CHAPTER XIII.
A QUESTION OF BUSINESS
Sam Pepper got no chance to talk to Nelson further that day. As soon as the noon trade was over, our hero hurried off to sell afternoon papers. This time he went up the Bowery, to where Mrs. Kennedy kept her fruit-and-candy stand. It was a small stand, and the entire stock was not worth over ten dollars, but the old woman made enough to keep the wolf from the door, and she was content.
"I was after thinking you'd come," she said, smiling broadly. "I knew you'd want to know about the young lady."
"How is she?"
"I left her this morning, sorrowful enough, I can tell ye that, Nelson. She don't know how to turn. She thinks she might take in sewing, or something like that, but, bless ye! how much would she make at that? Why, thim Jews that work night and day hardly make enough to keep 'em from starving!"
"Yes, I know it, and it's a shame," said the boy. "They get about five cents for a pair of pants and ten cents for a coat, and some of 'em make shirts for three and four cents apiece. I don't see how they stand it. No, she wouldn't earn anything at that."
"I was a-telling her of Gladys Summers, who sells flowers up on Fourteenth Street and at the theater doors, but she said she didn't want to go out on the street. She's afraid some of her friends would see her, I suppose."
"She hasn't any friends—'cepting you and me, Mrs. Kennedy. We've got to do for her."
"It's little I can offer, Nelson; ye know that well enough. She can stay under my roof, but to board her–"
"I'll pay her board, until she finds something to do. I'll give you three dollars a week for keeping her."
"Will ye now? Nelson, you're more than kind-hearted. But where will ye be after getting the money?"
"I'll earn it," he answered resolutely. "I earn a dollar and over a day now, and I know I can make it more, if I try real hard."
He soon left the fruit-and-candy stand and started in to sell papers. He felt that he had a new responsibility on his shoulders, and he determined to do his best. Soon his efforts began to tell, and by five o'clock he was sold out, and the day's earnings amounted to a dollar and thirty-two cents.
"Half for Miss Horton and half for myself," he murmured. "That's the way it's got to be, after this."
He was soon on his way to the tenement house in which Mrs. Kennedy's rooms were located. Ascending two flights of stairs, he knocked on one of the doors.
"Who is it?" came from Gertrude Horton.
"It's Nelson."
"Oh!" And instantly the door was unlocked.
A glance at the girl's face told the boy that she had been crying. More than this he saw she was far from well, and the hand she gave him was as hot as fire.
"Oh, Miss Horton, you're sick!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter?"
"I have a severe headache," she answered. "I think it will pass away soon."
She sank down on a dilapidated lounge, and he took a kitchen chair. He saw that she trembled from head to foot, and that she had been worrying ever since he had left her.
"You mustn't worry too much," he said, as kindly as he could. "Mrs. Kennedy says you can stay here as long as you feel like it."
"But she is poor, Nelson, and I—I haven't any money, excepting what you gave me, and you must take that back—you need it."
"No, I don't need it, Miss Gertrude. See, I've got a lot of money now. I collared that thief and made him give up what he had left, over three dollars—and I've earned the rest selling papers. That's why I didn't come before. I've fixed it up with Mrs. Kennedy, and you can stay just as long as you please."
"And you are going to pay her?" cried the girl warmly. "Oh, Nelson! you are indeed good-hearted. But, no; I must support myself."
"Well, you needn't hurry about it. I can earn enough for both of us just now—and that's what I am going to do. Why shouldn't I? It was my fault that your uncle put you out."
"No, Nelson; the fault, if it was a fault, was my own. The matter was of long standing. Homer Bulson had wished to marry me for a long time, but I have constantly refused him. Now he has gotten my uncle to side with him. They expect to bring me to terms, I suppose. More than likely my uncle thought I would come back to-day, to do as he wishes."
"I wouldn't go back."
"I shall not. I have made up my mind fully. I will support myself, and Homer Bulson can have Uncle Mark's whole estate, if he wishes it. Surely, in such a big city as this there is something I can do."
"I wouldn't go at sewing—it don't pay."
"What does pay—that I can do?"
"You might get a position in a store. Or maybe you know how to play the piano?" went on our hero suddenly.
"I do know how to play. I took instructions for several years, and have played at private concerts, in Philadelphia."
"Then you can give piano lessons."
"But where can I get pupils?"
"We'll advertise in the papers," went on the newsboy, with some importance. "I know an advertising man down on the Row. He says anybody can do business by advertising. I'll ask him about it. Of course you'll want to give lessons at folks' houses—being as you haven't a piano of your own."
