Struggling Upward: Luke Larkin's Luck

RANDOLPH AND HIS CREDITOR

Though Randolph was pleased at having, as he thought, put a spoke in Luke’s wheel, and filled Mr. Armstrong’s mind with suspicion, he was not altogether happy.  He had a little private trouble of his own.  He had now for some time been a frequenter of Tony Denton’s billiard saloon, patronizing both the table and the bar.  He had fallen in with a few young men of no social standing, who flattered him, and, therefore, stood in his good graces.  With them he played billiards and drank.  After a time he found that he was exceeding his allowance, but in the most obliging way Tony Denton had offered him credit.

“Of course, Mr. Duncan”—­Randolph felt flattered at being addressed in this way—­“of course, Mr. Duncan, your credit is good with me.  If you haven’t the ready money, and I know most young gentlemen are liable to be short, I will just keep an account, and you can settle at your convenience.”

This seemed very obliging, but I am disposed to think that a boy’s worst enemy is the one who makes it easy for him to run into debt.  Randolph was not wholly without caution, for he said:  “But suppose, Tony, I am not able to pay when you want the money?”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself about that, Mr. Duncan,” said Tony cordially.  “Of course, I know the standing of your family, and I am perfectly safe.  Some time you will be a rich man.”

“Yes, I suppose I shall,” said Randolph, in a consequential tone.

“And it is worth something to me to have my saloon patronized by a young gentleman of your social standing.”

Evidently, Tony Denton understood Randolph’s weak point, and played on it skillfully.  He assumed an air of extra consequence, as he remarked condescendingly:  “You are very obliging, Tony, and I shall not forget it.”

Tony Denton laughed in his sleeve at the boy’s vanity, but his manner was very respectful, and Randolph looked upon him as an humble friend and admirer.

“He is a sensible man, Tony; he understands what is due to my position,” he said to himself.

After Denton’s visit to New York with Prince Duncan, and the knowledge which he then acquired about the president of the Groveton Bank, he decided that the time had come to cut short Randolph’s credit with him.  The day of reckoning always comes in such cases, as I hope my young friends will fully understand.  Debt is much more easily contracted than liquidated, and this Randolph found to his cost.

One morning he was about to start on a game of billiards, when Tony Denton called him aside.

“I would like to speak a word to you, Mr. Duncan,” he said smoothly.

“All right, Tony,” said Randolph, in a patronizing tone.  “What can I do for you?”

“My rent comes due to-morrow, Mr. Duncan, and I should be glad if you would pay me a part of your account.  It has been running some time—­”

Randolph’s jaw fell, and he looked blank.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

Tony referred to a long ledgerlike account-book, turned to a certain page, and running his fingers down a long series of items, answered, “Twenty-seven dollars and sixty cents.”

“It can’t be so much!” ejaculated Randolph, in dismay.  “Surely you have made a mistake!”

“You can look for yourself,” said Tony suavely.  “Just reckon it up; I may have made a little mistake in the sum total.”

Randolph looked over the items, but he was nervous, and the page swam before his eyes.  He was quite incapable of performing the addition, simple as it was, in his then frame of mind.

“I dare say you have added it up all right,” he said, after an abortive attempt to reckon it up, “but I can hardly believe that I owe you so much.”

“‘Many a little makes a mickle,’ as we Scotch say,” answered Tony cheerfully.  “However, twenty-seven dollars is a mere trifle to a young man like you.  Come, if you’ll pay me to-night, I’ll knock off the sixty cents.”

“It’s quite impossible for me to do it,” said Randolph, ill at ease.

“Pay me something on account—­say ten dollars.”

“I haven’t got but a dollar and a quarter in my pocket.”

“Oh, well, you know where to go for more money,” said Tony, with a wink.  “The old gentleman’s got plenty.”

“I am not so sure about that—­I mean that he is willing to pay out.  Of course, he’s got plenty of money invested,” added Randolph, who liked to have it thought that his father was a great financial magnate.

“Well, he can spare some for his son, I am sure.”

“Can’t you let it go for a little while longer, Tony?” asked Randolph, awkwardly.

“Really, Mr. Duncan, I couldn’t.  I am a poor man, as you know, and have my bills to pay.”

“I take it as very disobliging, Tony; I sha’n’t care to patronize your place any longer,” said Randolph, trying a new tack.

Tony Denton shrugged his shoulders.

“I only care for patrons who are willing to pay their bills,” he answered significantly.  “It doesn’t pay me to keep my place open free.”

“Of course not; but I hope you are not afraid of me?”

“Certainly not.  I am sure you will act honorably and pay your bills.  If I thought you wouldn’t, I would go and see your father about it.”

“No, you mustn’t do that,” said Randolph, alarmed.  “He doesn’t know I come here.”

