THE RESULT OF A FIRE.
On the following Sunday morning Robert attended one of the principal
churches in Chicago and heard what he considered a very fine sermon on
charity.
"I suppose we ought all to be more charitable," he thought, on coming
out. "But I must say I find it very hard to have any charitable
feelings for Mr. Talbot. I do hope he is treating mother as he should."
He was walking down State Street when he heard a commotion on the
thoroughfare. A fire engine was coming along, followed by a long hook
and ladder truck. He watched them and to his surprise saw them draw
up almost in front of the tall office building in which Mr. Gray's
cut-rate ticket establishment was located.
"Can it be possible that our place is on fire?" he cried, and ran to
the office with all speed.
He soon discovered that the building was a mass of flames from top to
bottom, the fire having started in the boiler room in the basement and
found a natural outlet through the elevator shafts. He tried to get
into the office, but the door was locked and he had no key.
"Back there, young man!" came from a policeman, as he rushed up to
force the gathering crowd out of the firemen's way.
"I work in this office," answered Robert. "Hadn't I better try to save
something?"
"Are your books in your safe?"
"I presume they are."
"Then you had better get back. Something may cave in soon, you know."
While Robert hesitated another officer came along, and then everybody
was ordered back, and a rope was stretched across the street at either
end of the block. Meanwhile the fire kept increasing until it was easy
to see that the office building was doomed.
"It's too bad," thought Robert, as he watched the progress of the
flames. "This will upset Mr. Gray's business completely."
Half an hour later, as the boy was moving around in the dense crowd, he
ran across Livingston Palmer.
"This will throw us out of employment, Livingston," he said.
"It looks like it, Robert," answered the senior clerk. "Still, I can't
say that I care so much."
"You do not?"
"No. You see, after we closed up Saturday night I met my friend Jack
Dixon, of the Combination Comedy Company, and he has offered me a place
to travel with the organization."
"And you are going to accept?"
"I certainly shall now. At first I was on the fence about it, for I
wanted to get with a tragedy company. But I suppose this will do for a
stepping stone to something better."
Robert had his doubts about this, for Palmer had recited several times
for him, and he had thought the recitations very poor. But the senior
clerk was thoroughly stage-struck, and Robert felt that it would do no
good to argue the matter with him.
"Your leaving may throw Mr. Gray into a worse hole than ever," he
ventured.
"Oh, I guess not. He will have you to fall back on. I doubt if he will
be able to resume business immediately."
Livingston Palmer was right in the latter surmise. The next day Robert
found his employer in an office on the opposite side of the street.
"I am all upset, Frost," said Mr. Gray. "The safe has dropped to the
bottom of the ruins and it will be a week or two before they can dig it
out."
"Shall you resume at once?"
"I hardly think so. The fact is, I have telegraphed to my brother in
New York about business there. It may be that I shall open up in that
city instead of here."
"Then I fancy I can consider myself disengaged for the present."
"Yes. I am sorry for you, but you can see it cannot be helped."
"I don't blame you in the least, Mr. Gray. I am sorry on your own
account, as well as mine, that you have been burnt out. I hope you were
fully insured."
"I was, in a way. Yet I have lost valuable records which no amount of
money can replace."
When Robert left the office it was with a sober face. He was out of a
position. What should he do next?
"It's too bad," he mused. "And just after writing to mother that I was
doing so nicely."
All told he had saved up about twenty-five dollars, and he resolved
to be very careful of this amount and not spend a cent more than was
necessary, until another situation was secured.
Feeling that no time was to be lost, he procured two of the morning
papers and carefully read the want columns. There were several
advertisements which seemed to promise well, and he made a note of
these and then started to visit the addresses given.
The first was at a restaurant where a cashier was wanted. Robert found
the resort to be anything but high-styled. It was on a side street and
looked far from clean.
"Well, a fellow can't be too particular," he thought, and marched
inside without hesitation.
"This way," said the head waiter, thinking he had come in to get
something to eat.
"I wish to see the proprietor," answered Robert. "He advertised for a
cashier."
"He's got one."