"Yes," answered Gertrude, and her face brightened greatly. "I could do that, and I would go cheaply first, to get a start."
"Do you want to put your name in the advertisement?"
"No, have the letters sent to the newspaper offices, and sign the advertisement–" Gertrude paused in thought.
"Weber," finished Nelson. "That's the name of a swell piano, isn't it?"
"It might be too grand for the folks we wish to reach," said Gertrude. "Sign it 'Earnest.'"
"And how much will the lessons be?"
"I ought to get at least fifty cents."
"Then I'll tell the advertising man that. Oh, he's a dandy to write the ads up—makes 'em look like regular bargains!" added the boy enthusiastically.
Nelson remained at the rooms a while longer, and then hurried to Sam Pepper's place. To his surprise Pepper had locked up, and on the window was the sign:
"Closed for repairs. Will open as a first-class café in about two weeks."
"He hasn't lost any time in going ahead," thought our hero. "I wonder where he is?"
"Sam's out of town," called out a bootblack who had some chairs close by. "Told me to give you this." And he passed over an envelope, containing a sheet of paper and the store key. On the sheet was written:
"Am going away for two or three days on business. A man will be here at ten o'clock to-morrow morning to measure the place for new fixtures. You stay around while he is here. Then you keep the place locked up until I get back."
"Gone away for two or three days," thought Nelson. "I wonder what he is up to now?"
He went inside, and saw at once that many of the old fixtures had been removed, and that the little kitchen in the rear had been turned almost inside out. The living apartment, however, was as it had been, excepting that Sam Pepper had used it for packing purposes, and the floor was strewn with bits of paper and some excelsior.
"If I'm to stay here, I might as well clean up," thought our hero, and set to work with a broom. "And then I'll take an hour off and clean and mend my clothes."
In cleaning up Nelson came across several letters, which were old and mussed. Whether Sam Pepper had thought to throw them away or not, he did not know. To make sure, he picked the letters up and looked them over.
"Hullo!" he cried. "Here's more of a mystery."
The letters were addressed to Pepperill Sampson and were signed Mark Horton. The majority of them concerned some orders for dry goods to be shipped to various Western cities, but there was one which was not of that nature. This ran in part as follows:
"I have watched your doings closely for three weeks, and I am now satisfied that you are no longer working for my interest, but in the interest of rival concerns. More than that, I find that you are putting down sums to your expense account which do not belong there. The books for the past month show that you are behind over a hundred and fifty dollars. At this rate I cannot help but wonder how far behind you must be on the year and two months you have been with our house.
"You can consider yourself discharged from this date. Our Mr. Smith will come on immediately and take charge of your samples. Should you attempt to make any trouble for him or for us, I will immediately take steps to prosecute you. You need never apply to our house for a recommendation, for it will not be a satisfactory one."
The letter was dated twelve years back, and had been sent to Pepperill Sampson while he was stopping in Cleveland. Nelson read the communication twice before he put it away.
Who was Pepperill Sampson? The name sounded as if it might belong to Sam Pepper. Were the two one and the same person?
"They must be the same," thought Nelson. "Sam was once a commercial traveler after he gave up the sea, and I've heard him speak of Cleveland and other Western towns. But to think he once worked for Mark Horton!" He scratched his head reflectively. "Let me see, what did Sam say about the man he wanted me to rob? That he had helped the man who had shot my father. Is there really something in this? And if there is, what can Mark Horton know about the past?"
CHAPTER XIV.
BULSON RECEIVES A SETBACK
The mystery was too much for Nelson, and at last he put the letters on a shelf and finished the cleaning. Then he sat down to mend his clothing, and never did a seamstress work more faithfully than did this newsboy. The garments mended, he brushed them carefully.
"There, they look a little better, anyway," he told himself. "And sooner or later I'll have a new suit."
Having finished his toilet, he walked down to Newspaper Row. The tall buildings were now a blaze of lights, and many men of business were departing for their homes. But the newsboy found his friend in his office, a little box of a place on an upper floor of the World building.
The advertising man had always taken an interest in our hero, and he readily consented to transact the business gratis. The advertisements were written out to the boy's satisfaction, and Nelson paid two dollars to have them inserted in several papers the next day and that following.
"If the young lady is a good teacher, I might get her to give my little girl lessons," said Mr. Lamson, as Nelson was leaving.
"I know she's all right, sir," answered the boy. "Just give her a trial and see. She's a real lady, too, even if she is down on her luck."
