CHAPTER XXV
GETTING A SITUATION
The next morning Herbert reported himself at his new boarding place. He found the fare very far from first-class, while his fellow-boarders appeared at the table mostly in shirt-sleeves, and were evidently workingmen. Our hero would have preferred a greater degree of neatness both in the table and in the guests, but he felt that he would be lucky, if he should find himself able to pay his expenses even here. He was not to be daunted by little annoyances, but looked for compensation in the future.
He waited impatiently for the next day, when Mr. Godfrey would return. Upon the success of the interview with him much depended.
At length it came, and Herbert once more set out for the warehouse on Pearl Street. He entered without question, and made his way to the counting-room. Looking through the glass door, he saw his cousin—whom he surveyed with new interest now that he knew the relationship—and the bookkeeper. But, besides these, there was an elderly gentleman, rather stout, with a pleasant face, the expression of which reassured him.
“Is Mr. Godfrey in?” he asked, on entering, with a look of inquiry at the gentleman just described.
“That is my name. What can I do for you?” said Mr. Godfrey, turning towards him.
“I have a letter for you, sir,” said Herbert, producing it from his pocket.
Mr. Godfrey held out his hand for it, and ran his eye rapidly over its contents.
“So your name is Herbert Mason?” he said, raising his eyes after finishing it.
“Yes, sir.”
At the mention of this name, Tom Stanton, whose curiosity had led him to listen to the conversation, wheeled rapidly round on his stool and surveyed our hero with intense curiosity. He knew that Herbert Mason was the name of his cousin. Could it be possible that this boy was the cousin whom he had never seen? A little later, and he was convinced of it.
“You have just come from Ohio, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir.”
“My friend, Mr. Carroll, writes me that you were instrumental in saving him from being robbed while acting as his escort to Philadelphia.”
“It wasn’t worth mentioning,” said Herbert modestly.
Mr. Godfrey noticed his modest tone, and it pleased him—modesty not being an unvarying characteristic of young America.
“My friend refers to it as an important service. I should like to know the particulars. Mr. Carroll is a connection of mine, and I am naturally interested in all that relates to him.”
In reply Herbert gave a brief, but clear and intelligent account of the attempted burglary, passing over his own achievement as lightly as possible. But it was easy to infer, even from the little he said, that he had acted with bravery and self-possession.
“You behaved in a very creditable manner,” said Mr. Godfrey, approvingly. “Many boys would have lost their self-possession. You have come to New York in search of employment, Mr. Carroll writes me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t, of course, know how you were situated in Ohio,” said the merchant, “but as a general rule I think boys make a mistake in leaving the country for the city. Here the competition for work is sharp, and there is a surplus of laborers in every department of labor. Still,” he proceeded, scanning Herbert’s earnest face, “you look like a boy capable of making his way if an opportunity offers. You have but little money, Mr. Carroll writes.”
“I have lost nearly all I had,” said Herbert, “so that now I have very little left.”
“You have met with a loss? Tell me about it. Indeed, I should be glad if you would confide to me freely your situation and hopes, and then I shall be better able to help you.”
“I am almost ashamed to tell you how I was taken in,” said our hero. “I suppose I ought to have been more prudent.”
He recounted the manner in which Greenleaf had robbed him. Mr. Godfrey listened with interest, and so did Tom Stanton, who burst into a laugh when the narrative was concluded.
“What are you laughing at, Thomas?” asked the merchant, rather sharply.
“I was thinking how neatly he was taken in,” said Tom, a little abashed.
“I should apply a different word to it,” said Mr. Godfrey. “It appears to me the height, or rather the depth of meanness, to take advantage of a boy’s confidence, and defraud him so scandalously. How much money have you left, Herbert?”
“Forty cents, sir.”
“Only forty cents to begin life with in a great city!”
“Yes, sir; I have paid my board in advance for a week.”
“Where do you board?”
“In Stanton Street.”
Tom turned up his nose at the name of this street, which he knew was very far from fashionable, but this demonstration our hero did not observe.
“What board do you pay?”
“Three dollars a week, sir.”
“A poor place, probably.”
“Yes, sir, but I could afford no better.”
