"That' isn't a bad day's work!" said Fred.
"It's more'n I ever earned in a month before," said the young farmer.
"I declare it's paid me to come to the city."
"You are lucky! Look out for pickpockets, as they don't always give anything in exchange. Now you can afford to buy some oranges."
"Give me two five-cent oranges and a banana," said Mr. Bascom with reckless extravagance. "I guess I can afford it, now I've made fifteen dollars."
"I wish that pickpocket would rob me," said Fred smiling. "Fifteen dollars would come in handy just now," and his smile was succeeded by a grave look, for money was scarce with the little household of which he was a member.
It is time to speak more particularly of Fred, who is the hero of this story. He was a pleasant-looking, but resolute and manly boy of seventeen, who had now been for some months employed on the Erie road.
He had lost a place which he formerly occupied in a store, on account of the failure of the man whom he served, and after some weeks of enforced leisure had obtained his present position. Train boys are required to deposit with the company ten dollars to protect their employer from possible loss, this sum to be returned at the end of their term of service. They are, besides, obliged to buy an official cap, such as those of my readers who have traveled on any line of railroad are familiar with. Fred had been prevented for some weeks from taking the place because he had not the money required as a deposit. At length a gentleman who had confidence in him went with him to the superintendent and supplied the sum, and this removing the last obstacle, Fred Fenton began his daily runs. He was paid by a twenty per cent, commission on sales. It was necessary, therefore, for him to take in five dollars in order to make one for himself. He had thus far managed to average about a dollar a day, and this, though small, was an essential help to his widowed mother with whom he lived.
Just before reaching Jersey City, Joshua Bascom appealed to Fred.
"Could you tell me where to stop in York?" he asked. "Some nice cheap place?"
"I know a plain boarding-house kept by a policeman's wife, who lives near us," said Fred. "She would probably board you for five dollars a week."
"By hokey, that's just the place." said Joshua. "If you do it, I'll make it right with you."
"Never mind about that!" said Fred. "All you've got to do is to come with me. It will be no trouble."
CHAPTER III.
FRED'S RICH RELATION.
It was seven o'clock when Fred reached home. He and his mother occupied three rooms in a tenement house, at a rental of ten dollars a month. It was a small sum for the city, but as Fred was the chief contributor to the family funds, rent day was always one of anxiety. It so happened that this very day rent was due, and Fred felt anxious, for his mother, when he left home, had but seven dollars towards it.
He opened the door of their humble home, and received a welcoming smile from Mrs. Fenton, a pleasant-looking woman of middle age.
"I am glad to see you back, Fred," she said. "The days seem long without you."
"Have you brought me a picture book, Fred?" asked his little brother.
"No, Bertie, I can't bring you picture books every day. I wish I could."
"Albert has been drawing from his last book," said Mrs. Fenton. "He really has quite a taste for it."
"We must send him to the Cooper Inst.i.tute Drawing School when he gets older. Did the landlord come, mother?"
"Yes," answered Mrs. Fenton, a shade pa.s.sing over her face.
"What did he say? Did he make any fuss?"
"He was rough and unpleasant. He said he mast have his money promptly or we must vacate the rooms."
"Did he take the seven dollars?"
"Yes, he took it and gave me a receipt on account. He said he must have the balance to-morrow."
"I don't see how we can pay it. The company owes me more, but I shan't get paid till Sat.u.r.day night."
"Don't they advance it to you?"
"It is against the rule. Besides I couldn't get it in time."
"There is a lady in Lexington Avenue owing me four dollars for sewing, but when I went there today I heard that she was out of town."
"It is very provoking to be kept out of your money when you need it so much. If we only had a little money ahead, we could get along well.
Something must be done, but I don't know what."
"You might go round to Cousin Ferguson."
"I hate to ask a favor of that man, mother."
"You remember that your poor father owned a small tract of land in Colorado. When Robert Ferguson went out three months since I asked him to look after it, and ascertain whether it was of any value. As I have heard nothing from him, I am afraid it is worthless."
"I will go and ask him, mother. That is a matter of business, and I don't mind speaking to him on that subject. I will go at once."
"Perhaps he may be willing to advance a few dollars on it."
"At any rate I will go."
Robert Ferguson lived in a plain brick house on East Thirty-Ninth Street. He was a down-town merchant, and in possession of a snug competence. Mrs. Fenton was his own cousin, but he had never offered to help her in any way, though he was quite aware of the fact that she was struggling hard to support her little family. He had a son Raymond who was by no means as plain in his tastes as his father, but had developed a tendency to extravagance which augured ill for his future. He had never cared to cultivate the acquaintance of his poor cousins, and whenever he met Fred treated him with ill-concealed contempt.
It so happened that he was just leaving the house as Fred ascended the steps.
"Good morning, Raymond," said Fred politely.
"Oh, it's you, is it?"
"Yes," answered Fred briefly, for he did not like the style in which his cousin addressed him.
"What do you want round here?"
"I want to see your father."
"I guess he's busy."
"I want to see him on business," said Fred, pulling the bell.
"If you want to borrow any money it's no use. I struck him for ten dollars just now, and he only gave me two."
"Did I say I wanted to borrow any money?"
"No, you didn't say so, but I couldn't think of any other business you could have."