THE ERRAND BOY;OR,HOW PHIL BRENT WON SUCCESS. BY HORATIO ALGER. Jr.,Author of"Joe's Luck," "Frank Fowler the Cash Boy,""Tom Temple's Career," "Tom Thatcher's Fortune,""Ragged Dick," "Tattered Tom," "Luck and Pluck,"etc. etc. THE ERRAND BOY. CHAPTER I. PHIL HAS A LITTLE DIFFICULTY. Phil Brent was plodding through the snowin the direction of the house where he livedwith his step-mother and her son when a snow-ball,moist and hard struck him just below his ear withstinging emphasis. The pain was considerable andPhil's anger rose. He turned suddenly his eyes flashing fiercely,intent upon discovering who had committed this outrage,for he had no doubt that it was intentional. He looked in all directions but saw no one excepta mild old gentleman in spectacles who appeared tohave some difficulty in making his way through theobstructed street. Phil did not need to be told that it was not theold gentleman who had taken such an unwarrantableliberty with him. So he looked farther buthis ears gave him the first clew. He heard a chuckling laugh which seemed toproceed from behind the stone wall that ran along theroadside."I will see who it is," he decided and plungingthrough the snow he surmounted the wall in timeto see a boy of about his own age running awayacross the fields as fast as the deep snow wouldallow."So it's you. Jonas!" he shouted wrathfully. "Ithought it was some sneaking fellow like you."Jonas Webb his step-brother his freckled faceshowing a degree of dismay for he had not calculatedon discovery ran the faster but while fearwinged his steps anger proved the more effectualspur and Phil overtook him after a brief run fromthe effects of which both boys panted."What made you throw that snow-ball?" demandedPhil angrily as he seized Jonas by the collarand shook him."You let me alone!" said Jonas strugglingineffectually in his grasp."Answer me! What made you throw that snowball?"demanded Phil in a tone that showed he didnot intend to be trifled with."Because I chose to," answered Jonas his spitegetting the better of his prudence. "Did it hurtyou?" he continued his eyes gleaming with malice."I should think it might. It was about as hardas a cannon-ball," returned Phil grimly. "Is thatall you've got to say about it?""I did it in fun," said Jonas beginning to see thathe had need to be prudent."Very well! I don't like your idea of fun. Perhapsyou won't like mine," said Phil as he forciblydrew Jonas back till he lay upon the snow and thenkneeling by his side rubbed his face briskly withsnow."What are you doin'? Goin' to murder me?"shrieked Jonas in anger and dismay."I am going to wash your face," said Phil,continuing the operation vigorously."I say you quit that! I'll tell my mother,"ejaculated Jonas struggling furiously."If you do tell her why I did it," said Phil. Jonas shrieked and struggled but in vain. Philgave his face an effectual scrubbing and did notdesist until he thought he had avenged the badtreatment he had suffered."There get up!" said he at length. Jonas scrambled to his feet his mean featuresworking convulsively with anger."You'll suffer for this!" he shouted."You won't make me!" said Phil contemptuously."You're the meanest boy in the village.""I am willing to leave that to the opinion of allwho know me.""I'll tell my mother!""Go home and tell her!"Jonas started for home and Phil did not attemptto stop him. As he saw Jonas reach the street and plod angrilyhomeward he said to himself:"I suppose I shall be in hot water for this; but Ican't help it. Mrs. Brent always stands up for herprecious son who is as like her as can be. Well itwon't make matters much worse than they havebeen."Phil concluded not to go home at once but toallow a little time for the storm to spend its forceafter Jonas had told his story. So he delayed halfan hour and then walked slowly up to the side door. He opened the door brushed off the snow from hisboots with the broom that stood behind thedoor and opening the inner door stepped into thekitchen. No one was there as Phil's first glance satisfiedhim and he was disposed to hope that Mrs. Brent--he never called her mother--was out but a thin,acid measured voice from the sitting-room adjoiningsoon satisfied him that there was to be no reprieve."Philip Brent come here!"Phil entered the sitting-room. In a rocking-chair by the fire sat a thin woman,with a sharp visage cold eyes and firmly compressedlips to whom no child would voluntarilydraw near. On a sofa lay outstretched the hulking form ofJonas with whom he had had his little difficulty."I am here. Mrs. Brent," said Philip manfully."Philip Brent," said Mrs. Brent acidly. "are younot ashamed to look me in the face?""I don't know why I should be," said Philip,bracing himself up for the attack."You see on the sofa the victim of your brutality,"continued Mrs. Brent pointing to the recumbentfigure of her son Jonas. Jonas as if to emphasize these words uttered ahalf groan. Philip could not help smiling for to him it seemedridiculous."You laugh," said his step-mother sharply. "Iam not surprised at it. You delight in your brutality.""I suppose you mean that I have treated Jonasbrutally.""I see you confess it.""No. Mrs. Brent. I do not confess it. The brutalityyou speak of was all on the side of Jonas.""No doubt," retorted Mrs. Brent with sarcasm."It's the case of the wolf and the lamb over again.""I don't think Jonas has represented the matterto you as it happened," said Phil. "Did he tell youthat he flung a snow-ball at my head as hard as alump of ice?""He said he threw a little snow at you playfullyand you sprang upon him like a tiger.""There's a little mistake in that," said Phil. "Thesnow-ball was hard enough to stun me if it had hitme a little higher. I wouldn't be hit like that againfor ten dollars.""That ain't so! Don't believe him mother!" saidJonas from the sofa."And what did you do?" demanded Mrs. Brentwith a frown."I laid him down on the snow and washed his facewith soft snow.""You might have given him his death of cold,"said Mrs. Brent with evident hostility. "I am notsure but the poor boy will have pneumonia now inconsequence of your brutal treatment.""And you have nothing to say as to his attackupon me?" said Phil indignantly."I have no doubt you have very much exaggerated it.""Yes he has," chimed in Jonas from the sofa. Phil regarded his step-brother with scorn."Can't you tell the truth now and then. Jonas?"he asked contemptuously."You shall not insult my boy in my presence!"said Mrs. Brent with a little spot of color mantlingher high cheek-bones. "Philip Brent. I have toolong endured your insolence. You think because Iam a woman you can be insolent with impunity butyou will find yourself mistaken. It is time that youunderstood something that may lead you to loweryour tone. Learn then that you have not a cent ofyour own. You are wholly dependent upon mybounty.""What! Did my father leave you all his money?"asked Philip."He was NOT your father!" answered Mrs. Brentcoldly. CHAPTER II. A STRANGE REVELATION. Philip started in irrepressible astonishment asthese words fell from the lips of his step-mother. It seemed to him as if the earth were crumblingbeneath his feet for he had felt no more certain of theexistence of the universe than of his being the sonof Gerald Brent. He was not the only person amazed at thisdeclaration. Jonas forgetting for the moment the parthe was playing sat bolt upright on the sofa with hislarge mouth wide open staring by turns at Philipand his mother."Gosh!" he exclaimed in a tone indicating uttersurprise and bewilderment."Will you repeat that. Mrs. Brent?" asked Philip,after a brief pause not certain that he had heardaright."I spoke plain English. I believe," said Mrs. Brentcoldly enjoying the effect of her communication."I said that Mr. Brent my late husband was notyour father.""I don't believe you!" burst forth Philip impetuously."You don't wish to believe me you mean,"answered his step-mother unmoved."No. I don't wish to believe you," said the boy,looking her in the eye."You are very polite to doubt a lady's word," saidMrs. Brent with sarcasm."In such a matter as that I believe no