OSCAR BECOMES A PROFESSOR
"I am afraid your friend won't thank you for introducing me to him,"
said Harry, after Fitz had left the room.
"Fitz is a snob," said Oscar. "He makes himself ridiculous by
putting on airs, and assuming to be more than he is. His father is
in a good business, and may be rich--I don't know about that--but
that isn't much to boast of."
"I don't think we shall be very intimate," said Harry, smiling.
"Evidently a printer's apprentice is something very low in his eyes."
"When you are an influential editor he will be willing to recognize
you. Let that stimulate your ambition."
"It isn't easy for a half-educated boy to rise to such a position. I
feel that I know very little."
"If I can help you any, Harry, I shall be very glad to do it. I'm
not much of a scholar, but I can help you a little. For instance, if
you wanted to learn French, I could hear your lessons, and correct
your exercises."
"Will you?" said Harry, eagerly. "There is nothing I should like
better."
"Then I'll tell you what I'll do. You shall buy a French grammar,
and come to my room two evenings a week, and recite what you get time
to study at home."
"Won't it give you a great deal of trouble, Oscar?"
"Not a bit of it; I shall rather like it. Until you can buy a
grammar, I will lend you mine. I'll set you a lesson out of it now."
He took from the book-shelves a French grammar, and inviting Harry to
sit down beside him, gave him some necessary explanations as to the
pronunciation of words according to the first lesson.
"It seems easy," said Harry. "I can take more than that."
"It is the easiest of the modern languages, to us at least, on
account of its having so many words similar to ours."
"What evening shall I come, Oscar?"
"Tuesday and Friday will suit me as well as any. And remember,
Harry, I mean to be very strict in discipline. And, by the way, how
will it do to call myself Professor?"
"I'll call you Professor if you want me to."
"We'll leave all high titles to Fitz, and I won't use the rod any
oftener than it is absolutely necessary."
"All right, Professor Vincent," said Harry laughing, "I'll endeavor
to behave with propriety."
"I wonder what they would say at home," said Oscar, "if they knew I
had taken up the profession of teacher. Strange as it may seem to
you, Harry, I have the reputation in the home-circle of being
decidedly lazy. How do you account for it?"
"Great men are seldom appreciated."
"You hit the nail on the head that time--glad I am not the nail, by
the way. Henceforth I will submit with resignation to injustice and
misconstruction, since I am only meeting with the common fate of
great men."
"What time is it, Oscar?"
"Nearly ten."
"Then I will bid you good-night," and Harry rose to go. "I can't
tell how much I am obliged to you for your kind offer."
"Just postpone thanks till you find out whether I am a good teacher
or not."
"I am sure of that."
"I am not so sure, but I will do what I can for you. Good-night.
I'll expect you Friday evening. I shall see Fitz to-morrow. Shall I
give him your love?"
"Never mind!" said Harry, smiling. "I'm afraid it wouldn't be
appreciated."
"Perhaps not."
As Harry left his lively companion, he felt that he had been most
fortunate in securing his friendship--not only that he found him very
agreeable and attractive, but he was likely to be of great use to him
in promoting his plans of self-education. He had too much good sense
not to perceive that the only chance he had of rising to an
influential position lay in qualifying himself for it, by enlarging
his limited knowledge and improving his mind.
"I have made a good beginning," he thought. "After I have learned
something of French, I will take up Latin, and I think Oscar will be
willing to help me in that too."
The next morning he commenced work in the printing office. With a
few hints from Ferguson, he soon comprehended what he had to do, and
made very rapid progress.
"You're getting on fast, Harry," said Ferguson approvingly.
"I like it," said our hero. "I am glad I decided to be a printer."
"I wish I wasn't one," grumbled Clapp, the younger journeyman.
"Don't you like it?"
"Not much. It's hard work and poor pay. I just wish I was in my
brother's shoes. He is a bookkeeper in Boston, with a salary of
twelve hundred a year, while I am plodding along on fifteen dollars
week."
"You may do better some day," said Ferguson.
"Don't see any chance of it."
"If I were in your place, I would save up part of my salary, and by
and by have an office, and perhaps a paper of my own."
"Why don't you do it, then?" sneered Clapp.
"Because I have a family to support from my earnings--you have only
yourself."
"It doesn't help me any; I can't save anything out of fifteen dollars
a week."
"You mean you won't," said Ferguson quietly.
