The Cash Boy Part 14

"That boy is in the way," she said to herself, when she was left alone. "He is in my way, and Tom's way. I can see that he is artfully intriguing for Mr. Wharton's favor, but I must checkmate him. It's odd,"

she resumed, after a pause, "but there is something in his face and voice that seems familiar to me. What is it?"

The following evening the housekeeper received another visit from her nephew.

"How do, aunt?" said Thomas Bradley, carelessly, as he entered the housekeeper's room.

"Very well, thank you, Thomas. I am glad you are here. I have been wanting to see you."

"The old man isn't going to do anything for me, is he?"

"How can you expect it so soon? He doesn't know you yet. How much do you think he pays the cash-boy that reads to him in the evening?"

"I don't know."

"Five dollars a week."

"I wouldn't give up my evenings for that," he said.

"It isn't so much the pay, Thomas, though that would be a help. He might take a fancy to you."

"That might pay better. When are you going to introduce me?"

"This evening; that is, I will ask Mr. Wharton if he will see you."

Mrs. Bradley entered the library, where Frank was engaged in reading aloud.

"Excuse my interruption," she said; "but my nephew has just called, and I should like to introduce him to you, if you will kindly receive him."

"Certainly, Mrs. Bradley," said Mr. Wharton. "Bring him in."

The housekeeper left the room, but speedily reappeared, followed by her nephew, who seemed a little abashed.

"My nephew, Thomas Bradley, Mr. Wharton," said his aunt, by way of introduction. "You have often heard me speak of Mr. Wharton, Thomas."

"How do you do, sir?" said Thomas awkwardly.

"Pray take a seat, Mr. Bradley. Your aunt has been long a member of my family. I am glad to see a nephew of hers. I believe you are a salesman at Gilbert & Mack's?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you must know my young friend here?" pointing to Frank.

"How are you, Cash?" said Thomas, laughing, under the impression that he had said something smart.

"Very well, Mr. Bradley," answered Frank, quietly.

"You see, that's all the name we call 'em in the store," said Thomas.

Mr. Wharton could not help thinking:

"How poorly this young man compares with my young friend. Still, as he is Mrs. Bradley's nephew, I must be polite to him."

"Are there many cash-boys in your establishment, Mr. Bradley?"

"About a dozen. Ain't there, Fowler?"

"I believe so, Mr. Bradley."

"Gilbert & Mack do a good business, I should judge."

"Yes, they do; but that doesn't do us poor salesmen much good. We get just enough to keep soul and body together."

"I am sorry to hear it," said Mr. Wharton.

"Why, sir," said Thomas, gaining confidence, "all they pay me is twelve dollars a week. How can they expect a fellow to live on that?"

"I began my career about your age," said Mr. Wharton, "or perhaps a little younger, and had to live on but six dollars a week."

"Didn't you come near starving?" he asked.

"On the contrary, I saved a little every week."

"I can't," said Thomas, a little discomfited. "Why, it takes half that to dress decently."

Mr. Wharton glanced quietly at the rather loud and flashy dress worn by his visitor, but only said:

"A small salary, of course, makes economy necessary."

"But when a fellow knows he earns a good deal more than he gets, he doesn't feel like starving himself just that his employers may grow rich."

"Of course, if he can better himself they cannot object."

"That's just what I want to do," said Thomas; "but I expect I need influence to help me to something better. That's a good hint," thought he.

"I was telling Thomas," said the housekeeper, "that you had kindly expressed a desire to be of service to him."

"I am not now in active business," said Mr. Wharton, "and of course have not the opportunities I formerly had for helping young men, but I will bear your case in mind, Mr. Bradley."

"Thank you, sir," said Thomas. "I am sure I earn a thousand dollars a year."

"I think, Thomas," said Mrs. Bradley, "we won't intrude on Mr. Wharton longer this evening. When he finds something for you he will tell me."

"All right, aunt. Good-night, Mr. Wharton. Good-night, Cash," said Thomas, chuckling anew at the old joke.