OSCAR AND HIS TROUBLES.
"Preston, as soon as you get those goods tied up, Mr. Smith wants to
see you in the office."
The speaker was Mr. Anderson, junior partner of the firm of Smith &
Anderson, the leading grocery and dry goods merchants of Eaton, and the
person addressed was one of the clerks, who was engaged in putting up
some groceries that had just been ordered by a customer.
He was a sturdy, handsome boy of sixteen years of age, and until within
a few days had been one of the most cheerful, light-hearted fellows
about the store; but he had changed wonderfully of late, and the
expression of melancholy his face always wore deepened as the junior
partner leaned over the counter and whispered these words into his ear.
"Very good, sir," he replied. "It has come at last," he added
to himself, as the junior partner walked away. "I can't say I am
surprised, for I have been expecting it. It is all up with me now. I
don't care for myself, but what will become of mother?"
The clerk's hands trembled as he went on tying up the groceries; and
when the last article the order-book called for had been weighed out,
and all the bundles had been placed on one end of the counter and
marked with the owner's name, so that the man who drove the delivery
wagon would know where to take them, he called all his courage to his
aid and walked into the office, the door of which was open.
As he entered, a gray-headed, hard-featured man, who was sitting on
a high stool in front of the desk, turned and looked at him over his
spectacles.
"Mr. Anderson says you want to see me, sir," said the clerk.
"Yes; I sent for you," replied the gray-headed man. "There is the
money we owe you--fifteen dollars. We shall not need your services any
longer."
"Am I discharged, sir?" asked the boy, as he took the bills that were
handed him.
"Yes. Times are hard and trade dull, as you know, and we must begin to
cut down our expenses. You are the youngest clerk in the store, and so
you must go first."
"May I ask you for a letter of recommendation, to assist me in
obtaining another situation?" asked the clerk.
"I am sorry you ask me for it, Oscar, for I can't consistently give it
to you," replied Mr. Smith.
The boy seemed to be utterly confounded. His face grew pale and red by
turns, and as soon as he could speak, he said, with more spirit than
his employer had ever seen him exhibit before:
"Then you may as well acknowledge that your plan of cutting down
expenses is merely a subterfuge. I know why I am dismissed, and I think
you ought not to hold me responsible for my brother's rascality nor
punish me for it. I regret it more than you possibly can, but I am in
no way to blame for it."
"We'll not argue the matter," answered Mr. Smith, turning to his desk
and picking up his pen. "All I have to say to you, is that we do not
need you any longer."
"And all I have to say to you, sir, is good-day!" returned the clerk.
He took his cap from the rack behind the door, walked out of the
store like one in a dream, and turned down the street. He went on
by the hotel, crossed the long bridge that spanned the creek, and
hurried along the road as if he were trying to leave behind him all
recollection of the scene through which he had just passed.
"I can't go home yet," he kept saying to himself. "I haven't the heart
to tell mother that I have lost my situation, for she has had so much
trouble already that it is a wonder how she bears up under it as well
as she does."
For two hours Oscar tore along the road as if he were walking a match
against time, but, fast as he went, his gloomy thoughts kept pace with
him. The wind came down keen and strong from the hills, stripping the
withered leaves in showers from the shade-trees on either side of the
road, and causing the boy's hands and face to turn to a deep purple;
but he never knew it. He was so completely wrapped up in his troubles
that he did not see any of the teams that passed him, nor did he hear a
single one of the invitations to ride that were shouted at him by the
kind-hearted farmers.
He could think of nothing but Mr. Smith's refusal to assist him in
obtaining another situation, and he was only brought to his senses at
last by the measured strokes of the town clock, which came faintly to
his ears, followed almost immediately by the shrill whistle of the
lock-shop.
Then the boy stopped, and looked about him. He was standing on the
summit of one of the highest hills, and the village of Eaton could be
dimly seen in the distance.
"It's twelve o'clock," said he to himself. "I had no idea it was so
late. Now I'll go home. I must go some time, and I might as well go now
as an hour later. Besides, mother will be uneasy if I am not there in
time for dinner. Let's look this matter squarely in the face, and see
what is to be done about it."
Oscar had just found out that he was completely chilled through. He
buttoned his coat, pulled his collar up around his ears, thrust his
hands deep into his pockets, and set out to retrace his steps to the
village.