“And he won’t know from me, if you pay what you owe.”

Matters were becoming decidedly unpleasant for Randolph.  The perspiration gathered on his brow.  He didn’t know what to do.  That his father would not give him money for any such purpose, he very well knew, and he dreaded his finding out where he spent so many of his evenings.

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself about a trifle,” said Tony smoothly.  “Just go up to your father, frankly, and tell him you want the money.”

“He wouldn’t give me twenty-seven dollars,” said Randolph gloomily.

“Then ask for ten, and I’ll wait for the balance till next week.”

“Can’t you put it all off till next week?”

“No; I really couldn’t, Mr. Duncan.  What does it matter to you this week, or next?”

Randolph wished to put off as long as possible the inevitable moment, though he knew it would do him no good in the end.  But Tony Denton was inflexible—­and he finally said:  “Well, I’ll make the attempt, but I know I shall fail.”

“That’s all right; I knew you would look at it in the right light.  Now, go ahead and play your game.”

“No, I don’t want to increase my debt.”

“Oh, I won’t charge you for what you play this evening.  Tony Denton can be liberal as well as the next man.  Only I have to collect money to pay my bills.”

Randolph didn’t know that all this had been prearranged by the obliging saloon-keeper, and that, in now pressing him, he had his own object in view.

The next morning, Randolph took an opportunity to see his father alone.

“Father,” he said, “will you do me a favor?”

“What is it, Randolph?”

“Let me have ten dollars.”

His father frowned.

“What do you want with ten dollars?” he asked.

“I don’t like to go round without money in my pocket.  It doesn’t look well for the son of a rich man.”

“Who told you I was a rich man?” said his father testily.

“Why, you are, aren’t you?  Everybody in the village says so.”

“I may, or may not, be rich, but I don’t care to encourage my son in extravagant habits.  You say you have no money.  Don’t you have your regular allowance?”

“It is only two dollars a week.”

“Only two dollars a week!” repeated the father angrily.  “Let me tell you, young man, that when I was of your age I didn’t have twenty-five cents a week.”

“That was long ago.  People lived differently from what they do now.”

“How did they?”

“They didn’t live in any style.”

“They didn’t spend money foolishly, as they do now.  I don’t see for my part what you can do with even two dollars a week.”

“Oh, it melts away, one way or another.  I am your only son, and people expect me to spend money.  It is expected of one in my position.”

“So you can.  I consider two dollars a week very liberal.”

“You’d understand better if you were a young fellow like me how hard it is to get along on that.”

“I don’t want to understand,” returned his father stoutly.  “One thing I understand, and that is, that the boys of the present day are foolishly extravagant.  Think of Luke Larkin!  Do you think he spends two dollars even in a month?”

“I hope you don’t mean to compare me with a working boy like Luke?” Randolph said scornfully.

“I am not sure but Luke would suit me better than you in some respects.”

“You are speaking of Luke,” said Randolph, with a lucky thought.  “Well, even he, working boy as he is, has a better watch than I, who am the son of the president of the Groveton Bank.”

“Do you want the ten dollars to buy a better watch?” asked Prince Duncan.

“Yes,” answered Randolph, ready to seize on any pretext for the sake of getting the money.

“Then wait till I go to New York again, and I will look at some watches.  I won’t make any promise, but I may buy you one.  I don’t care about Luke outshining you.”

This by no means answered Randolph’s purpose.

“Won’t you let me go up to the city myself, father?” he asked.

“No, I prefer to rely upon my own judgment in a purchase of that kind.”

It had occurred to Randolph that he would go to the city, and pretend on his return that he had bought a watch but had his pocket picked.  Of course, his father would give him more than ten dollars for the purpose, and he could privately pay it over to Tony Denton.

But this scheme did not work, and he made up his mind at last that he would have to tell Tony he must wait.

He did so.  Tony Denton, who fully expected this, and, for reasons of his own, did not regret it, said very little to Randolph, but decided to go round and see Prince Duncan himself.  It would give him a chance to introduce the other and more important matter.

It was about this time that Linton’s birthday-party took place.  Randolph knew, of course, that he would meet Luke, but he no longer had the satisfaction of deriding his shabby dress.  Our hero wore his best suit, and showed as much ease and self-possession as Randolph himself.

“What airs that boy Luke puts on!” ejaculated Randolph, in disgust.  “I believe he thinks he is my equal.”

In this Randolph was correct.  Luke certainly did consider himself the social equal of the haughty Randolph, and the consciousness of being well dressed made him feel at greater ease than at Florence Grant’s party.  He had taken additional lessons in dancing from his friend Linton, and, being quick to learn, showed no awkwardness on the floor.  Linton’s parents, by their kind cordiality, contributed largely to the pleasure of their son’s guests, who at the end of the evening unanimously voted the party a success.