The Cash Boy

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  CHAPTER XVIII

  "OVER THE HILL TO THE POORHOUSE"

  We are compelled for a time to leave our hero in the hands of hisenemies, and return to the town of Crawford, where an event has occurredwhich influences seriously the happiness and position of his sister,Grace.

  Ever since Frank left the town, Grace had been a welcome member of Mr.Pomeroy's family, receiving the kindest treatment from all, so that shehad come to feel very much at home.

  So they lived happily together, till one disastrous night a fire brokeout, which consumed the house, and they were forced to snatch theirclothes and escape, saving nothing else.

  Mr. Pomeroy's house was insured for two-thirds of its value, and heproposed to rebuild immediately, but it would be three months at leastbefore the new house would be completed. In the interim, he succeeded inhiring a couple of rooms for his family, but their narrow accommodationswould oblige them to dispense with their boarder. Sorry as Mr. andMrs. Pomeroy were to part with her, it was obvious that Grace must findanother home.

  "We must let Frank know," said Mr. Pomeroy, and having occasion to goup to the city at once to see about insurance, he went to the store ofGilbert & Mack, and inquired for Prank.

  "Fowler? What was he?" was asked.

  "A cash-boy."

  "Oh, he is no longer here. Mr. Gilbert discharged him."

  "Do you know why he was discharged?" asked Mr. Pomeroy, pained andstartled.

  "No; but there stands Mr. Gilbert. He can tell you."

  Mr. Pomeroy introduced himself to the head of the firm and repeated hisinquiry.

  "If you are a friend of the lad," said Mr. Gilbert, "you will be sorryto learn that he was charged with dishonesty. It was a very respectablelady who made the charge. It is only fair to say that the boy deniedit, and that, personally, we found him faithful and trusty. But as thedullness of trade compelled us to discharge some of our cash-boys, wenaturally discharged him among the number, without, however, judging hiscase."

  "Then, sir, you have treated the boy very unfairly. On the strength ofa charge not proved, you have dismissed him, though personally you hadnoticed nothing out of the way in him, and rendered it impossible forhim to obtain another place."

  "There is something in what you say, I admit. Perhaps I was too hasty.If you will send the boy to me, I will take him back on probation."

  "Thank you, sir," said Mr. Pomeroy, gratefully "I will send him here."

  But this Mr. Pomeroy was unable to do. He did not know of Frank's newaddress, and though he was still in the city, he failed to find him.

  He returned to Crawford and communicated the unsatisfactoryintelligence. He tried to obtain a new boarding place for Grace, but noone was willing to take her at two dollars a week, especially when Mr.Pomeroy was compelled to admit that Frank was now out of employment, andit was doubtful if he would be able to keep up the payment.

  Tom Pinkerton managed to learn that Grace was now without a home, andmentioned it to his father.

  "Won't she have to go to the poorhouse now, father?" he asked eagerly.

  "Yes," said Deacon Pinkerton. "There is no other place for her that Ican see."

  "Ah, I'm glad," said Tom, maliciously. "Won't that upstart's pride betaken down? He was too proud to go to the poorhouse, where he belonged,but he can't help his sister's going there. If he isn't a pauperhimself, he'll be the brother of a pauper, and that's the next thing toit."

  "That is true," said the deacon. "He was very impudent in return for mykindness. Still, I am sorry for him."

  I am afraid the deacon's sorrow was not very deep, for he certainlylooked unusually cheerful when he harnessed up his horse and drovearound to the temporary home of the Pomeroys.

  "Good-morning, Mr. Pomeroy," he said, seeing the latter in the yard."You've met with a severe loss."

  "Yes, deacon; it is a severe loss to a poor man like me."

  "To be sure. Well, I've called around to relieve you of a part of yourcares. I am going to take Grace Fowler to the poorhouse."

  "Couldn't you get her a place with a private family to help about thehouse in return for her board, while she goes to school?"

  "There's nobody wants a young girl like her," said the deacon.

  "Her brother would pay part of her board--that is, when he has a place."