“You are sensible to accommodate yourself to circumstances. Well, my young friend, it appears that you can’t wait long for employment. Mr. Carroll has asked me to do something for you, and I am disposed to oblige him, not wholly for his sake, but partly for your own, for you seem to me a very modest and sensible boy. Mr. Pratt, do we need another boy?”
“No, sir, I don’t think we do.”
“Well, business will be brisker by and by. I think you can find a little for this young man to do in the meantime. He can go to the post office, and I believe I have a little extra writing to be done. Pass him a pen, and let him give us a specimen of his handwriting.”
Fortunately, Herbert was a handsome writer, and this went a considerable way in his favor.
“Very neat,” said the merchant. “By the way, Herbert, I suppose, of course, you know nothing of French?”
“Yes, sir, I can read it pretty well.”
“Indeed!” said Mr. Godfrey, surprised. “Then you can be of service to me, that is, if you know it well enough. I received, this morning, a letter from a silk house at Lyons, a part of which I don’t quite understand. The fact is, my French is rather poor. Do you think you could help me translate it?”
“If you will show me the letter, I will try, sir.”
The merchant took a letter from the table before him and handed it to Herbert.
Our hero ran his eye rapidly over it, and then rendered it into English in a clear and grammatical way.
“Bless me, you’re quite a scholar,” said Mr. Godfrey. “I understand now. You’ve made it all plain. Where did you learn so much French?”
“My father taught me, sir. He also taught me Latin.”
“Indeed, I congratulate you on possessing so good an education. Latin, however, isn’t so much in my way. I haven’t many Latin correspondents.”
“I suppose not, sir,” said Herbert, laughing.
“Still, it does no harm to know something of it.”
Tom Stanton had listened with considerable surprise, mingled with mortification, to what had passed. It appeared then, that his country cousin, whom he had looked upon as a country boor, was his superior in education, and, as Tom secretly knew, in courage. And now he was going to be his fellow-clerk. He felt jealous and angry, fearing that Herbert, who appeared to be high in favor already, would eclipse him in the office.
“How much can you live upon economically?” asked the merchant.
“I know little of the city,” said Herbert. “You can judge better than I, sir.”
“You pay three dollars a week board. You’ll need double that amount. Mr. Pratt, you may pay him six dollars a week. He will come to work to-morrow morning, and you may pay him Saturday, as if it was a whole week.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Herbert, gratefully. “You are very kind.”
“Do your duty, my young friend, and I shall be satisfied.”
Tom Stanton listened in indignant surprise. He only got four dollars a week, and here was a country boy placed over his head. He was imprudent enough to give expression to his feelings.
“Won’t you give me six dollars a week, also?” he said.
“Why should I?”
“Don’t I deserve as much as he?”
“Perhaps you do. But I don’t give it to Herbert because he earns it, for it is not likely that he will do so at present. But he has no other resources. You have a comfortable home, and are not obliged to pay for your board out of your wages.”
“No, I hope not,” said Tom.
“Therefore you do not need as much as he does. You are not entitled to this explanation, but I give it, nevertheless, that you may know my motives.”
Tom did not reply, feeling that it would be imprudent to do so, but he bent sullenly to his work, by no mans satisfied with the explanation. He began to feel a dislike for his cousin, and determined to injure him, if he could, in the estimation of the firm. It would have been satisfactory if he could have looked down upon him as an inferior, but that was not easy.
“I hope the fellow won’t find out the relationship between us,” he said to himself. “He’d be calling me Cousin Tom all the time, and I don’t care about owning a cousin that lives in Stanton Street.”
Tom need not have troubled himself. Herbert had no idea of claiming relationship, though, as we know, he was fully aware of its existence.
CHAPTER XXVI
A FAMILY COUNCIL
As soon as he was released from business, Tom Stanton hurried home to impart the unexpected intelligence that his cousin Herbert had arrived in the city. As might be expected, the news gave no particular pleasure in the Stanton homestead.
“Did you tell him who you were, Thomas?” asked his mother.
“Catch me doing it!” said Tom. “I ain’t quite a fool. I don’t care about owning any pauper relations.”
