ANDY MAKES AN INVESTMENT.
Andy wrote to his friend, Walter Gale, who, it will be remembered, was
watching in Pennsylvania by the bedside of his uncle, giving him an
account of his change of business. He received the following reply:
"I felt indignant when I read your news of the conspiracy of Simon
Rich, but was pleased that it led to your advantage. I am inclined
to think that you will find your new business a better one than the
jewelry trade. The latter, if you went in for yourself, would call
for a large capital. In the real estate business capital is not so
much needed as good judgment and a large lot of acquaintances. I am
not personally acquainted with Mr. Crawford, but know him by
reputation as an energetic and honorable business man. If you do not
find your income adequate, all you have to do is to apply to me. I
will send you fifty dollars or more at any time.
"Now, as to the prospects of my return, they are remote. My uncle
seems cheered by my presence, and his health has improved. He cannot
live more than a year or two at the best, but when I came here it
seemed to be only a matter of months. I shall remain while I can do
him good.
"When Mr. Flint returns he will do you justice. You can afford to
wait, as your income is larger than before. You suggest that I need
not continue to pay your board. This, however, I intend to do, and
will advise you to lay aside some money every week, and deposit in a
savings bank. The habit of saving is excellent, and cannot be formed
too early."
"I am lucky to have such a friend," reflected Andy, as he finished
reading this letter. "I will try to make myself worthy of such good
fortune."
At the end of six months Andy had acquired a large practical
acquaintance with the real estate business. He displayed a degree of
judgment which surprised Mr. Crawford.
"You seem more like a young man than a boy," he said. "I am not at all
sure but I could leave my business in your hands if I wished to be
absent."
This compliment pleased Andy. He had also been raised to seven dollars a
week, and this he regarded as a practical compliment.
One evening on his return from West Fifty-sixth Street he strayed into
the Fifth Avenue Hotel, where he sat down to rest in the reading room.
Two men were sitting near him whose conversation he could not help
hearing.
"I own a considerable plot in Tacoma," said one. "I bought it two years
since, when I was on my way back from California. I should like to sell
the plot if I could get a purchaser."
"If the Northern Pacific Railroad is ever completed, the land will be
valuable," replied the other.
"True; but will it ever be completed? That date will be very remote, I
fancy."
"I don't think so. I would buy the land myself if I had the money, but
just at present I have none to spare. How much did you invest?"
"A thousand dollars."
"You might sell, perhaps, through a real estate agent?"
"The real estate agents here know very little of Western property. I
should not know to whom to apply."
Andy thought he saw a chance to procure business for his firm.
"Gentlemen," he said, "will you excuse my saying that I am in a real
estate office, and think you can make some satisfactory arrangement with
us?"
At the same time he handed the owner of the Tacoma property a card of
the firm.
"Crawford!" repeated his friend. "Yes, that is a reputable firm. You
cannot do better than adopt the young man's suggestion."
Andy Grant had written his name on the card.
"You are rather young for a real estate agent, Mr. Grant," remarked the
lot owner.
Andy smiled.
"I am only a subordinate," he said.
"Has your principal ever dealt in Western property?" asked Mr. Bristol.
"Not to any extent, but I have heard him speak favorably of it."
"I will call at your office to-morrow forenoon, then."
Andy apprised Mr. Crawford of the appointment made.
"I shall be glad to see your acquaintance, Andy," said Mr. Crawford. "I
have advices from a friend of mine in Washington that the railroad is
sure to be completed within a short time. This land will be worth
buying. Have you any money?"
"I have a hundred dollars in a savings bank," answered Andy.
"Then I will give you a quarter interest in the purchase, and you can
give me a note for the balance which at present you are unable to pay. I
am sure we shall make a good deal of money within a short time, and I
want you to reap some advantage, as it will have come to me through
you."
"Thank you, sir. I shall be very glad to have a share in the
investment."
About eleven o'clock, James Bristol, who proved to be a resident of
Newark, New Jersey, presented himself at the office and was introduced
by Andy to Mr. Crawford.
"Andy has told me of your business," said the real estate agent. "You
have some property in Tacoma."
"Yes; I was persuaded to invest in some two years since. Now I need the
money. Do you think you can find me a customer?"
"What do you ask for it?"
"A thousand dollars--the same price I paid."
"Is it eligibly situated?"
"If the town ever amounts to anything, it will be in the business part."
"How many lots will it divide into?"
"Twenty-five of the usual city dimensions."
"Then I think I will take it off your hands. Part I will reserve for
myself, and a part I will allot to a friend."
"Can you pay me cash?"
"Yes. I will make out a check at once."
Mr. Bristol breathed a sigh of satisfaction.
"I don't mind telling you," he said, "that I am very glad to realize on
the investment. I have to meet a note for five hundred dollars in three
days, and I was at a loss to know how to raise the money."
"Then the transaction will be mutually satisfactory," rejoined Mr.
Crawford.
"Well, Andy," said his employer, when his customer left the office, "we
are now Western land owners. I will draw up a note, which I will get you
to sign, for a hundred and fifty dollars, and you can assign to me the
money in the savings bank. I shall expect interest at the rate of six
per cent."
"I shall be very glad to pay it, sir."
It was a satisfaction to Andy to think that he had made an investment
which was likely ere many years to make him golden returns. He began to
read with interest the accounts of the growth and development of the
West, and decided to be unusually economical in the future, so as to be
able to pay up the note due to Mr. Crawford, that he might feel that he
owned his Western property without incumbrance.
While Andy, as a rule, dressed neatly, there was one respect in which he
did not win the approval of his neighbor, Sam Perkins.
"I should think a boy with your income would be more particular about
his neckties," said Sam.
"What's the matter with my neckties, Sam? Are they not neat?"
"Yes; but they are plain, such as a Quaker might wear. Why don't you
get a showy tie, like mine?"
Andy smiled as he noticed the gorgeous tie which his friend wore.
"I don't like to be showy," he said.
"You'll never attract the attention of the girls with such a plain tie
as you wear. Now, when I walked on Fifth Avenue last Sunday afternoon,
as many as twenty girls looked admiringly at my tie."
"That would make me feel bashful, Sam."
"Let me bring you one from the store like mine. You shall have it at the
wholesale price."
"No; I think not. It wouldn't be as becoming to me as to you. I don't
want to be considered a dude."
"I don't mind it. Next week I'm going to buy a pair of patent leathers.
They will be really economical, as I shall not have to spend money on
shines."
One Saturday afternoon, when Andy was walking through one of the quiet
streets west of Bleecker, his attention was drawn to a small boy,
apparently about eleven years old, who was quietly crying as he walked
along the sidewalk. He had never seen the boy before that he could
remember, yet his face wore a familiar expression.