The Telegraph Boy

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  "Yes; and they are almost worn out. They don't look fit for one who isgoing to sit at your table."

  "Bless my soul! I never thought of that. You think he needs some newclothes."

  "He needs them badly."

  "I will call at Baldwin's, and order some ready-made; but I don't knowhis size."

  "He's about two inches shorter than you, Mr. Bowen. Tell 'em that, andthey will know. He ought to have shirts and stockings, too."

  "So he shall," said the old man, quite interested. "He shall have a fullrig-out from top to toe. Where shall I go for the shirts and things?"

  Susan had a nephew about Frank's age, and she was prepared to give thenecessary information. The old gentleman, who had no business to attendto, was delighted to have something to fill up his time. He went outdirectly after breakfast, or as soon as he had read the morning paper,and made choice of the articles already described, giving strictinjunctions that they should be sent home immediately.

  This was the way Frank got his new outfit.

  When our hero came downstairs Mr. Bowen was waiting eagerly to see thetransformation. The result delighted him.

  "Why, I shouldn't have known you!" he exclaimed, lifting both hands. "Ihad no idea new clothes would change you so much."

  "I don't know how to thank you, sir," said Frank, gratefully.

  "I never should have thought of it if it hadn't been for Susan."

  "Then I thank you, Susan," said Frank, offering his hand to the girl, asshe entered the room.

  Susan was pleased. She liked to be appreciated; and she noted withsatisfaction the great improvement in Frank's appearance.

  "You are quite welcome," she said; "but it was master's money that paidfor the clothes."

  "It was your kindness that made him think of it," said Frank.

  From that moment Susan became Frank's fast friend. We generally likethose whom we have benefited, if our services are suitablyacknowledged.

  CHAPTER X.

  A NEW PROSPECT.

  "Well, Frank, and how is your business?" asked the old gentleman, whenthey were sitting at the dinner-table.

  "Pretty good, sir."

  "Are you making your expenses?"

  "Yes, sir; just about."

  "That is well. Mind you never run into debt. That is a bad plan."

  "I shan't have to now, sir. If I had had to buy clothes for myself, Imight have had to."

  "Do you find the shirts and stockings fit you?"

  "Yes, sir; they are just right."

  "I bought half a dozen of each. Susan will give you the bundle when youare ready to go. If they had not been right, they could have beenexchanged."

  "Thank you, sir. I shall feel rich with so many clothes."

  "Where do you sleep, Frank?"

  "At the Newsboy's Lodging-House."

  "Is there any place there where you can keep your clothes?"

  "Yes, sir. Each boy has a locker to himself."

  "That is a good plan. It would be better if you had a room to yourself."

  "I can't afford it yet, sir. The lodging-house costs me only forty-twocents a week for a bed, and I could not get a room for that."

  "Bless my soul! That is very cheap. Really, I think I could save moneyby giving up my house, and going there to sleep."

  "I don't think you would like it, sir," said Frank, smiling.

  "Probably not. Now, Frank, I am going to mention a plan I have for you.You don't want to be a newsboy all your life."

  "No, sir; I think I should get tired of it by the time I was fifty."

  "My friend Thompson, the gentleman who was walking with me when wefirst saw you, is an officer of the American District Telegraph Company.They employ a large number of boys at their various offices to runerrands; and, in fact, to do anything that is required of them. Probablyyou have seen some of the boys going about the city."

  "Yes, sir; they have a blue uniform."

  "Precisely. How would you like to get a situation of that kind?"

  "Very much, sir," said Frank, promptly.

  "Would you like it better than being a newsboy?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "My friend Thompson, to whom I spoke on the subject, says he will takeyou on in a few weeks, provided you will qualify yourself for the post."

  "I will do that, sir, if you will tell me how."

  "You must be well acquainted with the city in all its parts, know thelocations of different hotels, prominent buildings, have a faireducation, and be willing to make yourself generally useful. You willhave to satisfy the superintendent that you are fitted for theposition."

  "I think my education will be sufficient," said Frank, "for I alwayswent to school till just before I came to the city. I know somethingabout the lower part of the city, but I will go about every day duringthe hours when I am not selling papers till I am familiar with all partsof it."

  "Do so, and when there is a vacancy I will let you know."

  "How much pay shall I get, sir, if they accept me?"

  "About three dollars a week at first, and more when you get familiarwith your duties. No doubt money will also be given you by some whoemploy you, though you will not be allowed to ask for any fees. Verylikely you will get nearly as much in this way as from your salary."

  Frank's face expressed satisfaction.

  "That will be bully," he said.

  "I beg pardon," said the old gentleman, politely. "What did youremark?"

  "That will be excellent," said Frank, blushing.

  "I thought you spoke of a bully."

  "It was a word I learned from Dick Rafferty," said Frank, feeling ratherembarrassed.

  "And who is Dick Rafferty?"

  "One of my friends at the Lodging-House."

  "Unless his education is better than yours I would not advise you tolearn any of his words."

  "I beg your pardon, sir."

  "You must excuse my offering you advice. It is the privilege of the oldto advise the young."