one'sword," said Phil. "I ask for proof.""Well. I am prepared to satisfy you. Sit downand I will tell you the story."Philip sat down on the nearest chair and regardedhis step-mother fixedly."Whose son am I," he demanded. "if not Mr. Brent's?""You are getting on too fast. Jonas," continuedhis mother suddenly turning to her hulking son onwhose not very intelligent countenance there wasan expression of greedy curiosity. "do you understandthat what I am going to say is to be a secret,not to be spoken of to any one?""Yes'm," answered Jonas readily."Very well. Now to proceed. Philip you haveheard probably that when you were very small yourfather--I mean Mr. Brent--lived in a small town inOhio called Fultonville?""Yes. I have heard him say so.""Do you remember in what business he was thenengaged?""He kept a hotel.""Yes; a small hotel but as large as the placerequired. He was not troubled by many guests. Thefew who stopped at his house were business menfrom towns near by or drummers from the greatcities who had occasion to stay over a night. Oneevening however a gentleman arrived with anunusual companion--in other words a boy of aboutthree years of age. The boy had a bad cold andseemed to need womanly care. Mr. Brent'swife----""My mother?""The woman you were taught to call mother,"corrected the second Mrs. Brent. "felt compassionfor the child and volunteered to take care of it forthe night. The offer was gladly accepted and you--for of course you were the child--were taken intoMrs. Brent's own room treated with simple remedies,and in the morning seemed much better. Yourfather--your real father--seemed quite gratified,and preferred a request. It was that your newfriend would take care of you for a week while hetraveled to Cincinnati on business. After dispatchingthis he promised to return and resume the careof you paying well for the favor done him. Mrs. Brent my predecessor being naturally fond ofchildren readily agreed to this proposal and the childwas left behind while the father started for Cincinnati."Here Mrs. Brent paused and Philip regarded herwith doubt and suspense"Well?" he said."Oh you want to know the rest?" said Mrs. Brentwith an ironical smile. "You are interested in thestory?""Yes madam whether it is true or not.""There isn't much more to tell," said Mrs. Brent."A week passed. You recovered from your cold,and became as lively as ever. In fact you seemedto feel quite at home among your new surroundings,which was rather unfortunate. FOR YOUR FATHER NEVERCAME BACK!""Never came back!" repeated Philip."No; nor was anything heard from him. Mr and Mrs. Brent came to the conclusion that thewhole thing was prearranged to get rid of you. Luckily for you they had become attached to you,and having no children of their own decided toretain you. Of course some story had to be told tosatisfy the villagers. You were represented to bethe son of a friend and this was readily believed. When however my late husband left Ohio andtraveled some hundreds of miles eastward to thisplace he dropped this explanation and representedyou as his own son. Romantic wasn't it?"Philip looked searchingly at the face of his stepmother,or the woman whom he had regarded assuch but he could read nothing to contradict thestory in her calm impassive countenance. A greatfear fell upon him that she might be telling thetruth. His features showed his contendingemotions. But he had a profound distrust as well asdislike of his step-mother and he could not bringhimself to put confidence in what she told him."What proof is there of this?" he asked after awhile."Your father's word. I mean of course. Mr. Brent's word. He told me this story before I marriedhim feeling that I had a right to know.""Why didn't he tell me?" asked Philip incredulously."He thought it would make you unhappy.""You didn't mind that," said Philip his lips curling."No," answered Mrs. Brent with a curious smile."Why should I? I never pretended to like you andnow I have less cause than ever after your brutaltreatment of my boy."Jonas endeavored to look injured but could not atonce change the expression of his countenance."Your explanation is quite satisfactory. Mrs. Brent," returned Philip. "I don't think I stoodmuch higher in your estimation yesterday than today,so that I haven't lost much. But you haven'tgiven me any proof yet.""Wait a minute."Mrs. Brent left the room went up-stairs andspeedily returned bringing with her a smalldaguerreotype representing a boy of three years."Did you ever see this before?" she asked."No," answered Philip taking it from her handand eying it curiously."When Mr and Mrs. Brent decided that you wereto be left on their hands," she proceeded. "they hadthis picture of you taken in the same dress in whichyou came to them with a view to establish youridentity if at any time afterward inquiry should bemade for you."The daguerreotype represented a bright handsomechild dressed tastefully and more as would beexpected of a city child than of one born in thecountry. There was enough resemblance to Philipas he looked now to convince him that it was reallyhis picture."I have something more to show you," said Mrs. Brent. She produced a piece of white paper in which thedaguerreotype had been folded. Upon it was somewriting and Philip readily recognized the hand ofthe man whom he had regarded as his father. He read these lines:"This is the picture of the boy who wasmysteriously left in the charge of Mr. Brent. April. 1863,and never reclaimed l have reared him as my ownson but think it best to enter this record of the wayin which he came into my hands and to preserve bythe help of art his appearance at the time he firstcame to us. GERALD BRENT.""Do you recognize this handwriting?" asked Mrs. Brent."Yes," answered Philip in a dazed tone."Perhaps," she said triumphantly. "you willdoubt my word now.""May I have this picture?" asked Philip withoutanswering her."Yes; you have as good a claim to it as any one.""And the paper?""The paper I prefer to keep myself," said Mrs. Brent nodding her head suspiciously. "I don'tcare to have my only proof destroyed."Philip did not seem to take her meaning but withthe daguerreotype in his hand he left the room."I say mother," chuckled Jonas his freckled faceshowing his enjoyment. "it's a good joke on Phil,isn't it?" I guess he won't be quite so uppish afterthis."CHAPTER III. PHIL'S SUDDEN RESOLUTION. When Phil left the presence of Mrs. Brent hefelt as if he had been suddenly transportedto a new world. He was no longer Philip Brent,and the worst of it was that he did not know who hewas. In his tumultuous state of feeling however,one thing seemed clear--his prospects were whollychanged and his plans for the future also. Mrs. Brenthad told him that he was wholly dependent uponher. Well he did not intend to remain so. His homehad not been pleasant at the best. As a dependentupon the bounty of such a woman it would be worse. He resolved to leave home and strike out for himself,not from any such foolish idea of independence assometimes leads boys to desert a good home for anuncertain skirmish with the world but simply because he felt now that he had no real home. To begin with he would need money and on openinghis pocket-book he ascertained that his availablefunds consisted of only a dollar and thirty-sevencents. That wasn't quite enough to begin the worldwith. But he had other resources. He owned a gun,which a friend of his would be ready to take off hishands. He had a boat also which he couldprobably sell. On the village street he met Reuben Gordon ayoung journeyman carpenter who was earning goodwages and had money to spare."How are you. Phil," said Reuben in a friendlyway."You are just the one I want to meet," said Philearnestly. "Didn't you tell me once you would liketo buy my gun?""Yes. Want to sell it?""No. I don't; but I want the money it will bring. So I'll sell it if you'll buy.""What d'ye want for it?" asked Reuben cautiously."Six dollars.""Too much. I'll give five.""You can have it," said Phil after a pause. "Howsoon can you let me have the money?""Bring the gun round to-night and I'll pay youfor it.""All