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THE STORE BOY
BY
HORATO ALGER, Jr.
Author of "Brave and Bold," "Bound to Rise," "Risen from the Ranks,""Erie Train Boy", "Paul the Peddler,", "Phil, the Fiddler,", "YoungAcrobat," Etc.
CHAPTER IBEN BARCLAY MEETS A TRAMP
"Give me a ride?"
Ben Barclay checked the horse he was driving and looked attentively atthe speaker. He was a stout-built, dark-complexioned man, with abeard of a week's growth, wearing an old and dirty suit, which wouldhave reduced any tailor to despair if taken to him for cleaning andrepairs. A loose hat, with a torn crown, surmounted a singularlyill-favored visage.
"A tramp, and a hard looking one!" said Ben to himself.
He hesitated about answering, being naturally reluctant to have such atraveling companion.
"Well, what do you say?" demanded the tramp rather impatiently."There's plenty of room on that seat, and I'm dead tired."
"Where are you going?" asked Ben.
"Same way you are--to Pentonville."
"You can ride," said Ben, in a tone by means cordial, and he haltedhis horse till his unsavory companion climbed into the wagon.
They were two miles from Pentonville, and Ben had a prospect of alonger ride than he desired under the circumstances. His companionpulled out a dirty clay pipe from his pocket, and filled it withtobacco, and then explored another pocket for a match. A mutteredoath showed that he failed to find one.
"Got a match, boy?" he asked.
"No," answered Ben, glad to have escaped the offensive fumes of thepipe.
"Just my luck!" growled the tramp, putting back the pipe with a lookof disappointment. "If you had a match now, I wouldn't mind lettingyou have a whiff or two.
"I don't smoke," answered Ben, hardly able to repress a look ofdisgust.
"So you're a good boy, eh? One of the Sunday school kids that want tobe an angel, hey? Pah!" and the tramp exhibited the disgust which theidea gave him.
"Yes, I go to Sunday school," said Ben coldly, feeling more and morerepelled by his companion.
"I never went to Sunday school," said his companion. "And I wouldn't.It's only good for milksops and hypocrites."
"Do you think you're any better for not going?" Ben couldn't helpasking.
"I haven't been so prosperous, if that's what you mean. I'm astraightforward man, I am. You always know where to find me. Thereain't no piety about me. What are you laughin' at?"
"No offense," said Ben. "I believe every word you say."
"You'd better. I don't allow no man to doubt my word, nor no boy,either. Have you got a quarter about you?"
"No."
"Nor a dime? A dime'll do."
"I have no money to spare."
"I'd pay yer to-morrer."
"You'll have to borrow elsewhere; I am working in a store for a verysmell salary, and that I pay over to my mother."
"Whose store?"
"Simon Crawford's; but you won't know any better for my telling youthat, unless you are acquainted in Pentonville"
"I've been through there. Crawford keeps the grocery store."
"Yes."
"What's your name?"
"Ben Barclay," answered our hero, feeling rather annoyed at what heconsidered intrusive curiosity.
"Barclay?" replied the tramp quickly. "Not John Barclay's son?"
It was Ben's turn to be surprised. He was the son of John Barclay,deceased, but how could his ill-favored traveling companion know that?
"Did you know my father?" asked the boy, astonished.
"I've heerd his name," answered the tramp, in an evasive tone.
"What is your name?" asked Ben, feeling that be had a right to be ascurious as his companion.
"I haven't got any visitin' cards with me," answered the tramp dryly.
"Nor I; but I told you my name."
"All right; I'll tell you mine. You can call me Jack Frost."
"I gave you my real name," said Ben significantly.
"I've almost forgotten what my real name is," said the tramp. "If youdon't like Jack Frost, you can call me George Washington."
Ben laughed.
"I don't think that name would suit, he said. George Washington nevertold a lie."
"What d'ye mean by that?" demanded the tramp, his brow darkening.
"I was joking," answered Ben, who did not care to get into difficultywith such a man.
"I'm going to joke a little myself," growled the tramp, as, lookingquickly about him, he observed that they were riding over a lonelysection of the road lined with woods. "Have you got any money aboutyou?"
Ben, taken by surprise, would have been glad to answer "No," but hewas a boy of truth, and could not say so truly, though he might havefelt justified in doing so under the circumstances.
"Come, I see you have. Give it to me right off or it'll be worse foryou."
Now it happened that Ben had not less than twenty-five dollars abouthim. He had carried some groceries to a remote part of the town, andcollected two bills on the way. All this money he had in a wallet inthe pocket on the other side from the tramp. But the money was nothis; it belonged to his employer, and he was not disposed to give itup without a struggle; though he knew that in point of strength he wasnot an equal match for the man beside him.
"You will get no money from me," he answered in a firm tone, though befelt far from comfortable.
"I won't, hey!" growled the tramp. "D'ye think I'm goin' to let a boylike you get the best of me?"
He clutched Ben by the arm, and seemed in a fair way to overcomeopposition by superior strength, when a fortunate idea struck Ben. Inhis vest pocket was a silver dollar, which had been taken at thestore, but proving to be counterfeit, had been given to Ben by Mr.Crawford as a curiosity.
