IN WHICH BOBBY STRIKES A BALANCE, AND RETURNS TO RIVERDALE
Our hero had learned a lesson which experience alone could teach
him. The consciousness of that "something within him" inclined him to
be a little too familiar with his elders; but then it gave him
confidence in himself, and imparted courage to go forward in the
accomplishment of his mission. His interview with Colonel Whiting and
the gentle but plain rebuke of his niece had set him right, and he
realized that, while he was doing a man's work, he was still a boy. He
had now a clearer perception of what is due to the position and
dignity of those upon whom fortune has smiled.
Bobby wanted to be a man, and it is not strange that he should
sometimes fancy he was a man. He had an idea, too, that "all men are
born free and equal;" and he could not exactly see why a nabob was
entitled to any more respect and consideration than a poor man. It was
a lesson he was compelled to learn, though some folks live out their
lifetimes without ever finding out that.
"'Tis wealth, good sir, makes honorable men." Some people think a
rich man is no better than a poor man, except so far as he behaves
himself better. It is strange how stupid some people are!
Bobby had no notion of cringing to any man, and he felt as independent
as the Declaration of Independence itself. But then the beautiful lady
had told him that he was pert and forward; and when he thought it
over, he was willing to believe she was right. Colonel Whiting was an
old man, compared with himself; and he had some faith, at least in
theory, in the Spartan virtue of respect for the aged. Probably the
nabob of B---- would have objected to being treated with respect on
account of his age; and Bobby would have been equally unwilling to
acknowledge that he treated him with peculiar respect on account of
his wealth or position.
Perhaps the little merchant had an instinctive perception of
expediency--that he should sell more books by being less familiar; at
any rate he determined never again to use the flowery speeches he had
arranged for the upper crust.
He had sold a dozen books; and possibly this fact made him more
willing to compromise the matter than he would otherwise have been.
This was, after all, the great matter for congratulation, and with a
light heart he hurried back to the railroad station to procure another
supply.
We cannot follow him into every house where his calling led him. He
was not always as fortunate as in the instances we have mentioned.
Sometimes all his arguments were unavailing, and after he had spent
half an hour of valuable time in setting forth the merits of "The
Wayfarer," he was compelled to retire without having effected a
sale. Sometimes, too, he was rudely repulsed; hard epithets were
applied to him; old men and old women, worried out by the continued
calls of pedlers, sneered at him, or shut the door in his face; but
Bobby was not disheartened. He persevered, and did not allow these
little trials to discompose or discourage him.
By one o'clock on the first day of his service he had sold eighteen
books, which far exceeded even his most sanguine expectations. By this
time he began to feel the want of his dinner; but there was no tavern
or eating house at hand, and he could not think of leaving the harvest
to return to the railroad station; so he bought a sheet of gingerbread
and a piece of cheese at a store, and seating himself near a brook by
the side of the road, he bolted his simple meal, as boys are very apt
to do when they are excited.
When he had finished, he took out his account book, and entered,
"Dinner, 10 cents." Resuming his business, he disposed of the
remaining six books in his valise by the middle of the afternoon, and
was obliged to return for another supply.
About six o'clock he entered the house of a mechanic, just as the
family were sitting down to tea. He recommended his book with so much
energy, that the wife of the mechanic took a fancy to him, and not
only purchased one, but invited him to tea. Bobby accepted the
invitation, and in the course of the meal the good lady drew from him
the details of his history, which he very modestly related, for though
he sometimes fancied himself a man, he was not the boy to boast of his
exploits. His host was so much pleased with him, that he begged him to
spend the night with them. Bobby had been thinking how and where he
should spend the night, and the matter had given him no little
concern. He did not wish to go to the hotel, for it looked like a very
smart house, and he reasoned that he should have to pay pretty roundly
for accommodations there. These high prices would eat up his profits,
and he seriously deliberated whether it would not be better for him to
sleep under a tree than pay fifty cents for a lodging.
If I had been there I should have told him that a man loses nothing in
the long run by taking good care of himself. He must eat well and
sleep well, in order to do well and be well. But I suppose Bobby
would have told me that it was of no use to pay a quarter extra for
sleeping on a gilded bedstead, since the room would be so dark he
could not see the gilt even if he wished to do so. I could not have
said anything to such a powerful argument, so I am very glad the
mechanic's wife set the matter at rest by offering him a bed in her
house.
He spent a very pleasant evening with the family, who made him feel
entirely at home, they were so kind and so plain spoken. Before he
went to bed, he entered under the book account, "By twenty-six
'Wayfarers,' sold this day, $26.00."
