuously.
“I don’t think you treat him just right, Jacob,” said Mrs. Drummond;
“he’s been looking down for some days.”
“I know what it’s about. He wants me to increase his allowance.”
“Twenty-five cents does seem small for a boy of Joshua’s age.”
“If he wants more, let him go to work and earn it. That’s the way I had
to do when I was of his age. I’ll tell you what it is, wife, Joshua is a
lazy, good-for-nothing boy. If he had his own way, he’d spend five
dollars a week, and do nothing but loaf around the village. Now, I’m not
going to permit this. He shan’t squander the money I have worked so hard
for.”
The suspicion that Joshua had run away from home had not entered his
father’s mind. He did not think that his son, for whom he felt contempt
in spite of the relationship, had spirit enough to take such a step;
and, besides, he knew that he could not go far without money.
After supper Mr. Drummond went back to the store, and did not return
till it had closed.
“Has Joshua got home?” he asked.
“No,” answered his wife, anxiously. “I am afraid, Jacob, you have driven
him to some desperate step.”
“Nonsense! I am not in the least troubled about him. A bad penny always
returns.”
He went upstairs to deposit the money he had brought from the till, in
his little black trunk. Two minutes afterward he hurried downstairs,
pale with passion.
“What do you think your son has done?” he demanded of his startled wife.
“What?” gasped she. “Tell me, quick.”
“He has robbed me of over six hundred dollars. If I ever catch him I’ll
flog him within an inch of his life.”
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