Fame and Fortune; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter Read online

  CHAPTER X.

  A STORE ON SIXTH AVENUE.

  Roswell kept on his way with his heavy bundle, more discontented thanever. The bundle seemed heavier than ever. Dick had no such bundles tocarry. He had an easier time, his business position was better, and hiswages more than double. And all this in spite of the glaring fact thatRoswell was a gentleman's son, and Dick wasn't. Surely fortune was veryblind, and unfair in the distribution of her favors.

  "I suppose he'll be crowing over me," thought Roswell, bitterly, judgingfrom what would have been his own feeling had the case been reversed. "Ihope he'll have to go back to boot-blacking some day. I wish mother'dbuy me a gold watch and chain. There'd be some sense in _my_ wearingit."

  Roswell evidently thought it very inappropriate that Dick should wear ahandsome gold watch, more especially as he was quite sure beforehandthat his mother would not gratify his own desire to possess one. Stillhe resolved to ask.

  There was another thing he meant to ask. Feeling that his services wereworth more than the wages he received, and convincing himself that hisemployers would be unwilling to lose him, he determined to ask anadvance of two dollars a week, making six dollars in all. Not that heconsidered that even this would pay him, but as he could hardly hopethat he would be appreciated according to his deserts, he limited hisrequest to that sum. He concluded to defer making his application untilSaturday evening, when he would receive his week's wages.

  He consulted his mother upon this subject, and she, having nearly ashigh an opinion of her promising son as he had himself, consented to theapplication. If his cousin, James Gilbert, had heard of his intention,he was enough of a business man to have dissuaded him from the attempt.Though he saw fit to espouse the cause of Roswell against Dick, it wasmore because he disliked the latter than because he was blind to thefaults of the former. Indeed, he had a very moderate opinion of hisyoung cousin's capabilities.

  The days slipped by, and Saturday night came. It was nine o'clock beforeRoswell was released, the Saturday-night trade being the best of theweek. The other clerks had been paid, Roswell's turn coming last,because he was the youngest.

  The designation of the firm was HALL & TURNER. Mr. Hall, thesenior partner, usually went home early in the evening; and Mr. Turner,the junior partner, a man of about thirty-five, attended to the eveningbusiness, and paid the weekly wages.

  "Here, Crawford," he said, counting out four one dollar bills; "it'syour turn now."

  "I want to speak to you for a moment, Mr. Turner," said Roswell,beginning to feel a little nervous; for now that the time had come formaking his request, he felt a little uncertain how it would be received.

  "Very well," said his employer, showing a little surprise; "be quickabout it, for I want to get through."

  "I want to know if you will not be willing to raise my wages," saidRoswell, rather awkwardly.

  "On what ground do you ask for it?" said Mr. Turner, looking up.

  "I thought I might be worth more," said Roswell.

  "How long have you been in my employment,--do you remember?"

  "About four months," said Roswell.

  "Do you think you have learned enough in that time to make you worthmore?"

  "Yes, sir," said Roswell, with a little hesitation.

  "How much more would satisfy you?"

  "Two dollars more,--for the present," said Roswell, beginning to feel alittle hopeful.

  "That is six dollars a week."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And how soon would you expect another advance?" asked Mr. Turner,quietly.

  "In about six months."

  "You are quite moderate in your demands, certainly."

  There was something in Mr. Turner's tone which struck Roswell asunfavorable, and he hastily said in his own justification:--

  "There's a friend of mine, no older than I am, who gets ten dollars aweek."

  Certainly Roswell must have spoken inadvertently, or he would hardlyhave referred to Dick as his friend; but his main idea at present was toproduce an impression upon the mind of Mr. Turner.

  "Is your friend in a dry goods store?" asked Mr. Turner.

  "No, sir."

  "Then I don't see that his wages have any bearing upon your case. Theremay be some special circumstances that affect his compensation. How longhas he been in the service of his present employer?"

  "Only a week or two."

  "Is this his first place?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "It may be that he is some relative of his employer."

  "That isn't very likely," said Roswell, his lip curling. "He used to bea boot-black about the streets."

  "Indeed!" said Mr. Turner, keenly. "I think you said he was a friend ofyours."

  "No, sir," said Roswell, proudly; "I haven't the honor."

  "You certainly said 'There's a friend of mine, no older than I am, whogets ten dollars a week.'"

  "I didn't mean to speak of him as my friend," said Roswell; "I'm agentleman's son."

  "If you are, his friendship might do you no harm. If he receives thewages you state, he must be a smart fellow. If he didn't earn as much,probably he would not receive it."

  "I don't believe he'll keep his place long," muttered Roswell, his wishbeing father to the thought.

  "If he doesn't, you may be able to succeed him," said Mr. Turner. "Ishall be compelled to refuse your request. Indeed, so far fromincreasing your compensation, I have been considering during the lastweek whether it would not be for my interest to get another boy in yourplace."

  "Sir!" exclaimed Roswell, in dismay.

  "I will give you my reasons. You appear to think yourself of too greatconsequence to discharge properly the duties of your position."

  "I don't understand you, sir," stammered Roswell.

  "I believe you claim to be a gentleman's son."

  "Yes, sir," said Roswell. "My father used to keep a store on Broadway."

