The Errand Boy; Or, How Phil Brent Won Success

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  Phil put this letter in the post-office, and patiently waited for ananswer.

  "Mrs. Brent surely cannot refuse me," he said to himself, "since I havealmost wholly relieved her of the expense of taking care of me."

  Phil felt so sure that money would be sent to him that he began to lookround a little among ready-made clothing stores to see at what price hecould obtain a suit that would do for every-day use. He found a storein the Bowery where he could secure a suit, which looked as if it wouldanswer, for thirteen dollars. If Mrs. Brent sent him twenty-five, thatwould leave him twelve for underclothing, and for a reserve fund to meetthe weekly deficit which he could not avoid.

  Three--four days passed, and no letter came in answer to his.

  "It can't be that Mrs. Brent won't at least answer my letter," hethought uneasily. "Even if she didn't send me twenty-five dollars, shecouldn't help sending me something."

  Still he felt uneasy, in view of the position in which he would findhimself in case no letter or remittance should come at all.

  It was during this period of anxiety that his heart leaped for joywhen on Broadway he saw the familiar form of Reuben Gordon, a young manalready mentioned, to whom Phil had sold his gun before leaving Gresham.

  "Why, Reuben, how are you?" exclaimed Phil joyfully. "When did you cometo town?"

  "Phil Brent!" exclaimed Reuben, shaking hands heartily. "I'm thunderin'glad to see you. I was thinkin' of you only five minutes ago, andwonderin' where you hung out."

  "But you haven't told me when you came to New York."

  "Only this morning! I'm goin' to stay with a cousin of my father's, thatlives in Brooklyn, over night."

  "I wanted to ask you about Mrs. Brent and Jonas. I was afraid they mightbe sick, for I wrote four days ago and haven't got any answer yet."

  "Where did you write to?"

  "To Gresham, of course," answered Phil, in surprise.

  "You don't mean to say you hain't heard of their leavin' Gresham?" saidReuben, in evident astonishment.

  "Who has left Gresham?"

  "Your mother--leastwise, Mrs. Brent--and Jonas. They cleared out threeweeks ago, and nobody's heard a word of them since--that is, nobody inthe village."

  "Don't you know where they've gone?" asked Phil, in amazement.

  "No. I was goin' to ask you. I s'posed, of course, they'd write and letyou know."

  "I didn't even know they had left Gresham."

  "Well, that's what I call cur'us. It ain't treatin' you right accordin'to my ideas."

  "Is the house shut up?"

  "It was till two days ago. Then a brother of Mrs. Brent came and openedit. He has brought his wife and one child with him, and it seems they'regoin' to live there. Somebody asked him where his sister and Jonas were,but they didn't get no satisfaction. He said he didn't rightly knowhimself. He believed they was travelin'; thought they might be inCanada."

  Phil looked and felt decidedly sober at this information. He understood,of course, now, why his letter had not been answered. It looked as if hewere an outcast from the home that had been his so long. When he came toNew York to earn a living he felt that he was doing so voluntarily,and was not obliged to do so. Now he was absolutely thrown upon his ownresources, and must either work or starve.

  "They've treated you real mean," said Reuben.

  "I never did like Mrs. Brent, or Jonas either, for that matter.

  "Where are you working?"

  Phil answered this question and several others which his honest countryfriend asked, but his mind was preoccupied, and he answered some of thequestions at random. Finally he excused himself on the ground that hemust be getting back to the store.

  That evening Phil thought seriously of his position. Something must bedone, that was very evident. His expenses exceeded his income, and heneeded some clothing. There was no chance of getting his wages raisedunder a year, for he already received more pay than it was customary togive to a boy. What should he do?

  Phil decided to lay his position frankly before the only friend he hadin the city likely to help him--Mr. Oliver Carter. The old gentlemanhad been so friendly and kind that he felt that he would not at anyrate repulse him. After he had come to this decision he felt better. Hedetermined to lose no time in calling upon Mr. Carter.

  After supper he brushed his hair carefully, and made himself look aswell as circumstances would admit. Then he bent his steps toward TwelfthStreet, where, as the reader will remember, Mr. Carter lived with hisniece.

  He ascended the steps and rang the bell. It was opened by Hannah,who recognized him, having admitted him on the former occasion of hiscalling.

  "Good-evening," said Phil pleasantly. "Is Mr. Carter at home?"

  "No, sir," answered Hannah. "Didn't you know he had gone to Florida?"

  "Gone to Florida!" repeated Phil, his heart sinking. "When did hestart?"

  "He started this afternoon."

  "Who's asking after Uncle Oliver?" asked a boy's voice.

  Looking behind Hannah, Phil recognized the speaker as Alonzo Pitkin.