"Then let her call on my wife to-morrow morning. I'll speak to my wife about it to-night."
"I will, sir, and thank you very much, Mr. Lamson." And our hero went off, greatly pleased. Late as it was, he walked up to Mrs. Kennedy's rooms again. This time the old Irishwoman herself let him in.
"Sure and it's Nelson," she said.
"I've got good news, Miss Gertrude," he said, on entering. "I put the advertisements in the papers through Mr. Lamson, and he told me that you might call on his wife to-morrow morning about giving his little girl lessons."
"Hear that now!" exclaimed Mrs. Kennedy proudly. "Sure, and it takes Nelson to do things, so it does! It meself wishes I had such a b'y."
"I am very thankful," said the girl. "Have you the address?"
"Yes, here it is, on the back of his business card. I know you'll like the place, and maybe they can put you in the way of other places."
"Av course," said Mrs. Kennedy. "Before I had rheumatism I wint out washing, and wan place always brought me another, from some rilative or friend of the family."
"I will go directly after breakfast," said Gertrude. "And I hope I shall prove satisfactory."
Knowing the girl must be tired, Nelson did not stay long, and as soon as he had departed Mrs. Kennedy made Gertrude retire. Happily for the girl her headache was now much better, and she slept soundly.
In the morning she helped Mrs. Kennedy prepare their frugal repast. As the old Irishwoman had said, she was troubled with rheumatism, and could not get around very well. So Gertrude insisted upon clearing the table and washing the dishes.
"But, sure, and a lady like you aint used to this work," remonstrated Mrs. Kennedy.
"I mean to get used to it," answered Gertrude. "I mean to fight my way through and put up with what comes."
Mr. Lamson's home was over a mile away, but not wishing to spend the carfare Gertrude walked the distance.
She was expected, and found Mrs. Lamson a nice lady, who occupied a flat of half a dozen rooms on a quiet and respectable side street. She played several selections, two from sight, which the lady of the house produced.
"That is very good indeed, Miss Horton," said Mrs. Lamson. "You read music well. Little Ruth can begin at once, and you can give her a lesson once a week. Ruth, this is Miss Horton, your new music-teacher."
A girl of nine came shyly forward and shook hands. Soon Gertrude was giving her first lesson in music. It was rather long, but Ruth did not mind it. Then Mrs. Lamson paid the fifty cents, and Gertrude went away.
"She's awfully nice," said Ruth to her mamma. "I know I shall like her."
"She is certainly a lady," was Mrs. Lamson's comment. "It is easy to see that by her breeding."
A new look shone in Gertrude's eyes as she hurried down the street. In her pocket was the first money she had ever earned in her life. She felt a spirit of independence that was as delightful as it was novel.
She had already seen her advertisements in two of the papers, and she trusted they would bring her enough pupils to fill her time. She felt that she could easily give five or six lessons a day. If she could get ten or twelve pupils, that would mean five or six dollars per week, and if she could get twenty pupils it would mean ten dollars.
"I wish I could get the twenty. Then I could help Nelson. He is so very kind, I would like to do something in return for him," was her thought.
The weather was so pleasant she decided to take a little walk. She did not know much about the lower portion of the city, and walked westward until she reached Broadway, not far from where our hero was in the habit of selling morning papers.
Gertrude was looking into the show window of a store, admiring some pretty pictures, when she felt a tap on her shoulder, and turning, found herself face to face with Homer Bulson.
"Gertrude!" exclaimed the young man. "I have been looking high and low for you! Where have you been keeping yourself?"
"That is my business, Mr. Bulson," she answered stiffly.
"Why, Gertrude, you are not going to be angry at me, are you?"
"Why shouldn't I be angry? Haven't you made enough trouble for me?"
"I haven't made any trouble—you made that yourself," he answered, somewhat ruffled by her tone.
"I do not think so."
"Uncle Mark is very much upset over your disappearance."
"Does he wish me to come back?" she questioned eagerly.
"No, I can't say that," answered Homer Bulson smoothly. "But he doesn't want you to suffer. He said, if I saw you, I should give you some money."
"Thank you, but I can take care of myself."
"Have you money?"
"I can take care of myself; that is enough."
"Why don't you let me take care of you, Gertrude?"
"Because I do not like you, Mr. Bulson. How is Uncle Mark to-day?"
"About as usual. You must have upset him very much. Of course I don't believe you took any money out of his safe," went on Bulson. "I guess the guilty party was that young rascal who called on you."