“He isn’t a pauper,” said Mr. Stanton, who, hard man of the world as he was, could not forget that Herbert was the son of his sister.
“He’s the next door to it,” said Tom, carelessly.
“Thomas is right,” said Mrs. Stanton. “You may depend upon it, Mr. Stanton, that when this boy finds you out, he will apply to you for assistance.”
“Possibly he may.”
“I hope you won’t be such a fool as to encourage him in his application.”
“If he were in actual distress, my dear,” said Mr. Stanton, “I should feel that I ought to do something.”
“Then you’d allow yourself to be imposed upon, that’s all I’ve got to say. There is no need of his being in distress. He is a stout boy, and capable of earning his own living.”
“He might get sick,” suggested Mr. Stanton, who was not so hard-hearted as his wife.
“Then let him go to the hospital. It’s provided for such cases.”
“Is Herbert good-looking?” asked Maria, with interest.
“He won’t get a prize for his beauty,” said Tom, disparagingly.
“Is he homely?”
“No,” said Tom, reluctantly. “I suppose he’ll pass; but he’s countrified. He hasn’t got any style,” and he glanced complacently at his own reflection in a mirror, for Tom was vain of his personal appearance, though by no means as good-looking as Herbert. In fact, he was compelled secretly to confess this to himself, and for this reason was more than ever disposed to view his cousin with prejudice.
“I should like to see Herbert,” said Maria, who had her share of female curiosity, and thought it would be pleasant to have a cousin to escort her round.
“Perhaps I’d better invite him round to dinner tomorrow,” said Thomas, sarcastically.
“I wish you would.”
“Thomas will do no such thing!” said Mrs. Stanton, decidedly. “It’s my opinion that the less notice we take of him the better. Your father is in good circumstances, to be sure, but whatever he is able to do, ought, of right, to go to his own family. We don’t want any poor relations coming here to get their living out of us.”
“Just my sentiments, mother,” said Tom Stanton, approvingly.
“It doesn’t seem quite right,” said Mr. Stanton, uncomfortably, “to neglect my sister’s child.”
“Don’t make yourself ridiculous with your scruples, Mr. Stanton,” said his wife. “It’s the boy’s duty to take care of himself. It would only do him harm, and lead to false expectations, if we allowed him the run of the house.”
“Besides,” said Tom, “I shouldn’t want to have Tom Paget and Percy Mortimer, and other fellows that I associate with, ask me who he is, and have to tell them that he is my cousin.”
This argument had considerable weight with Mr. Stanton, who was anxious to elevate himself in society, and looked with complacency upon the school acquaintances Tom had formed with the scions of distinguished families.
“Well,” said he, rising from the table, “let it be as you will. We won’t go out of our way to invite the boy here, but if he presents himself, as he doubtless will, we must take a little notice of him.”
“I don’t see why he couldn’t have stayed in the country,” said Mrs. Stanton. “It was the best place for him.”
“Of course, it was,” said Tom.
“He could have had no other object than to seek us out, and see what he could get out of us. For my part, I would advise you to recommend him to go back.”
“He has secured a place, it seems, and would not be likely to give it up.”
“It’s a great pity he should have got into the same counting-room with Tom. He will presume on the relationship as soon as he finds it out.”
Mrs. Stanton need not have been alarmed, for Herbert was too high-spirited to seek an intimacy where he had reason to think it would be disagreeable. But his aunt knew nothing of him, and judged him by herself.
“He’s there, and it can’t be helped,” said Mr. Stanton.
“At any rate, if he does stay in the city,” persisted Mrs. Stanton, “I hope you’ll give him to understand that he needn’t call here more than once in three months. That is as much as he can expect.”
“After all, he is my sister’s son,” said Mr. Stanton. “I can’t feel that this would be quite kind in us.”
“Leave it to me, then. If you’re too soft-hearted, Mr. Stanton, I will take all the responsibility, and the blame, if there is any.”
“Well, I think you’ve said enough on the subject,” said her husband. “Tom, run upstairs and bring me a cigar. You know where I keep the cigar box.”
“You’d better send a servant, father,” said Tom, coolly.
“It appears to me you are getting lazy, Thomas,” said his father.
