CHAPTER XX.
JED'S POOR PROSPECTS
Jed walked around to the office of his friend Harry Bertram.
The telegraph operator noticed at once that he looked disturbed.
"What has happened, Jed?" he asked.
"I am discharged! That is all."
"Discharged? Who discharged you?"
"Miss Holbrook."
"What is her reason? What have you done?" asked Bertram, much surprised.
"I have done nothing, but she has discovered that I was brought up in the Scranton poorhouse," announced Jed despondently.
"As if that made you any the worse!" ejaculated Bertram indignantly.
"It isn't to my credit, at any rate. I am ashamed of it myself."
"I don't know why you should be ashamed. You have left it, and are now earning your own living."
"I was, but I am out of work now, and I may find it hard to get another position."
"You can perhaps go back to the stage."
"If I can take my part in the 'Gold King' I shall be satisfied," said Jed hopefully. "When will the season commence?"
"September 7—three weeks from next Thursday."
At that moment one of the bell boys came to the telegraph office with a letter in his hand.
"I have a letter for you, Mr. Bertram," he said.
"Ha! This is from Mordaunt. Now we shall know."
He tore open the envelope hastily. His countenance fell, and he handed it in silence to Jed.
This is the letter.
Dear Bertram:
Season of the Gold King opens at Jersey City on the seventh of September. As we shall have two new actors I shall call rehearsals for the Tuesday previous. Please report at Middleton Agency in New York on the first.
John Mordaunt, Manager.
P. S.—Ralph Clinton has recovered from his sickness, and will be ready to resume his part.
"That settles it!" said Jed soberly, as he handed back the letter. "That opening is closed to me."
"I am awfully sorry, Jed," returned Bertram in a tone of sympathy. "Perhaps if you enroll your name at the agency you can get a chance in some other play. I will speak a good word for you, and so I am sure will Mordaunt."
Jed shook his head.
"I don't think my chance would be very good," he said, "as I have had so little experience. Besides, it is three weeks from now. I must try to get work before then."
"Stay here, Jed. I will pay your expenses."
"Thank you, Mr. Bertram, but I have more than money enough for that, and you will need all yours. It will be better for me to leave Sea Spray, and go out in the world in search of work."
"I hate to have you go, Jed. I shall feel lonesome."
"So shall I, Mr. Bertram, but we are sure to meet again," said Jed with forced cheerfulness.
"You must promise if things don't go well with you to write to me. You can learn from the Clipper or any of the dramatic papers where we are playing."
"I'll promise that, Harry," said Jed, pressing the hand of his friend.
"That's right, Jed! Don't call me Mr. Bertram again."
"I will remember."
"Don't go till to-morrow."
"No, I won't. I shall need a little time to get ready."
At this point a message came for Bertram to transmit, and Jed walked over to the beach, feeling dull and despondent. As he sauntered on slowly with his eyes on the sand some one called out, "Hallo, there!"
Looking up, he met the gaze of Percy Dixon.
"Where's Chester?" asked Percy.
"In the hotel, I suppose."
"Why isn't he with you?"
"Because he is no longer under my charge," answered Jed eyeing Percy fixedly.
"Ho, ho! you don't mean to say that you're bounced!" queried Percy, with a look of malicious pleasure.
"That is about the size of it."
"Well, I am surprised," returned Percy cheerfully. "What have you been up to?"
"Nothing."
"Then why are you discharged?" asked Percy with a look of innocent wonder.
"I don't think you need ask, Percy Dixon," said Jed coldly. "If you had not made your appearance at Sea Spray I should have kept my place."
"Ho, ho! What have I been doing, I should like to know?" asked Percy smiling.
"I don't need to tell you. You told Miss Holbrook that I had been brought up in the Scranton poorhouse."
"Well, it's true, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is true, but you understood very well what would be the result of your communication."
"As she asked me about you, I had to tell."
"You gave her the name of Mr. Fogson, and led to her writing to him."
"So he's written, has he."
"Yes; Miss Holbrook showed me the letter this morning."
"What did he say?" asked Percy, smiling.
"Probably Miss Holbrook will show you the letter if you ask her."
"I will. I should like to see what old Fogson says. He don't admire you very much."
"There is no love lost between us."
"Well, what are you going to do?" inquired Percy, whose weak point was curiosity.
"I shall try to get another position."
"Do you expect to go back to the stage?"
"No; my old part in the 'Gold King' has been taken by the actor whose place I filled during his sickness."
"Then you haven't anything in view."
"Nothing particular."
"Then I advise you to go back to the poorhouse. Fogson will be glad to see you. I will arrange it with father."