He had done a big day's work, much bigger than he could hope to do
again. He had sold more than one half of his whole stock, and at this
rate he should be out of books the next day. At first he thought he
would send for another lot; but he could not judge yet what his
average daily sales would be, and finally concluded not to do so. What
he had might last till Friday or Saturday. He intended to go home on
the latter day, and he could bring them with him on his return without
expense. This was considerable of an argument for a boy to manage;
but Bobby was satisfied with it, and went to sleep, wondering what his
mother, Squire Lee, and Annie were thinking of about that time.
After breakfast the next morning he resumed his travels. He was as
enthusiastic as ever, and pressed "The Wayfarer" with so much
earnestness that he sold a book in nearly every house he
visited. People seemed to be more interested in the little merchant
than in his stock, and taking advantage of this kind feeling towards
him, he appealed to them with so much eloquence that few could resist
it.
The result of the day's sales was fifteen copies, which Bobby entered
in the book account with the most intense satisfaction. He had outdone
the boy who had passed through Riverdale, but he had little hope that
the harvest would always be so abundant.
He often thought of this boy, from whom he had obtained the idea he
was now carrying out. That boy had stopped over night at the little
black house, and slept with him. He had asked for lodging, and offered
to pay for it, as well as for his supper and breakfast. Why couldn't
he do the same? He liked the suggestion, and from that time, wherever
he happened to be, he asked for lodging, or the meal he required; and
he always proposed to pay for what he had, but very few would take
anything.
On Friday noon he had sold out. Returning to the railroad station, he
found that the train would not leave for the city for an hour; so he
improved the time in examining and balancing his accounts. The book
sales amounted to just fifty dollars, and, after his ticket to Boston
was paid for, his expenses would amount to one dollar and fifty cents,
leaving a balance in his favor of fifteen dollars. He was overjoyed
with the result, and pictured the astonishment with which his mother,
Squire Lee, and Annie would listen to the history of his excursion.
After four o'clock that afternoon he entered the store of Mr. Bayard,
bag and baggage. On his arrival in the city, he was considerably
exercised in mind to know how he should get the trunk to his
destination. He was too economical to pay a cartman a quarter; but
what would have seemed mean in a man was praiseworthy in a boy
laboring for a noble end.
Probably a great many of my young readers in Bobby's position,
thinking that sixteen dollars, which our hero had in his pocket, was a
mint of money, would have been in favor of being a little
magnificent,--of taking a carriage and going up-town in state. Bobby
had not the least desire to "swell;" so he settled the matter by
bargaining with a little ragged fellow to help him carry the trunk to
Mr. Bayard's store for fourpence.
"How do you do, Mr. Timmins?" said Bobby to the spruce clerk, as he
deposited the trunk upon the floor, and handed the ragged boy the
fourpence.
"Ah, Bobby!" exclaimed Mr. Timmins. "Have you sold out?"
"All clean. Is Mr. Bayard in?"
"In the office. But how do you like it?"
"First rate."
"Well, every one to his taste; but I don't see how any one who has any
regard for his dignity can stick himself into everybody's house. I
couldn't do it, I know."
"I don't stand for the dignity."
"Ah, well, there is a difference in folks."
"That's a fact," replied Bobby, as he hurried to the office of
Mr. Bayard, leaving Mr. Timmins to sun himself in his own dignity.
The bookseller was surprised to see him so soon, but he gave him a
cordial reception.
"I didn't expect you yet," said he. "Why do you come back? Have you
got sick of the business?"
"Sick of it! No, sir."
"What have you come back for, then?"
"Sold out, sir."
"Sold out! You have done well!"
"Better than I expected."
"I had no idea of seeing you till to-morrow night; and I thought you
would have books enough to begin the next week with. You have done
bravely."
"If I had had twenty more, I could have sold them before to-morrow
night. Now, sir, if you please, I will pay you for those
books--thirty-three dollars and fifty cents."
"You had better keep that, Bobby. I will trust you as long as you
wish."
"If you please, sir, I had rather pay it;" and the little merchant, as
proud as a lord, handed over the amount.
"I like your way of doing business, Bobby. Nothing helps a man's
credit so much as paying promptly. Now tell me some of your
adventures--or we will reserve them till this evening, for I am sure
Ellen will be delighted to hear them."
"I think I shall go to Riverdale this afternoon. The cars leave at
half past five."
"Very well; you have an hour to spare."
Bobby related to his kind friend the incidents of his excursion,
including his interview with Colonel Whiting and his niece, which
amused the bookseller very much. He volunteered some good advice,
which Bobby received in the right spirit, and with a determination to
profit by it.
At half past five he took the cars for home, and before dark was
folded in his mother's arms. The little black house seemed doubly
dear to him now that he had been away from it a few days. His mother
and all the children were so glad to see him that it seemed almost
worth his while to go away for the pleasure of meeting them on his
return.