THE SECRET PARTNER.
"It is joy to the just to do judgment; but destruction shall be to
the worker of iniquity."
THE events related in the last chapter occurred on Thursday. Harrison
was to take his place in Mr. Grant's store on Monday. The next day,
then, his mother must be carried home, and all the arrangements made
for her comfort during his absence. As the youngest boy, he must be
the first at the store in the morning to sweep and dust; then return
for his breakfast, and be back again to his work. In the morning,
therefore, he could do nothing to lighten her cares. But the store
closed early, and what delightful evenings they would have together!
Those were the boy's reflections as he lay awake long after the other
inmates of the cottage had sunk into quiet slumber. "Mother says
I ought to be thankful and I am; but not in the way she means,
I suppose. I wish I were as good as she is. Nothing ever happens
to her but she sees the hand of God in it, just as plain as I can see
that bureau in the moonlight. If it's any thing she has asked for,
He has answered her prayer, she says. If it's any affliction, He is
administering the rod in love, for her good. Then how much comfort
she does take in praying! Now last night she seemed to forget
everything but that she was talking with God. I confess I was
so tired I lost a part of it, my thoughts wandered so, but when
she arose, how her face did shine! She seemed so full of trust,
when she kissed me good-night and whispered, 'All will come out
right, my son.'"
Monday morning arrived, and Harrison went to his new employment full
of hope, sanguine of success, because he had made up his mind to do
his very best. One of the clerks explained the duties that would be
required of him. First, he would be expected to take the great key
at a very early hour from the house of Mr. Grant, and carry it to the
porter at the store. Then, when within the store, he was to sweep and
dust, return home for his breakfast, and be back in time to take the
letters from the morning mail, after which he would be called upon
to go errands here and there, and if found trustworthy, to deliver
and collect bills.
When he returned home at night, Mr. Cowles was almost as eager as his
mother to hear his report of the day.
"I am very well satisfied with my place," said the boy, "and am
exceedingly obliged to you, sir, for helping me to get it. We are
doing an immense business. I can't begin to tell you the amount
of grain we have received into the store to-day. The hook and chain
are fastened around the draw, and up go several bushels, straight to
the third or fourth story window, where a man, stands ready to pull
them in, and others to mark them and pile them away."
"Then perhaps in an hour comes a tremendous great order to be filled,
and down come bags again through the trap-door into the lower room,
from which the men take them into the trucks backed up to the
sidewalk."
At the end of two months Mrs. Danforth began to notice that her son,
instead of being cheerful and happy, came home with languid steps,
complained of being weary, and was not at all inclined to talk of his
business. The night he brought home his first month's wages, he laid
the money down with a petulant air, very unlike himself, and when his
mother glanced inquiringly in his face, exclaimed to her great
astonishment, "I wish that were the last cent I ever were to receive
from the firm of Grant & Company."
"Why, Harrison! what has happened?" she inquired in surprise.
"Because I believe they'll fail," said the boy, recovering himself.
"I don't think they do business on the right principle."
The good woman begged him to explain. This he was unwilling to do;
and then she told him if he did his own duty faithfully, he was not
responsible for the actions of his employers.
Two, three months passed; and Harrison grew more and more silent—
almost moody. Not even good neighbor Cowles could induce him to say
a word about his business. He worked early and late, often not coming
home for his supper until eight or nine o'clock, so that his mother
had but little opportunity to question him. On the Sabbath, however,
she noticed a marked change in his conduct. He often sat with his
eyes fixed vacantly on some object; and when suddenly addressed,
would start as if awaking out of his sleep. Once when she pressed him
as to the subject of his thoughts he answered, vaguely, "I'm trying
to make out the character of the head clerk." He had long ago given
up identifying himself with the business, and saying "our firm,"
"our business," "our clerks." On another occasion she overheard him
say to himself, "I'll keep my eyes opened, and make it out yet."
All this time he had visited Mrs. Haven's cottage but once. Ella had
been in several times to inquire for him, and felt quite indignant
at his having forsaken them, until Mrs. Danforth explained to her,
with a sigh, that his business allowed him no time for recreation,
scarcely for necessary rest. And when Ella asked, "Does he like being
a merchant? does he look just as he did? does he whistle now?"
the good woman was obliged to confess that he seemed rather
overworked, and consequently not so merry as formerly. Ah! she little
knew the struggle that was going on in the mind of her boy; that when
at a late hour he retired to bed he could not sleep, that a heavy
weight of care lay upon his heart! But I will not anticipate.
It was now July. Many of the more wealthy citizens were leaving
for the sea-side, or for their country-seats; but though the heat
was extremely oppressive, Harrison's energies did not flag. On the
contrary he had seemed for a short time more active and busy
than ever. For two days he had carried his breakfast and dinner
with him, so that he was absent from home from half-past five in the
morning till past eight at night. When his mother remonstrated,
he assured her that he had extra labors to perform in the absence
of one of the accountants. Mr. Grant finding he could do the work,
had imposed it upon him in addition to his own.
One morning, however, he returned to breakfast, and, having asked
to see Mr. Cowles, walked up to him with the inquiry, "What is the
name of the gentleman who is in company with Mr. Grant?"
