Paul the Peddler; Or, The Fortunes of a Young Street Merchant

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  CHAPTER X

  ANOTHER LOSS

  After supper Paul brushed his clothes carefully and prepared to go tothe address given him by Mr. Preston. He decided to walk one way, notwishing to incur the expenses of two railroad fares.

  The distance was considerable, and it was nearly eight o'clock when hearrived at his destination.

  Paul found himself standing before a handsome house of brown stone.He ascended the steps, and inquired, on the door being opened, if Mr.Preston was at home.

  "I'll see," said the servant.

  She returned in a short time, and said: "He says you may come upstairs."

  Paul followed the servant, who pointed out a door at the head of thefirst staircase.

  Paul knocked, and, hearing "Come in" from within, he opened the door andentered.

  He found himself in a spacious chamber, handsomely furnished. Mr.Preston, in dressing-gown and slippers, sat before a cheerful, openfire.

  "Come and sit down by the fire," he said, sociably.

  "Thank you, sir, I am warm with walking," and Paul took a seat near thedoor.

  "I am one of the cold kind," said Mr. Preston, "and have a fire earlierthan most people. You come about the shirts, I suppose?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Will your mother undertake them?"

  "With pleasure, sir. She can no longer get work from the shop."

  "Business dull, I suppose?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then I am glad I thought of giving her the commission. How's businesswith you to-day, eh?"

  "Pretty good, sir."

  "How many neckties did you sell?"

  "Nineteen, sir."

  "And how much do you get for that?"

  "Nine shillings and a half--a dollar and eighteen cents."

  "That's pretty good for a boy like you. When I was of your age I wasworking on a farm for my board and clothes."

  "Were you, sir?" asked Paul, interested.

  "Yes, I was bound out till I was twenty-one. At the end of that time Iwas to receive a hundred dollars and a freedom suit to begin the worldwith. That wasn't a very large capital, eh?"

  "No, sir."

  "But the death of my employer put an end to my apprenticeship at theage of eighteen. I hadn't a penny of money and was thrown upon my ownresources. However, I had a pair of good strong arms, and a good stockof courage. I knew considerable about farming, but I didn't like it. Ithought I should like trade better. So I went to the village merchant,who kept a small dry-goods store, and arranged with him to supply mewith a small stock of goods, which I undertook to sell on commission forhim. His business was limited, and having confidence in my honesty, hewas quite willing to intrust me with what I wanted. So I set out with mypack on my back and made a tour of the neighboring villages."

  Paul listened with eager interest. He had his own way to make, and itwas very encouraging to find that Mr. Preston, who was evidently richand prosperous, was no better off at eighteen than he was now.

  "You will want to know how I succeeded. Well, at first only moderately;but I think I had some tact in adapting myself to the different classesof persons with whom I came in contact; at any rate, I was alwayspolite, and that helped me. So my sales increased, and I did a goodthing for my employer as well as myself. He would have been glad toemploy me for a series of years, but I happened to meet a travelingsalesman of a New York wholesale house, who offered to obtain me aposition similar to his own. As this would give me a larger field andlarger profits, I accepted gladly, and so changed the nature of myemployment. I became very successful. My salary was raised from time totime, till it reached five thousand dollars. I lived frugally and savedmoney, and at length bought an interest in the house by which I had beenso long employed. I am now senior partner, and, as you may suppose, verycomfortably provided for.

  "Do you know why I have told you this?" asked Mr. Preston, noticing theeagerness with which Paul had listened.

  "I don't know, sir; but I have been very much interested."

  "It is because I like to give encouragement to boys and young men whoare now situated as I used to be. I think you are a smart boy."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "And, though you are poor, you can lift yourself to prosperity, if youare willing to work hard enough and long enough."

  "I am not afraid of work," said Paul, promptly.

  "No, I do not believe you are. I can tell by a boy's face, and you havethe appearance of one who is willing to work hard. How long have youbeen a street peddler?"

  "About a year, sir. Before that time my father was living, and I waskept at school."

  "You will find the street a school, though of a different kind, in whichyou can learn valuable lessons. If you can get time in the evening,however, it will be best to keep up your school studies."

  "I am doing that now, sir."

