Driven from Home: Carl Crawford's Experience

An Odd acquaintance.

After breakfast the next morning Carl started again on his way.  His new friend, Edward Downie, accompanied him for a mile, having an errand at that distance.

“I wish you good luck, Carl,” he said, earnestly.  “When you come this way again, be sure to stop in and see me.”

“I will certainly do so, but I hope I may find employment.”

“At any rate,” thought Carl, as he resumed his journey alone, “I am better off than I was yesterday morning.  Then I had but twenty-five cents; now I have a dollar.”

This was satisfactory as far as it went, but Carl was sensible that he was making no progress in his plan of earning a living.  He was simply living from hand to mouth, and but for good luck he would have had to go hungry, and perhaps have been obliged to sleep out doors.  What he wanted was employment.

It was about ten o’clock when, looking along the road, his curiosity was excited by a man of very unusual figure a few rods in advance of him.  He looked no taller than a boy of ten; but his frame was large, his shoulders broad, and his arms were of unusual length.  He might properly be called a dwarf.

“I am glad I am not so small as that,” thought Carl.  “I am richer than he in having a good figure.  I should not like to excite attention wherever I go by being unusually large or unusually small.”

Some boys would have felt inclined to laugh at the queer figure, but Carl had too much good feeling.  His curiosity certainly was aroused, and he thought he would like to get acquainted with the little man, whose garments of fine texture showed that, though short in stature, he was probably long in purse.  He didn’t quite know how to pave the way for an acquaintance, but circumstances favored him.

The little man drew out a handkerchief from the side pocket of his overcoat.  With it fluttered out a bank bill, which fell to the ground apparently unobserved by the owner.

Carl hurried on, and, picking up the bill, said to the small stranger as he touched his arm:  “Here is some money you just dropped, sir.”

The little man turned round and smiled pleasantly.

“Thank you.  Are you sure it is mine?”

“Yes, sir; it came out with your handkerchief.”

“Let me see.  So it is mine.  I was very careless to put it loose in my pocket.”

“You were rather careless, sir.”

“Of what denomination is it?’

“It is a two-dollar note.”

“If you had been a poor boy,” said the little man, eying Carl keenly, “you might have been tempted to keep it.  I might not have known.”

Carl smiled.

“What makes you think I am not a poor boy?” he said.

“You are well dressed.”

“That is true; but all the money I have is a dollar and five cents.”

“You know where to get more?  You have a good home?”

“I had a home, but now I am thrown on my own exertions,” said Carl, soberly.

“Dear me!  That is bad!  If I were better acquainted, I might ask more particularly how this happens.  Are you an orphan?”

“No, sir; my father is living.”

“And your mother is dead?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is your father a poor man?”

“No, sir; he is moderately rich.”

“Yet you have to fight your own way?”

“Yes, sir.  I have a stepmother.”

“I see.  Are you sure you are not unreasonably prejudiced against your stepmother?  All stepmothers are not bad or unkind.”

“I know that, sir.”

“Yours is, I presume?”

“You can judge for yourself.”

Carl recited some incidents in his experience with his stepmother.  The stranger listened with evident interest.

“I am not in general in favor of boys leaving home except on extreme provocation,” he said, after a pause; “but in your case, as your father seems to take part against you, I think you may be justified, especially as, at your age, you have a fair chance of making your own living.”

“I am glad you think that, sir.  I have begun to wonder whether I have not acted rashly.”

“In undertaking to support yourself?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“At fourteen I was obliged to undertake what you have now before you.”

“To support yourself?”

“Yes; I was left an orphan at fourteen, with no money left me by my poor father, and no relatives who could help me.”

“How did you make out, sir?” asked Carl, feeling very much interested.

“I sold papers for a while—­in Newark, New Jersey—­then I got a place at three dollars a week, out of which I had to pay for board, lodging and clothes.  Well, I won’t go through my history.  I will only say that whatever I did I did as well as I could.  I am now a man of about middle age, and I am moderately wealthy.”

“I am very much encouraged by what you tell me, sir.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand what a hard struggle I had.  More than once I have had to go to bed hungry.  Sometimes I have had to sleep out, but one mustn’t be afraid to rough it a little when he is young.  I shouldn’t like to sleep out now, or go to bed without my supper,” and the little man laughed softly.

“Yes, sir; I expect to rough it, but if I could only get a situation, at no matter what income, I should feel encouraged.”

“You have earned no money yet?”

“Yes, sir; I earned a dollar yesterday.”

“At what kind of work?”

“Archery.”

The little man looked surprised.

“Is that a business?” he asked, curiously.

“I’ll explain how it was,” and Carl told about the contest.

“So you hit the mark?” said the little man, significantly.

Somehow, there was something in the little man’s tone that put new courage into Carl, and incited him to fresh effort.

“I wonder, sir,” he said, after a pause, “that you should be walking, when you can well afford to ride.”

The little man smiled.

“It is by advice of my physician,” he said.  “He tells me I am getting too stout, and ought to take more or less exercise in the open air.  So I am trying to follow his advice.”

“Are you in business near here, sir?”

“At a large town six miles distant.  I may not walk all the way there, but I have a place to call at near by, and thought I would avail myself of the good chance offered to take a little exercise.  I feel repaid.  I have made a pleasant acquaintance.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“There is my card,” and the little man took out a business card, reading thus: 

Henry Jennings, furniture WAREHOUSE, Milford.

“I manufacture my furniture in the country,” he continued, “but I ship it by special arrangements to a house in New York in which I am also interested.”

“Yes, sir, I see.  Do you employ many persons in your establishment?”

“About thirty.”

“Do you think you could make room for me?”

“Do you think you would like the business?”

“I am prepared to like any business in which I can make a living.”

“That is right.  That is the way to look at it.  Let me think.”

For two minutes Mr. Jennings seemed to be plunged in thought.  Then he turned and smiled encouragingly.

“You can come home with me,” he said, “and I will consider the matter.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Carl, gladly.

“I have got to make a call at the next house, not on business, though.  There is an old schoolmate lying there sick.  I am afraid he is rather poor, too.  You can walk on slowly, and I will overtake you in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“After walking half a mile, if I have not overtaken you, you may sit down under a tree and wait for me.”

“All right, sir.”

“Before I leave you I will tell you a secret.”

“What is it, sir?”

“The two dollars you picked up, I dropped on purpose.”

“On purpose?” asked Carl, in amazement.

“Yes; I wanted to try you, to see if you were honest.”

“Then you had noticed me?”

“Yes.  I liked your appearance, but I wanted to test you.”