JACK-AT-ALL-TRADES.
Jack Ogden, that Monday morning, had an idea that New York was a very
long city.
He had eaten nothing since Saturday noon, excepting the sandwiches, and
he felt that he should not be good for much until after he had had
breakfast. His mind was full of unpleasant memories of the stores and
offices he had entered during his last week's hunt, and he did not
relish renewing it.
"I must go ahead though," he thought. "Something must be done, or I'll
starve."
Every moment Jack felt better, and he arose from the table a little
more like himself.
"Ten cents left," he said, as he went out into the street. "That'll
buy me one more bowl of bread and milk. What shall I do then?"
[Illustration: _"Ten cents left."_]
It was a serious question, and demanded attention. It was still very
early for the city, but stores were beginning to open, and groups of
men were hurrying along the sidewalks on their way to business. Jack
went on, thinking and thinking, and a fit of depression was upon him
when he entered a street turning out from Broadway. He had not tried
this street before. It was not wide, and it was beginning to look
busy. At the end of two blocks, Jack uttered an exclamation:
"That's queer!" he said. "They all sell coffee, tea, groceries, and
that sort of thing. Big stores, too. I'll try here."
His heart sank a little, as he paused in front of a very bustling
establishment, bearing every appearance of prosperity. Some men were
bringing out tea-chests and bags of coffee to pile around the doorway,
as if to ask passers-by to walk in and buy some. The show-windows were
already filled with samples of sugar, coffee, and a dozen other kinds
of goods. Just beyond one window Jack could see the first of a row of
three huge coffee-grinders painted red, and back of the other window
was more machinery.
"I'll go in, anyway," he said, setting his teeth. "Only ten cents
left!"
That small coin, because it was all alone in his pocket, drove him into
the door. Two thirds down the broad store there stood a black-eyed,
wiry, busy-looking man, giving various directions to the clerks and
other men. Jack thought, "He's the 'boss.' He looks as if he'd say
no, right away."
Although Jack's heart was beating fast, he walked boldly up to this man:
"Mister," he said, "do you want to hire another boy?"
"You are the hundred and eleventh boy who has asked that same question
within a week. No," responded the black-eyed man, sharply but good
naturedly.
"Gifford," came at that moment from a very cheerful voice over Jack's
left shoulder, "I've cleaned out that lot of potatoes. Sold two
thousand barrels on my way down, at a dollar and a half a barrel."
Jack remembered that some uncommonly heavy footsteps had followed him
when he came in, and found that he had to look upward to see the face
of the speaker, who was unusually tall. The man leaned forward, too,
so that Jack's face was almost under his.
Mr. Gifford's answer had disappointed Jack and irritated him.
"You did well!" said Mr. Gifford.
Before he had time to think Jack said:
"A dollar and a half? Well, if you knew anything about potatoes, you
wouldn't have let them go for a dollar and a half a barrel!"
"What do you know about potatoes?" growled the tall man, leaning an
inch lower, and frowning at Jack's interruption.
"More than you or Mr. Gifford seems to," said Jack desperately. "The
crop's going to be short. I know how it is up _our_ way."
"Tell us what you know!" said the tall man sharply; and Mr. Gifford
drew nearer with an expression of keen interest upon his face.
"They're all poor," said Jack, and then he remembered and repeated,
better than he could have done if he had made ready beforehand, all he
had heard the two men say in the Hotel Dantzic reading-room, and all he
had heard in Crofield and Mertonville. He had heard the two men call
each other by name, and he ended with:
"Didn't you sell your lot to Murphy & Scales? They're buying
everywhere."
"That's just what I did," said the tall man. "I wish I hadn't; I'll go
right out and buy!" and away he went.
"Buy some on my account," said Mr. Gifford, as the other man left the
store. "See here, my boy, I don't want to hire anybody. But you seem
to know about potatoes. Probably you're just from a farm. What else
do you know? What can you do?"
"A good many things," said Jack, and to his own astonishment he spoke
out clearly and confidently.
"Oh, you can?" laughed Mr. Gifford. "Well, I don't need you, but I
need an engineer. I wish you knew enough to run a small steam-engine."
