Читать книгу: «Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition», страница 4

Шрифт:

CHAPTER X – A DAY IN WALL STREET

Grant went at once on his arrival in the city to Mr. Reynolds’ office. He had in his hand a well-worn valise containing his small stock of clothing. The broker was just leaving the office for the Stock Exchange as Grant entered.

“So you are punctual,” he said, smiling.

“Yes, sir, I always on time.”

“That is an excellent habit. Here, Harry.”

In answer to this summons, Harry Becker, a boy two years older and correspondingly larger than Grant, came forward. He was a pleasant-looking boy, and surveyed Grant with a friendly glance.

“Harry,” said Mr. Reynolds, “this is your successor. Do me the favor of initiating him into his duties, so that when you leave me he will be qualified to take your place.”

“All right, sir.”

The broker hurried over to the Exchange, and the two boys were left together.

“What is your name?” asked the city boy.

“Grant Thornton.”

“Mine is Harry Becker. Are you accustomed to the city?”

“No, I am afraid you will find me very green,” answered Grant.

“You are not the boy to remain so long,” said Harry, scrutinizing him attentively.

“I hope not. You are going to Europe, Mr. Reynolds tells me.”

“Yes, the governor is going to take me.”

“The governor?”

“My father, I mean,” said Harry, smiling.

“I suppose you are not sorry to go?”

“Oh, no; I expect to have a tip-top time. How would you like it?”

“Very much, if I could afford it, but at present I would rather fill your place in the office. I am the son of a poor country minister, and must earn my own living.”

“How did you get in with Mr. Reynolds?” asked Harry.

Grant told him. “Is he easy to get along with?” he inquired, a little anxiously.

“He is very kind and considerate. Still he is stanch, and expects a boy to serve him faithfully.”

“He has a right to expect that.”

“As I am to break you in, you had better go about with me everywhere. First, we will go to the post-office.”

The two boys walked to Nassau Street, where the New York post-office was then located. Harry pointed out the box belonging to the firm, and producing a key opened it, and took out half a dozen letters.

“There may be some stock orders in these letters,” he said; “we will go back to the office, give them to Mr. Clark to open, and then you can go with me to the Stock Exchange.”

Ten minutes later they entered the large room used by the brokers as an Exchange. Grant looked about him in undisguised astonishment. It seemed like a pandemonium. The room was full of men, shouting, gesticulating and acting like crazy men. The floor was littered with fragments of paper, and on a raised dais were the officers of the Exchange, the chief among them, the chairman, calling rapidly the names of a long list of stocks. Each name was followed by a confused shouting, which Grant learned afterward to be bids for the stock named. There were several groups of brokers, each apparently interested in some leading security. In each of the galleries, one at each end, overlooking the stock room, curious spectators were watching what was going on.

Harry Decker was amused at Grant’s look of surprise and bewilderment.

“You’ll get used to it in time,” he said. “Say—there is Mr. Reynolds. I must speak to him.”

Mr. Reynolds stood near a placard on which, in prominent letters, was inscribed “Erie.” Harry handed him a paper, which he took, glanced at quickly, and then resumed his bidding.

“He has just bought one thousand Erie,” said Harry, aside, to Grant.

“One thousand?”

“Yes, a thousand shares, at fifty-five.”

“Fifty-five dollars?”

“Yes.”

“Why, that will make fifty-five thousand dollars,” ejaculated Grant, in wonder.

“Yes, that is one of the orders I brought over just now.”

“A man must have a great deal of capital to carry on this business, if that is only an item of a single day’s business.”

“Yes, but not so much as you may imagine. I can’t explain now, but you’ll understand better as you go on. Now we’ll go back and see if there’s anything to do in the office.”

Not long afterward Harry had to come back to the Exchange again, and Grant came with him. He found something new to surprise him.

A tall man of dignified presence was walking across the floor, when a fellow member with a sly stroke sent his tall hat spinning across the floor. When the victim turned the mischief-maker was intent upon his memorandum book, and the tall man’s suspicions fell upon a short, stout young man beside him. With a vigorous sweep he knocked the young man’s hat off, saying, “It’s a poor rule that don’t work both ways.”

This led to a little scrimmage, in which a dozen were involved. The brokers, staid, middle-aged men, most of them, seemed like a pack of school boys at recess. Grant surveyed the scene with undisguised astonishment.

“What does it mean, Harry?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s a very common occurrence,” said Harry, smiling.

“I never saw grown men acting so. Won’t there be a fight?”

“Oh, it’s all fun. The brokers are unlike any other class of men in business hours,” explained Harry. “It’s one of the customs of the place.”

