A CHEAP OVERCOAT.
Tom thought it best to attend, first of all, to Mr. Julian’s business.
Accordingly he inquired his way to Wall Street, and was not long in
finding the office of Mellish & Co.
It was a large office on the ground floor, with a counter and a
cashier’s desk. Considerable business appeared to be transacted there,
to judge from the number of clerks and of visitors.
“Well, young man, what can I do for you?” inquired a young man.
It was a son of Mr. Mellish, the head of the firm.
Tom presented a few lines from Mr. Julian, authorizing the firm to pay
him the quarterly interest due on Mr. Julian’s securities.
The young man glanced his eye over it rapidly.
“Will you have a check or the money?” he asked.
“The money,” answered Tom.
“Very well. I will make out a check, and our cashier will give you the
money on it.”
Five minutes later--perhaps in less time--Tom had placed in his hands
two hundred and fifty dollars. He had not supposed the business would
be transacted so easily. In his eyes two hundred and fifty dollars was
an immense sum, and he had some private doubts whether, in spite of
Mr. Julian’s letter, they would be willing to pay it to an unknown boy
like him. It even occurred to him that it might be inconvenient for the
firm to pay out so much money, and they might put him off till another
day. But he didn’t know how things were done in Wall Street.
Next to him was a boy of about his own age, who quietly gave an order
for the purchase of five hundred shares of some kind of stock, at 89.
Tom calculated that this purchase would amount to over forty thousand
dollars. Yet the order was taken as a matter of course.
“There must be a good deal of money in New York,” thought Tom, not
unnaturally.
As he was going out of the office, a bootblack stepped up to him and
said, jocosely:
“Say, young feller, couldn’t you lend me a thousand dollars till
to-morrer? I’ve got a big payment to make, and I’m short.”
As the young applicant for a loan was dressed in a ragged costume of
unknown antiquity, Tom, of course, understood the joke.
“I’ve got a big payment to make myself,” he answered, “and I can’t
spare any money to-day.”
“All right!” said the bootblack, nonchalantly, “I’ll go and see Astor
or Vanderbilt. I guess one of ’em will let me have the money.”
“You didn’t take me for either of them, did you?” asked Tom.
“Oh, no; I knew you was A. T. Stewart,” said the boy, winking.
Tom laughed and walked up toward Broadway.
He was a little nervous about carrying so much money about with him. If
he should lose it there would be no possibility of making it up. He put
it into his inside coat pocket and buttoned up his coat tight.
As he was turning out of Wall Street he was addressed by a man of
thirty or thereabouts, who had seen him come out of the office of
Mellish & Co., though Tom did know that.
“My young friend,” he said, “have you five minutes to spare?”
Tom looked up at the clock on Trinity Church and saw that it was not
yet eleven o’clock.
“Yes, sir,” he answered.
“I see you have no watch,” began the stranger.
“Is he going to give me one?” thought Tom.
“A young man of your age ought to have a watch. Now I’m going to make
you an offer--a splendid offer--the chance of a life-time. Do you see
that watch?”
He drew out what appeared to be a gold watch of rather a pretty pattern.
“I see it,” said Tom, wondering what was to come next.
“I want to sell it. The fact is, I’ve got a note to meet at three
o’clock, and must have some money. The watch is worth seventy-five
dollars. I will sell it to you for twenty-five.”
“You must be in great want of money,” said Tom, not meaning to be
sarcastic.
“I am; but that is not the only consideration. I really don’t need the
watch, for I have another at home. Say the word, and the watch is yours
at twenty-five dollars--dirt cheap, I can assure you.”
“It may be,” said Tom--he really thought it was--“but I can’t afford to
buy it.”
“Buy it then on speculation. Why, I venture to say you can double your
money on it in a week, if you will look about a little for a purchaser
who knows a good thing when he sees it.”
“Then why are you willing to sell for so small a sum?” asked our hero.
“Why? Because my commercial credit depends on my meeting my note, and
credit is worth a great deal more to me than the small sum I should
lose by the transaction. Then, besides, if any one is going to profit
by it, I should like to have you.”
“Why?” asked Tom.
“Because you look like a gentleman. You look like a cousin of mine,
now in Europe. He is a smart fellow, and very good looking,” added the
stranger, meditatively.
“I wonder whether he means all that,” thought Tom, “or is he only
giving me taffy.”
He looked at the watch, and it certainly did look tempting. If the
money in Tom’s pocket had been really his, I am inclined to think he
would have bought it, but he was too honest to think for a moment of
appropriating the money in his pocket.
“The watch may be a very good one,” he said, “but I can’t buy it; I
haven’t got the money.”
“Couldn’t you borrow twenty-five dollars? I don’t know but I would say
a little less.”
“It would be of no use,” said Tom, shaking his head.
The watch was galvanized, and possibly worth one-fifth as much as Tom
was invited to pay for it, so that he had a narrow escape.
“I wonder if I look like a capitalist!” thought Tom. “Here, within ten
minutes, I’ve been asked to buy a gold watch, and to lend a thousand
dollars. I don’t remember that anybody ever asked me anything of the
kind in Wilton.”
Tom walked up Broadway till he came to the Astor House.
It was but eleven o’clock, and it was not yet time to meet Darius
Darke. He therefore passed on, and walked slowly up that wonderful
street, watching with mingled interest and curiosity, the shops and
the display of goods therein. He was especially interested in a large
ready-made clothing store, and the overcoats about the door.
Tom was very much in want of an overcoat. In fact, though it was a cold
day, he had none on at that very moment. He reflected that he had ten
dollars of his own, the sum sent him by Darius Darke. As his traveling
expenses were paid by Mr. Julian, he had not been obliged to trench on
that fund.
“If I could get an overcoat for five dollars, I don’t know but I’d buy
one,” he said to himself.
He entered, and inquired the prices of several articles in that line,
but he found, to his disappointment, that ten dollars was the lowest
price.
While he was standing in the store, a gentleman of moderate size made
choice of one of the best overcoats sold by the firm.
“Shall we send your overcoat home?” asked the salesman.
The gentleman shrugged his shoulders.
“I suppose you may as well, though I don’t expect ever to wear it
again.”
Then, glancing at Tom, who was on the point of leaving the store, he
said:
“My boy, I see you have no overcoat. Will you consider it an insult if
I offer you my old one?”
“No, sir; I would accept it, with thanks,” answered Tom, quickly.
“Then it is quite at your service. You will find it not over half worn
but it never fitted me, and that is why I lay it aside.”
Tom lost no time in trying on the coat. It could not have fitted him
better if it had been made for him. It was a gray mixed cloth, well
made, and did not look to be even half-worn.
“I am _very_ much obliged to you, sir,” said Tom, gratefully.
“Oh, don’t mention it! Glad it will be of service to you. Good-morning.”
“It appears to me I am in luck,” thought Tom, surveying his new
overcoat complacently. “I wonder if such things often happen in New
York. My visit to New York is likely to prove a success.”
At five minutes to twelve Tom reached the Astor House, and took a
position on the steps.