“Thomas is right,” said Mrs. Stanton. “What do we keep servants for but to run errands?”
“Still, Tom might have obliged me in such a little matter.”
“You shouldn’t have asked him, Mr. Stanton. You seem to forget that we are not living in the style of half a dozen years ago. You should adapt yourself to circumstances.”
Mr. Stanton said no more, but sent a servant in Tom’s place. But he could not help thinking that the outward prosperity for which he was striving was not without its drawbacks, since it compelled him to look to servants for the most ordinary services.
The next morning Tom went to the counting-room, fully expecting that Herbert would claim relationship as soon as he discovered his name. While he would be compelled to admit it, he determined to treat Herbert with such a degree of coolness that he would take the hint, and keep his distance.
When he arrived at the counting-room, Herbert was already there, and Mr. Pratt also.
“Good-morning,” said Herbert.
“Morning,” muttered Tom.
“This is Thomas Stanton, your fellow-clerk,” said Mr. Pratt, the bookkeeper. “I believe you have not been introduced.”
“Now for it,” thought Tom.
But rather to his surprise, Herbert made no demonstration, but merely bowed slightly.
“What does it mean?” thought Tom, a little perplexed. “Is it possible that he is not my cousin, after all?”
“I think you came from Ohio?” inquired Tom, impelled by his curiosity to ask the question.
“Yes,” said Herbert.
“Why didn’t you stay there? Couldn’t you make a living there?” asked Tom, not over-politely.
“Probably I might,” said Herbert, quietly.
“Then I think you should have stayed there.”
“Which do you like best, the city or the country?” asked our hero.
“The city.”
“So do I.”
“But there’s a difference. I have always lived in the city.”
“I suppose boys often do come from the country to the city,” said Herbert. “Was your father born in the city?”
“No,” said Tom, glancing keenly at Herbert, to see if he meant anything by the question.
“Then it seems he must have preferred the city to the country.”
Tom had his share of curiosity. He knew that it would be better not to pursue this subject further if he wished his cousin to remain ignorant of the relationship between them. Still, he was anxious to know what Herbert’s actual knowledge was, and whether he would be likely to avail himself of it. He was therefore tempted to say, “I suppose you have no relations in the city?”
“What makes you think I haven’t?” asked Herbert, looking at Tom rather peculiarly.
“I don’t think anything about it. I only asked,” said Tom, a little confused.
“Yes, I have an uncle in the city,” said Herbert, quietly.
“Oh, indeed,” said Tom.
He said nothing more, for he felt that he might betray his knowledge of the relationship unintentionally. Herbert’s manner left him as much in the dark as ever.
Mr. Pratt set Herbert to work on some writing, and Tom, also, was soon busy. After a while Mr. Godfrey came in.
“Good-morning, Herbert,” he said, pleasantly, offering his hand. “So Mr. Pratt has set you to work, has he?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think we shall find enough for him to do, eh, Mr. Pratt?”
“Yes, sir, I think so,” said the bookkeeper, who perceived that Herbert was in favor, and it was as well to fall in with his employer.
“That’s well. How do you like your boarding place, Herbert?”
“It isn’t a very nice one, sir, but it is as good a one as I have a right to expect for the money I pay.”
“Come round and dine with us to-night,” said the merchant. “Mrs. Godfrey will be glad to see you. I’ll give you my street and number.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Herbert. “I shall be glad to accept your kind invitation.”
Tom listened to this invitation with envy. Mr. Godfrey occupied a high social position. Moreover, he had a pretty daughter, whom he, Tom, had met at dancing school, and he would have been very glad to receive the invitation which had been extended to “that beggar, Herbert,” as he mentally styled him.
CHAPTER XXVII
AT THE CONCERT
Herbert felt a little diffident about accepting his employer’s invitation to dinner. Brought up in the country in comparative poverty, he felt afraid that he should show, in some way, his want of acquaintance with the etiquette of the dining table. But he had a better than ordinary education, and, having read diligently whatever books he could get hold of, possessed a fund of general information which enabled him to converse intelligently. Then his modest self-possession was of value to him, and enabled him to acquit himself very creditably.