  "And I am led to suppose you think it incompatible with your dignity tocarry bundles to different parts of the city."

  "I would rather stand behind the counter and sell goods," said Roswell.

  "Of course you will be a salesman in time, if you stick to businessfaithfully. But it so happens that we didn't hire you as a salesman, butas a boy, whose chief business it should be to carry bundles. But wedon't want to impose a disagreeable duty upon you. Therefore, if youthink upon reflection that you would prefer not to continue in yoursituation, we will hire somebody else."

  "That won't be necessary, sir," said Roswell, considerably crest-fallen.

  "You are content, then, to remain?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And upon four dollars a week?"

  "Yes, sir. I suppose I may hope to have my wages increased some time?"

  "When we find your services worth more, you shall receive more," saidMr. Turner. "That is fair,--isn't it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then here is your money. I didn't mean to talk so long; but it's aswell to come to an understanding."

  Roswell left the store considerably crest-fallen. He found that, insteadof regarding him worth an advance of wages, Mr. Turner had had it in hismind to discharge him; and that hurt his pride. It was certainly verysingular that people shouldn't be more impressed with the fact that hewas a gentleman's son. He could not have received less deference if hehad been an ex-boot-black, like Dick himself. He certainly was no morecontented than before, nor was his self-appreciation materiallydiminished. If the world did not recognize his claims, there was onecomfort, his mother appreciated him, and he appreciated himself. As tohis cousin, he did not feel quite so certain.

  "Why are you so late, Roswell?" asked his mother, looking up from herwork as he entered. "It seems to me they kept you later than usual atthe store, even for Saturday evening."

  "I'm sick of the store," said Roswell, impatiently.

  "What's the matter?"

  "I asked old Turner to-night if he wouldn't raise my wages," saidRoswell.

  "Well, what did he say
?"

  "He said he wouldn't do it."

  "Did he give any reason?"

  "He said I didn't earn any more. He's a stingy old hunks, any way, and Iwish I was in another place."

  "So do I; but it isn't so easy to get a new position. You had betterstay in this till another offers."

  "I hate carrying bundles through the streets. It isn't fit work for agentleman's son."

  "Ah, if your poor father had lived, things would have been verydifferent with us all!" said Mrs. Crawford, with a sigh. She chose toforget that previous to his death her late husband's habits had beensuch that he contributed very little to the comfort or support of thefamily.

  "I wouldn't care if I were a salesman," continued Roswell; "but I don'tlike being an errand boy. I'd just as lives go to the post-office forletters, or to the bank with money, but, as for carrying big bundles ofcalico under my arm, I don't like it. I was walking on Madison Avenuethe other day with a ten-pound bundle, when the boot-black came up,dressed handsomely, with a gold watch and chain, and exulted over me forcarrying such a big bundle."

  There was a little exaggeration about this, for Dick was very far fromexulting over Roswell, otherwise he certainly would not have volunteeredto carry the bundle himself. But it often happens that older personsthan Roswell are not above a little misrepresentation now and then.

  "He's an impudent fellow, then!" said Mrs. Crawford, indignantly. "ThenMr. Hall won't raise your wages?"

  "It wasn't Mr. Hall I asked. It was Mr. Turner," said Roswell.

  "Didn't he hold out any hopes of raising your wages hereafter?"

  "He said he would raise them when I deserve it. He don't amount to much.He's no gentleman," said Roswell, scornfully.

  "Who's no gentleman?" inquired James Gilbert, who chanced just then toenter the room.

  "Mr. Turner."

  "Who's Mr. Turner?"

  "My employer,--Hall & Turner, you know."

  "What's amiss with him?"

  "I asked him to raise my wages to-night, and he wouldn't."

  "Umph! How much did you ask for?"

  "Two dollars more a week."

  "You're a fool!"

  "_What!_" said Roswell, astonished.

  "WHAT!" exclaimed Mrs. Crawford, angrily.

  "I say the lad's a fool to ask for so large an advance so soon. Ofcourse his employers refused it. I would, in their place."

  "You're very hard upon the poor boy!" said Mrs. Crawford. "I thought youwere his friend."

  "So I am; but he's acted foolishly for all that. He should have knownbetter."

  "I ought to be worth six dollars, if your boot-black is worth ten,"responded Roswell.

  "He isn't worth ten."

  "Why do you pay him that, then?"

  "It's Mr. Rockwell who pays him, not I. Why he does it, I can't say. Itisn't because he earns it. No boy of his age, or yours either, can earnten dollars a week."

  "At any rate he gets ten, and I get only four. I certainly earn morethan that," said Roswell.

  "I am not so sure about that," said his cousin. "But if it will affordyou any comfort, I'll venture to make the prediction that he won'tremain in Rockwell & Cooper's employment a week longer."

  "Has anything happened?" asked Roswell, eagerly.

  "_Not yet_," said James Gilbert, significantly.

  "Then something is going to happen?"

  "You need not trouble yourself to ask questions. Wait patiently, andwhen anything happens I'll let you know."

  Here James Gilbert left the room, and went up to his own chamber. Hiswords had excited hope in both Roswell and his mother. The former feltthat it would be a satisfaction to him to learn that Dick had lost hissituation, even if he failed to get it himself.