THE BOY BROKER.
While young Randolph was away from his business during the few days of
the death and burial of his friend, the proprietor of a house from whom
Herbert bought a great many stamps complained to his bookkeeper about
the large supply on hand.
"But we cannot get rid of them if no one calls for them," replied the
latter.
"Hasn't Littlewood been in for any?"
"No, he has not been here for ten days."
"Ten days," repeated the merchant thoughtfully. "What has become of the
boy broker? I have not seen him here lately."
"The boy broker," said the bookkeeper, taking Herbert's card from a
drawer to find his address. "He is at 111 Nassau Street. Shall I send
for him?"
"Yes, do so," said the proprietor as he walked away.
"The boy broker," repeated the bookkeeper to himself, catching at his
employer's words. "That has a good ring to it and would sound well on
young Randolph's cards."
Having a pen in his hand he dipped it in red ink and printed diagonally
across Herbert's card the words THE BOY BROKER. "That looks well," said
he to himself, holding it off and eying it critically. "It is catchy. I
will suggest to young Randolph that he adds it to his cards and prints
it in red ink as I have done. There's nothing like advertising," he went
on, talking to himself. "It pays, and this will pay Randolph--I know it
will."
The suggestion was accordingly made to Herbert and he adopted it, having
his cards printed precisely as the one the bookkeeper had shown him.
And this is the way he became known as THE BOY BROKER. The name proved
"catchy," as the bookkeeper had predicted, and after adopting it Herbert
found his business growing more rapidly than ever. But just now a most
unexpected bit of good luck came to the young Vermonter and at a time
too when he felt sorely the need of money. The cause brought by Mr.
Goldwin's lawyer against Christopher Gunwagner for false imprisonment of
Herbert Randolph had come up for trial. Herbert and Bob were summoned to
court to testify against the old fence.
The trial was ably conducted on both sides, but the fact that young
Randolph had been restrained from his liberty by one Christopher
Gunwagner, a notorious fence, was quickly established. It only remained
then for the jury to find the damages.
Herbert had sued for one thousand dollars, and his lawyer made an able
argument to recover the full amount.
He dwelt at length upon our hero's sufferings in that damp, musty
cellar, infested as it was by rats to such a degree as to threaten
his reason; all of which was only too true. Graphically did the lawyer
picture this scene, so graphically that the hearts of the jurymen were
noticeably touched.
Then the lawyer argued that outside and beyond the actual injury
suffered, there should be an exemplary damage awarded. The worst traits
of the old fence were shown up, and contrasted with the spotless
character of Herbert Randolph.
The judge in his charge sustained the idea of exemplary damage, and then
the case went to the jury.
They had remained out about three quarters of an hour, when they came in
and announced a verdict in favor of Herbert Randolph of _five hundred
and seventy five dollars_!
Young Randolph was never more surprised in his life, or only once; and
that was when he found Bob Hunter at old Gunwagner's on the night of his
escape.
"Five hundred and seventy five dollars!" said he to himself, unable to
realize that he had been awarded such a sum of money.
Bob Hunter congratulated him, his lawyer congratulated him, and the
court even did likewise.
But none were more hearty and genuine in their congratulations than Mr.
Goldwin and his pretty daughter Ray.
"I owe it all to you, Mr. Goldwin," said Herbert, gratefully. "I should
never have thought to commence action against old Gunwagner but for your
advice."
The odd seventy five dollars paid the lawyer and all the court expenses.
This left a clear five hundred dollars for young Randolph--what a lot of
money, five hundred dollars in new, crisp bank notes!
"And it shall all go into our business, Bob," said he, proudly, "and as
you are now an equal partner with me half of the money will be yours."
"Oh, no, Herbert, that would not be right," protested Bob.
"Yes, I am sure it would," replied The Boy Broker. "My being imprisoned
was due to no effort of my own, but rather to my simplicity, my lack of
keenness. My release, on the other hand, was due to your brave efforts
to rescue me. I walked into the trap unconsciously, you walked into it
with your eyes open, risking your very life to save me. To you therefore
the greater reward is due--you earned your portion, I helplessly endured
the misery that has brought me mine."
"But I did not suffer any and you did," returned Bob, feeling keenly his
helplessness when in an argument with young Randolph.
"You, however, took the chances of suffering, and those who take great
chances in business, in war and in dangerous enterprises, of whatever
character, if successful are well rewarded for the part they have borne.
No, Bob, I would not think of keeping all this money," continued
Herbert, impressively. "We are partners in business together. Let us
start with equal interest, then we should feel no jealousy toward each
other. This five hundred dollars will enable us to do five times the
business we are now doing, and if we save the profits we make we can
still further increase it month by month."
"Do you remember, Herbert," said Bob, with grateful expression, "that
when Mr. Goldwin failed and you were thrown out of work I urged you to
take some money--only eight dollars--and you refused it?"
"Yes, I remember it well, Bob," replied young Randolph.
"And now you ask me to take two hundred and fifty dollars from you. Why
should I not refuse your offer as you refused mine?"
"Bob," said Herbert, taking him by the hand, "that eight dollars was a
reserve fund, it was all that stood between you and me and starvation
or what is almost as bad--public charity. I appreciated as you little
knew your generous offer, and it cut me to see how hurt you felt at my
refusal to take the money. But I thought of the possibility of sickness
or accident, and realized how much help those few dollars would prove in
such a time. Again I felt that the money would do me no good. I know now
that it would not have, for I should simply have used it up and would
then have been no nearer, if so near, solving the problem that pressed
me for an answer--namely, how to earn sufficient means with which to buy
bread and procure a shelter for myself."
"I think you were right, Herbert," replied Bob, thoughtfully. "I
couldn't think so then, however, but it is plain to me now."
"I know I was right. It was the suffering I went through in those dreary
winter months and the miserable drudgery I was forced to perform that at
last gave me a knowledge of this business. It was an education to me,
Bob, of a most practical character, and now that it is all over I can
only feel glad that I was forced out of my comfortable clerkship into
the cold wintry street that had so sunny an ending."