TOM BROOKS IN TROUBLE
"I begin to think I am the favorite of fortune," thought Luke. "Ten
dollars will more than pay a month's rent. Mother will feel easy now
about her loss of employment."
Some boys would have felt like taking a holiday for the balance of the
day, perhaps, or going to a place of amusement, but Luke bought his
evening papers as usual. He had but half a dozen left when his new
acquaintance, Stephen Webb, sauntered along.
"How's business, Luke?" he asked.
"Very fair, thank you."
"Give me a _News._"
Stephen passed over a penny in payment, but did not seem inclined to
go away.
"I meant to see you before," he said, "but my time got filled up."
"Have you taken a situation, then?" asked Luke.
"No, I am still a man of leisure. Why don't you hire a small store,
and do a general periodical business? It would pay you better."
"No doubt it would, but it would take money to open and stock such a
store."
"I may make a proposition to you some time to go in with me, I
furnishing the capital, and you managing the business."
"I am always open to a good offer," said Luke, smiling.
"I suppose I ought to have some business, but I'm a social kind of
fellow, and should want a partner, a smart, enterprising, trustworthy
person like you."
"Thank you for the compliment."
"Never mind that! I am a judge of human nature, and I felt confidence
in you at once."
Somehow Luke was not altogether inclined to take Stephen Webb at his
own valuation. His new acquaintance did not impress him as a reliable
man of business, but he had no suspicion of anything underhand.
By this time Luke had disposed of his remaining papers.
"I am through for the day," he said, "and shall go home."
"Do you walk or ride?"
"I walk."
"If you don't mind, I will walk along with you. I haven't taken much
exercise to-day."
Luke had no reason for declining this proposal, and accepted Stephen's
companionship. They walked on Clark Street to the bridge, and crossed
the river. Presently they reached Milwaukee Avenue."
"Isn't the walk too long for you?" asked Luke.
"Oh, no! I can walk any distance when I have company. I shall take a
car back."
Stephen accompanied the newsboy as far as his own door. He would like
to have been invited up, but Luke did not care to give him an
invitation. Though Stephen seemed very friendly, he was not one whom
he cared to cultivate.
"Well, so long!" said Stephen, with his "good-night," "I shall
probably see you to-morrow."
"I have found out where they live," thought Stephen. "I am making a
very good detective. I'll drop a line to Uncle Thomas this evening."
Meanwhile Luke went upstairs two steps at a time. He was the bearer of
good tidings, and that always quickens the steps.
He found his mother sitting in her rocking-chair with a sober face.
"Well, mother," he asked, gayly, "how have you passed the day?"
"Very unprofitably, Luke. I went out this afternoon, and visited two
places where I thought they might have some sewing for me, but I only
met with disappointment. Now that I have a sewing machine, it is a
great pity that I can't make use of it."
"Don't be troubled, mother! We can get along well enough."
"But we have only your earnings to depend upon."
"If I always have as good a day as this, we can depend on those very
easily."
"Did you earn much, Luke?"
"I earned a lot of money."
Mrs. Walton looked interested, and Luke's manner cheered her.
"There are always compensations, it seems. I was only thinking of my
own bad luck."
"What do you say to that, mother?" and Luke displayed the ten-dollar
bill.
"I don't understand how you could have taken in so much money, Luke."
"Then I will explain," and Luke told the story of the adventure on
State Street, and his rescue of the old lady from the danger of being
run over.
"The best of it is," he concluded, "I think I shall get regular
employment for part of my time from Mrs. Merton. Whatever I do for her
will be liberally paid for."
Luke went to a bakery for some cream cakes, of which Bennie was
particularly fond.
At the same time Stephen Webb was busily engaged In the writing room
of the Palmer House, inditing a letter to his uncle.
DEAR UNCLE THOMAS:--I have devoted my whole time to the task which you
assigned me, and have met with very good success. I found the boy
uncommunicative, and had to exert all my ingenuity.
Of the accuracy of this and other statements, the reader will judge
for himself.
The boy has a mother and a younger brother. They depend for support
chiefly upon what he can earn, though the mother does a little sewing,
but that doesn't bring in much. They live in Green Street, near
Milwaukee Avenue. I have been there, and seen the house where they
reside. It is a humble place, but as good, I presume, as they can
afford. No doubt they are very poor, and have all they can do to make
both ends meet.
I have learned this much, but have had to work hard to do it. Of
course, I need not say that I shall spare no pains to meet your
expectations. If you should take me into your confidence, and give me
an idea of what more you wish to know, I feel sure that I can manage
to secure all needed information. Your dutiful nephew,
STEPHEN WEBB.
Thomas Browning, in his Milwaukee home, read this letter with
satisfaction.
He wrote briefly to his nephew:
"You have done well thus far, and I appreciate your zeal. Get the boy
to talking about his father, if you can. Let me hear anything he may
say on this subject. As to my motive, I suspect that Mr. Walton may
have been an early acquaintance of mine. If so, I may feel disposed to
do something for the family."
On his way to the Sherman House, the next morning, Luke witnessed
rather an exciting scene, in which his old friend, Tom Brooks, played
a prominent part.
There was a Chinese laundry on Milwaukee Avenue kept by a couple of
Chinamen who were peaceably disposed if not interfered with. But
several boys, headed by Tom Brooks, had repeatedly annoyed the
laundrymen, and excited their resentment.
On this particular morning Tom sent a stone crashing through the
window of Ah King. The latter had been on the watch, and, provoked
beyond self-control, rushed out into the street, wild with rage, and
pursued Tom with a flatiron in his hand.
"Help! help! murder!" exclaimed Tom, panic-stricken, running away as
fast as his legs would carry him.
But anger, excited by the broken window, lent wings to the Chinaman's
feet, and he gained rapidly upon the young aggressor.