"Nelson is no rascal. He is an honest boy."
"Nelson!" ejaculated the young man. "Is his name Nelson?"
"Yes. You act as if you had met him."
"I—er—no—but I have—have heard of him," stammered the young man.
"He called on you once, I believe, with somebody who sold you some books."
"I don't remember that. But he must be the thief."
"I tell you Nelson is no thief."
"Thank you for that, Miss Gertrude," came from behind the pair, and our hero stepped up. "Mr. Bulson, you haven't any right to call me a thief," he went on, confronting the fashionable young man.
"Go away, boy; I want nothing to do with you," answered Bulson. Nevertheless, he looked curiously at our hero.
"I am no thief, but you are pretty close to being one," went on Nelson.
"Me!"
"Yes, you. You tried to swindle a friend of mine out of the sale of some books you had ordered from him. I call that downright mean."
"Boy, don't dare to talk to me in this fashion!" stormed the young man. "If you do, I'll—I'll hand you over to the police."
"No, you won't. You just leave me alone and I'll leave you alone," answered the newsboy. "And you leave Miss Gertrude alone, too," he added warmly.
"Gertrude, have you taken up with this common fellow?" asked Bulson.
"Nelson has been my friend," answered the girl. "He has a heart of gold."
"I can't agree with you. He is but a common boy of the streets, and–"
Homer Bulson went no further, for Nelson came closer and clenched his fists.
"Stop, or I'll make you take it back, big as you are," said the boy.
"Then you won't accept my protection?" said Bulson, turning his back on our hero.
"No. If Uncle Mark wishes to write to me he can address me in care of the General Post Office," answered Gertrude.
"All right; then I'll bid you good-day," said Homer Bulson, and tipping his silk hat, he hurried on and was soon lost to sight on the crowded thoroughfare.
"I hate that man!" murmured Nelson, when he had disappeared.
"I both hate and fear him," answered Gertrude. "I am afraid he intends to cause me a great deal of trouble."
CHAPTER XV.
BUYING OUT A NEWS STAND
After the above incident several weeks slipped by without anything out of the ordinary happening.
In the meantime Sam Pepper's place was thoroughly remodeled and became a leading café on the East Side—a resort for many characters whose careers would not stand investigation. The man seemed wrapped up in his business, but his head was busy with schemes of far greater importance.
He had said but little to Nelson, who spent a good part of his time at Mrs. Kennedy's rooms with Gertrude. Sam had found the letters and put them in a safe place without a word, and the boy had not dared to question him about them. Nor had Pepper questioned Nelson concerning what the lad knew or suspected.
The results of Gertrude's advertising were not as gratifying as anticipated; still the girl obtained seven pupils, which brought her in three dollars and a half weekly. Most of the lessons had to be given on Saturdays, when her pupils were home from school, and this made it necessary that she ride from house to house, so that thirty-five cents of the money went for carfare.
"Never mind," said the newsboy; "it's better than nothing, and you'll get more pupils, sooner or later."
The boy himself worked as never before, getting up before sunrise and keeping at it with "sporting extras" until almost midnight. In this manner he managed to earn sometimes as high as ten dollars per week. He no longer helped Pepper around his resort, and the pair compromised on three dollars per week board money from Nelson. The rest of the money our hero either saved or offered to Gertrude. All he spent on himself was for the suit, shoes, and hat he had had so long in his mind.
"I declare, you look like another person!" cried the girl, when he presented himself in his new outfit, and with his hair neatly trimmed, and his face and hands thoroughly scrubbed. "Nelson, I am proud of you!" And she said this so heartily that he blushed furiously. Her gentle influence was beginning to have its effect, and our hero was resolved to make a man of himself in the best meaning of that term.
One day Nelson was at work, when George Van Pelt came along.
"How goes it, George?" asked the boy.
"Nothing to brag about," returned Van Pelt. "How goes it with you?"
"I am doing very well. Made ten dollars and fifteen cents last week."
"Phew! That's more than I made."
"How much did you make?"
"Eight dollars. I wish we could buy out that news stand. I am sick of tramping around trying to sell books," went on George Van Pelt. "Last week I was over in Jersey City, and one woman set her dog on me."
"I hope you didn't get bit," said Nelson with a laugh.
"No, but the dog kept a sample of my pants."
"Have you heard anything more of the stand?"
"The owner says he's going to sell out sure by next week. He told me he would take ninety dollars cash. He's going away and don't want a mortgage now."
