TOM GETS A PLACE.
TOM SPENT five days in pursuit of employment, but without success. True,
he made three dollars one day by carrying a message, but when this was
offset against an expenditure of forty dollars, it did not look
encouraging.
Our hero, though naturally sanguine, begun to feel anxious. Reluctant as
he might be to do so, he feared that he should be obliged to ask Mr.
Stoddard for assistance. On the second day he had called upon that
gentleman at the California Hotel, and been most kindly received. Tom
had every reason to regard him as a man of large property, and willing
to help him.
On the morning of the sixth day he made a second call at the hotel.
“Is Mr. Stoddard at home,” he inquired at the office.
“He’s gone away,” said the clerk.
“Gone away!” repeated Tom, in accents of dismay.
“Do you know where he has gone?”
“Somewhere into the interior, I believe.”
“Didn’t he leave any message for me?” asked Tom, feeling that his last
reliance had failed him.
“What’s your name?”
“Temple.”
“He did leave a little note then. Here it is.”
Tom seized the note with eagerness.
“My young friend,” it commenced, “the physician tells me that the
climate of San Francisco at this season is not favorable to my
complaints. He orders me into the interior, but the place is not
fixed upon. In three months I shall probably return. Meantime, you
can learn from my banker, whose address I inclose, where I am, as I
shall apprise them when I have myself determined. Meanwhile I hope
you may meet with success in all your plans, and beg you to regard
me as your friend and well-wisher.
HENRY STODDARD.”
This was very friendly certainly, but it might be two or three weeks
before Tom could communicate with his new friend, and he was nearly at
the end of his purse.
“I made a mistake to stay in San Francisco. I should at once have gone
to the mines,” thought Tom. “Now I haven’t money enough to leave the
city. I _must_ find something to do.”
He came to a small wooden building, used as a clothing store. Besides
ordinary clothing it contained outfits for miners, and as profits were
enormous, doubtless the business was a profitable one. Tom might have
passed without taking particular notice if he had not heard sounds of
altercation and loud voices as he approached. Then a young man of
twenty-one, or thereabout, ran hastily out, pursued by a stout man of
middle age, whose inflamed countenance showed that he was angry. The
young man, however, was the better runner, and the elder was compelled
to give up the pursuit.
Tom stood still and regarded the scene with interest and curiosity. He
was still standing in front of the shop when the pursuer returned.
“What is the matter, sir?” asked Tom.
“Matter!” repeated the other vehemently. “I’ll tell you what’s the
matter. That young man is a thief.”
“Did he pick your pockets?”
“No, but he might as well. He was my clerk. I engaged him two months
since, and only to-day I found out that he has been robbing me
systematically. He has taken hundreds of dollars probably. If I could
only get hold of him, I would give him a lesson he would never forget.”
Here was Tom’s chance, and he lost no time in pushing it.
“Then you have no clerk now?” he said.
“No, and I don’t know where to get one that I can trust.”
“Take me,” said Tom confidently.
“You!” repeated the merchant in surprise.
“Yes; I am looking for a place, and I will serve you faithfully.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“You are only a boy.”
“I know that, but why can’t a boy sell goods as well as a man. It
doesn’t take size or strength, does it?”
“You’re right there,” said the trader, “but it takes knowledge of the
goods. Do you know anything of the business?”
“No, but I’ll soon learn.”
“Then I shall have the trouble of breaking in a green hand.”
“It’ll be very little trouble,” said Tom confidently. “All you’ve got to
do is to tell me the price of the goods, and I’ll remember.”
“How do I know but you’d follow the example of the scamp that’s just
left me, and purloin my money? Have you any recommendations?”
“No,” said Tom; “I forgot all about bringing any.”
“Don’t you know anybody in the town?”
“Yes; I know an Irishman—Mike Lawton—cook in an Irish hotel.”
“I don’t think he’ll do.”
“Then,” said Tom smiling, “I shall have to write a recommendation for
myself. There’s nobody knows so much about my honesty and capacity as I
do.”
Tom’s frankness had won upon the trader, and he was inclined to overlook
the want of recommendations.
“Suppose I conclude to take you on trial,” he said, “what wages do you
expect?”
Tom felt that in his circumstances he could not afford to bargain. It
was all-important that he should get the place, for his experience
taught him that they were not to be had easily.
“Take me a week on trial,” he said; “give me my board and as much more
as you think I am worth.”
“That’s fair. When do you want to come?”
“I can come now—or rather in an hour. I shall want to go to the hotel
where I am stopping and get my carpet-bag.”
“Very well. I will engage you for a week on trial. When you return with
your carpet-bag, my wife will give you a room.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll be right back.”
Tom breathed a sigh of relief. He had secured a place just in time. In
less than two days his money would be exhausted, and he would be
compelled either to beg or starve. What wages he might get in the place
so unexpectedly opened to him he did not know, or care very much. The
main advantage was, that he was saved from the heavy expense of a hotel
bill. As to the business, he did not think he should like it for a
permanent employment, but it would enable him to live while he was
looking about for something better. In the meantime he could keep his
eyes open, for he had not forgotten that his chief object in this
expedition was to discover the defaulting clerk, whose dishonesty had so
largely affected his own means.
In less than an hour Tom was back in the store and receiving his first
lessons in the prices of articles for sale.
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