Oscar Preston could remember the day when he was as popular among the
boys of his native town as his father, during his life-time, had been
among them. Mr. Preston had been a contractor and builder, and was at
one time thought to be well off in the world. He owned the house in
which he lived, and had a small balance at the banker's; but one day
he fell off the very church whose bell had just aroused Oscar from his
reverie, receiving injuries which confined him to his bed for more than
a year, and finally resulted in his death.
During his long illness his savings rapidly dwindled away, and at last
he found it necessary to mortgage his home in order to obtain money to
support his family and pay his heavy doctors' bills.
At the time this happened, Oscar was a student at the high school,
and his older brother, Tom, was cashier and book-keeper in Smith &
Anderson's store. His salary was small, but still he might have saved
something to assist his father in his extremity if he had been so
inclined. Tom, however, was wholly devoted to himself, and cared for
nothing but his own pleasure.
He thought more of horses and good clothes than he did of anything
else, and his money, as fast as he earned it, went into the pockets of
the tailor and the proprietor of the livery stable.
Oscar was the only one who could be depended on, and he was prompt
to do what he could. He left school, and, through the influence of
friends, obtained a situation as clerk in the same store in which his
brother was employed. He worked faithfully, and every dollar of the
pittance he earned was placed in his mother's hands; he never spent a
cent of it for himself.
Mr. Preston's death was a severe blow to Oscar's mother; but she had
another hard trial in store for her. In less than six months after he
died Tom suddenly disappeared, taking with him three thousand dollars
that did not belong to him. He had now been gone two weeks, and his
employers had just completed the work of examining his accounts.
During these two weeks a great change had taken place in Oscar. He
noticed that a good many of the village people, who had had a smile
or a nod for him in happier days, never noticed him now. One or two
of the clerks in the store would hardly speak to him, and at last his
employers had discharged him because they were unwilling to allow any
of their money to pass through his hands. This was the worst part of
the whole miserable business.
Oscar had never told his mother how he was shunned by some of his
former friends, for she had trouble enough of her own to bear; but this
was something he could not keep from her.
"Mr. Smith has been down on me ever since Tom ran away," said Oscar to
himself, after he had thought the matter over. "I have seen it plainly
enough; and, if I could only step into another situation somewhere,
I should be glad to leave him. But when I ask a man for work, and he
wants to know why I was discharged, what shall I say? That's what hurts
me."
"Here you are, Oscar!" exclaimed a cheery voice, breaking in upon his
meditations. "It is easier riding than walking. Jump in."
An elegant top-buggy, drawn by a stylish, high-stepping horse, dashed
up beside the boy, and the gentleman who was driving drew his reins
with one hand, while with the other he threw back the heavy lap-robe so
that the boy could get in. It was Mr. Parker--Leon's father.
"I am obliged to you, but I believe I would rather walk," was Oscar's
reply.
"But I am not going to let you walk," said the gentleman, almost
sternly. "Jump in here."
Oscar was forced to smile in spite of himself; but it was a sickly
smile, that did not fail to attract the lawyer's attention.
"Now, then," he continued, after the boy had seated himself by his
side and tucked the lap-robe about him, "what brought you so far into
the country this cold day, without your overcoat? and what is the
matter with you? You look as though you had lost your best friend."
"And so I have, Mr. Parker," replied Oscar sadly. "Mr. Smith gave me my
walking-papers this morning."
"He did?" exclaimed the lawyer, opening his eyes. "What reason did he
give?"
"He says he is going to reduce expenses because times are so hard,"
answered Oscar. "But I know that there is something back of that, for
he wouldn't give me a letter of recommendation."
"He wouldn't?"
"No, sir; he wouldn't. I asked him for one, and he said he couldn't
give it to me. He has looked crossways at me ever since Tom has been
gone. He thinks that because my brother abused the confidence the firm
placed in him, I may abuse it, too."
"Whew!" whistled the lawyer.
"My discharge could not have come at a worse time," said Oscar. "I
shall have to make a payment on that mortgage before long, and how am I
going to do it now that I am thrown out of employment? If there were a
dozen storekeepers in town who wanted a clerk, they would not hire me
under the circumstances."
Mr. Parker fastened his eyes upon the little gilt ball on the top of
one of the church-spires in the distance, and made no reply.
"I have been told more than once that old Simpson is a sharper, and
that I had better look out for him," continued Oscar. "He is always
ready to lend money on mortgages to people who, he thinks, will never
be able to repay it, and as soon as it becomes due, he forecloses and
sells them out of house and home. He owns a dozen farms about the
village, and he has got them all in that way. When father died, he told
two or three men in town that he would own our house some day. It is
worth four thousand dollars, with the lot on which it stands, and the
mortgage is only five hundred."