right. Do you know of any one who wantsto buy a boat?""What? Going to sell that too?""Yes.""Seems to me you're closin' up business?" saidReuben shrewdly."So I am. I'm going to leave Planktown.""You don't say? Well. I declare! Where areyou goin'?""To New York. I guess.""Got any prospect there?""Yes."This was not perhaps strictly true--that is. Philhad no definite prospect but he felt that there mustbe a chance in a large city like New York for anyone who was willing to work and so felt measurablyjustified in saying what he did."I hadn't thought of buyin' a boat," said Reubenthoughtfully. Phil pricked up his ears at the hint of a possiblecustomer."You'd better buy mine," he said quickly; "I'llsell it cheap.""How cheap?""Ten dollars.""That's too much.""It cost me fifteen.""But it's second-hand now you know," said Reuben."It's just as good as new. I'm taking off fivedollars though you see.""I don't think I want it enough to pay ten dollars.""What will you give?"Reuben finally agreed to pay seven dollars andseventy-five cents after more or less bargaining andto pay the money that evening upon delivery of thegoods."I don't think I've got anything more to sell," saidPhil thoughtfully. "There's my skates but theyare not very good. I'll give them to Tommy Kavanagh. He can't afford to buy a pair."Tommy was the son of a poor widow and was verymuch pleased with the gift which Phil conveyed tohim just before supper. Just after supper he took his gun and the key ofhis boat over to Reuben Gordon who thereupongave him the money agreed upon."Shall I tell Mrs. Brent I am going away?" Philsaid to himself. "or shall I leave a note for her?"He decided to announce his resolve in person. Todo otherwise would seem too much like runningaway and that he had too much self-respect to do. So in the evening after his return from ReubenGordon's he said to Mrs. Brent:"I think I ought to tell you that I'm going awayto-morrow."Mrs. Brent looked up from her work and her coldgray eyes surveyed Phil with curious scrutiny."You are going away!" she replied. "Where areyou going?""I think I shall go to New York.""What for?""Seek my fortune as so many have done beforeme.""They didn't always find it!" said Mrs. Brentwith a cold sneer. "Is there any other reason?""Yes; it's chiefly on account of what you told meyesterday. You said that I was dependent uponyou.""So you are.""And that I wasn't even entitled to the name ofBrent.""Yes. I said it and it's true.""Well," said Phil. "I don't want to be dependentupon you. I prefer to earn my own living.""I am not prepared to say but that you are right. But do you know what the neighbors will say?""What will they say?""That I drove you from home.""It won't be true. I don't pretend to enjoy myhome but I suppose I can stay on here if I like?""Yes you can stay.""You don't object to my going?""No if it is understood that you go of your ownaccord.""I am willing enough to take the blame of it ifthere is any blame.""Very well; get a sheet of note-paper and writeat my direction."Phil took a sheet of note-paper from his father'sdesk and sat down to comply with Mrs. Brent's request. She dictated as follows:"I leave home at my own wish but with the consentof Mrs. Brent to seek my fortune. It is whollymy own idea and I hold no one else responsible."PHILIP BRENT.""You may as well keep the name of Brent," saidhis step-mother. "as you have no other that you knowof."Phil winced at those cold words. It was notpleasant to reflect that this was so and that he waswholly ignorant of his parentage."One thing more," said Mrs. Brent. "It is onlyeight o'clock. I should like to have you go out andcall upon some of those with whom you are mostintimate and tell them that you are leaving homevoluntarily.""I will," answered Phil."Perhaps you would prefer to do so to-morrow.""No; I am going away to-morrow morning.""Very well.""Going away to-morrow morning?" repeatedJonas who entered the room at that moment. Phil's plan was briefly disclosed."Then give me your skates," said Jonas."I can't. I've given them to Tommy Kavanagh.""That's mean. You might have thought of mefirst," grumbled Jonas."I don't know why. Tommy Kavanagh is myfriend and you are not.""Anyway you can let me have your boat andgun.""I have sold them.""That's too bad.""I don't know why you should expect them. Ineeded the money they brought me to pay my expensestill I get work.""I will pay your expenses to New York if youwish," said Mrs. Brent."Thank you; but I shall have money enough,"answered Phil who shrank from receiving any favorat the hands of Mrs. Brent."As you please but you will do me the justice toremember that I offered it.""Thank you. I shall not forget it."That evening just before going to bed. Mrs. Brent opened a trunk and drew from it a foldedpaper. She read as follows--for it was her husband'swill:"To the boy generally known as Philip Brent,and supposed though incorrectly to be my son. Ibequeath the sum of five thousand dollars and directthe same to be paid over to any one whom he mayselect as guardian to hold in trust for him till heattains the age of twenty-one.""He need never know of this," said Mrs. Brent toherself in a low tone. "I will save it for Jonas."She held the paper a moment as if undecidedwhether to destroy it but finally put it carefullyback in the secret hiding-place from which she hadtaken it."He is leaving home of his own accord," shewhispered. "Henceforth he will probably keepaway. That suits me well but no one can say Idrove him to it."CHAPTER IV. MR. LIONEL LAKE. Six months before it might have cost Philip apang to leave home. Then his father was living,and from him the boy had never received aughtbut kindness. Even his step-mother though shesecretly disliked him did not venture to show it,and secure in the affections of his supposed father,he did not trouble himself as to whether Mrs. Brentliked him or not. As for Jonas he was cautionedby his mother not to get himself into trouble bytreating Phil badly and the boy who knew onwhich side his interests lay faithfully obeyed. Itwas only after the death of Mr. Brent that bothJonas and his mother changed their course andthought it safe to snub Philip. Planktown was seventy-five miles distant fromNew York and the fare was two dollars and a quarter. This was rather a large sum to pay consideringPhil's scanty fund but he wished to get to the greatcity as soon as possible and he decided that it wouldbe actually cheaper to ride than to walk consideringthat he would have to buy his meals on the way. He took his seat in the cars placing a valise fullof underclothes on the seat next him. The train wasnot very full and the seat beside him did not appearto be required. Mile after mile they sped on the way and Phillooked from the window with interest at the townsthrough which they passed. There are very fewboys of his age--sixteen--who do not like to travelin the cars. Limited as were his means and uncertainas were his prospects. Phil felt not only cheerful,but actually buoyant as every minute took himfarther away from Planktown and so nearer thecity where he hoped to make a living at the outset,and perhaps his fortune in the end. Presently--perhaps half way on--a young man,rather stylishly dressed came into the car. It wasnot at a station and therefore it seemed clear thathe came from another car. He halted when he reached the seat which Philoccupied. Our hero observing that his glance rested on hisvalise politely removed it saying:"Would you like to sit down here sir?""Yes thank you," answered the young man andsank into the seat beside Phil."Sorry to inconvenience you," he said with aglance at the bag."Oh not at all," returned Phil. "I only put thevalise on the seat till it was wanted by some passenger.""You are more considerate than some passengers,"observed the young man. "In the next car is awoman an elderly party who is taking up three extraseats to accommodate her bags and boxes.""That seems rather selfish," remarked Phil."Selfish! I should say so. I paused a minute ather seat as I passed along and she was terriblyafraid I wanted to sit down. She didn't offer tomove anything though as