Driven from Home: Carl Crawford's Experience

An eccentric woman.

Miss Norris dropped into a chair as if she were fatigued.

“Well, Aunt Rachel, how are you feeling this morning?” asked her nephew.

“Out of sorts,” was the laconic reply.

“I am very sorry for that.  I suppose there is reason for it.”

“Yes; I’ve been robbed.”

“Indeed!” said Mr. Norris.  “Lost your purse?  I wonder more ladies are not robbed, carrying their money as carelessly as they do.”

“That isn’t it.  I am always careful, as careful as any man.”

“Still you got robbed.”

“Yes, but of a bank book.”

Here Carl became attentive.  It was clear that he would not have to look any farther for the owner of the book he had found in his stateroom.

“What kind of a bank book?” inquired Mr. Norris.

“I had nearly a thousand dollars deposited in the Sixpenny Savings Bank.  I called at the bank to make some inquiries about interest, and when I came out I presume some rascal followed me and stole the book——­”

“Have you any idea who took it?”

“I got into the horse cars, near the bank; next to me sat a young man in a light overcoat.  There was no one on the other side of me.  I think he must have taken it.”

“That was Stuyvesant,” said Carl to himself.

“When did this happen, Aunt Rachel?”

“Three days since.”

“Why didn’t you do something about it before?”

“I did.  I advertised a reward of twenty-five dollars to anyone who would restore it to me.”

“There was no occasion for that.  By giving notice at the bank, they would give you a new book after a time.”

“I preferred to recover the old one.  Besides, I thought I would like to know what became of it.”

“I can tell you, Miss Norris,” said Carl, who thought it time to speak.

Hitherto Miss Norris had not seemed aware of Carl’s presence.  She turned abruptly and surveyed him through her glasses.

“Who are you?” she asked.

This might seem rude, but it was only Miss Rachel’s way.

“My name is Carl Crawford.”

“Do I know you?”

“No, Miss Norris, but I hope you will.”

“Humph! that depends.  You say you know what became of my bank book?”

“Yes, Miss Norris.”

“Well?”

“It was taken by the young man who sat next to you.”

“How do you know?”

“He robbed me last night on the way from New York in a Hudson River steamboat.”

“That doesn’t prove that he robbed me.  I was robbed here in this city.”

“What do you say to this?” asked Carl, displaying the bank book.

“Bless me!  That is my book.  Where did you get it?”

Carl told his story briefly, how, on discovering that he had been robbed, he explored the stateroom and found the bank book.

“Well, well, I am astonished!  And how did you know Mr. Norris was my nephew?”

“I didn’t know.  I didn’t know anything about him or you, but finding his name in the directory, I came here to ask if he knew any such person.”

“You are a smart boy, and a good, honest one,” said Miss Norris.  “You have earned the reward, and shall have it.”

“I don’t want any reward, Miss Norris,” rejoined Carl.  “I have had very little trouble in finding you.”

“That is of no consequence.  I offered the reward, and Rachel Norris is a woman of her word.”

She thrust her hand into her pocket, and drew out a wallet, more suitable to a man’s use.  Openings this, she took out three bills, two tens and a five, and extended them toward Carl.

“I don’t think I ought to take this money, Miss Norris,” said Carl, reluctantly.

“Did that rascal rob you, too?”

“Yes.”

“Of how much?”

“Ten dollars in money and some underclothing.”

“Very well!  This money will go toward making up your loss.  You are not rich, I take it?”

“Not yet.”

“I am, and can afford to give you this money.  There, take it.”

“Thank you, Miss Norris.”

“I want to ask one favor of you.  If you ever come across that young man in the light overcoat, have him arrested, and let me know.”

“I will, Miss Norris.”

“Do you live in Albany?”

Carl explained that he was traveling on business, and should leave the next day if he could get through.

“How far are you going?”

“To Chicago.”

“Can you attend to some business for me there?”

“Yes, if it won’t take too long a time.”

“Good!  Come round to my house to supper at six o’clock, and I will tell you about it.  Henry, write my address on a piece of paper, and give it to this young man.”

Henry Norris smiled, and did as his aunt requested.

“You have considerable confidence in this young man?” he said.

“I have.”

“You may be mistaken.”

“Rachel Norris is not often mistaken.”

“I will accept your invitation with pleasure, Miss Norris,” said Carl, bowing politely.  “Now, as I have some business to attend to, I will bid you both good-morning.”

As Carl went out, Miss Norris said:  “Henry, that is a remarkable boy.”

“I think favorably of him myself.  He is in the employ of an old schoolmate of mine, Henry Jennings, of Milford.  By the way, what business are you going to put into his hands?”

“A young man who has a shoe store on State Street has asked me for a loan of two thousand dollars to extend his business.  His name is John French, and his mother was an old schoolmate of mine, though some years younger.  Now I know nothing of him.  If he is a sober, steady, industrious young man, I may comply with his request.  This boy will investigate and report to me.”

“And you will be guided by his report?”

“Probably.”

“Aunt Rachel, you are certainly very eccentric.”

“I may be, but I am not often deceived.”

“Well, I hope you won’t be this time.  The boy seems to me a very good boy, but you can’t put an old head on young shoulders.”

“Some boys have more sense than men twice their age.”

“You don’t mean me, I hope, Aunt Rachel,” said Mr. Norris, smiling.

“Indeed, I don’t.  I shall not flatter you by speaking of you as only twice this boy’s age.”

“I see, Aunt Rachel, there is no getting the better of you.”

Meanwhile Carl was making business calls.  He obtained a map of the city, and located the different firms on which he proposed to call.  He had been furnished with a list by Mr. Jennings.  He was everywhere pleasantly received—­in some places with an expression of surprise at his youth—­but when he began to talk he proved to be so well informed upon the subject of his call that any prejudice excited by his age quickly vanished.  He had the satisfaction of securing several unexpectedly large orders for the chair, and transmitting them to Mr. Jennings by the afternoon mail.

He got through his business at four o’clock, and rested for an hour or more at his hotel.  Then he arranged his toilet, and set out for the residence of Miss Rachel Norris.

It was rather a prim-looking, three-story house, such as might be supposed to belong to a maiden lady.  He was ushered into a sitting-room on the second floor, where Miss Norris soon joined him.

“I am glad to see you, my young friend,” she said, cordially.  “You are in time.”

“I always try to be, Miss Norris.”

“It is a good way to begin.”

Here a bell rang.

“Supper is ready,” she said.  “Follow me downstairs.”

Carl followed the old lady to the rear room on the lower floor.  A small table was set in the center of the apartment.

“Take a seat opposite me,” said Miss Norris.

There were two other chairs, one on each side—­Carl wondered for whom they were set.  No sooner were he and Miss Norris seated than two large cats approached the table, and jumped up, one into each chair.  Carl looked to see them ordered away, but instead, Miss Norris nodded pleasantly, saying:  “That’s right, Jane and Molly, you are punctual at meals.”

The two cats eyed their mistress gravely, and began to purr contentedly.