  "That is well. And now, about the shirts. Did your mother say how longit would take her to make them?"

  "About three weeks, I think, sir. Will that be soon enough?"

  "That will do. Perhaps it will be well, however, to bring half thenumber whenever they are finished."

  "All right, sir."

  "I suppose your mother can cut them out if I send a shirt as a pattern?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Mr. Preston rose, and, going to a bureau, took therefrom a shirt whichhe handed to Paul. He then wrote a few lines on a slip of paper, whichhe also handed our hero.

  "That is an order on Barclay & Co.," he explained, "for the requisitematerials. If either you or your mother presents it, they will be givenyou."

  "Very good, sir," said Paul.

  He took his cap, and prepared to go.

  "Good-evening, Mr. Preston," he said.

  "Good-evening. I shall expect you with the shirts when they are ready."

  Paul went downstairs and into the street, thinking that Mr. Preston wasvery sociable and agreeable. He had fancied that rich men were generally"stuck up," but about Mr. Preston there seemed an absence of allpretense. Paul's ambition was aroused when he thought of the story hehad heard, and he wondered whether it would be possible for him to raisehimself to wealth and live in as handsome a house as Mr. Preston. Hethought what a satisfaction it would be if the time should ever comewhen he could free his mother from the necessity of work, and givelittle Jimmy a chance to develop his talent for drawing. However, suchsuccess must be a long way off, if it ever came.

  He had intended to ride home, but his mind was so preoccupied that heforgot all about it, and had got some distance on his way before itoccurred to him. Then, not feeling particularly tired, he concluded tokeep on walking, as he had commenced.

  "It will save me six cents," he reflected, "and that is something. If Iam ever going to be a prosperous merchant, I must begin to save now."

  So he kept on walking. Passing the Cooper Institute, he came into theBowery, a broad and busy street, the humble neighbor of Broadway, towhich it is nearly parallel.

  He was still engaged in earnest thought, when he felt a rude slap on theback. Looking round, he met the malicious glance of Mike Donovan, whoprobably would not have ventured on such a liberty if he had not beenaccompanied by a boy a head taller than himself, and, to judge fromappearances, of about the same character.

  "What did you do that for, Mike?" demanded Paul.

  "None of your business. I didn't hurt you, did I?" returned Mike,roughly.

  "No, but I don't care to be hit that way by you."

  "So you're putting on airs, are you?"

  "No, I don't do that," returned Paul; "but I don't care about havinganything to do with you."

  "That's because you've got a new shirt, is it?" sneered Mike.

  "It isn't mine."

  "That's what I thought. Who did you steal it from?"

  "Do you mean to insult me, Mike Donovan?" demanded Paul, angrily.

  "Just as you like," said Mike, independently.

  "If you want to know why I don't want to have anything to do with you, Iwill te
ll you."

  "Tell ahead."

  "Because you're a thief."

  "If you say that again, I'll lick you," said Mike, reddening with anger.

  "It's true. You stole my basket of candy the other day, and that isn'tthe only time you've been caught stealing."

  "I'll give you the worst licking you ever had. Do you want to fight?"said Mike, flourishing his fist.

  "No, I don't," said Paul. "Some time when I haven't a bundle, I'llaccommodate you."

  "You're a coward!" sneered Mike, gaining courage as he saw Paul was notdisposed for an encounter.

  "I don't think I am," said Paul, coolly.

  "I'll hold your shirt," said Mike's companion, with a grin, "if you wantto fight."

  Paul, however, did not care to intrust the shirt to a stranger of sounprepossessing an appearance.

  He, therefore, attempted to pass on. But Mike, encouraged by hisreluctance, stepped up and shook his fist within an inch of Paul's nose,calling him at the same time a coward. This was too much for Paul'sself-restraint. He dropped the shirt and pitched into Mike in soscientific a manner that the latter was compelled to retreat, andfinally to flee at the top of his speed, not without having firstreceived several pretty hard blows.

  "I don't think he will meddle with me again," said Paul to himself, ashe pulled down the sleeves of his jacket.

  He walked back, and looked for the shirt which he had laid down beforecommencing the combat. But he looked in vain. Nothing was to be seenof the shirt or of Mike's companion. Probably both had disappearedtogether.