"No I don't. I mean I can't."
"How do you expect I get along, then? I have a wife and two children
to support, and only get two dollars a week more than you."
"Perhaps you get into debt."
"No; I owe no man a dollar," said Ferguson emphatically. "That isn't
all. I save two dollars a week; so that I actually support four on
fifteen dollars a week--your salary. What do you say to that?"
"I don't want to be mean," said Clapp.
"Nor I. I mean to live comfortably, but of course I have to be
economical."
"Oh, hang economy!" said Clapp impatiently. "The old man used to
lecture me about economy till I got sick of hearing the word."
"It is a good thing, for all that," persisted Ferguson. "You'll
think so some day, even if you don't now."
"I guess you mean to run opposition to young Franklin, over there,"
sneered Clapp, indicating Harry, who had listened to the discussion
with not a little interest.
"I think he and I will agree together pretty well," said Ferguson,
smiling. "Franklin's a good man to imitate."
"If there are going to be two Franklins in the office, it will be
time for me to clear out," returned Clapp.
"You can do better."
"How is that?"
"Become Franklin No. 3."
"You don't catch me imitating any old fogy like that. As far as I
know anything about him, he was a mean, stingy old curmudgeon!"
exclaimed Clapp with irritation.
"That's rather strong language, Clapp," said Mr. Anderson, looking up
from his desk with a smile. "It doesn't correspond with the general
estimate of Franklin's character."
"I don't care," said Clapp doggedly, "I wouldn't be like Franklin if
I could. I have too much self-respect."
Ferguson laughed, and Harry wanted to, but feared he should offend
the younger journeyman, who evidently had worked himself into a bad
humor.
"I don't think you're in any danger," said Ferguson, who did not mind
his fellow-workman's little ebullitions of temper.
Clapp scowled, but did not deign to reply, partly, perhaps, because
he knew that there was nothing to say.
From the outset Ferguson took a fancy to the young apprentice.
"He's got good, solid ideas," said he to Mr. Anderson, when Harry was
absent. "He isn't so thoughtless as most boys of his age. He looks
ahead."
"I think you are right in your judgment of him," said Mr. Anderson.
"He promises to be a faithful workman."
"He promises more than that," said Ferguson. "Mark my words, Mr.
Anderson; that boy is going to make his mark some day."
"It is a little too soon to say that, isn't it?"
"No; I judge from what I see. He is industrious and ambitious, and
is bound to succeed. The world will hear of him yet."
Mr. Anderson smiled. He liked what he had seen of his new
apprentice, but he thought Ferguson altogether too sanguine.
"He's a good, faithful boy," he admitted, "but it takes more than
that to rise to distinction. If all the smart boys turned out smart
men, they'd be a drug in the market."
But Ferguson held to his own opinion, notwithstanding. Time will
show which was right.
The next day Ferguson said, "Harry, come round to my house, and take
tea to-night. I've spoken to my wife about you, and she wants to see
you."
"Thank you, Mr. Ferguson," said Harry. "I shall be very glad to
come."
"I'll wait till you are ready, and you can walk along with me."
"All right; I will be ready in five minutes."
They set out together for Ferguson's modest home, which was about
half a mile distant. As they passed up the village street Harry's
attention was drawn to two boys who were approaching them. One he
recognized at once as Fitzgerald Fletcher. He had an even more
stunning necktie than when Harry first met him, and sported a jaunty
little cane, which he swung in his neatly gloved hand.
"I wonder if he'll notice me," thought Harry. "At any rate, I won't
be wanting in politeness."
"Good-afternoon, Mr. Fletcher," he said, as they met.
Fitzgerald stared at him superciliously, and made the slightest
possible nod.
"Who is that?" asked Ferguson.
"It is a boy who has great contempt for printers' devils and low
apprentices," answered Harry. "I was introduced to him two evenings
ago, but he evidently doesn't care about keeping up the acquaintance."
"Who is that, Fitz?" asked his companion in turn.
"It's a low fellow--a printer's devil," answered Fitz, shortly.
"How do you happen to know him?"
"Oscar Vincent introduced him to me. Oscar's a queer fellow. He
belongs to one of the first families in Boston--one of my set, you
know, and yet he actually invited that boy to his room."
"He's rather a good-looking boy--the printer."
"Think so?" drawled Fitz. "He's low--all apprentices are. I mean to
keep him at a distance."