Julia Godfrey, the merchant’s only daughter, was a lively and animated girl, a year or two younger than Herbert. She had been the belle of the dancing school, and Tom Stanton, among other boys, had always been proud to have her for a partner. She, however, had taken no particular fancy to Tom, whose evident satisfaction with himself naturally provoked criticisms on the part of others. Of this, however, Tom was unconscious, and flattered himself that his personal appearance was strikingly attractive, and was quite convinced that his elaborate and gorgeous neckties must attract admiration.
Julia awaited the advent of her father’s young guest with interest, and her verdict was favorable. He was, to be sure, very plainly dressed, but his frank and open face and pleasant expression did not need fine clothes to set them off. Julia at once commenced an animated conversation with our hero.
“Weren’t you frightened when you saw the robber?” she asked, for her father had told her of Herbert’s adventure with the burglar.
“No,” said Herbert, “I did not feel afraid.”
“How brave you must be?” said Julia, with evident admiration.
“There was no need of my being frightened,” said Herbert, modestly. “I was expecting him.”
“I know I should have been frightened to death,” said Julia, decidedly.
“You are a girl, you know,” said Herbert. “I suppose it is natural for girls to be timid.”
“I don’t know but it is, but I am sure it is not natural to all boys to be brave.”
Herbert smiled.
“I was out in the country, one day, walking with Frank Percy,” proceeded Julia, “when a big, ugly-looking dog met us. Frank, instead of standing by, and defending me, ran away as fast as his feet could carry him. I laughed at him so much about it that he doesn’t like to come near me since that.”
“How did you escape?” asked Herbert, with interest.
“I saw there was no use in running away, so I patted him on the head, and called him ‘Poor dog,’ though I expected every minute he was going to bite me. That calmed him down, and he went off without doing any harm.”
Herbert found Mrs. Godfrey to be a pleasant, motherly-looking lady, who received him kindly. He felt that he should like it very much if she was his aunt, instead of Mrs. Stanton, whom he had never seen, and did not think he should care about meeting.
“What do you think of Tom Stanton?” asked Julia, “Of course, you know him—the other boy in pa’s counting-room.”
“I am not very well acquainted with him yet,” said Herbert, evasively, for he did not care to say anything unfavorable of Tom. “Do you know him?”
“Yes, he used to go to the same dancing school with me last winter.”
“Then you know him better than I do.”
“I don’t like him much,” said Julia. “He’s always thinking of himself and his neckties. He always came to dancing school in a different necktie; to let us know how many he had, I suppose. Didn’t you notice his necktie?”
“It was pretty large, I thought,” said Herbert, smiling.
“Yes, he’s fond of wearing large ones.”
“I am afraid you are talking uncharitably, Julia,” said her mother, mildly. “Girls, you know, are sometimes fond of dress.”
So the conversation drifted on to other topics. Julia, at first, addressed our hero as Mr. Mason, until he requested her to call him Herbert, a request which she readily complied with. They were soon on excellent terms, and appeared to be mutually pleased.
“Young people,” said Mr. Godfrey, after dinner, “there is to be an attractive concert at the Academy of Music this evening. I secured seats this morning for four. Suppose we all go?”
“I shall be delighted, for one, papa,” said Julia. “You will like to go, Herbert, won’t you?”
“Very much,” said our hero.
“Then you can escort me, while papa and mamma walk together.”
Herbert felt that this arrangement would be very agreeable, so far as he was concerned. It was, in fact, adopted, and the four paired off together, as Julia had suggested, Julia amusing Herbert by her lively remarks.
Entering the hall, they followed the usher to their seats, which were eligibly located only a few rows back from the stage.
Just behind them sat a party, among whom the new arrivals produced quite a sensation. Not to keep the reader in suspense, that party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, Tom and Maria. There was but slight acquaintance between the two families, as Mr. Godfrey’s stood higher, socially, than Mr. Stanton’s. The gentlemen, however, had a bowing acquaintance, and the young people had met at dancing school.
“Why, there’s Mr. Godfrey and his family, Tom,” said Maria, turning towards her brother. “Who’s that boy with them? Julia hasn’t got any brother, has she?”