  "I shall always be glad to follow your advice, Mr. Bowen," said Frank.

  "Good boy, good boy," said the old gentleman, approvingly. "I wish allboys were like you. Some think they know more than their grandfathers.There's one of that kind who lives next door."

  "His name is Victor Dupont, isn't it, sir?"

  Mr. Bowen looked surprised. "How is it that you know his name?" heasked.

  "We were together a good deal last summer. His family boarded at thehotel in the country village where I used to live. He and I wentbathing and fishing together."

  "Indeed! Have you seen him since you came to the city?"

  "I met him as I was on my way here this afternoon."

  "Did he speak to you?"

  "Yes, sir; though at first he pretended he didn't remember me."

  "Just like him. He is a very proud and conceited boy. Did you tell himyou were coming to dine with me?"

  "Yes, sir. He seemed very much surprised, as I had just told him I was anewsboy. He said he was surprised that you should invite a newsboy todine with you."

  "I would much rather have you dine with me than him. What more did hesay?"

  "He said he shouldn't think I would like to go out to dinner with such ashabby suit."

  "We have removed that objection," said Mr. Bowen, smiling.

  "Yes, sir," said Frank; "I think Victor will treat me more respectfullynow when he meets me."

  "The respect of such a boy is of very little importance. He judges onlyby the outside."

  At an early hour Frank took his leave, promising to call again beforelong.

  "Where can I send to you if you are wanted for a telegraph boy?" askedMr. Bowen.

  "A letter to me addressed to the care of Mr. O'Connor at thelodging-house will reach me," said Frank.

  "Write it down for me," said the old gentleman. "You will find writingmaterials on yonder desk."

  When Frank made his appearance at the lodging-house in his new suit,with two bundles, one containing his old clothes, and the other his
extra supply of underclothing, his arrival made quite a sensation.

  "Have you come into a fortun'?" asked one boy.

  "Did you draw a prize in the Havana lottery?" asked another.

  "Have you been playing policy?" asked a third.

  "You're all wrong," said Dick Rafferty. "Frank's been adopted by a richman upon Madison avenue. Aint that so, Frank?"

  "Something like it," said Frank. "There's a gentleman up there who hasbeen very kind to me."

  "If he wants to adopt another chap, spake a good word for me," saidPatsy Reagan.

  "Whisht, Patsy, he don't want no Irish bog-trotter," said Phil Donovan.

  "You're Irish yourself, Phil, now, and you can't deny it."

  "What if I am? I aint no bog-trotter--I'm the son of an Irish count. Youcan see by my looks that I belong to the gintry."

  "Then the gintry must have red hair and freckles, Phil. There aint nochance for you."

  "Tell us all about it, Frank," said Dick. "Shure I'm your best friend,and you might mention my name to the ould gintleman if he's got any moregood clothes to give away."

  "I will with pleasure, Dick, if I think it will do any good."

  "You won't put on no airs because you're better dressed than the likesof us?"

  "I shall wear my old clothes to-morrow, Dick. I can't afford to wear mybest clothes every day."

  "I can," said Dick, dryly, which was quite true, as his best clotheswere the only ones he had.

  Bright and early the next morning Frank was about his work, withoutbetraying in any way the proud consciousness of being the owner of twosuits. He followed Mr. Bowen's advice, and spent his leisure hours inexploring the city in its various parts, so that in the course of amonth he knew more about it than boys who had lived in it all theirlives. He told Dick his object in taking these long walks, and urged himto join him in the hope of winning a similar position; but Dick decidedthat it was too hard work. He preferred to spend his leisure time inplaying marbles or pitching pennies.

  CHAPTER XI.

  THE TELEGRAPH BOY.

  Six weeks later Frank Kavanagh, through the influence of his patron,found himself in the uniform of a District Telegraph Messenger. The bluesuit, and badge upon the cap, are familiar to every city resident. Theuniform is provided by the company, but must be paid for by weeklyinstalments, which are deducted from the wages of the wearers. Thiswould have seriously embarrassed Frank but for an opportune gift of tendollars from Mr. Bowen, which nearly paid the expense of his suit.

  FRANK, THE TELEGRAPH BOY.]

  Frank was employed in one of the up-town offices of the company. For theinformation of such of my young readers as live in the country it may beexplained that large numbers of houses and offices in the city areconnected with the offices of the District Telegraph by machines,through which, at any time in the day or night, a messenger may besummoned for any purpose. It is only necessary to raise a knob in thebox provided, and a bell is rung in the office of the company. Of coursethere is more or less transient business besides that of the regularsubscribers.

  Boys, on arriving at the office, seat themselves, and are called upon inorder. A boy just returned from an errand hangs up his hat, and takeshis place at the foot of the line. He will not be called upon again tillall who are ahead of him have been despatched in one direction oranother.

  Frank was curious to know what would be his first duty, and waitedeagerly for his turn to come.

  At length it came.

  "Go to No. -- Madison avenue," said the superintendent.

  A few minutes later Frank was ascending the steps of a handsomebrown-stone residence.

  "Oh, you're the telegraph boy," said a colored servant. "You're to goupstairs into missus's sitting-room."