Just then, to his astonishment, Grant saw his employer, Mr. Reynolds, pursuing his hat, which was rolling over the floor. He was about to run to his assistance, but Harry stopped him.

“No interference is allowed,” he said. “Leave them to their fun. I used to think it strange myself, when I first came into the Exchange, but I’m used to it now. Now we may as well go back to the office.”

There is no occasion to follow the boys through the day’s routine. Grant found his companion very obliging, and very ready to give him the information he needed. Many boys would have been supercilious and perhaps been disposed to play tricks on a country boy, but Harry was not one of them. He took a friendly interest in Grant, answered all his questions, and did his best to qualify him for the position he was to assume.

Before the office closed, Grant and his new friend went to the bank to make a deposit of money and checks. The deposit amounted to about twenty thousand dollars.

“There must be plenty of money in New York,” said Grant. “Why, up in Colebrook, if a man were worth twenty thousand dollars he would be considered a rich man.”

“It takes a good deal more than that to make a man rich in New York. In the stock business a man is likely to do a larger business in proportion to his capital than in the mercantile business.”

On their way back from the bank, Grant came face to face with Tom Calder. Tom was busily engaged in talking to a companion, some years older than himself, and didn’t observe Grant. Grant was by no means prepossessed in favor of this young man, whose red and mottled face, and bold glance made him look far from respectable.

“Do you know those fellows?” asked Harry Becker.

“The youngest one is from Colebrook.”

“He is in bad company. I hope he is not an intimate friend of yours?”

“Far from it. Still, I know him, and am sorry to see him with such a companion.”

At four o’clock Mr. Reynolds proposed to go home. He beckoned to Grant to accompany him.

CHAPTER XI – GRANT MAKES A FRIEND

“What do you think of your first day in Wall Street?” asked Mr. Reynolds, kindly.

“I have found it very interesting,” answered Grant.

“Do you think you shall like the business?”

“Yes, sir, I think so.”

“Better than if you had been able to carry out your original plan, and go to college?”

“Yes, sir, under the circumstances, for I have a better prospect of helping the family.”

“That feeling does you credit. Have you any brothers and sisters?”

“One of each, sir.”

“I have but one boy, now nine years old. I am sorry to say he is not strong in body, though very bright and quick, mentally. I wish he were more fond of play and would spend less time in reading and study.”

“I don’t think that is a common complaint among boys, sir.”

“No, I judge not from my own remembrance and observation. My wife is dead, and I am such a busy man that I am not able to give my boy as much attention as I wish I could. My boy’s health is the more important to me because I have no other child.”

Grant’s interest was excited, and he looked forward to meeting his employer’s son, not without eagerness. He had not long to wait.

The little fellow was in the street in front of the house when his father reached home. He was a slender, old-fashioned boy in appearance, who looked as if he had been in the habit of keeping company with grown people. His frame was small, but his head was large. He was pale, and would have been plain, but for a pair of large, dark eyes, lighting up his face.

“Welcome home, papa,” he said, running up to meet Mr. Reynolds.

The broker stooped over and kissed his son. Then he said: “I have brought you some company, Herbert. This is Grant Thornton, the boy I spoke to you about.”

“I am glad to make your acquaintance,” said the boy, with old-fashioned courtesy, offering his hand.

“And I am glad to meet you, Herbert,” responded Grant, pleasantly.

The little boy looked up earnestly in the face of his father’s office boy.

“I think I shall like you,” he said.

Mr. Reynolds looked pleased, and so did Grant.

“I am sure we shall be very good friends,” said our hero.

“Herbert,” said his father, “will you show Grant the room he is to occupy?”

“It is next to mine, isn’t it, papa?”

“Yes, my son.”

“Come with me,” said Herbert, putting his hand in Grant’s. “I will show you the way.”

Grant, who was only accustomed to the plain homes in his native village, was impressed by the evidence of wealth and luxury observable in the house of the stock broker. The room assigned to him was small, but it was very handsomely furnished, and he almost felt out of place in it. But it was not many days, to anticipate matters a little, before he felt at home.

Herbert took Grant afterward into his own room.

“See my books,” he said, leading the way to a bookcase, containing perhaps a hundred volumes, the majority of a juvenile character, but some suited to more mature tastes. “Do you like reading?” asked Grant.

“I have read all the books you see here,” answered Herbert, “and some of papa’s besides. I like to read better than to play.”

“But you ought to spend some of your time in play, or you will not grow up healthy.”

“That is what papa says. I try to play some, but I don’t care much about it.”