"I don't know," replied the other, gazing with considerable surprise
upon the flushed, earnest countenance of the youth.
"Can you help me find out, sir."
"I suppose so, if it is any object for you to know."
"It is of the utmost consequence, sir. When will you do it?"
"To-day."
"Thank you, sir. I'll call at dinner time," and the excited boy went
from the house forgetting that he had not eaten his breakfast.
He returned, however, at dinner-time, and having dispatched his meal
in haste went to Mr. Cowles sitting-room and knocked at the door.
The family were eating in the basement; but our good friend, hearing
Harrison's voice, kept the table; and, entering the room, gave him
the information he sought. "I asked my employer," he began, "who said
he supposed it was Kilby."
"That's just what I thought," exclaimed the boy, with a great sigh
of relief.
Mr. Cowles stared. "Mr. Loving," he added, "was curious to find out
my object in inquiring; but I told him I only sought information
for a friend."
"'Hold,' said he, 'I'll inquire of Clement, next door. He's booked up
in all those matters.' In about five minutes he returned and said
it was Kilby, a rich man from the West somewhere."
"Yes, it's L. F. Kilby," repeated the boy, turning to go. "Well,
I've found out so much."
"What's in the wind, my lad?" asked the good man.
"You'll know soon," was the reply.
All that afternoon Harrison worked as if for his life. Since the
sickness of the accountant, his competency to fill the vacancy
had been discovered, and his employer, who had noticed his redoubled
exertion, supposed that he was trying to obtain the place, for the
sake of the higher wages. He smiled as he advanced, and looking over
the shoulder of the lad, saw him neatly and accurately copy
the accounts from the day-book into the journal, little imagining
that, as soon as his back was turned, another set of accounts,
totally unlike these, were drawn from beneath the book and copied
with a rapid hand.
At length the boy's arduous, self-imposed task was completed. He had
worked at it early and late, mostly when the store was empty, while
Mr. Grant and the greater part of the men had gone to their meals,
and now he considered that enough had been accomplished to serve
his purpose. At noon, before he left the store, he sought the head
clerk, from whom he generally received orders, and said, "I should
like to be absent this afternoon, sir."
"Well, you do look rather used up," replied the man, glancing at
his pallid countenance. "Hope you ain't going to be sick; can't spare
you."
"I've had to work very hard for a mouth, doing double duty," replied
Harrison, fixing his clear, keen eye upon the other. "Can I have
leave of absence?"
"Oh yes! I think upon the whole you need a little rest," was the
reply, and the boy waited for nothing further.
Mrs. Danforth noticed that he ate very sparingly, and soon retired
to his room, where he dressed himself in his Sunday suit.
"Where are you going, my dear?" she asked, in surprise.
"To Mr. Clarkson's first," was his reply. "I have leave of absence
for the afternoon."
"It is very warm," she urged. "Why can't you wait awhile?"
He hesitated a moment, as if about to say something, and then
went out as if he had not heard her remark. But presently he came
back, and said, "Mother, I have something very painful to do this
afternoon, and I want you to pray for me, that I may be directed
to do what is right. I can't tell you now, but I shall before long,
and then I hope I shall be happy again."
"O, my son! what can it be! I hope you have not been left to do
wrong. O, Harrison! tell me, whatever it is! I had rather know it
at once. I can't endure the suspense."
"I will tell you to-night, mother. Please pray for me till then."
And he went out leaving her crushed almost to the dust with sorrow,
fearing that her darling boy, her only earthly hope and dependence,
had been left to commit some great crime. Yes, she saw it all;
she realized now that his plea of urgent business at the store
was but an excuse to be away from home, where the stings
of conscience were doubly hard to endure. She retired to her own
closet, and, falling on her knees, cried out in agony, "O, my God!
forgive him, whatever he has done; lead him to repent humbly, and to
begin this very day a new life!"
Then she tried to recall his exact words, "Pray, for me that I may be
directed to do what is right." He was about then to confess
his guilt, and that was why he hoped for happiness afterwards.
But why go to Mr. Clarkson. Alas! all was dark and drear, and
shrouded in mystery. Sometimes she thought she would follow her son
to Mr. Clarkson's, and force from him the dreadful truth. She passed
the time in alternate prayers and groans and tears.
If Harrison had not been so much absorbed, he would have relieved
his mother so far as his own conduct was concerned, if he thought
the time had not arrived to tell her the whole truth. But, conscious
of his own innocence, he did not realize her anxiety for him.
He went first to Eagle Hotel, and requested to see Mr. Clarkson.
The gentleman learning that he had something for his private ear,
led him along the hall to a small parlor in a retired part of the
building.
"Here is my sanctum," he said, playfully, "and I am quite curious
to know why you have brought me into it."
"Mr. Clarkson," said the boy, pale with contending emotions, "You
have always been kind to me. I need advice, and I know no one so able
to give it as you. May I tell you my story?"
"Certainly," responded the gentleman, growing every moment more and
more surprised.
"Well, sir," exclaimed the boy, nervously handling a small roll he
held in his hand. "I will make it as short as I can."