  Upon entering, Frank found himself in the presence of a rather stoutlady, who was reclining on a sofa.

  He bowed politely, and waited for his instructions.

  "I hope you are a trustworthy boy," said the stout lady.

  "I hope so, ma'am."

  "Come here, Fido," said the lady.

  A little mass of hair, with two red eyes peeping out, rose from thecarpet and waddled towards the lady, for Fido was about as stout as hismistress.

  "Do you like dogs?" asked Mrs. Leroy, for this was the lady's name.

  "Yes, ma'am," answered Frank, wondering what that had to do with hiserrand.

  "I sent for you to take my sweet darling out for an airing. His healthrequires that he should go out every day. I generally take him myself,but this morning I have a severe headache, and do not feel equal to thetask. My dear little pet, will you go out with this nice boy?"

  Fido looked gravely at Frank and sneezed.

  "I hope the darling hasn't got cold," said Mrs. Leroy, with solicitude."My lad, what is your name?"

  "Frank Kavanagh, ma'am."

  "Will you take great care of my little pet, Frank?"

  "I will try to, madam. Where do you want him to go?"

  "To Madison Park. He always likes the park, because it is so gay. Whenyou get there you may sit down on one of the benches and give him timeto rest."

  "Yes, ma'am. How long would you like me to stay out with him?"

  "About an hour and a half. Have you a watch?"

  "No; but I can tell the time by the clock in front of the Fifth-avenueHotel."

  "To be sure. I was going to lend you my watch."

  "Shall I start now?"

  "Yes. Here is the string. Don't make Fido go too fast. He is stout, andcannot walk fast. You will be sure to take great care of him?"

  "Yes, madam."

  "And you keep watch that no bad man carries off my Fido. I used to sendhim out by one of the girls, till I found that she ill-treated the poorthing. Of course I couldn't stand that, so I sent her packing, I cantell you."

  "I will try to follow your directions," said Frank, who wanted to laughat the lady's ridiculous devotion to her ugly little favorite.

  "That is right. You look like a good boy. I will give you something foryourself when you come back."

  "Thank you, ma'am," said Frank, who was better pleased with this remarkthan any the lady had previously made.

  Mrs. Leroy kissed Fido tenderly, and consigned him to the care of ourhero.

  "I suppose," said Frank to himself, "that I am the dog's nurse. It israther a queer office; but as long as I am well paid for it I don'tmind."

  When Fido found himself on the sidewalk he seemed disinclined to move;but after a while, by dint of coaxing, he condescended to waddle alongat Frank's heels.

  After a while they reached Madison Park, and Frank, according to hisinstructions, took a seat, allowing Fido to curl up at his side.

  "This isn't very hard work," thought Frank. "I wish I had a book orpaper to read, to while away the time."

  While he was sitting there Victor Dupont came sauntering along.

  "Halloa!" he exclaimed, in surprise, as he recognized Frank, "is thatyou?"

  "I believe it is," answered Frank, with a smile.

  "Are you a telegraph boy?"

  "Yes."

  "I thought you were a newsboy?"

  "So I was; but I have changed my business."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Taking care of a dog," said Frank, laughing.

  "Is that the dog?"

  "Yes."

  "It's a beastly little brute. What's its name?"

  "Fido."

  "Who does it belong to?"

  Frank answered.

  "I know," said Victor; "it's a fat lady living on the avenue. I haveseen her out often with little pug. How do you feel, Fido?" and Victorbegan to pull the hair of the lady's favorite.

  "Don't do that, Victor," remonstrated Frank.

  "Why not?"

  "Mrs. Leroy wouldn't like it."

  "Mrs. Leroy isn't here."

  "I am," said Frank, emphatically, "and that is the same thing."

  Victor, by way of reply, pinched Fido's ear, and the little animalsqueaked his disapprova
l.

  "Look here, Victor," said Frank, decidedly, "you must stop that."

  "Must I?" sneered Victor, contemptuously. "'Suppose I don't?"

  "Then I shall punch you," said Frank, quietly.

  "You are impertinent," said Victor, haughtily. "You needn't put on suchairs because you are nurse to a puppy."

  "That is better than being a puppy myself," retorted Frank.

  "Do you mean to insult me?" demanded Victor, quickly.

  "No, unless you choose to think the remark fits you."

  "I have a great mind to give you a thrashing," said Victor, furiously.

  "Of course I should sit still and let you do it," said Frank, calmly."Fido is under my care, and I can't have him teased. That is right,isn't it?"

  "I did wrong to notice you," said Victor. "You are only a dog's nurse."

  Frank laughed.

  "You are right," he said. "It is new business for me, and though it iseasy enough I can't say I like it. However, I am in the service of theTelegraph Company, and must do whatever is required."

  Victor walked away, rather annoyed because he could not tease Frank.

  "The boy has no pride," he said to himself, "or he wouldn't live out totake care of dogs. But, then, it is suitable enough for him."

  "Is that dawg yours?" asked a rough-looking man, taking his seat on thebench near Frank.

  "No, sir."