Grant was no longer surprised at the little boy’s delicacy. It was clear that he needed more amusement and more exercise. “Perhaps,” he thought, “I can induce Herbert to exercise more.”

“When do you take dinner?” he asked.

“At half-past six. There is plenty of time.”

“Then suppose we take a little walk together. We shall both have a better appetite.”

“I should like to,” replied Herbert; “that is, with you. I don’t like to walk alone.”

“How far is Central Park from here?”

“A little over a mile.”

“I have never seen it. Would you mind walking as far as that?”

“Oh, no.”

So the two boys walked out together. They were soon engaged in an animated conversation, consisting, for the most part, of questions proposed by Grant, and answers given by Herbert.

Not far from the park they came to a vacant lot where some boys were playing ball.

“Now, if we only had a ball, Herbert,” said Grant, “we might have a little amusement.”

“I’ve got a ball in my pocket, but I don’t use it much.”

“Let me see it.”

Herbert produced the ball, which proved to be an expensive one, better than any Grant had ever owned.

“There, Herbert, stand here, and I will place myself about fifty feet away. Now, throw it to me, no matter how swiftly.”

They were soon engaged in throwing the ball to each other. Grant was a good ball player, and he soon interested the little boy in the sport. Our hero was pleased to see Herbert’s quiet, listless manner exchanged for the animation which seemed better suited to a boy.

“You are improving, Herbert,” he said, after a while. “You would make a good player in time.”

“I never liked it before,” said the little boy. “I never knew there was so much fun in playing ball.”

“We shall have to try it every day. I suppose it is about time to go home to supper.”

“And we haven’t been to Central Park, after all.”

“That will do for another day. Are boys allowed to play ball in the park?”

“Two afternoons in the week, I believe, but I never played there.”

“We shall have to try it some day.”

“I should like to play—with you.”

They reached home in full time for dinner. At the dinner table Mr. Reynolds was struck by the unusually bright and animated face of his son, and his good appetite.

“What have you been doing to make you so hungry, Herbert?” he asked.

“I took a walk with Grant, and we had a fine game of ball.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said the broker, much pleased. “If you want to become stout and strong like Grant, that is the best thing for you to do.”

“I never liked playing ball before, papa.”

“That is a compliment to you, Grant,” said the broker, smiling.

“I think,” he said to the prim, elderly lady who presided over the household, acting as housekeeper, “Herbert will be the better for having a boy in the house.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Mrs. Estabrook, stiffly. “When he came into the house he had mud on his clothes. He never did that till this boy came.”

“I won’t complain of that, if his health is improved.”

Mrs. Estabrook, who was a poor relation of Herbert’s mother, pursed up her mouth, but did not reply. In her eyes, it was more important that a boy should keep his clothes whole and clean than to have color in his cheeks, and health in his frame.

“I hope that boy won’t stay here long,” she thought, referring, of course, to Grant. “He’ll quite spoil Herbert by making him rough and careless of his appearance.”

“Well, Herbert, and how do you like Grant?” asked Mr. Reynolds, as his son was bidding him good-night before going to bed.

“I am so glad you brought him here, papa. I shall have good times now. You’ll let him stay all the time, won’t you?”

“I’ll see about it, Herbert,” answered his father, smiling.

CHAPTER XII – MRS. ESTABROOK’S PLANS

Grant was going home with Mr. Reynolds at the close of the fourth day, when it occurred to him to say what had been in his mind for some time: “Isn’t it time, Mr. Reynolds, for me to be looking out for a boarding place?”

The broker smiled, and said with assumed concern: “Are you dissatisfied with your present boarding place?”

“How could I be, sir?” returned Grant, earnestly. “But you told me I could stay with you a week, while I was looking about for a suitable place to board.”

“That is true. Now, however, there is a difficulty about your making a change.”

“What is that, sir?”

“Herbert would not give his consent. The fact is, Grant, Herbert finds so much pleasure in your society, and derives so much advantage from the increased exercise you lead him to take, that I think you will have to make up your mind to stay.”

Grant’s face showed the pleasure he felt.

“I shall be very glad to stay, Mr. Reynolds,” he answered, “if you are willing to have me.”

“I had this in view from the first,” said the broker, “but I wanted to see how you and Herbert got along. I wished to be sure, also, that your influence on him would be good. Of that I can have no doubt, and I am glad to receive you as a member of my family.”

There was one member of the household, however, who was not so well pleased with the proposed arrangement. This was Mrs. Estabrook, the housekeeper.

As the week drew to a close, she said, one evening after the boys had retired:

“How much longer is the office boy to stay here, Mr. Reynolds?”

“Why do you ask?” inquired the broker.

