The Cash Boy

FROM BAD TO WORSE

Frank’s misgivings were not without good cause.  The housekeeper’s call at the store was connected with him.  How, will be understood from a conversation which took place that morning between her and John Wade.

“It’s a relief to get that boy out of the house, Mrs. Bradley,” he said at the breakfast table.

“That it is, Mr. John,” she replied.  “But he’ll be trying to get back, take my word for it.”

“He won’t dare to,” said John Wade, incredulously.  “I told him if he came near the house I would give him up to the police.”

“I am afraid he will write to your uncle.  He’s bold enough for anything.”

“I didn’t think of that,” said John, thoughtfully.

“Do you know his handwriting, Mrs. Bradley?”

“I think I should know it.”

“Then if any letters come which you know to be from him, keep them back from my uncle.”

“What shall I do with them?”

“Give them to me.  I don’t want my uncle worried by his appeals.”

“Your uncle seems to be very attached to him.  He may go to the store to see him.”

“That is true.  I should not like that.  How shall we prevent it, that’s the question.”

“If Gilbert & Mack knew that he was not honest they would discharge him.”

“Exactly,” said John Wade; “and as probably he would be unable to get another situation, he would be compelled to leave the city, and we should get rid of him.  I commend your shrewdness, Mrs. Bradley.  Your plan is most excellent.”

John Wade had more reasons than the housekeeper knew of for desiring the removal of our young hero from the city—­reasons which the reader has probably guessed.  There was a dark secret in his life connected with a wrong done in years past, from which he hoped some day to reap personal benefit.  Unconsciously Frank Fowler stood in his way, and must be removed.  Such was his determination.

“I am going out this morning,” said the housekeeper.  “I will make it in my way to call at Gilbert & Mack’s.  My nephew is a salesman there, as I have told you.  I will drop a word in his ear, and that will be enough to settle that boy’s hash.”

“Your language is professional, Mrs. Bradley,” said John Wade, laughing, “but you shouldn’t allude to hash in an aristocratic household.  I shall be glad to have you carry out your plan.”

“I hope you’ll speak to your uncle about my nephew, Mr. John.  He gets very poor pay where he is.”

“I won’t forget him,” said John, carelessly.

In his heart he thought Thomas Bradley a very low, obtrusive fellow, whom he felt by no means inclined to assist, but it was cheap to make promises.

The reader understands now why Mrs. Bradley made a morning call at Gilbert & Mack’s store.

She knew at what part of the counter her nephew was stationed, and made her way thither at once.  He did not at first recognize her, until she said: 

“Good-morning, Thomas.”

“Good-morning, aunt.  What brings you here this morning?  Any good news for me?  Has the old gentleman come around and concluded to do something handsome?”

“Mr. Wharton is not in the city.  He has gone to Washington.  But that isn’t what I came about this morning.  You remember that boy who has been reading to Mr. Wharton?”

“One of our cash-boys.  Yes; there he is, just gone by.”

“Well, he has stolen Mr. John’s pocketbook and some jewelry belonging to him.”

“What have you done about it?  What does Mr. Wharton say?”

“He’s away from home.  He doesn’t know yet.  Mr. John gave him a lecture, and ordered him to leave the house.”

“Does he admit that he took the things?”

“No; he denied it as bold as brass, but it didn’t do him any good.  There were the things in his trunk.  He couldn’t get over that.”

Thomas fastened a shrewd glance on his aunt’s face, for he suspected the truth.

“So you’ve got rid of him?” he said.  “What do you propose to do next?”

“Mr. John thinks your employer ought to know that he is a thief.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“I want you to do it.”

“You must tell them yourself, aunt.  I shan’t.”

“Then introduce me to Mr. Gilbert, Thomas, and I’ll do it.”

“Follow me, aunt.”

He led his aunt to the rear of the store, where Mr. Gilbert was standing.

“Mr. Gilbert,” he said, “allow me to introduce my aunt, Mrs. Bradley.”

The housekeeper was courteously received, and invited to be seated.  She soon opened her business, and blackened poor Frank’s character as she had intended.

“Really, Mrs. Bradley, I am sorry to hear this,” said Mr. Gilbert.  “You think there is no doubt of the boy’s guilt?”

“I am sorry to say that I have no doubt at all,” said the housekeeper, hypocritically.

“Mr. Mack and myself have had a very good opinion of him.  He is faithful and prompt.”

“Of course, sir, you will retain him in your employ if you are willing to take the risk, but I thought it my duty to put you on your guard.”