  "Hasn't he got a place?" asked the deacon, pricking up his ears. "Iheard he was in a store in New York."

  "He lost his place," said Mr. Pomeroy, reluctantly, "partly because ofthe dullness of general trade."

  "Then he can't maintain his sister. She will have to go to thepoorhouse. Will you ask her to get ready, and I'll take her right overto the poorhouse."

  There was no alternative. Mr. Pomeroy went into the house, and broke thesad news to his wife and Grace.

  "Never mind," she said, with attempted cheerfulness, though her lipsquivered, "I shan't have to stay there long. Frank will be sure to sendfor me very shortly."

  "It's too bad, Grace," said Sam, looking red about the eyes; "it's toobad that you should have to go to the poorhouse."

  "Come and see me, Sam," said Grace.

  "Yes, I will, Grace. I'll come often, too. You shan't stay there long."

  "Good-by," said Grace, faltering. "You have all been very kind to me."

  "Good-by, my dear child," said Mrs. Pomeroy.

  "Who knows but you can return to us when the new house is done?"

  So poor Grace went out from her pleasant home to find the deacon,grim-faced and stern, waiting for her.

  "Jump in, little girl," he said. "You've kept me waiting for you a longtime, and my time is valuable."

  The distance to the poorhouse was about a mile and a half. For the firsthalf mile Deacon Pinkerton kept silence. Then he began to speak, in atone of cold condescension, as if it were a favor for such a superiorbeing to address an insignificant child, about to become a pauper.

  "Little girl, have you heard from your brother lately?"

  "Not very lately, sir."

  "What is he doing?"

  "He is in a store."

  "I apprehend you are mistaken. He has lost his place. He has been turnedaway," said the deacon, with satisfaction.

  "Frank turned away! Oh, sir, you must be mistaken."

  "Mr. Pomeroy told me. He found out yesterday when he went to the city."

  Poor Grace! she could not longer doubt now, and her brother's misfortunesaddened her even more than her own.

  "Probably you will soon see your brother."

  "Oh, do you think so, sir?" asked Grace, joyfully.

  "Yes," answered the deacon, grimly. "He will find himself in danger ofstarvation in the city, and he'll creep back, only too glad to obtain anice, comfortable home in the poorhouse."

  But Grace knew her brother better than that. She knew his courage, hisself-reliance and his independent spirit, and she was sure the deaconwas mistaken.

  The home for which Grace was expected to be so grateful was now insight. It was a dark, neglected looking house, situated in the midstof barren fields, and had a lonely and desolate aspect. It wassuperintended by Mr. and Mrs. Chase, distant relations of DeaconPinkerton.

  Mr. Chase was an inoffensive man, but Mrs. Chase had a violent temper.She was at work in the kitchen when Deacon Pinkerton drove up. Hearingthe sound of wheels, she came to the door.

  "Mrs. Chase," said the deacon, "I've brought you a little girl, to beplaced under your care."

  "What's her name?" inquired the lady.

  "Grace Fowler."

  "Grace, humph! Why didn't she have a decent name?"

  "You can call her anything you like," said the deacon.

  "Little girl, you must behave well," said Deacon Pinkerton, by way ofparting admonition. "The town expects it. I expect it. You must nevercease to be grateful for the good home which it provides you free ofexpense."

  Grace did not reply. Looking in the face of her future task-mistress wasscarcely calculated to awaken a very deep feeling of gratitude.

  "Now
," said Mrs. Chase, addressing her new boarder, "just take off yourthings, Betsy, and make yourself useful."

  "My name isn't Betsy, ma'am."

  "It isn't, isn't it?"

  "No; it is Grace."

  "You don't say so! I'll tell you one thing, I shan't allow anybody tocontradict me here, and your name's got to be Betsy while you're in thishouse. Now take off your things and hang them up on that peg. I'm goingto set you right to work."

  "Yes, ma'am," said Grace, alarmed.

  "There's some dishes I want washed, Betsy, and I won't have youloitering over your work, neither."

  "Very well, ma'am."

  Such was the new home for which poor Grace was expected to be grateful.