you have. I stoppedlong enough to make her feel uncomfortable andthen passed on. I don't think I have fared any theworse for doing so. I would rather sit beside youthan her.""Am I to consider that a compliment?" asked Phil,smiling."Well yes if you choose. Not that it is sayingmuch to call you more agreeable company than theold party alluded to. Are you going to New York?""Yes sir.""Live there?""I expect to live there.""Brought up in the country perhaps?""Yes in Planktown.""Oh. Planktown! I've heard it's a nice place butnever visited it. Got any folks?"Phil hesitated. In the light of the revelation thathad been made to him by Mrs. Brent he did notknow how to answer. However there was no callto answer definitely."Not many," he said."Goin' to school in New York?""No.""To college perhaps. I've got a cousin inColumbia College.""I wish I knew enough to go to college," saidPhil; "but I only know a little Latin and no Greekat all.""Well. I never cared much about Latin or Greek,myself. I presume you are thinking about a businessposition?""Yes. I shall try to get a place.""You may find a little time necessary to find one. However you are no doubt able to pay your boardfor awhile.""For a short time," said Phil."Well. I may be able to help you to a place. Iknow a good many prominent business men.""I should be grateful to you for any help of thatkind," said Phil deciding that he was in luck tomeet with such a friend."Don't mention it. I have had to strugglemyself--in earlier days--though at present I am wellfixed. What is your name?""Philip Brent.""Good! My name is Lionel Lake. Sorry I haven'tgot any cards. Perhaps I may have one in mypocket-book. Let me see!"Mr. Lake opened his porte-monnaie and uttered aexclamation of surprise."By Jove!" he said. "I am in a fix."Phil looked at him inquiringly."I took out a roll of bills at the house of my aunt,where I stayed last night," explained Mr. Lake. "andmust have neglected to replace them.""I hope you have not lost them," said Philpolitely."Oh no; my aunt will find them and take care ofthem for me so that I shall get them back. Thetrouble is that I am left temporarily without funds.""But you can get money in the city," suggestedPhil."No doubt; only it is necessary for me to stayover a train ten miles short of the city."Mr. Lionel Lake seemed very much perplexed."If I knew some one in the cars," he saidreflectively. It did occur to Phil to offer to loan himsomething but the scantiness of his own resources warnedhim that it would not be prudent so he remainedsilent. Finally Mr. Lake appeared to have an idea."Have you got five dollars. Philip?" he saidfamiliarly."Yes sir," answered Philip slowly."Then I'll make a proposal. Lend it to me and Iwill give you this ring as security. It is worthtwenty-five dollars easily. He drew from his vest-pocket a neat gold ring,with some sort of a stone in the setting."There!" said Mr. Lake. "I'll give you this ringand my address and you can bring it to my officeto-morrow morning. I'll give you back the fivedollars and one dollar for the accommodation. That'sgood interest isn't it?""But I might keep the ring and sell it," suggestedPhil."Oh. I am not afraid. You look honest. I willtrust you," said the young man in a careless offhandmanner. "Say is it a bargain?""Yes," answered Phil. It occurred to him that he could not earn a dollarmore easily. Besides he would be doing a favor tothis very polite young man."All right then!"Five dollars of Phil's scanty hoard was handedto Mr. Lake who in return gave Phil the ring,which he put on his finger. He also handed Phil a scrap of paper on which hepenciled:"LIONEL LAKE. No. 237 Broadway.""I'm ever so much obliged," he said. "Good-by. I get out at the next station."Phil was congratulating himself on his good strokeof business when the conductor entered the car,followed by a young lady. When they came to wherePhil was seated the young lady said:"That is my ring on that boy's finger?""Aha! we've found the thief then!" said theconductor. "Boy give up the ring you stole from thisyoung lady!"As he spoke he placed his hand on Phil's shoulder."Stole!" repeated Phil gasping. "I don'tunderstand you.""Oh yes you do!" said the conductor roughly. CHAPTER V. AN OVERBEARING CONDUCTORNo matter how honest a boy may be a suddencharge of theft is likely to make himlook confused and guilty. Such was the case with Phil."I assure you," he said earnestly. "that I did notsteal this ring.""Where did you get it then?" demanded theconductor roughly. He was one of those men who in any position,will make themselves disagreeable. Moreover hewas a man who always thought ill of others whenthere was any chance of doing so. In fact he preferredto credit his fellows with bad qualities ratherthan with good."It was handed me by a young man who justleft the car," said Phil."That's a likely story," sneered the conductor."Young men are not in the habit of givingvaluable rings to strangers.""He did not give it to me. I advanced him fivedollars on it.""What was the young man's name?" asked theconductor incredulously."There's his name and address," answered Phil,drawing from his pocket the paper handed him byMr. Lake."Lionel Lake. 237 Broadway," repeated theconductor. "If there is any such person which I verymuch doubt you are probably a confederate of his.""You have no right to say this," returned Philindignantly."I haven't haven't I?" snapped the conductor."Do you know what I am going to do with you?""If you wish me to return the ring to this younglady. I will do so if she is positive it is hers.""Yes you must do that but it won't get you outof trouble. I shall hand you over to a policeman assoon as we reach New York."Phil was certainly dismayed for he felt that itmight be difficult for him to prove that he camehonestly in possession of the ring."The fact is," added the conductor. "your storyis too thin.""Conductor," said a new voice. "you are doingthe boy an injustice."The speaker was an old man with gray hair butof form still robust though he was at least sixtyfive. He sat in the seat just behind Phil."Thank you sir," said Phil gratefully."I understand my business," said the conductorimpertinently. "and don't need any instructionsfrom you.""Young man," said the old gentleman in a verydignified tone. "I have usually found officials ofyour class polite and gentlemanly but you are anexception.""Who are you?" asked the conductor rudely."What right have you to put in your oar?""As to who I am. I will answer you by and by. In reference to the boy. I have to say that his storyis correct. I heard the whole conversation betweenhim and the young man from whom he received thering and I can testify that he has told the truth.""At any rate he has received stolen property.""Not knowing it to be stolen. The young manwas an entire stranger to him and though Isuspected that he was an unscrupulous adventurer theboy has not had experience enough to judge men.""Very well. If he's innocent he can prove itwhen he's brought to trial," said the conductor."As for you sir it's none of your business.""Young man you asked me a short time sincewho I am. Do you want to know?""I am not very particular.""Then sir. I have to inform you that I am RichardGrant the president of this road."The conductor's face was a curious and interestingstudy when he heard this announcement. He knewthat the old man whom he had insulted had a rightto discharge him from his position and bully as hehad shown himself he was now inclined to humblehimself to save his place."I beg your pardon sir," he said in a composedtone. "If I had known who you were I wouldn'thave spoken as I did.""I had a claim to be treated like a gentleman,even if I had no connection with the road," he said."If you say the boy's all right. I won't interferewith him," continued the conductor."My testimony would clear him from any chargethat might be brought against him," said thepresident. "I saw him enter the car and know he hashad no opportunity to take the ring.""If he'll give me back the ring that's all I want,"said the young lady."That I am willing to do though I lose fivedollars by it," said Philip."Do