An old acquaintance in Chicago.
In due time our travelers reached
Chicago, and put up at the Palmer House. Herbert
was much impressed by the elegance of the hotel, its
sumptuous furniture, and luxurious table. It must
be considered that he was an inexperienced traveler,
though had he been otherwise he might be excused for
his admiration.
“I have some business in Chicago,
and shall remain two or three days,” said George
Melville.
Herbert was quite reconciled to the
delay, and, as his services were not required, employed
his time in making himself familiar with the famous
Western city. He kept his eyes open, and found
something new and interesting at every step.
One day, as he was passing through the lower portion
of the city, his attention was called to a young man
wheeling a barrow of cabbages and other vegetables,
a little in advance of him. Of course, there
was nothing singular about this, but there seemed
something familiar in the figure of the young man.
Herbert quickened his step, and soon came up with him.
One glance was enough. Though
disguised by a pair of overalls, and without a coat,
Herbert recognized the once spruce dry-goods clerk,
Eben Graham.
Eben recognized Herbert at the same
time. He started, and flushed with shame, not
because of the theft of which he had been guilty,
but because he was detected in an honest, but plebeian
labor.
“Herbert Carr!” he exclaimed, stopping
short.
“Yes, Eben; it is I!”
“You find me changed,” said Eben, dolefully.
“No, I should recognize you anywhere.”
“I don’t mean that.
I have sunk very low,” and he glanced pathetically
at the wheelbarrow.
“If you refer to your employment,
I don’t agree with you. It is an honest
business.”
“True, but I never dreamed when
I stood behind the counter in Boston, and waited on
fashionable ladies, that I should ever come to this.”
“He seems more ashamed of wheeling
vegetables than of stealing,” thought Herbert,
and he was correct.
“How do you happen to be in
this business, Eben?” he asked, with some curiosity.
“I must do it or starve.
I was cheated out of my money soon after I came here,
and didn’t know where to turn.”
Eben did not explain that he lost
his money in a gambling house. He might have
been cheated out of it, but it was his own fault, for
venturing into competition with older and more experienced
knaves than himself.
“I went for thirty-six hours
without food,” continued Eben, “when I
fell in with a man who kept a vegetable store, and
he offered to employ me. I have been with him
ever since.”
“You were fortunate to find employment,”
said Herbert.
“Fortunate!” repeated
Eben, in a tragic tone. “How much wages
do you think I get?”
“I can’t guess.”
“Five dollars a week, and have
to find myself,” answered Eben, mournfully.
“What would my fashionable friends in Boston
say if they could see me?”
“I wouldn’t mind what
they said as long as you are getting an honest living.”
“How do you happen to be out here?” asked
Eben.
His story was told in a few words.
“You are always in luck!”
said Eben, enviously. “I wish I had your
chance. Is Mr. Melville very rich?”
“He is rich; but I don’t know how rich.”
“Do you think he’d lend me money enough
to get home?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will you ask him?”
“I will tell him that you made
the request, Eben,” answered Herbert, cautiously.
“Have you applied to your father?”
“To the old man? Yes.
He hasn’t any more heart than a grindstone,”
said Eben, bitterly. “What do you think
he wrote me?”
“He refused, I suppose.”
“Here is his letter,”
said Eben, drawing from his pocket a greasy half sheet
of note paper. “See what he has to say to
his only son.”
This was the letter:
“Eben Graham:
I have received your letter, and am not surprised to
hear that you are in trouble. ’As a man
sows, so also shall he reap.’ A young man
who will rob his father of his hard earnings is capable
of anything. You have done what you could to ruin
me, and deserve what you have got. You want me
to send you money to come home, and continue your
wicked work—I shall not do it. I wash
my hands of you; I have already given notice, through
the country paper that I have given you your time,
and shall pay no more debts of your contracting.
“I am glad to hear that you
are engaged in an honest employment. It is better
than I expected. I would not have been surprised
if I had heard that you were in jail. My advice
to you is to stay where you are and make yourself
useful to your employer. He may in time raise
your wages. Five years hence, if you have turned
over a new leaf and led an honest life, I may give
you a place in my store. At present, I would
rather leave you where you are.
“Ebenezer Graham.”
“What do you say to that?
Isn’t that rather rough on an only son, eh?”
said Eben.
It occurred to Herbert that Eben hardly
deserved very liberal treatment from his father, notwithstanding
he was an only son.
“Oh, the old man is awfully
mean and close-fisted,” said Eben. “He
cares more for money than for anything else. By
the way, how does Melville treat you?”
“Mr. Melville,” said Herbert,
emphasizing the Mr., “is always kind and considerate.”
“Pays you well, eh?”
“He pays me more than I could get anywhere else.”
“Pays all your hotel and traveling expenses,
eh?”
“Of course.”
“And a good salary besides?”
“Yes.”
“Herbert,” said Eben, suddenly, “I
want you to do me a favor.”
“What is it?”
“You’ve always known me,
you know. When you was a little chap, and came
into the store, I used to give you sticks of candy.”
“I don’t remember it,” answered
Herbert, truthfully.
“I did, all the same. You were so young
that you don’t remember it.”
“Well, Eben, what of it?”
“I want you to lend me ten dollars,
Herbert, in memory of old times.”
Herbert was generously inclined, on
ordinary occasions, but did not feel so on this occasion.
He felt that Eben was not a deserving object, even
had he felt able to make so large a loan. Besides,
he could not forget that the young man who now asked
a favor had brought a false charge of stealing against
him.
“You will have to excuse me,
Eben,” he answered. “To begin with,
I cannot afford to lend so large a sum.”
“I would pay you back as soon as I could.”
“Perhaps you would,” said
Herbert, “though I have not much confidence
in it. But you seem to forget that you charged
me with stealing only a short time since. I wonder
how you. have the face to ask me to lend you ten dollars,
or any sum.”
“It was a mistake,” muttered
Eben, showing some signs of confusion.
“At any rate, I won’t
say anything more about it while you are in trouble.
But you must excuse my declining to lend you.”
“Lend me five dollars, then,” pleaded
Eben.
“What do you want to do with it?”
“To buy lottery tickets.
I am almost sure I should win a prize, and then I
can pay you five dollars for one.”
“I wouldn’t lend any money
for that purpose to my dearest friend,” said
Herbert “Buying lottery tickets is about the
most foolish investment you could make.”
“Then I won’t buy any,”
said Eben. “Lend me the money and I will
use it to buy clothes.”
“You will have to excuse me,” said Herbert,
coldly.
“I didn’t think you’d
be so mean,” whined Eben, “to a friend
in distress.”
“I don’t look upon you
as a friend, and for very good reasons,” retorted
Herbert, as he walked away.
Eben looked after him with a scowl of hatred.
“I’d like to humble that
boy’s pride,” he muttered, as he slowly
resumed his march.