Fame and Fortune Part 17

"Putting on airs worse than ever," replied Gilbert.

"Mr. Rockwell has a singular taste, to say the least," said Mrs.

Crawford, "or he wouldn't hire a boy from the streets, and give him such extravagant wages. To pay such a vagabond ten dollars a week, when a boy of good family, like Roswell, can get but four, is perfectly ridiculous."

"I don't believe he gets so much," said Roswell. "It's only one of his big stories."

"You're mistaken there," said Gilbert. "He does get exactly that."

"Are you sure of it?"

"I ought to be, since I received directions from Mr. Rockwell to-day to pay him that amount to-morrow night, that being the end of the week."

"I never heard of such a thing!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Crawford. "The man must be a simpleton."

"If he is, there's another besides him."

"Who do you mean?"

"Mrs. Rockwell."

"Has she made acquaintance with the boot-black, then?" asked Roswell, with a sneer.

"Yes, he visited them last evening at their house."

"Did he tell you so?"

"Yes."

"I should think they'd feel honored by such a visitor."

"Probably they did, for Mrs. Rockwell made him a present of a gold watch."

"WHAT!" exclaimed Roswell and his mother in concert.

"It's true. I sent him out to ask the time to-day, when he pulled out a new gold watch with an air of importance, and told me the time."

"Was it a good watch?"

"A very handsome one. It must have cost, with the chain, a hundred and twenty-five dollars."

"The idea of a boot-black with a gold watch!" exclaimed Roswell, with a sneer. "It's about as appropriate as a pig in a silk dress."

"I can't understand it at all," said Mrs. Crawford. "It can't be that he's a poor relation of theirs, can it?"

"I should say not. Mr. Rockwell wouldn't be likely to have a relation reduced to blacking boots."

"Is the boy so attractive, then? What does he look like?"

"He's as bold as bra.s.s, and hasn't got any manners nor education," said Roswell.

Poor d.i.c.k! His ears ought to have tingled, considering the complimentary things that were said of him this evening. But luckily he knew nothing about it, and, if he had, it is doubtful whether it would have troubled him much. He was independent in his ideas, and didn't trouble himself much about the opinion of others, as long as he felt that he was doing right as nearly as he knew how.

"Do you think this strange fancy of Mr. Rockwell's is going to last?"

inquired Mrs. Crawford. "I wish Roswell could have got in there."

"So do I, but I couldn't accomplish it."

"If this boy should fall out of favor, there might be a chance for Roswell yet; don't you think so?" asked Mrs. Crawford.

"I wish there might," said Roswell. "I'd like to see that beggar's pride humbled. Besides, four dollars a week is such a miserable salary."

"You thought yourself lucky when you got it."

"So I did; but that was before I found out how much this boot-black was getting."

"Well," said Gilbert, "he isn't a favorite of mine, as you know well enough. If there's anything I can do to oust him, I shall do it."

"Couldn't you leave some money in his way? He might be tempted to steal it."

"I don't know yet what course would be best. I'll try to get him into trouble of some kind. But I can tell better by and by what to do."

Gilbert went up to his room, and Mrs. Crawford and Roswell were left alone.

"I wish you were at Rockwell & Cooper's, Roswell," said his mother.

"So do I, mother; but it's no use wishing."

"I don't know about that. Your cousin ought to have some influence there."

"The boot-black's in the way."

"He may not be in the way always. Your cousin may detect him in something that will cause his discharge."

"Even if he does, I've tried once to get in there, and didn't succeed.

They didn't seem to take a fancy to me."

"I shouldn't expect them to, if they take a fancy to a common street boy. But when they find him out, they may change their opinion of you."

"I don't know how that will be, mother. At any rate, I think I ought to get more than four dollars a week where I am. Why, there's Talbot, only two years older than I, gets eight dollars, and I do more than he. To tell the truth, I don't like the place. I don't like to be seen carrying round bundles. It isn't fit work for a gentleman's son."

Roswell forgot that many of the most prosperous merchants in the city began in that way, only on less wages. One who wants to climb the ladder of success must, except in very rare cases, commence at the lowest round. This was what Roswell did not like. He wanted to begin half-way up at the very least. It was a great hindrance to him that he regarded himself as a gentleman's son, and was puffed up with a corresponding sense of his own importance.

The more Roswell thought of his ill-requited services, as he considered them, the more he felt aggrieved. It may be mentioned that he was employed in a dry goods store on Sixth Avenue, and was chiefly engaged in carrying out bundles for customers. A circ.u.mstance which occurred about this time deepened his disgust with the place.

About the middle of the next week he was carrying a heavy bundle to a house on Madison Avenue. Now it happened that Mr. Rockwell, who, it will be remembered, lived on the same street, had left home that morning, quite forgetting an important letter which he had received, and which required an early answer. He therefore summoned d.i.c.k, and said, "Richard, do you remember the location of my house?"

"Yes, sir," said d.i.c.k.

"I find I have left an important letter at home. I have written a line to my wife, that she may know where to look for it. I want you to go up at once."