"You are very kind, but I have no more idea of returning to the poorhouse than you have of making your home there."
"I'll thank you not to mention my name in connection with the poorhouse," said Percy, coloring and speaking angrily.
"I will make the same request of you."
"You are getting on your high horse," remarked Percy sarcastically.
"Perhaps so. Good morning."
"That fellow's the proudest beggar I ever saw," mused Percy, as he stood still on the beach and watched Jed's receding figure. "It's so ridiculous, too! A boy brought up in a poorhouse! I wonder if he has any idea what a fool he is making of himself."
"Why is Percy so malicious?" thought Jed, as he pursued his way, feeling, if anything, a little more despondent than before. "If our situations were changed I should delight in helping him along. He seems determined to force me back to the poorhouse. But I won't go! I'll starve first."
To one who has been steadily employed enforced idleness is tedious and tiresome. As Jed paced the sands his life seemed perfectly aimless, and he wondered how he was going to get through the day.
Moreover he missed Chester. The boy's warm heart and affectionate ways had endeared him to his young guardian, and Jed felt sad to think that in all probability he should never again be on terms of intimacy with the little fellow.
Plunged in thought and despondent he sauntered along till suddenly he heard a young fresh voice, that brought a brighter look to his face.
"Jed, Jed!"
Jed turned, and saw only a couple of rods distant the boy of whom he had been thinking, walking beside his tall and stately aunt, who, after discharging Jed, had felt obliged to undertake the charge of her young nephew herself.
"Why, Chester!" said Jed with a bright smile.
Chester broke away from his aunt, and running up to Jed took his hand confidingly.
"Aunt Maria says you are going away!" he broke out. "What makes you go away?"
"Your aunt has sent me away," announced Jed.
"But I won't let you go," said the little boy, taking a firmer grip of Jed's hand.
"Come back directly, Chester!" said Miss Holbrook frowning.
"I want to stay with Jed," said Chester rebelliously.
"But I don't want you to stay with him. Come back directly, you naughty boy!" exclaimed Miss Holbrook angrily.
"I'd rather stay with Jed!"
"Jedediah!" said Miss Holbrook, turning a look of displeasure upon Jed. "I am sorry that you incite Chester to acts of disobedience."
"Miss Holbrook," returned Jed independently, "I don't think I have done what you charge me with. I like Chester, and I cannot drive him away."
"That is all very well, but I understand your motives. You want to force me to take you back."
"Excuse me, I have no such thought. If your brother will take me back I shall be glad to return to him."
"I will see that he does not recall you. Chester, if you don't come back at once I will punish you."
Looking at his aunt's angry face, Chester very reluctantly felt compelled to obey.
"Kiss me, Jed!" he said.
Jed bent over and kissed the little boy. Tears nearly came to his eyes when he felt that it might be for the last time.
"I trust, Jedediah," said Miss Holbrook stiffly, "that your sense of propriety will prevent your speaking to Chester again."
"Miss Holbrook," said Jed with a tremor in his voice, "as I am to leave Sea Spray to-morrow morning I shall hardly meet Chester again."
Then, as Chester walked away unwillingly with his aunt, Jed's heart sank within him. In all the world he seemed to be alone, and he cared little at that moment what was to become of him in the future.
CHAPTER XXI.
JED ARRIVES IN NEW YORK
Jed counted over his money and found he had thirty-nine dollars and thirty-seven cents. He would have had more, but he had supplied himself with clothes, so that he was on the whole very well provided in that way.
He resolutely refused to borrow from Harry Bertram, though the actor pressed a loan upon him.
"No, Harry," he said, "I have almost forty dollars, and I am sure that will last me till I can earn some more."
"Well, perhaps so," replied the actor, "but you have no idea how fast money melts away. What are your plans?"
"I am afraid I haven't any," answered Jed, looking perplexed. "I want to make a living, but I don't know what I am fit for."
"Where do you mean to go?"
"I think I should like to go to New York," answered Jed. "I have never been there."
"You will find the city very dull at this time of year. Business is very quiet in August."
"But there must be a good many chances in a city of over a million inhabitants."
"Well, perhaps you may as well find out for yourself. I am afraid you will be disappointed."
Jed attached considerable importance to the opinion of his friend Bertram, but in his own mind there was a conviction that the other exaggerated the chances of failure. He was of a sanguine temperament himself, and this made him hopeful.
There were two ways of reaching New York from Sea Spray. One was a combination of cars and boat, the other took one all the way by steamer. This, on the whole, Jed preferred.