so my boy," said the president. "I take itfor granted that the young lady's claim is a justone."Upon this Philip drew the ring from his fingerand handed it to the young lady who went back tothe car where her friends were sitting."I hope sir," said the conductor anxiously. "thatyou won't be prejudiced against me on account ofthis affair.""I am sorry to say that I can't help feelingprejudiced against you," returned the president dryly;"but I won't allow this feeling to injure you if uponinquiring. I find that you are otherwise an efficientofficer.""Thank you sir.""I am glad that my presence has saved this boyfrom being the victim of an injustice. Let this be alesson to you in future."The conductor walked away looking quite chopfallen,and Philip turned to his new friend."I am very much indebted to you sir," he said."But for you I should have found myself in serioustrouble.""I am glad to have prevented an injustice my lad. I am sorry I could not save you from loss also. Thatenterprising rogue has gone off with five dollarsbelonging to you. I hope the loss will not be a seriousone to you.""It was more than a third part of my capital sir,"said Phil rather ruefully."I am sorry for that. I suppose however youare not dependent upon your own resources?""Yes sir. I am.""Have you no parents then?" asked Mr. Grant,with interest."No sir; that is. I have a step-mother.""And what are your plans if you are willing totell me?""I am going to New York to try to make aliving.""I cannot commend your plan my young friend,unless there is a good reason for it.""I think there is a good reason for it sir.""I hope you have not run away from home?""No sir; I left home with my step-mother'sknowledge and consent.""That is well. I don't want wholly to discourageyou and so I will tell you that I too came to NewYork at your age with the same object in view withless money in my pocket than you possess.""And now you are the president of a railroad!"said Phil hopefully."Yes; but I had a hard struggle before I reachedthat position.""I am not afraid of hard work sir.""That is in your favor. Perhaps you may be aslucky as I have been. You may call at my office inthe city if you feel inclined."As Mr. Grant spoke he put in Phil's hand a cardbearing his name and address in Wall Street."Thank you sir," said Phil gratefully. "I shallbe glad to call. I may need advice.""If you seek advice and follow it you will be anexception to the general rule," said the president,smiling. "One thing more--you have met with aloss which to you is a serious one. Allow me tobear it and accept this bill.""But sir it is not right that you should bear it,"commenced Phil. Then looking at the bill he said:"Haven't you made a mistake? This is a TEN-dollarbill.""I know it. Accept the other five as an evidenceof my interest in you. By the way. I go toPhiladelphia and Washington before my return to NewYork and shall not return for three or four days. After that time you will find me at my office."I am in luck after all," thought Phil cheerfully,"in spite of the mean trick of Mr. Lionel Lake."CHAPTER VI. SIGNOR ORLANDO. So Phil reached New York in very fair spirits. He found himself thanks to the liberality ofMr. Grant in a better financial position than whenhe left home. As he left the depot and found himself in thestreets of New York he felt like a stranger uponthe threshold of a new life. He knew almost nothingabout the great city he had entered and was ata loss where to seek for lodgings."It's a cold day," said a sociable voice at his elbow. Looking around. Phil saw that the speaker was asallow-complexioned young man with black hair andmustache a loose black felt hat crushed at thecrown giving him rather a rakish look."Yes sir," answered Phil politely."Stranger in the city. I expect?""Yes sir.""Never mind the sir. I ain't used to ceremony. I am Signor Orlando.""Signor Orlando!" repeated Phil rather puzzled."Are you an Italian?""Well yes," returned Signor Orlando with awink. "that's what I am or what people think me;but I was born in Vermont and am half Irish andhalf Yankee.""How did you come by your name then?""I took it," answered his companion. "You see,dear boy. I'm a professional.""A what?""A professional--singer and clog-dancer. Ibelieve I am pretty well known to the public,"continued Signor Orlando complacently. "Lastsummer I traveled with Jenks & Brown's circus. Ofcourse you've heard of THEM. Through the winterI am employed at Bowerman's Varieties in the Bowery. I appear every night and at two matineesweekly."It must be confessed that Phil was considerablyimpressed by the professional character of SignorOrlando. He had never met an actor or publicperformer of any description and was disposed to havea high respect for a man who filled such a conspicuousposition. There was not to be sure anythingvery impressive about Signor Orlando's appearance. His face did not indicate talent and his dress wasshabby. But for all that he was a man familiar withthe public--a man of gifts."I should like to see you on the stage," said Philrespectfully."So you shall my dear boy--so you shall. I'll getyou a pass from Mr. Bowerman. Which way areyou going?""I don't know," answered Phil puzzled. "Ishould like to find a cheap boarding-house but I don'tknow the city.""I do," answered Signor Orlando promptly. "Whynot come to my house?""Have you a house?""I mean my boarding-house. It's some distanceaway. Suppose we take a horse-car?""All right!" answered Phil relieved to find aguide in the labyrinth of the great city."I live on Fifth Street near the Bowery--a veryconvenient location," said Orlando if we may takethe liberty to call him thus."Fifth Avenue?" asked Phil who did not knowthe difference."Oh no; that's a peg above my style. I am not aVanderbilt nor yet an Astor.""Is the price moderate?" asked Phil anxiously."I must make my money last as long as I can for Idon't know when I shall get a place.""To be sure. You might room with me only I'vegot a hall bedroom. Perhaps we might manage it,though.""I think I should prefer a room by myself," saidPhil who reflected that Signor Orlando was astranger as yet."Oh well. I'll speak to the old lady and I guessshe can accommodate you with a hall bedroom likemine on the third floor.""What should I have to pay?""A dollar and a quarter a week and you can getyour meals where you please.""I think that will suit me," said Phil thoughtfully. After leaving the car a minute's walk broughtthem to a shabby three-story house of brick. Therewas a stable opposite and a group of dirty childrenwere playing in front of it."This is where I hang out," said Signor Orlandocheerfully. "As the poet says there is no place likehome."If this had been true it was not much to be regretted,since the home in question was far from attractive. Signor Orlando rang the bell and a stout womanof German aspect answered the call."So you haf come back. Herr Orlando," said thislady. "I hope you haf brought them two weeks'rent you owe me.""All in good time. Mrs. Schlessinger," saidOrlando. "But you see I have brought some one withme.""Is he your bruder now?" asked the lady."No he is not unfortunately for me. His nameis----"Orlando coughed."Philip Brent," suggested our hero."Just so--Philip Brent.""I am glad to see Mr. Prent," said the landlady."And is he an actor like you. Signor Orlando?""Not yet. We don't know what may happen. But he comes on business. Mrs. Schlessinger. Hewants a room."The landlady brightened up. She had two roomsvacant and a new lodger was a godsend."I vill show Mr. Prent what rooms I haf," shesaid. "Come up-stairs. Mr. Prent."The good woman toiled up the staircase panting,for she was asthmatic and Phil followed. Theinterior of the house was as dingy as the exterior,and it was quite dark on the second landing. She threw open the door of a back room which,being lower than the hall was reached by a step."There!" said she pointing to the faded carpet,rumpled bed and cheap pine bureau with the littlesix-by-ten looking-glass surmounting it. "This is apeautiful room for a single gentleman or even for aman and his wife.""My friend. Mr. Brent is not married," saidSignor