"Ninety dollars. How much have you got?"
"I can scrape up forty dollars on a pinch."
"I've got fifteen dollars."
"That makes fifty-five dollars. We'll want thirty-five more. How can we get that amount?"
"I reckon we can save it up—inside of a few weeks, if we both work hard."
"The man won't wait. There's a party will give him seventy-five dollars cash right away. He's going to take that if he can't get ninety."
At that moment Nelson caught sight of the familiar figure of a stout gentleman crossing the street toward him, and ran out to meet the party.
"Good-morning, sir!" he said. "Have some papers this morning?"
"Hullo! you're the boy that saved me from being run over a few weeks ago," returned the stout gentleman.
"Yes, sir."
"I'll have a Sun and a Journal, and you can give me a Times, too. How is business?"
"Good, sir."
"I was in a hurry that day, or I would have stopped to reward you," went on the gentleman.
"You did reward me, sir."
"Did I? I had forgotten. You see, that fire in Harlem was in a house of mine. I was terribly upset. But the matter is all straightened out now."
"I hope you didn't lose much."
"No, the loss went to the insurance companies." The stout gentleman paused. "My lad, I would like to do something for you," he went on seriously.
"Have you got a job for me?"
"I don't know as I have, just now. But if you need help–"
"I do need help, sir. Are you a capitalist?"
"A capitalist?" queried the man, puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean one of those gentlemen that loan money out on business? I've heard of 'em, down in Wall Street."
"Well, I sometimes loan money out."
"Then I'd like to borrow thirty-five dollars." Nelson beckoned to George Van Pelt, who had moved off a short distance. "You see, it's this way," he went on, and then told about the news stand that was for sale, and what he and the book agent wished to do.
Mr. Amos Barrow, for such was the gentleman's name, listened attentively.
"And you think this would be a good investment?" he questioned.
"Yes, it's a good stand," said Van Pelt.
"But you ought to have some money with which to stock up."
"We'll work hard and build it up," said our hero. "I know that neighborhood well. Old Maxwell never 'tended to business. I'll go around and get twice as large a paper route as he ever had. And we can keep plenty of ten-cent paper-covered books, and all that."
"And we can keep things for school children, too," put in George Van Pelt. "There is a school near by, and many of the children pass the stand four times a day."
"Well, I'll give you fifty dollars, Nelson," said Mr. Barrow. "That will help you to buy the stand and give you fifteen dollars working capital."
"You can't give me the money, sir. But you can loan it to me."
"But why won't you let me give it to you?" laughed the stout gentleman. "Isn't my life worth that?"
"It isn't that, sir. I want to do this in a regular business fashion."
"All right; have your own way, my lad."
"We'll give you a mortgage on the stand," said George Van Pelt.
"Never mind the mortgage. I believe I can read faces, and I'll take the boy's word," answered Mr. Barrow.
Hauling out a fat pocketbook, he counted out five new ten-dollar bills and passed them over to our hero.
"There you are," he said. "I would rather you would keep them. But if not, you can pay the amount back whenever it is convenient." And he passed over his business card. A few minutes later he hurried on.
"He's a brick!" was George Van Pelt's comment. "Now we can buy the stand."
"All right," answered Nelson. "But I want to get rid of my morning papers first."
"Well, I have several books to deliver. I'll do that, and then we can meet at the stand after dinner."
So it was agreed, and the pair separated.
Business continued good with our hero, and by eleven o'clock he had sold out. Anxious to look the stand over, he hurried off in that direction.
He found old Maxwell sitting on a soap-box, reading a sporting paper. The stand was full of dust and the stock much disarranged. Evidently the owner had lost interest in it.
"I understand you want to sell out," said Nelson.
"I do," answered Maxwell. "Want to buy?"
"I might buy if you sell out cheap enough."
"I want a hundred dollars."
"A hundred? I thought you'd sell out for seventy-five."
"No, I've been asking a hundred. I might knock off ten dollars, though."
Nelson looked the stand over, and asked some questions about the trade done.
"I'll give you eighty dollars cash," he said, at last.
"Make it ninety."
"No, eighty, and not a cent more."
"When will you take the stand?"
"This afternoon, and I'll pay fifty dollars now."
"All right, you can have it," replied Maxwell.
A bill of sale was drawn up, and Nelson paid the fifty dollars on account. Then he went off for lunch; first, however, taking an account of the stock on hand.
"What you take in from now on is mine," he said.
"All right, you shall have it," replied the old stand-keeper.