"Why, I can run a steam-engine," said Jack. "That's nothing. May I
see it?"
Mr. Gifford pointed at some machinery behind the counter, near where he
stood, and at the apparatus in the show-window.
"It's a little one that runs the coffee-mills and the printing-press,"
he said. "You can't do anything with it until a machinist mends
it--it's all out of order, I'm told."
"Perhaps I can," said Jack. "A boy who's learned the blacksmith's
trade ought to be able to put it to rights."
Without another word, Jack went to work.
"Nothing wrong here, Mr. Gifford," he said in a minute. "Where are the
screw-driver, and the monkey-wrench, and an oil-can?"
"Well, well!" exclaimed Mr. Gifford, as he sent a man for the tools.
"Do you think you can do it?"
Jack said nothing aloud, but he told himself:
"Why, it's a smaller size but like the one in the _Eagle_ office. They
get out of order easily, but then it's easy to regulate them."
"You do know something," said Mr. Gifford, laughing, a few minutes
later, when Jack said to him:
"She'll do now."
"She won't do very well," added Mr. Gifford, shaking his head. "That
engine never was exactly the thing. It lacks power."
"It may be the pulley-belt's too loose," said Jack, after studying the
mechanism for a moment.
"I'll send for a man to fix it, then."
"No, you needn't," said Jack. "I can tighten it so she'll run all the
machinery you have. May I have an awl?"
"Of course," said Mr. Gifford. "Put it to rights. There's plenty of
coffee waiting to be ground."
Jack went to work at the loose belt.
"He's a bright fellow," said Mr. Gifford to his head-clerk. "If we
wanted another boy--but we don't."
"Too many now," was the short, decisive reply.
It was not long before the machinery began to move.
"Good!" said Mr. Gifford. "I almost wish I had something more for you
to do, but I really haven't. If you could run that good-for-nothing
old printing-press--"
"Printing-press?" exclaimed Jack.
"Over in the other window," said Mr. Gifford. "We thought of printing
all our own circulars, cards, and paper bags. But it's a failure,
unless we should hire a regular printer. We shall have to, I suppose.
If you were a printer, now."
"I've worked at a press," said Jack. "I'm something of a printer. I'm
sure I can do that work. It's like a press I used to run when I worked
in that business."
Jack at once went to the show-window.
"An 'Alligator' press," he said, "like the one in the _Standard_
office. It ought to be oiled, though. It needs adjusting, too. No
wonder it would not work. I can make it go."
The business of the store was beginning. Steam was up in the engine,
and the coffee-mills were grinding merrily. Mr. Gifford and all his
clerks were busied with other matters, and Jack was left to tinker away
at the Alligator press. "She's ready to run. I'll start her," he said
at last.
He took an impression of the form of type that was in the press and
read it.
"I see," he said. "They print that on their paper bags for an
advertisement. I'll show it to Mr. Gifford. There are plenty of blank
ones lying around here, all ready to print."
He walked up to the desk and handed in the proof, asking:
"Is that all right?"
"No," said Mr. Gifford. "We let our stock of bags run down because the
name of the firm was changed. I want to add several things. I'll send
for somebody to have the proof corrections made."
"You needn't," said Jack. "Tell me what you want. Any boy who's ever
worked in a newspaper office can do a little thing like that."
"How do you come to know so much about machinery?" asked Mr. Gifford,
trying not to laugh.
"Oh," said Jack, "I was brought up a blacksmith, but I've worked at
other trades, and it was easy enough to adjust those things."
"That's what you've been up to is it?" said Mr. Gifford. "I saw you
hammering and filing, and I wondered what you'd accomplished. I want
the new paper bags to be,"--and he told Jack what changes were
required, and added:
"Then, of course, I shall need some circulars--three kinds--and some
cards."
"That press will run over a thousand an hour when it's geared right.
You'll see," said Jack, positively.
"Well, here's a true Jack-at-all-trades!" exclaimed Mr. Gifford,
opening his eyes. "I begin to wish we had a place for you!"