With his modest gripsack in his hand he passed over the gang-plank and took a seat forward. Next to him was a tall, thin man, dressed in shabby attire, who did not appear to have shaved for several days. Though the weather was warm, he had his coat buttoned tight across his chest, possibly to conceal the lack of a vest.
When the boat had been perhaps fifteen minutes under way, he turned and eyed Jed with some attention.
"Are you staying at Sea Spray this summer, young man?" he asked.
"I have spent some weeks there," answered Jed.
"I suppose you are going to New York for the day?"
"No; I am going for good. That is I hope I am going for good."
"You are going to fill a business position, perhaps?"
"I hope so, but I have none engaged."
"Are you acquainted in New York?"
"No; I have never been there. This will be my first visit."
"Indeed! This is very interesting. I should be glad to help you to a position."
Jed thought privately that his new acquaintance must stand quite as much in need of a place as he, but courtesy led him to say, "Thank you."
"Have you any particular choice as to the business you take up?"
"No; anything that will enable me to pay my expenses will satisfy me."
"Just so. You have heard of H. B. Claflin, probably?"
"Yes; he is a dry goods merchant."
"On a very large scale. I have a mind to give you a letter to him."
"Do you know him?" asked Jed doubtfully.
"Yes; Horace and I used to go to school together. He was older than I, but we were pretty intimate."
"Why don't you apply for a position for yourself?"
"Dry goods are not in my line. I am an editor—that is, an editorial writer."
"Indeed!"
Jed had read from time to time squibs and witty paragraphs touching the poverty of editors, and this seemed to explain the shabby appearance of his new friend.
"What paper do you write for?" he ventured to ask.
"I contribute editorially to most of the city dailies. Sometimes I get as high as fifteen and twenty dollars a column."
Jed was rather surprised at this. He concluded that Mr. Hamilton Barry—for this was the name the stranger had given—was not a very good financial manager.
"That seems a high price," said Jed.
"Yes, but brain-work ought to be paid handsomely. Do you ever write for publication yourself?"
"Oh, no," said Jed, flattered nevertheless by the question. "I haven't education enough."
"I thought if you did I might get you something to do. But perhaps business is more in your line?"
"I think it will be."
"Then I had better write you a note to Mr. Claflin. When we get to the city I will run into some hotel and write you a letter of recommendation."
"But, Mr. Barry, you don't know me. How can you recommend me?"
"My dear boy, I judge you by your appearance. Besides, I know something of phrenology, and you have a good head—a very good head. I read in it honesty, integrity, enterprise and fidelity. Those qualities certainly ought to qualify you to succeed in business."
"I don't know anything about phrenology, but I hope it's true."
"My young friend you may rely implicitly on the verdict of the wonderful science."
"I shall be glad to," said Jed smiling, "since, as you say, it is so favorable to me."
When they reached the pier Hamilton Barry passed his arm familiarly through Jed's, and led the way to a small public house, the office of which seemed also to be a bar.
"Won't you take a glass of something?" asked the editor.
"I don't drink," answered Jed, rather embarrassed.
"Take a glass of sarsaparilla. It won't harm an infant."
"Thank you. I don't mind."
Upon this Mr. Barry stepped up to the bar and ordered one sarsaparilla and one whisky straight. While Jed was solemnly drinking the first, the editor poured down the whisky at one gulp.
Then he felt in his pockets for the fifteen cents which were due. But somehow no silver was forthcoming.
"Upon my word," he exclaimed, "I must have left my money at home. Mr. Gilman, can you oblige me with a quarter?"
Jed produced the required coin. Taking it, Barry paid the score, and quietly pocketed the change.
"Now for the letter!" he said. "Where is your writing-room?"
"Haven't got any," answered the barkeeper.
"Can't you scare up a sheet of paper and an envelope?"
After some time these were produced, also a pen and a bottle of ink. Barry sat down at one of the tables generally used for bar customers, and in a short time produced a letter which he handed to Jed.
It ran thus:
Dear Horace:
This letter will be handed to you by a talented young friend, who is in search of a business position. Mr. J. Gilman is in my judgment possessed of superior business qualifications, and will prove a valuable man in your store. I advise you to engage him at once.
Your old friend,Hamilton Barry.
This note was placed in an envelope directed to Horace B. Claflin. In the corner Barry wrote: "To introduce Mr. J. Gilman."
"There," he said. "Take this letter round to Claflin and he will undoubtedly give you a good place."
He spoke with so much confidence that Jed was led to think himself in luck to be the recipient of such a testimonial.
"Thank you," he said. "I feel very much obliged."