This Ben extracted from his pocket, and flung out by the roadside.
"If you want it, you'll have to get out and get it," he said.
The tramp saw the coin glistening upon the ground, and had nosuspicion of its not being genuine. It was not much--only adollar--but he was "dead broke," and it was worth picking up. He hadnot expected that Ben had much, and so was not disappointed.
"Curse you!" he said, relinquishing his hold upon Ben. "Why couldn'tyou give it to me instead of throwing it out there?"
"Because," answered Ben boldly, "I didn't want you to have it."
"Get out and get it for me!"
"I won't!" answered Ben firmly.
"Then stop the horse and give me a chance to get out."
"I'll do that."
Ben brought the horse to a halt, and his unwelcome passengerdescended, much to his relief. He had to walk around the wagon to getat the coin. Our hero brought down the whip with emphasis on thehorse's back and the animal dashed off at a good rate of speed.
"Stop!" exclaimed the tramp, but Ben had no mind to heed his call.
"No, my friend, you don't get another chance to ride with me," he saidto himself.
The tramp picked up the coin, and his practiced eye detected that itwas bogus.
"The young villain!" he muttered angrily. "I'd like to wring hisneck. It's a bad one after all." He looked after the receding teamand was half disposed to follow, but he changed his mind, reflecting,"I can pass it anyhow."
Instead of pursuing his journey, he made his way into the woods, and,stretching himself out among the underbrush, went to sleep.
Half a mile before reaching the store, Ben overtook Rose Gardiner, whohad the reputation of being the prettiest girl in Pendleton--at anyrate, such was Ben's opinion. She looked up and smiled pleasantly atBen as he took off his hat.
"Shall you attend Prof. Harrington's entertainment at the Town Hallthis evening, Ben?" she asked, after th
ey had interchanged greetings.
"I should like to go," answered Ben, "but I am afraid I can't bespared from the store. Shall you go?"
"I wouldn't miss it for anything. I hope I shall see you there."
"I shall want to go all the more then." answered Ben gallantly.
"You say that to flatter me," said the young lady, with an arch smile.
"No, I don't," said Ben earnestly. "Won't you get in and ride as faras the store?"
"Would it be proper?" asked Miss Rose demurely.
"Of course it would."
"Then I'll venture."
Ben jumped from the wagon, assisted the young lady in, and the twodrove into the village together. He liked his second passengerconsiderably better than the first.
CHAPTER IIBEN AND HIS MOTHER
Ben Barclay, after taking leave of the tramp, lost no time in drivingto the grocery store where he was employed. It was a large countrystore, devoted not to groceries alone, but supplies of dry-goods,boots and shoes, and the leading articles required in the community.There were two other clerks besides Ben, one the son, another thenephew, of Simon Crawford, the proprietor.
"Did you collect any money, Ben?" asked Simon, who chanced to bestanding at the door when our hero drove up.
"Yes, sir; I collected twenty-five dollars, but came near losing it onthe way home."
"How was that? I hope you were not careless."
"No, except in taking a stranger as a passenger. When we got to thatpiece of woods a mile back, he asked me for all the money I had."
"A highwayman, and so near Pentonville!" ejaculated Simon Crawford."What was he like?"
"A regular tramp."
"Yet you say you have the money. How did you manage to keep it fromhim?"
Ben detailed the stratagem of which he made use.
"You did well," said the storekeeper approvingly. "I must give you adollar for the one you sacrificed."
"But sir, it was bad money. I couldn't have passed it."
"That does not matter. You are entitled to some reward for thecourage and quick wit you displayed. Here is a dollar, and--let mesee, there is an entertainment at the Town Hall this evening, isn'tthere?"
"Yes, sir. Prof. Harrington, the magician, gives an entertainment,"said Ben eagerly.
"At what time does it commence?"
"At eight o'clock."
"You may leave the store at half-past seven. That will give youenough time to get there."
"Thank you, sir. I wanted to go to the entertainment, but did notlike to ask for the evening."
"You have earned it. Here is the dollar," and Mr. Crawford handed themoney to his young clerk, who received it gratefully.
A magical entertainment may be a very common affair to my youngreaders in the city, but in a country village it is an event.Pentonville was too small to have any regular place of amusement, andits citizens were obliged to depend upon traveling performers, who,from time to time, engaged the Town Hall. Some time had elapsed sincethere had been any such entertainment, and Prof. Harrington was themore likely to be well patronized. Ben, who had the love of amusementcommon to boys of his age, had been regretting the necessity ofremaining in the store till nine o'clock, and therefore losing hisshare of amusement when, as we have seen, an opportunity suddenlyoffered.
"I am glad I met the tramp, after all," he said to himself. "He hasbrought me luck."
At supper he told is mother what had befallen him, but she tool a moreserious view of it than he did.
"He might have murdered you, Ben," she said with a shudder.
"Oh, no; he wouldn't do that. He might have stolen Mr. Crawford'smoney; that was the most that was likely to happen."
"I didn't think there were highwaymen about here. Now I shall beworrying about you."
"Don't do that mother; I don't feel in any danger. Still, if youthink it best, I will carry a pistol."