It was nearly noon before Jack had another sample of printing ready to
show. There was a good supply of type, to be sure, but he was not much
of a printer, and type-setting did not come easily to him. He worked
almost desperately, however, and meanwhile his brains were as busy as
the coffee-mills. He succeeded finally, and it was time, for a
salesman was just reporting:
"Mr. Gifford, we're out of paper bags."
"We must have some right away," said Mr. Gifford. "I wish that
youngster really knew how to print them. He's tinkering at it over
there."
"Is that right?" asked Jack only a second later, holding out a printed
bag.
"Why, yes, that's the thing. Go ahead," said the surprised
coffee-dealer. "I thought you'd failed this time."
"I'll run off a lot," said Jack, "and then I'll go out and get
something to eat."
"No, you won't," said Mr. Gifford promptly. "No going out, during
business hours, in _this_ house. I'll have a luncheon brought to you.
I'll try you to-day, anyhow."
Back went Jack without another word, but he thought silently, "That
saves me ten cents."
The Alligator press was started, and Jack fed it with the blank paper
bags the salesmen needed, and he began to feel happy. He was even
happier when his luncheon was brought; for the firm of Gifford &
Company saw that their employees fared well.
"I declare!" said Jack to himself, "it's the first full meal I've had
since last week Wednesday! I was starved."
On went the press, and the young pressman sat doggedly at his task; but
he was all the while watching things in the store and hearing whatever
there was to hear.
"I know their prices pretty well," he thought. "Most of the things are
marked--ever so much lower than Crofield prices, too."
He had piles of printed bags of different sizes ready for use, now
lying around him.
"Time to get at some of those circulars," he was saying, as he arose
from his seat at the press and stepped out behind the counter.
"Five pounds of coffee," said a lady, before the counter, in a tone of
vexation. "I've waited long enough. Mocha and Java, mixed."
"Thirty-five cents," said Jack.
"Quick, then," said she, and he darted away to fill her order.
"Three and a half pounds of powdered sugar," said another lady, as he
passed her.
"Yes, ma'am," said Jack.
"How much is this soap?" asked a stout old woman, and Jack remembered
that price too.
He was not at all aware that anybody was watching him; but he was just
telling another customer about tea and baking-soda when he felt a hand
upon his shoulder.
"See here," demanded Mr. Gifford, "what are you doing behind the
counter?"
"I was afraid they'd get tired of waiting and go somewhere else," said
Jack. "I know something about waiting on customers. Yes, ma'am,
that's a fine tea. Forty-eight cents. Half pound? Yes ma'am. In a
jiffy, Mr. Gifford;--there are bags enough for to-day."
"I think you may stay," said the head of the house. "I didn't need
another boy; but I begin to think I do need a blacksmith, a carpenter,
a printer, and a good sharp salesman." As he was turning away he
added, "It's surprising how quickly he has picked up our prices."
Jack's fingers were trembling nervously, but his face brightened as he
did up that package.
Mr. Gifford waited while the Crofield boy answered yet another customer
and sold some coffee, and told Jack to go right on.
"Come to the desk," he then said. "I don't even know your name. Come."
Very hot and yet a little shaky was Jack as he followed; but Mr.
Gifford was not a verbose man.
"Mr. Jones," he said to the head clerk, "please take down his
name;--what is it?"
"John Ogden, sir," and after other questions and answers, Mr. Gifford
said:
"Find a cheaper boarding-place. You can get good board for five
dollars a week. Your pay is only ten dollars a week to begin, and you
must live on that. We'll see that you earn it, too. You can begin
printing circulars and cards."
Jack went, and Mr. Gifford added:
"Why, Mr. Jones, he's saved sending for three different workmen since
he came in. He'll make a good salesman, too. He's a boy--but he isn't
only a boy. I'll keep him."
Jack went to the press as if in a dream.
"A place!" he said to himself. "Well, yes. I've got a place. Good
wages, too; but I suppose they won't pay until Saturday night. How am
I to keep going until then? I have to pay my bill at the Hotel
Dantzic, too--now I've begun on a new week. I'll go without my supper,
and buy a sandwich in the morning, and then--I'll get along somehow."