Orlando waggishly. Phil laughed."You will have your shoke. Signor Orlando," saidMrs. Schlessinger."What is the price of this room?" asked Phil."Three dollars a week. Mr. Prent. I ought tohave four but since you are a steady young gentleman----""How does she know that?" Phil wondered."Since you are a steady young gentleman and afriend of Signor Orlando. I will not ask you fullprice.""That is more than I can afford to pay," saidPhil shaking his head."I think you had better show Mr. Brent the hallbedroom over mine," suggested the signor. Mrs. Schlessinger toiled up another staircase thetwo new acquaintances following her. She threwopen the door of one of those depressing cells knownin New York as a hall bedroom. It was about fivefeet wide and eight feet long and was nearly filledup by a cheap bedstead covered by a bed about twoinches thick and surmounted at the head by aconsumptive-looking pillow. The paper was torn fromthe walls in places. There was one rickety chair,and a wash-stand which bore marks of extreme antiquity."This is a very neat room for a single gentleman,"remarked Mrs. Schlessinger. Phil's spirits fell as he surveyed what was to behis future home. It was a sad contrast to his neat,comfortable room at home."Is this room like yours. Signor Orlando?" heasked faintly."As like as two peas," answered Orlando."Would you recommend me to take it?""You couldn't do better."How could the signor answer otherwise inpresence of a landlady to whom he owed two weeks'rent?"Then," said Phil with a secret shudder. "I'lltake it if the rent is satisfactory.""A dollar and a quarter a week," said Mrs. Schlessinger promptly."I'll take it for a week.""You won't mind paying in advance?" suggestedthe landlady. "I pay my own rent in advance."Phil's answer was to draw a dollar and a quarterfrom his purse and pass it to his landlady."I'll take possession now," said our hero. "CanI have some water to wash my face?"Mrs. Schlessinger was evidently surprised thatany one should want to wash in the middle of theday but made no objections. When Phil had washed his face and hands hewent out with Signor Orlando to dine at a restauranton the Bowery. CHAPTER VII. BOWERMAN'S VARIETIES. The restaurant to which he was taken bySignor Orlando was thronged with patrons forit was one o'clock. On the whole they did notappear to belong to the highest social rank thoughthey were doubtless respectable. The table-clothswere generally soiled and the waiters had a greasylook. Phil said nothing but he did not feel quite sohungry as before he entered. The signor found two places at one of the tables,and they sat down. Phil examined a greasy bill offare and found that he could obtain a plate of meatfor ten cents. This included bread and butter anda dish of mashed potato. A cup of tea would befive cents additional."I can afford fifteen cents for a meal," he thought,and called for a plate of roast beef."Corn beef and cabbage for me," said the signor."It's very filling," he remarked aside to Phil."They won't give you but a mouthful of beef."So it proved but the quality was such that Phildid not care for more. He ordered a piece of applepie afterward feeling still hungry."I see you're bound to have a square meal," saidthe signor. After Phil had had it he was bound to confessthat he did not feel uncomfortably full. Yet he hadspent twice as much as the signor who dispensedwith the tea and pie as superfluous luxuries. In the evening Signor Orlando bent his stepstoward Bowerman's Varieties."I hope in a day or two to get a complimentaryticket for you. Mr. Brent," he said."How much is the ticket?" asked Phil."Fifteen cents. Best reserved seats twenty-fivecents.'"I believe I will be extravagant for once," saidPhil. "and go at my own expense.""Good!" said the signor huskily. "You'll feelrepaid I'll be bound. Bowerman always gives thepublic their money's worth. The performancebegins at eight o'clock and won't be out until halfpasteleven.""Less than five cents an hour," commented Phil."What a splendid head you've got!" said SignorOrlando admiringly. "I couldn't have worked thatup. Figures ain't my province."It seemed to Phil rather a slender cause forcompliment but he said nothing since it seemed clearthat the computation was beyond his companion'sability. As to the performance it was not refined nor wasthe talent employed first-class. Still Phil enjoyedhimself after a fashion. He had never had it in hispower to attend many amusements and this wasnew to him. He naturally looked with interest forthe appearance of his new friend and fellow-lodger. Signor Orlando appeared dressed in gorgeousarray sang a song which did credit to the loudnessof his voice rather than its quality and ended by anoisy clog-dance which elicited much applause fromthe boys in the gallery who shared the evening'sentertainment for the moderate sum of ten cents. The signor was called back to the stage. Hebowed his thanks and gave another dance. Then hewas permitted to retire. As this finished his part ofthe entertainment he afterward came around incitizen's dress and took a seat in the auditoriumbeside Phil."How did you like me. Mr. Brent?" he askedcomplacently."I thought you did well. Signor Orlando. Youwere much applauded.""Yes the audience is very loyal," said the proudperformer. Two half-grown boys heard Phil pronounce thename of his companion and they gazed awe-strickenat the famous man."That's Signor Orlando!" whispered one of theothers."I know it," was the reply."Such is fame," said the Signor in a pleased toneto Phil. "People point me out on the streets.""Very gratifying no doubt," said our hero but itoccurred to him that he would not care to be pointedout as a performer at Bowerman's. Signor Orlando,however well-pleased with himself didn't doubtthat Phil was impressed by his popularity andperhaps even envied it. They didn't stay till the entertainment was over. It was of course familiar to the signor and Philfelt tired and sleepy for he had passed a part of theafternoon in exploring the city and had walked inall several miles. He went back to his lodging-house opened thedoor with a pass-key which Mrs. Schlessinger hadgiven him and climbing to his room in the third story,undressed and deposited himself in bed. The bed was far from luxurious. A thin palletrested on slats so thin that he could feel the slatsthrough it and the covering was insufficient. Thelatter deficiency he made up by throwing his overcoatover the quilt and despite the hardness of hisbed he was soon sleeping soundly."To-morrow I must look for a place," he said toSignor Orlando. "Can you give me any advise?""Yes my dear boy. Buy a daily paper the Sunor Herald and look at the advertisements. Theremay be some prominent business man who is lookingout for a boy of your size."Phil knew of no better way and he followed SignorOrlando's advice. After a frugal breakfast at the Bowery restaurant,he invested a few pennies in the two papersmentioned and began to go the rounds. The first place was in Pearl Street. He entered and was directed to a desk in thefront part of the store."You advertised for a boy," he said."We've got one," was the brusque reply. Of course no more was to be said and Phil walkedout a little dashed at his first rebuff. At the next place he found some half a dozen boyswaiting and joined the line but the vacancy wasfilled before his turn came. At the next place his appearance seemed to makea good impression and he was asked several questions."What is your name?""Philip Brent.""How old are you?""Just sixteen.""How is your education?""I have been to school since I was six.""Then you ought to know something. Have youever been in a place?""No sir.""Do you live with your parents?""No sir; I have just come to the city and amlodging in Fifth Street.""Then you won't do. We wish our boys to livewith their parents."Poor Phil! He had allowed himself to hope thatat length he was likely to get a place. The abrupttermination of the conversation dispirited him. He made three more applications. In one of themhe again came near succeeding but once more thefact that he did not live with his parents