"No, no, Ben! it might go off and kill you. I would rather run therisk of a highwayman. I wonder if the man is prowling about in theneighborhood yet?"
"I don't think my bogus dollar will carry him very far. By the way,mother, I must tell yon one strange thing. He asked me if I was JohnBarclay's son."
"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Barclay, in a tone of great surprise. "Did heknow your name was Barclay?"
"Not till I told him. Then it was he asked if I was the son of JohnBarclay."
"Did he say he knew your father?"
"I asked him, but he answered evasively."
"He might have seen some resemblance--that is, if he had ever met yourfather. Ah! it was a sad day for us all when your poor father died.We should have been in a very different position," the widow sighed.
"Yes, mother," said Ben; "but when I get older I will try to supply myfather's place, and relieve you from care and trouble."
"You are doing that in a measure now, my dear boy," said Mrs. Barclayaffectionately. "You are a great comfort to me."
Ben's answer was to go up to his mother and kiss her. Some boys ofhis age are ashamed to show their love for the mother who is devotedto them, but it a false shame, that does them no credit.
"Still, mother, you work too hard," said Ben. "Wait till I am a man,and you shall not need to work at all."
Mrs. Barclay had been a widow for five years. Her husband had been acommercial traveler, but had contracted a fever at Chicago, and diedafter a brief illness, without his wife having the satisfaction ofministering to him in his last days. A small sum due him from hisemployers was paid over to his family, but no property was discovered,though his wife had been under the impression that her husbandpossessed some. He had never been in the habit of confiding hisbusiness affairs to her, and so, if he had investments of any kind,she could not learn anything about them. She found herself,therefore, with no property except a small cottage, worth, with itsquarter acre of land, perhaps fifteen hundred dollars. As Ben was toosmall to earn anything, she had been compelled to raise about sevenhundred dollars on mortgage, which by this time had been expended forliving. Now, Ben was earning four dollars a week, and, with her ownearnings, she was able to make both ends meet without furtherencroachments upon her scanty property; but the mortgage was a sourceof anxiety to her, especially as it was held by Squire Davenport, alawyer of considerable means, who was not overscrupulous about themethods by which he strove to increase his hoards. Should he at anytime take it into his head to foreclose, there was no one to whom Mrs.Barclay could apply to assume the mortgage, and she was likely to becompelled to sacrifice her home. He had more than once hinted that hemight need the money but as yet had gone no further.
Mrs. Barclay had one comfort, however, and a great one. This was agood son. Ben was always kind to his mother--a bright, popular,promising boy--and though at present he was unable to earn much, in afew years he would be able to earn a good income, and then his motherknew that she would be well provided for. So she did not allowherself to borrow trouble but looked forward hopefully, thanking Godfor what He had given her.
"Won't you go up to the Town Hall with me, mother?" asked Ben. I amsure you would enjoy it."
"Thank you, Ben, for wishing me to have a share in your amusements,"his mother replied, "but I have a little headache this evening, and Ishall be better off at home."
"It isn't on account of the expense you decline, mother, is it? Youknow Mr. Crawford gave me a dollar, and the tickets are buttwenty-five cents."
"No, it isn't that, Ben. If it were a concert I might be tempted togo in spite of my headache, but a magical entertainment would notamuse me as much as it will you."
"Just as you think best, mother; but I should like to have you go.You won't feel lonely, will you?"
"I am used to being alone till nine o'clock, when you are at thestore."
This conversation took place at the supper table. Ben went directlyfrom the store to the Town Hall, where he enjoyed himself as much ashe anticipated. If he could have foreseen how his mother was to passthat eve
ning, it would have destroyed all is enjoyment.
CHAPTER IIIMRS. BARCLAY'S CALLERS
About half-past eight o'clock Mrs. Barclay sat with her work in herhand. Her headache was better, but she did not regret not havingaccompanied Ben to the Town Hall.
"I am glad Ben is enjoying himself," she thought, "but I would ratherstay quietly at home. Poor boy! he works hard enough, and needsrecreation now and then."
Just then a knock was heard at the outside door.
"I wonder who it can be?" thought the widow. "I supposed everybodywould be at the Town Hall. It may be Mrs. Perkins come to borrowsomething."
Mrs. Perkins was a neighbor much addicted to borrowing, which wasrather disagreeable, but might have been more easily tolerated butthat she seldom returned the articles lent.
Mrs. Barclay went to the door and opened it, fully expecting to seeher borrowing neighbor. A very different person met her view. Theragged hat, the ill-looking face, the neglected attire, led her torecognize the tramp whom Ben had described to her as having attemptedto rob him in the afternoon. Terrified, Mrs. Barclay's first impulsewas to shut the door and bolt it. But her unwelcome visitor was tooquick for her. Thrusting his foot into the doorway, he interposed aneffectual obstacle in the way of shutting the door.
"No, you don't, ma'am!" he said, with as laugh. "I understand yourlittle game. You want to shut me out."
"What do you want?" asked the widow apprehensively.
"What do I want?" returned the tramp. "Well, to begin with, I wantsomething to eat--and drink," he added, after a pause.