"Oh don't mention it!" said Barry in an airy way. "It gives me pleasure to assist you, Mr. Gilman, I assure you. When you have ascended round by round until you are at the top of the ladder, I trust you will not forget your chance acquaintance, Hamilton Barry."
"I certainly will not, Mr. Barry," said Jed warmly, grasping the hand of the editor. "I hope some day to thank you as I wish."
"My dear boy, the sentiment does you credit. I know you are sincere."
"Certainly," said Jed.
"It is because I know this that I venture to suggest that you may do me a favor at once."
"What is it?"
"Let me have a fiver till next Monday. I shall then call at the office of the Tribune for twenty dollars due me for two editorials published early this week."
This request rather staggered Jed. Now that he had paid his fare to New York he had only about thirty-seven dollars, and five dollars would cut rather seriously into his small balance.
"I am afraid," he said awkwardly, "that I can hardly spare five dollars. If two dollars would help you–"
"It would materially," interposed Barry. "Of course it is only a loan. Meet me here next Monday, at six o'clock, say, after your duties are over at Claflin's, and I will gladly repay you."
This off-hand allusion to Claflin, taking for granted his engagement there, made Jed ashamed of his temporary distrust, and he drew from his pocketbook a two-dollar note, which he handed to Mr. Barry.
"Thanks," said the editor, as he carelessly slipped it into his pocket. "Be here on Monday at six o'clock sharp."
Then with a jaunty air he touched his hat and walked rapidly around the corner.
"I think I will go around to Claflin's at once," decided Jed. "I may as well strike while the iron is hot."
CHAPTER XXII.
JED MAKES TWO CALLS
On Church Street Jed found an imposing-looking building which a passing policeman informed him was Claflin's place of business. The size rather impressed Jed, accustomed as he had been hitherto to the small stores in Scranton, but he felt that it was no time for diffidence. So he opened the outer door and entered.
He found himself in a scene of activity. The shelves were filled with goods, and behind the counters were numerous salesmen. No one took any notice of Jed at first till a tall, stout man, in walking across the room, espied him.
"Any one waiting on you, young man?" he asked.
"No," answered Jed.
"Here, Wilkins," said the floor-walker, "attend to this young man. What house do you represent?"
"None, sir," answered Jed uncomfortably, feeling out of place.
"Ah, you want to buy at retail. Go into the next room."
"No, sir, I didn't come to buy anything," stammered Jed. "I have a letter for Mr. Claflin."
The great merchant is now dead, but at the time of Jed's call he was living.
"Wilkins, you may take the letter and carry it to Mr. Claflin."
Wilkins took the letter from Jed's hands, walked across the room, and ascended to Mr. Claflin's office on the second floor. He reappeared within five minutes and signaled to Jed to approach.
"Mr. Claflin will see you," he said. "Follow me."
Presently Jed found himself in the presence of the great merchant, who surveyed him curiously.
"Are you Mr. J. Gilman?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," answered Jed, blushing.
"You bring a letter from—" here Mr. Claflin referred to a note—"from a man who calls himself Hamilton Barry?"
"Yes, sir."
"I don't know any such man. How did he happen to offer you a letter?"
"I told him I wanted a position."
"Exactly. Did he say he knew me?"
"Yes, sir. He said he used to go to school with you."
Mr. Claflin laughed.
"Did he borrow any money from you?"
"Yes," answered Jed, surprised that the merchant should have guessed this.
"Not much, I hope."
"Two dollars."
"That was all?"
"No, sir; he treated me to some sarsaparilla and did not have the money to pay for it."
"He is evidently a fraud and an impostor. Did he say he ever worked for me?"
"No, sir; he said he was an editor—that he wrote articles for the daily papers."
"When did he offer to repay you?"
"Next Monday, when he had received pay from the Tribune for some articles he had written."
"What was the man's appearance?"
"He was tall, and not very well dressed."
"It is hardly likely that he ever wrote an article for the Tribune or any other of the city dailies. I hope he did not get all your money?"
"No, sir. I have considerable besides."
"I advise you to take good care of it, and to steer clear of questionable acquaintances."
Mr. Claflin turned to a letter which he was writing, and Jed felt that he was dismissed. Mr. Claflin had said nothing about taking him into his employment, and he went down stairs feeling mortified and depressed.
Mingled with these feelings was one of anger at having been so cruelly deceived by his steamboat acquaintance.
"I'd just like to meet him again!" soliloquized Jed, involuntarily doubling up his fist.
"I wonder whether he really writes for the Tribune?" he asked himself.
He decided to solve this question at once, though he had not much doubt on the subject. He wanted to know exactly what he had to depend on.