He worked all that afternoon with an uneasy feeling that he was being
watched. The paper bags were finished, a fair supply of them; and then
the type for the circular needed only a few changes, and he began on
that. Each new job made him remember things he had learned in the
_Standard_ office, or had gathered from Mr. Black, the wooden foreman
of the _Eagle_. It was just as well, however, that things needed only
fixing up and not setting anew, for that might have been a little
beyond him. As it was, he overcame all difficulties, besides leaving
the press three times to act as salesman.
Gifford & Co. kept open to accommodate customers who purchased goods on
their way home; and it was after nearly all other business houses,
excepting such as theirs, were closed, that the very tall man leaned in
at the door and then came striding down the store to the desk.
"Gifford," he said, "that clerk of yours was right. There's almost a
panic in potatoes. I've got five thousand barrels for you, and five
thousand for myself, at a dollar and sixty, and the price just jumped.
They will bring two dollars. If they do, we'll make two thousand
apiece."
"I'm glad you did so well," said Mr. Gifford dryly, "but don't say much
to him about it. Let him alone--"
"Well, yes;--but I want to do something for him. Give him this ten
dollar bill from me."
"Very well," said Mr. Gifford, "you owe the profit to him. I'll take
care of my side of the matter. Ogden, come here a moment!"
Jack stopped the press and came to the desk. The money was handed to
him.
"It's just a bit of luck," said the tall man; "but your information was
valuable to me."
"Thank you," said Jack, after he had in vain refused the money.
"You've done enough," said Mr. Gifford; "this will do for your first
day. Eight o'clock in the morning, remember. Good-night!"
"I'm glad I belong here," Jack said to himself. "If I'd had my pick of
the city I would have chosen this very store. Ten dollars! I can pay
Mr. Keifelheimer now, and I sha'n't have to starve to death."
Jack felt so prosperous that he walked only to the nearest station of
the elevated railway, and cheerfully paid five cents for a ride up-town.
When the Hotel Dantzic was reached, it seemed a much more cheerful and
home-like building than it had appeared when he left it in the morning;
and Jack had now no notion of dodging Mr. Keifelheimer. There he stood
on the doorstep, looking stern and dignified. He was almost too polite
when Jack said:
"Good-evening, Mr. Keifelheimer."
"Goot-efening," he replied, with a bow. "I hope you gets along vell
mit your beezness?"
"Pretty well," said Jack cheerfully.
"Vere vas you feexed?" asked Mr. Keifelheimer, doubtfully.
Jack held out one of the business cards of Gifford & Company, and
replied:
"That's where I am. I guess I'll pay for my room here till the end of
this week, and then I'll find a place farther down town."
"I vas so sorry dey peek your pocket," said Mr. Keifelheimer, looking
at the card. "Tell you vat, Mr. Ogden, you take supper mit me. It
cost you not'ing. I haf to talk some mit you."
[Illustration: _Jack dines with Mr. Keifelheimer_.]
"All right," said Jack. "I'll pay up at the desk, and then I'll get
ready for dinner."
When he came down Mr. Keifelheimer was waiting for him, very smiling,
but not nearly so polite and dignified. Hardly were they seated at the
supper-table, before the proprietor coughed twice affectedly, and then
remarked:
"You not leaf de Hotel Dantzic, Mr. Ogden. I use up pounds and boxes
of tea und sugar und coffee, und all dose sometings dey sell at Gifford
und Company's. You get me de best prices mit dem, und you safe me a
great heap of money. I get schwindled, schwindled, all de times! You
vas keep your room, und you pays for vat you eats. De room is a goot
room, but it shall cost you not vun cent. So? If I find you safe me
money, I go on mit you."
"I'll do my best," said Jack. "Let me know what you're paying now."
"Ve go all ofer de leest after ve eat someting," said Mr. Keifelheimer.
"Mr. Guilderaufenberg say goot deal about you. So did de ladies. I
vas sorry dot dey peek your pocket."
Probably he had now forgotten just what he had thought of saying to
Jack in case the boy had not been able to pay for his room, and had
been out of employment; but Jack was enjoying a fine illustration of
that wise proverb which says: "Nothing succeeds like success."