"Oh, if that's so, excuse me for troubling you," and the boy turned on
his heel to walk out.
"Hold on," said the head waiter. "I don't think the new man suits Mr.
Hinks entirely. Perhaps he'll give you a show after all. You'll find
Mr. Hinks over at the pie counter yonder," and the waiter jerked his
thumb in the direction.
Robert walked to the counter and found a short, stout man in charge.
The individual had a pair of crafty eyes that the boy did not at all
admire.
"I came to see about that position which you advertised," he said.
"Yes? Have you had any experience?"
"I worked in a cut-rate ticket office--the one that was burned out on
Sunday last. I think I could do the work of an ordinary cashier."
"No doubt you could, if you are used to handling money. Did you work
for Gray?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I reckon he wouldn't have you unless you were all right," said
Mr. Hinks. "I've got a new man on but he don't suit--he's too fussy
and particular. Last night he left his desk and ran all the way to the
sidewalk to give a man a dollar bill which he had forgotten."
"Well, that shows he is honest," said Robert, with a laugh.
"Yes, but my desk might have been robbed in the meantime."
"I suppose that is true."
"I don't want a man to be so honest as all that,--that is, with the
customers,--although he must be honest with me. If a customer is
foolish enough to leave his change behind, why let him lose it, that's
my motto. What do you want a week?"
"I was getting twelve dollars."
"Phew! That's pretty stiff."
"I might start in for less."
"I never pay a man over five dollars."
"I cannot live on five dollars, I am afraid."
"Well, you pick up a good deal, you know," replied Mr. Hinks, and
closed one eye suggestively.
"You mean in the way of tips?"
"Tips? Oh, no, they go to the waiters. But through making change and
the like," and Mr. Hinks closed one eye again.
Robert's face flushed.
"Do you mean by giving people the wrong change?" he demanded
indignantly.
"I didn't say so. But I know almost every cashier picks up lots of
extra money in one way and another."
"Not if they are honest, sir. And I would not be dishonest--I would
starve first. I am out for business, but not the kind of business you
seem to expect of your employees."
At this plain talk Mr. Hinks scowled darkly at Robert.
"Here, here, I won't have you speak to me in this fashion," he
blustered. "If you don't like the offer I've made you, you can get out."
"I don't like the offer, and I think it is an outrage that you are
allowed to conduct business on such principles," replied Robert, and
lost no time in quitting the place. The proprietor followed him to the
door and shook his fist after him.
The next place was a map-maker's office. Here there was a large force
of clerks, and the youth was received very politely.
"I am sorry to keep you waiting," said the clerk who advanced to see
what the boy wanted. "But Mr. Ruggles is very busy at present. Will you
sit down or call again?"
"I'll wait a little while," said Robert, who was favorably impressed by
the surroundings. "That is, if the place that was advertised is still
open."
"I can't say as to that. There have been several applicants, but the
entire matter is in Mr. Ruggles' hands."
The clerk turned away and Robert dropped on a long bench running up one
side of the waiting room. Hardly had he settled himself than two men
came in. One looked like an Englishman while the other was evidently
French.
The clerk greeted them as if they had been there before.
"Mr. Stanhope will see you directly," he said.
"We cannot wait too long," said the Englishman. "My friend--Jean Le
Fevre, must get back to Michigan as soon as possible."
"I will tell Mr. Stanhope," said the clerk, and vanished into an inner
office.
Left to themselves, the Englishman and the Frenchman began to converse
rapidly, the subject of their talk being a certain tract of timber land
in the upper section of Michigan. This interested Robert, who could not
help but hear all that was said.
"Ze map--zat is what we want," he heard the French Canadian--for such
Jean Le Fevre was--say. "Once we have zat, and the land will be ours."
"Right you are," answered the Englishman. "And then old Felix Amberton
can whistle for his money. His claim won't be worth the paper it is
written upon."
Robert was startled at these words. He remembered that Felix Amberton
was the name of Dick Marden's uncle, the Michigan lumberman. Were these
the fellows who wished to get the lumberman's lands away from him?