“Only with reference to domestic arrangements,” answered the housekeeper, disconcerted.

“He will remain for a considerable time, Mrs. Estabrook.”

“I—I thought he was only going to stay a week.”

“He is company for Herbert, and I think it desirable to keep him.”

“Herbert soils his clothes a deal more now than he used to do,” said the housekeeper, discontentedly. “I am sure I don’t know where the other boy carries him.”

“Nor I, but I am not afraid to trust him with Grant. As to the clothes, I consider them of very small account, compared with my boy’s health.”

Mrs. Estabrook knitted in silence for five minutes. She was by no means pleased with her employer’s plan, having taken a dislike to Grant, for which, indeed, her chief reason was jealousy. She had a stepson, a young man of twenty-one, in Mr. Reynolds’ office, whom she would like to have in the house in place of Grant. But Mr. Reynolds had never taken notice of her occasional hints to that effect. The housekeeper’s plans were far-reaching. She knew that Herbert was delicate, and doubted if he would live to grow up. In that case, supposing her stepson had managed to ingratiate himself with the broker, why might he not hope to become his heir? Now this interloper, as she called Grant, had stepped into the place which her own favorite—his name was Willis Ford—should have had. Mrs. Estabrook felt aggrieved, and unjustly treated, and naturally incensed at Grant, who was the unconscious cause of her disappointment. She returned to the charge, though, had she been wiser, she would have foreborne.

“Do you think a poor boy like this Grant Thornton is a suitable companion for a rich man’s son, Mr. Reynolds? Excuse me for suggesting it, but I am so interested in dear Herbert.”

“Grant Thornton is the son of a country minister, and has had an excellent training,” said the broker, coldly. “The fact that he is poor is no objection in my eyes. I think, Mrs. Estabrook, we will dismiss the subject. I think myself competent to choose my son’s associates.”

“I hope you will excuse me,” said the housekeeper, seeing that she had gone too far. “I am so attached to the dear child.”

“If you are, you will not object to the extra trouble you may have with his clothes, since his health is benefited.”

“That artful young beggar has wound his way into his employer’s confidence,” thought Mrs. Estabrook, resentfully, “but it may not be always so.”

A few minutes later, when the housekeeper was in her own sitting-room, she was told that Willis Ford wanted to see her.

Mrs. Estabrook’s thin face lighted up with pleasure, for she was devotedly attached to her stepson.

“Bring him up here at once,” she said.

A minute later the young man entered the room. He was a thin, sallow-complexioned young man, with restless, black eyes, and a discontented expression—as of one who thinks he is not well used by the world.

“Welcome, my dear boy,” said the housekeeper, warmly. “I am so glad to see you.”

Willis submitted reluctantly to his stepmother’s caress, and threw himself into a rocking chair opposite her.

“Are you well, Willis?” asked Mrs. Estabrook, anxiously.

“Yes, I’m well enough,” muttered the young man.

“I thought you looked out of sorts.”

“I feel so.”

“Is anything the matter?”

“Yes; I’m sick of working at such starvation wages.”

“I thought fifteen dollars a week a very good salary. Only last January you were raised three dollars.”

“And I expected to be raised three dollars more on the first of July.”

“Did you apply to Mr. Reynolds?”

“Yes, and he told me I must wait till next January.”

“I think he might have raised you, if only on account of the connection between our families.”

“Perhaps he would if you would ask him, mother.”

“I will when there is a good opportunity. Still, Willis, I think fifteen dollars a week very comfortable.”

“You don’t know a young man’s expenses, mother.”

“How much do you pay for board, Willis?”

“Six dollars a week. I have a room with a friend, or I should have to pay eight.”

“That leaves you nine dollars a week for all other expenses. I think you might save something out of that.”

“I can’t. I have clothes to buy, and sometimes I want to go to the theatre, and in fact, nine dollars don’t go as far as you think. Of course, a woman doesn’t need to spend much. It’s different with a young man.”

“Your income would be a good deal increased if you had no board to pay.”

“Of course. You don’t know any generous minded person who will board me for nothing, do you?”

“There’s a new office boy in your office, isn’t there?”

“Yes, a country boy.”

“Did you know he was boarding here?”

“No; is he?”

“Mr. Reynolds told me to-night he was going to keep him here permanently, as a companion for his little son.”

“Lucky for him.”

“I wish Mr. Reynolds would give you a home here.”

“I would rather he would make it up in money, and let me board where I please.”

“But you forget. It would give you a chance to get him interested in you, and if Herbert should die, you might take his place as heir.”

“That would be a splendid idea, but there’s no prospect of it. It isn’t for me.”