defeatedhis application."It seems to be very hard getting a place,"thought Phil and it must be confessed he felt a littlehomesick."I won't make any more applications to-day," hedecided and being on Broadway walked up thatbusy thoroughfare wondering what the morrowwould bring forth. It was winter and there was ice on the sidewalk. Directly in front of Phil walked an elderly gentleman,whose suit of fine broadcloth and gold spectacles,seemed to indicate a person of some prominenceand social importance. Suddenly he set foot on a treacherous piece of ice. Vainly he strove to keep his equilibrium his armswaving wildly and his gold-headed cane falling tothe sidewalk. He would have fallen backward hadnot Phil observing his danger in time rushed to hisassistance. CHAPTER VIII. THE HOUSE IN TWELFTH STREET. With some difficulty the gentleman rightedhimself and then Phil picked up his cane."I hope you are not hurt sir?" he said."I should have been but for you my good boy,"said the gentleman. "I am a little shaken by thesuddenness of my slipping.""Would you wish me to go with you sir?""Yes if you please. I do not perhaps requireyou but I shall be glad of your company.""Thank you sir.""Do you live in the city?""Yes sir; that is. I propose to do so. I havecome here in search of employment."Phil said this thinking it possible that the oldgentleman might exert his influence in his favor."Are you dependent on what you may earn?"asked the gentleman regarding him attentively."I have a little money sir but when that is goneI shall need to earn something.""That is no misfortune. It is a good thing for aboy to be employed. Otherwise he is liable to getinto mischief.""At any rate. I shall be glad to find work sir.""Have you applied anywhere yet?"Phil gave a little account of his unsuccessfulapplications and the objections that had been made tohim."Yes yes," said the old gentleman thoughtfully,"more confidence is placed in a boy who lives withhis parents."The two walked on together until they reachedTwelfth Street. It was a considerable walk andPhil was surprised that his companion should walk,when he could easily have taken a Broadway stage,but the old gentleman explained this himself."I find it does me good," he said. "to spend sometime in the open air and even if walking tires me itdoes me good."At Twelfth Street they turned off."I am living with a married niece," he said. "juston the other side of Fifth Avenue."At the door of a handsome four-story house witha brown-stone front the old gentleman paused andtold Phil that this was his residence."Then sir. I will bid you good-morning," saidPhil."No no; come in and lunch with me," said Mr. Carter hospitably. He had by the way mentioned that his name wasOliver Carter and that he was no longer activelyengaged in business but was a silent partner in thefirm of which his nephew by marriage was thenominal head."Thank you sir," answered Phil. He was sure that the invitation was intended tobe accepted and he saw no reason why he shouldnot accept it."Hannah," said the old gentleman to the servantwho opened the door. "tell your mistress that Ihave brought a boy home to dinner with me.""Yes sir," answered Hannah surveying Phil insome surprise."Come up to my room my young friend," saidMr. Carter. "You may want to prepare forlunch."Mr. Carter had two connecting rooms on thesecond floor one of which he used as a bed-chamber. The furniture was handsome and costly andPhil who was not used to city houses thought itluxurious. Phil washed his face and hands and brushed hishair. Then a bell rang and following his newfriend he went down to lunch. Lunch was set out in the front basement. WhenPhil and Mr. Carter entered the room a lady wasstanding by the fire and beside her was a boy ofabout Phil's age. The lady was tall and slender,with light-brown hair and cold gray eyes."Lavinia," said Mr. Carter. "I have brought ayoung friend with me to lunch.""So I see," answered the lady. "Has he beenhere before?""No; he is a new acquaintance.""I would speak to him if I knew his name.""His name is----"Here the old gentleman hesitated for in truth hehad forgotten."Philip Brent.""You may sit down here. Mr. Brent," said Mrs. Pitkin for this was the lady's name."Thank you ma'am.""And so you made my uncle's acquaintance thismorning?" she continued herself taking a seat atthe head of the table."Yes; he was of service to me," answered Mr. Carter for him. "I had lost my balance and shouldhave had a heavy fall if Philip had not come to myassistance.""He was very kind. I am sure," said Mrs. Pitkin,but her tone was very cold."Philip," said Mr. Carter. "this is my grandnephew,Alonzo Pitkin."He indicated the boy already referred to."How do you do?" said Alonzo staring at Philipnot very cordially."Very well thank you," answered Philip politely."Where do you live?" asked Alonzo after amoment's hesitation."In Fifth Street.""That's near the Bowery isn't it?""Yes."The boy shrugged his shoulders and exchanged asignificant look with his mother. Fifth Street was not a fashionable street--indeedquite the reverse and Phil's answer showed that hewas a nobody. Phil himself had begun to suspectthat he was unfashionably located but he felt thatuntil his circumstances improved he might as wellremain where he was. But though he lived in an unfashionable street itcould not be said that Phil in his table manners,showed any lack of good breeding. He seemedquite at home at Mrs. Pitkin's table and in factacted with greater propriety than Alonzo who wasaddicted to fast eating and greediness."Couldn't you walk home alone. Uncle Oliver?"asked Mrs. Pitkin presently."Yes.""Then it was a pity to trouble Mr. Brent to comewith you.""It was no trouble," responded Philip promptly,though he suspected that it was not considerationfor him that prompted the remark."Yes. I admit that I was a little selfish in takingup my young friend's time," said the old gentlemancheerfully; "but I infer from what he tells me,that it is not particularly valuable just now.""Are you in a business position. Mr. Brent?"asked Mrs. Pitkin."No madam. I was looking for a place thismorning.""Have you lived for some time in the city?""No; I came here only yesterday from the country.""I think country boys are very foolish to leavegood homes in the country to seek places in thecity," said Mrs. Pitkin sharply."There may be circumstances. Lavinia that makeit advisable," suggested Mr. Carter who however,did not know Phil's reason for coming."No doubt; I understand that," answered Mrs. Pitkin in a tone so significant that Phil wonderedwhether she thought he had got into any trouble athome."And besides we can't judge for every one. So Ihope Master Philip may find some good and satisfactoryopening now that he has reached the city."After a short time lunch which in New York isgenerally a plain meal was over and Mr. Carterinvited Philip to come up-stairs again."I want to talk over your prospects. Philip," hesaid. There was silence till after the two had left theroom. Then Mrs. Pitkin said:"Alonzo. I don't like this.""What don't you like ma?""Uncle bringing this boy home. It is veryextraordinary this sudden interest in a perfectstranger.""Do you think he'll leave him any money?" askedAlonzo betraying interest."I don't know what it may lead to. Lonny but itdon't look right. Such things have been known.""I'd like to punch the boy's head," remarkedAlonzo with sudden hostility. "All uncle's moneyought to come to us.""So it ought by rights," observed his mother."We must see that this boy doesn't get anyascendency over him."Phil would have been very much amazed if hehad overheard this conversation. CHAPTER IX. THE OLD GENTLEMAN PROVES A FRIEND. The old gentleman sat down in an arm-chairand waved his hand toward a small rockingchair,in which Phil seated himself."I conclude that you had a good reason forleaving home. Philip," said Mr. Carter eying our herowith a keen but friendly look."Yes sir; since my father's death it has not beena home to me.""Is there a step-mother in the case?" asked theold gentleman shrewdly."Yes sir.""Any one else?""She has a son.""And you two don't agree?""You