He walked up to Broadway, then down to the City Hall Park, and asked a boy whom he met, "Where is the Tribune office?"
"There it is across the park," said the boy, pointing to a tall building with a lofty tower. "What do you want to do—sell papers?"
"No," answered Jed. "I want to ask about one of the editors."
"You're from the country, ain't you?"
"Yes. What makes you think so?"
"Because all the boys in the city know the Tribune building. Say, what do you do for a livin'?" inquired the boy confidentially.
This was rather a puzzling question, but Jed, remembering that he had been on the stage for a time, felt justified in answering, "I am an actor."
"Cracky! you don't say. You ain't little Lord Fauntleroy, are you?"
"No; I played the telegraph boy in the play of 'The Gold King.'"
"How did you like it?" asked the newsboy, becoming interested.
"Very much."
"Are you goin' to play it again?"
"No; I took the place of the regular actor for a few weeks while he was sick. Now he is well, and I am not needed."
"Say, does actin' pay well?" asked the boy curiously.
"I was paid pretty well."
"Do you think you could get me a chance?"
"I am afraid I can't get another chance myself."
The newsboy had no more questions to ask, and Jed, following directions, crossed the park and the street beyond to the Tribune building.
He entered the office, and walked up to a window, beyond which stood a young man who was handing out papers to a purchaser who wanted some back numbers.
Jed presented himself next, and the clerk looked at him inquiringly.
"Do you wish to subscribe?" asked the clerk, as Jed remained silent.
"No; I want to ask whether you have an editor named Hamilton Barry?"
"I don't think so. Why do you ask?"
"He borrowed some money of me, and said he would pay me when he collected some money due him from the Tribune."
The clerk smiled.
"I am sure none of our editors borrow money from boys," he said. "You have been imposed upon, young man."
"I guess you are right," responded Jed, coloring.
"If you like, I will send up to the city editor to inquire if there is a man named Barry in his department."
"I guess I won't trouble you."
Jed turned away quite satisfied in his own mind that he had been cleverly swindled and would never see his two dollars again. He reflected that it might have been more, and stoutly resolved not to let any designing persons wheedle him out of any more money.
He had never visited New York before, and the streets were all new to him. So he strolled about for a couple of hours, gazing curiously at shops, buildings, streets, and street scenes.
This naturally led to a feeling of hunger, and at twelve o'clock he began to look around for a restaurant. He found one on Fulton Street, and went in.
He took a seat on the right-hand side, about midway up the room, and consulted the bill of fare. He found that roast meats were fifteen and twenty-five cents, the latter being for large plates. Tea and coffee were five cents each, and pie or pudding was ten cents.
He ordered a large plate of roast beef, feeling quite hungry, and a cup of coffee.
Jed had about half finished his dinner when his attention was drawn by a familiar voice at the next table. Looking up, he saw that two men had entered the restaurant since he had been served and were sitting with their backs to him. One of them he recognized, with a thrill of excitement, as his acquaintance of the morning, Hamilton Barry.
"I say, Barry," said his companion, "you've had a streak of luck. How do you happen to be in funds?"
"I negotiated a loan, my boy."
"That is interesting. Would the party accommodate me, do you think?"
"Depends upon your invention, my boy. I told him a plausible story, and did him a favor."
"Explain."
"He was looking for a position, and I gave him a letter of introduction to H. B. Claflin."
The friend burst into a fit of laughter.
"I admire your cheek," he said. "What do you know of Claflin?"
"I told him that Claflin and I went to school together."
"A lie, of course?"
"Yes; I never set eyes on the man in my life."
"And on the strength of that you negotiated a loan."
"Precisely."
"How much?"
"I struck him for a five, but he only let me have two."
"Which, of course, you promised to repay."
"I told him I would repay him next Monday when the Tribune paid me for two editorial articles I wrote for them."
This tickled the fancy of both, and they burst into uproarious laughter.
It may be imagined with what feelings of indignation poor Jed listened to these rascals, and understood how adroitly he had been swindled. He felt tempted to get up and address the man who had swindled him in fitting terms, but concluded to wait until he had finished his dinner.
He felt particularly angry when Barry ordered a high-priced dish—a plate of roast turkey—to be paid for with his money.
At last his dinner was over, and taking the check in his hand, Jed made his way to the table in front.
"Mr. Barry," he said as calmly as he could, "I believe you owe me two dollars. I shall be glad if you will pay me now."
Barry looked up quickly, and actually seemed embarrassed when he recognized Jed.
"Confusion!" he ejaculated. "The kid!"