Tom had watched the entrance of the party with lively dissatisfaction. That his beggarly cousin should appear in public on such intimate terms with Julia Godfrey, to whom he himself had paid attention, but without any special encouragement, struck him as particularly mortifying.
“Mr. Godfrey’s son!” he said, disdainfully. “That boy is Herbert Mason.”
“Our cousin?” asked Maria, with interest. “Ma, did you hear?” she whispered, eagerly. “That boy in front of us is Cousin Herbert.”
“That boy with the Godfreys?” said Mrs. Stanton, in surprise.
“Yes, he’s talking with Julia now.”
“Are you sure? Who told you?”
“Tom.”
“Is it true, Tom?”
“Yes,” said Tom, frowning.
“What could have induced the Godfreys to bring him along?” said Mrs. Stanton, who was no better pleased than Tom at the social success of the poor relation.
“He’s quite good-looking,” said Maria.
“Nonsense,” said her mother, sharply. “He has a very countrified look.”
The news was communicated to Mr. Stanton, who looked with interest at his sister’s son, whom he had not seen since he was a very young child. He fervently wished him back again in Ohio, where he might conveniently forget his existence. Here in New York, especially since an unlucky chance, as he considered it, had brought him into the same counting-room as his son, it would be difficult to avoid taking some notice of him. But, so far as pecuniary assistance was concerned, Mr. Stanton determined that he would give none, unless it was forced upon him. Had he known our hero better, he would have been less alarmed.
With all his prejudices, Mr. Stanton could not help confessing that Herbert was a boy of whom any uncle might be proud. Though plainly dressed, he did not seem out of place at a fashionable concert, surrounded by well-dressed people.
It must not be supposed that Herbert was left in ignorance of the vicinity of the only relations he had in the city.
“There’s Tom Stanton, just behind you, with his father and mother and sister,” whispered Julia.
Herbert turned his head slightly. He was desirous of seeing what his uncle and aunt were like. His uncle met his gaze, and turned uncomfortably away, appearing not to know him, yet conscious that in his affected ignorance he was acting shabbily. Mrs. Stanton did not flinch, but bent a cold gaze of scrutiny upon the unwelcome nephew. Tom looked supercilious, and elevated his pug nose a trifle. Maria, only, looked as if she would like to know her cousin.
It was only a hasty glance on Herbert’s part, but it brought him to a rapid conclusion that he would not claim relationship. If any advances were made, they must come from the other side.
Tom fidgeted in his seat, watching with ill-concealed vexation the confidential conversation which appeared to be going on between Julia and his cousin.
“What she can see in that boor, I can’t imagine,” he said to himself.
Moreover, though Julia had looked around, she had not deigned any recognition of himself, and this hurt his pride. He finally determined to overlook the neglect, and address her, which he could readily do, as he sat almost directly behind her.
“Good-evening, Miss Julia,” he said, familiarly, bending forward.
“Oh, good-evening, Mr. Stanton,” said Julia, coldly, just turning slightly. “Herbert, isn’t that a beautiful song?”
“She calls him Herbert,” said Tom, in scornful disgust. “I wonder if she knows he is nothing but a beggar?”
“How are you enjoying the concert, Miss Julia?” he continued, resolved not to take the rebuff.
“Very well,” said Julia. “By the way,” she continued, with a sudden thought, “I believe you are acquainted with Mr. Mason.”
Herbert, upon this, bowed pleasantly, but Tom said, in rather a disagreeable tone, “I know Mr. Mason slightly.”
“Oh,” said Julia, arching her eyebrows, “I thought you were both in papa’s counting-room.”
“We shall know each other better by and by,” said Herbert, smiling.
Tom did not appear to hear this, but tried to keep up the conversation with Julia, desiring to have it appear that they were intimate friends; but the young lady gave brief replies, and finally, turning away, devoted herself once more to Herbert, much to Tom’s disgust. In fact, what he saw made Tom pass a very unpleasant evening, and when, on their return home, Maria suggested that Julia had taken a fancy to Herbert, he told her to mind her own business, which Maria justly considered a piece of rudeness wholly uncalled for.