seem to know all about it sir," said Phil,surprised."I know something of the world--that is all."Phil began to think that Mr. Carter's knowledgeof the world was very remarkable. He began to wonderwhether he could know anything more--couldsuspect the secret which Mrs. Brent had communicatedto him. Should he speak of it? He decidedat any rate to wait for Mr. Carter though kind wasa comparative stranger."Well," continued the old gentleman. "I won'tinquire too minutely into the circumstances. Youdon't look like a boy that would take such an importantstep as leaving home without a satisfactory reason. The next thing is to help you."Phil's courage rose as he heard these words. Mr. Carter was evidently a rich man and he could helphim if he was willing. So he kept silence and lethis new friend do the talking."You want a place," continued Mr. Carter. "Now,what are you fit for?""That is a hard question for me to answer sir. Idon't know.""Have you a good education?""Yes sir; and I know something of Latin andFrench besides.""You can write a good hand?""Shall I show you sir?""Yes; write a few lines at my private desk."Phil did so and handed the paper to Mr. Carter."Very good," said the old gentleman approvingly."That is in your favor. Are you good at accounts?""Yes sir.""Better still.""Sit down there again," he continued. "I willgive you a sum in interest."Phil resumed his seat."What is the interest of eight hundred and fortyfivedollars and sixty cents for four years threemonths and twelve days at eight and one-half percent?"Phil's pen moved fast in perfect silence for fiveminutes. Then he announced the result."Let me look at the paper. I will soon tell youwhether it is correct."After a brief examination for the old gentlemanwas himself an adept at figures he said with abeaming smile:"It is entirely correct. You are a smart boy.""Thank you sir," said Phil gratified."And you deserve a good place--better than youwill probably get."Phil listened attentively. The last clause was notquite so satisfactory."Yes," said Mr. Carter evidently talking tohimself. "I must get Pitkin to take him."Phil knew that the lady whom he had alreadymet was named Pitkin and he rightly concludedthat it was her husband who was meant."I hope he is more agreeable than his wife,"thought Philip."Yes. Philip," said Mr. Carter who had evidentlymade up his mind. "I will try to find you a placethis afternoon."I shall be very much obliged sir," said Philipgladly."I have already told you that my nephew and Iare in business together he being the active and Ithe silent partner. We do a general shippingbusiness. Our store is on Franklin Street. I will giveyou a letter to my nephew and he will give you aplace.""Thank you sir.""Wait a minute and I will write the note."Five minutes later Phil was on his way down townwith his credentials in his pocket. CHAPTER X. Phil CALLS ON MR. PITKIN. PHIL paused before an imposing business structure,and looked up to see if he could see thesign that would show him he had reached his destination. He had not far to look. On the front of thebuilding he saw in large letters the sign:ENOCH PITKIN & CO. In the door-way there was another sign fromwhich he learned that the firm occupied the secondfloor. He went up-stairs and opening a door entered aspacious apartment which looked like a hive ofindustry. There were numerous clerks counterspiled with goods and every indication that a prosperousbusiness was being carried on. The nearest person was a young man of eighteen,or perhaps more with an incipient straw-coloredmustache and a shock of hair of tow-color. Thisyoung man wore a variegated neck-tie a stiffstanding-collar and a suit of clothes in the extreme offashion. Phil looked at him hesitatingly. The young man observed the look and askedcondescendingly:"What can I do for you my son?"Such an address from a person less than threeyears older than himself came near upsetting thegravity of Phil."Is Mr. Pitkin in?" he asked."Yes. I believe so.""Can I see him.""I have no objection," remarked the young manfacetiously."Where shall I find him?"The youth indicated a small room partitioned offas a private office in the extreme end of the store."Thank you," said Phil and proceeded to findhis way to the office in question. Arrived at the door which was partly open helooked in. In an arm-chair sat a small man with an erectfigure and an air of consequence. He was not overforty-five but looked older for his cheeks werealready seamed and his look was querulous. Cheerfulnatures do not so soon show signs of age as theiropposites."Mr. Pitkin?" said Phil interrogatively."Well?" said the small man frowning instinctively."I have a note for you sir."Phil stepped forward and handed the missive toMr. Pitkin. The latter opened it quickly and read as follows:The boy who will present this to you did me aservice this morning. He is in want of employment. He seems well educated but if you can't offer himanything better than the post of errand boy do so. I will guarantee that he will give satisfaction. Youcan send him to the post-office and to other officeson such errands as you may have. Pay him fivedollars a week and charge that sum to me. Yours truly,OLIVER CARTER. Mr. Pitkin's frown deepened as he read this note."Pish!" he ejaculated in a tone which thoughlow was audible to Phil. "Uncle Oliver must becrazy. What is your name?" he demanded fiercely,turning suddenly to Phil."Philip Brent.""When did you meet--the gentleman who gaveyou this letter?"Phil told him."Do you know what is in this letter?""I suppose sir it is a request that you give me aplace.""Did you read it?""No," answered Phil indignantly."Humph! He wants me to give you the place oferrand boy.""I will try to suit you sir,""When do you want to begin?""As soon as possible sir.""Come to-morrow morning and report to mefirst.""Another freak of Uncle Oliver's!" he muttered,as he turned his back upon Phil and so signified thatthe interview was at an end. CHAPTER XI. PHIL ENTERS UPON HIS DUTIES. Phil presented himself in good season the nextmorning at the store in Franklin Street. As hecame up in one direction the youth whom he hadseen in the store the previous day came up in theopposite direction. The latter was evidently surprised."Halloo. Johnny!" said he. "What's broughtyou here again?""Business," answered Phil."Going to buy out the firm?" inquired the youthjocosely."Not to-day.""Some other day then," said the young man,laughing as if he had said a very witty thing. As Phil didn't know that this form of expression,slightly varied had become a popular phrase of theday he did not laugh."Do you belong to the church?" asked the youth,stopping short in his own mirth."What makes you ask?""Because you don't laugh.""I would if I saw anything to laugh at.""Come that's hard on me. Honor bright haveyou come to do any business with us?"It is rather amusing to see how soon the cheapestclerk talks of "us," quietly identifying himself withthe firm that employs him. Not that I object to it. Often it implies a personal interest in the successand prosperity of the firm which makes a clerk morevaluable. This was not however the case with G. Washington Wilbur the young man who was nowconversing with Phil as will presently appear."I am going to work here," answered Phil simply."Going to work here!" repeated Mr. Wilbur insurprise. "Has old Pitkin engaged you?""Mr. Pitkin engaged me yesterday," Phil replied."I didn't know he wanted a boy. What are youto do?""Go to the post-office bank and so on.""You're to be errand boy then?""Yes.""That's the way I started," said Mr. Wilbur patronizingly."What are you now?""A salesman. I wouldn't like to be back in myold position. What wages are you going to get?""Five dollars.""Five dollars a week!" ejaculated Mr. G. Washington Wilbur in amazement. "Come you're chaffing.""Why should I do that? Is that anything remarkable?""I should say it was," answered Mr. Wilburslowly."Didn't you get as much when you were errandboy?""I only got two dollars and a half. Did Pitkintell you he would pay you five dollars a week.""No;
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