Joe the Hotel Boy

THE TIMID MR. GUSSING.

It was not until the children had been satisfied and put to bed that Joe had a chance to talk to Mrs. Cullum.  She was greatly astonished when she learned who he was.

“I didn’t expect this kindness,” said she.  “I understand that my husband treated you shamefully.”

“It was the liquor made him do it ma’am,” answered our hero.  “I think he’d be all right if he’d leave drink alone.”

“Yes, I am sure of it!” She gave a long sigh.  “He was very kind and true when we were first married.  But then he got to using liquor and—­and—­this is the result.”

“Perhaps he will turn over a new leaf when he comes out of jail.”

“I hope he does.  If he doesn’t, I don’t know what I am going to do.”

“Have you anything to do?”

“I used to wash for two families in town but they have regular hired help now.”

“Perhaps you can get more work, if you advertise.  If you’ll allow me, I’ll put an advertisement in the Riverside News for you.”

“Thank you.  I don’t see what makes you so kind.”

“Well, I have been down in the world myself, Mrs. Cullum, so I know how to feel for others.”

“Did you say you used to live with Bodley, the hermit?”

“Yes.”

“My folks used to know him.  He was rather a strange man after he got shot by accident.”

“Yes, but he was kind.”

“Are you his son?”

“No.  He said I was his nephew.  But I never found out much about that.”

“Oh, yes, I remember something about that.  He had a brother who lost his wife and several children.  Are you that man’s son?”

“I believe I am.”

“And you have never heard from your father?”

“Not a word.”

“That is hard on you.”

“I am going to look for my father some day.”

“If so, I hope you will find him.”

“So do I.”  Joe arose.  “I must be going.”  He paused.  “Mrs. Cullum, will you let me help you?” he added, earnestly.

“Why, you have helped me a good deal already.  Not one in a thousand would do what you have done—­after the way my husband treated you.”

“I thought that you might be short of money.”

“I must confess I am.”

“I am not rich but, if you can use it, I can let you have five dollars.”

“I’ll accept it as a loan.  I don’t want you to give me the money,” answered the poor woman.  She thought of the things she absolutely needed, now that her husband was gone.

The money was handed over, and a few minutes later Joe took his departure.  Somehow his heart felt very light because of his generosity.  He had certainly played the part of a friend in need.

But he did not stop there.  Early in the morning he sought out Andrew Mallison and told the hotel proprietor of Mrs. Cullum’s condition.

“I was thinking that you might be able to give her work in the hotel laundry,” he continued.

The hotel man called up the housekeeper and from her learned that another woman could be used to iron.

“You can let her come and we’ll give her a trial,” said he.

It did not take Joe long to communicate with the poor woman, and she was overjoyed to see work in sight, without waiting for an advertisement in the newspaper.

“I’ll go at once,” said she.  “I’ll get a neighbor’s girl to mind the children.”  And she was as good as her word.  As it happened, she proved to be a good laundress, and Mr. Mallison gave her steady employment until her husband came from jail.  Then, much to his wife’s satisfaction, Sam Cullum turned over a new leaf and became quite sober and industrious.

Joe was now becoming well acquainted around the hotel and took an interest in many of the boarders.

Among the number was a young man named Felix Gussing.  He was a nice individual in his way, but had certain peculiarities.  One was that he was exceedingly afraid of horses and at every possible opportunity he gave them as wide a berth as possible.

“Don’t like them at all, don’t you know,” he said, to Joe, during a boat ride.  “Can’t understand them at all.”

“Oh, I think a good horse is very nice,” answered our hero.

“But they are so—­so balkish—­so full of kicking,” insisted Felix Gussing.

“Well, I admit some of them are,” answered Joe.

There were two young ladies stopping at the hotel and the young man had become quite well acquainted with both of them.  One he thought was very beautiful and was half tempted to propose to her.

On the day after the boat ride with Joe, Felix Gussing took the ladies to have some ice cream, and during the conversation all spoke of a certain landmark of interest located about three miles from Riverside.

“I have seen it and it is—­aw—­very interesting,” drawled Felix.

“Then we must see it, Belle,” said one of the young ladies, to her companion.

“Oh, I’m not going to walk that far,” answered Belle, with a bewitching look at the young man.

“You might drive over,” suggested Felix, without stopping to think twice.

“Oh, yes, I love driving!” cried one of the girls.

“And so do I!” answered the other.

“I will find out what can be done about a conveyance,” answered Felix.

Being a good deal of a dude, and dressing very fastidiously, he did not much relish visiting the livery stable attached to the hotel.  But, early on the following morning, he walked down to the place, and ordered a horse and carriage, to be ready at ten o’clock.

Now it must be known that Felix did not intend to drive the carriage.  He thought the young ladies would drive for themselves, since both had said that they loved driving.  Unfortunate man! he knew not the snare he had laid for himself!

Punctual to the minute the carriage drove up to the door.

Felix was on hand, standing on the steps, with politeness in his air, though with trembling in his heart because so near the horses.  He assisted the ladies in.  Then he handed the reins to Miss Belle.

“Do you wish me to hold the horses while you get in?” she asked sweetly.

“Till I get in!” ejaculated Felix, taken aback.

“Certainly!  You don’t think we are going to drive ourselves, do you?  Of course you are going with us.”

Poor Felix!  He was “in for it” now, decidedly.  It required a good deal of moral courage, a quality in which he was deficient, to resist a lady’s demand.  His knees trembled with fear as he scrambled in.  Joe, who was standing not far away, looked on with a quiet smile on his face.  He realized what was passing in the dude’s mind.

“He’d give ten dollars to get out of it,” our hero told himself.

The boy who had brought the turnout around looked at Felix Gussing earnestly.

“Take care of that horse, mister,” said he, warningly.  “He’s young and a little bit wild.”

“Wild?” gasped the dude.  “I—­I don’t want to drive a wild horse.”

“Oh, he’ll be all right if you keep an eye on him,” went on the stable boy.

“Young and a little bit wild!” thought Felix to himself.  “Oh, dear, what in the world shall I do?  I never drove a horse before.  If I get back with less than a broken neck I’ll be lucky!  I’d give a thousand to be out of this pickle.”

“Hadn’t we better start, Mr. Gussing?” asked one of the young ladies, after a pause.

“Oh, yes—­certainly!” he stammered.  “But—­er—­you can drive if you wish.”

“Thank you, but I would prefer that you drive.”

“Won’t you drive?” he asked of the other young lady.

“Oh, no, not to-day.  But I’ll use the whip if you say so,” she answered.

“Not for the world!” cried the unhappy Felix.  “He is a bit wild already and there is no telling what he’d do if he felt the whip.”

At last the carriage drove off.  Joe gazed after it thoughtfully.

“Unless I miss my guess, there is going to be trouble before that drive is over,” he thought.  And there was trouble, as we shall soon learn.