“I am obliged to you, Mrs. Bradley; though, as I said, I regret to find that my confidence in the boy has been misplaced.”

Late in the afternoon, Frank was called to the cashier’s desk.

“I am directed by Mr. Gilbert to say that your services will not be required after to-day,” he said.  “Here are the week’s wages.”

“Why am I discharged?  What have I done?” demanded Frank, while his heart sank within him.

“I don’t know.  You must ask Mr. Gilbert,” answered the cashier.

“I will speak to him, at any rate,” and Frank walked up to the senior partner, and addressed to him the same question.

“Can you not guess?” asked Mr. Gilbert, sternly.

“I can guess that a false accusation has been brought against me,” said Frank.

“A respectable lady has informed me that you are not honest.  I regret it, for I have been pleased with your diligence.  Of course, I cannot retain you in my employ.”

“Mr. Gilbert,” said Frank, earnestly, “the charge is false.  Mrs. Bradley is my enemy, and wishes me harm.  I don’t understand how the things came into my trunk, but I didn’t put them there.”

“I hope you are innocent, but I must discharge you.  Business is dull now, and I had decided to part with four of my cash-boys.  I won’t pass judgment upon you, but you must go.”

Frank bowed in silence, for he saw that further entreaty would be vain, and left the store more dispirited than at any moment since he had been in the city.

Ten days Frank spent in fruitless efforts to obtain a place.

All this time his money steadily diminished.  He perceived that he would soon be penniless.  Evidently, something must be done.  He formed two determinations.  The first was to write to Mr. Wharton, who, he thought, must now have returned from Washington, asserting his innocence and appealing to him to see Gilbert & Mack, and re-establish him in their confidence.  The second was, since he could not obtain a regular place, to frequent the wharves and seek chances to carry bundles.  In this way he might earn enough, with great economy, to pay for his board and lodging.

One morning the housekeeper entered the library where John Wade sat reading the daily papers.

“Mr. John,” she said, holding out a letter, “here is a letter from that boy.  I expected he would write to your uncle.”

John Wade deliberately opened the letter.

“Sit down, Mrs. Bradley, and I will read the letter aloud.”

It will be only necessary to quote the concluding sentences: 

“’I hope, Mr. Wharton, you will not be influenced against me by what Mrs. Bradley and your nephew say.  I don’t know why it is, but they are my enemies, though I have always treated them with respect.  I am afraid they have a desire to injure me in your estimation.  If they had not been, they would have been content with driving me from your house, without also slandering me to my employers, and inducing them to discharge me.  Since I was discharged, I have tried very hard to get another place, but as I cannot bring a recommendation from Gilbert & Mack, I have everywhere been refused.  I ask you, Mr. Wharton to consider my situation.  Already my small supply of money is nearly gone, and I do not know how I am to pay my expenses.  If it was any fault of mine that had brought me into this situation, I would not complain, but it seems hard to suffer when I am innocent.

“’I do not ask to return to your house, Mr. Wharton, for it would not be pleasant, since your nephew and Mrs. Bradley dislike me, but I have a right to ask that the truth may be told to my employers, so that if they do not wish me to return to their service, they may, at least, be willing to give me a recommendation that will give me a place elsewhere.”’

“I must prevent the boy communicating with my uncle, if it is a possible thing.  ‘Strike while the iron is hot,’ I say.”

“I think that is very judicious, Mr. John.  I have no doubt you will know how to manage matters.”

John Wade dressed himself for a walk, and drawing out a cigar, descended the steps of his uncle’s house into the street.

He reached Fifth Avenue, and walked slowly downtown.  He was about opposite Twenty-eighth Street, when he came face to face with the subject of his thoughts.

“Where are you going?” John Wade demanded sternly.

“I don’t know that I am bound to answer your question,” answered Frank, quietly, “but I have no objection.  I am going to Thirty-ninth Street with this bundle.”

“Hark you, boy!  I have something to say to you,” continued John Wade, harshly.  “You have had the impudence to write to my uncle.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing that you would like to hear.  He looks upon you as a thief.”

“You have slandered me to him, Mr. Wade,” he said, angrily.  “You might be in better business than accusingly a poor boy falsely.”

“Hark you, young man!  I have had enough of your impudence.  I will give you a bit of advice, which you will do well to follow.  Leave this city for a place where you are not known, or I may feel disposed to shut you up on a charge of theft.”

“I shall not leave the city, Mr. Wade,” returned Frank, firmly.  “I shall stay here in spite of you,” and without waiting for an answer, he walked on.