The lawyer kept his gaze directed toward the distant spire, and said
not a word until he drove into the village and reached the street in
which Oscar lived. Then he drew up beside the curbstone, and as the
boy was about to get out of the carriage, he laid his hand upon his
shoulder and said impressively:
"Remember this, Oscar: Heaven always helps those who help themselves.
Don't give up."
"Oh, I'll never give up!" was the quick reply. "There must be something
in this town for me to do, and if there is, I'll find it before I sleep
soundly. I hope you will believe me, Mr. Parker, when I assure you that
I have not done one single thing since I have been in that store that I
am unwilling my mother should know."
"I _do_ believe you, Oscar," said the lawyer encouragingly. "I have all
faith in you. Mr. Smith may find out one of these days that he has made
a great mistake. Keep up a good heart, and you will come out all right
in the end."
The accents of kindness touched the boy's heart. His eyes filled with
tears, and, without stopping to thank the lawyer for his words of
cheer, he turned about and hurried toward home, while Mr. Parker reined
his horse away from the curbstone and drove on down the street.
He stopped in front of Smith & Anderson's store, and made his way
into the office, where he found the senior partner seated on his high
stool, busy with his books. The two men exchanged greetings, made a few
remarks concerning the weather, and then Mr. Parker told the grocer why
he had come there.
"I understand that you paid Oscar Preston off this morning," said he.
"Now, I am somewhat interested in that boy, for it was through my
influence that he obtained a place in your store, and I'd like to know
what is the matter with him. What is he guilty of?"
"We haven't been able to fasten any guilt upon him," answered Mr.
Smith. "We only suspect him."
"Of what?" asked the visitor.
"Now see here, Mr. Parker," exclaimed the grocer, "suppose you had a
clerk working for you for twenty dollars a month, out of which he was
obliged to support his mother and pay taxes on a property worth four or
five thousand dollars, and that clerk should come to your office every
day dressed in better clothes than you wear, and looking as though he
had just come out of some lady's band-box, what would you think?"
"Oho!" cried the lawyer. "Because Oscar takes pains to keep himself
as neat as a new pin, you suspect him of till-tapping, do you? I can
set your fears on that score at rest. In the first place, his mother
makes all his clothes, and the boy has no tailor's bills to pay. In the
next place, I have known him to make more money in a single week, in
a little work-shop he's got at home, than you paid him for a month's
services. He is the most expert taxidermist I ever saw. I have a case
of birds in my house now for which I paid him forty dollars."
"If he is making money as fast as that, why can't he keep his hands out
of my drawer?" demanded the grocer.
"Do you mean to tell me that he has been stealing?" exclaimed Mr.
Parker.
"I mean to tell you that _somebody_ has been stealing!" was the reply.
"Perhaps it was Tom. A young man who will make false entries in his
books would not be above taking money out of the drawer."
"No, it wasn't Tom. We have missed money since he went away."
"I don't see how you can look into Oscar's face and think him
dishonest," said Mr. Parker, who was very much surprised. "I would
suspect any of your clerks before I would suspect him."
"Well, _I_ wouldn't. They have all been with me for a number of years,
and I have never seen anything wrong with them. I watch my clerks
pretty closely, too."
"Then I don't suppose it would be of any use for me to ask you to take
Oscar back," said the lawyer, as he rose and drew on his gloves.
"It would be of no use whatever," was the prompt and decided reply. "I
can't trust him, and I don't want him to touch any more of my money. I
am certain that some of it has stuck to his fingers."
"That settles the matter. But mark my words. You will one day discover
that you have done that boy very great injustice. Good-day, sir!"
"If I do, I shall make him all the reparation in my power," said the
grocer. "Good-day, Mr. Parker!"
The lawyer was disappointed, but he was not discouraged. He did not get
into his carriage again immediately, but walked the whole length of the
business portion of the street, entering several stores and calling
upon some of his professional friends. He had a good word to say for
the discharged clerk wherever he stopped, and the result was made
apparent that very afternoon.
Meanwhile, Oscar, all unconscious of the efforts that were being put
forth in his behalf, was making all haste to reach home. It was long
past the dinner hour, and he knew that his mother would wonder at his
absence.
She opened the door for him as he stepped upon the porch, and although
he tried to smile and look as cheerful and happy as usual, she saw in a
moment that there was something the matter with him.