The Telegraph Boy Part 28

Frank walked on, quite elated at the change in his circ.u.mstances which allowed him to give money in charity to the person who had once been his employer. He would have given it more cheerfully if in his estimation the man had been more worthy.

Frank's errand took him up Broadway. He had two or three stops to make, which made it inconvenient for him to ride. A little way in front of him he saw a boy of fourteen, whom he recognized as an errand-boy, and a former fellow-lodger at the Newsboy's Lodging-House. He was about to hurry forward and join John Riley,--for this was the boy's name,--when his attention was attracted, and his suspicions aroused, by a man who accosted John. He was a man of about thirty, rather showily dressed, with a gold chain dangling from his vest.

"Johnny," he said, addressing the errand-boy "do you want to earn ten cents?"

"I should like to," answered the boy, "but I am going on an errand, and can't spare the time."

"It won't take five minutes," said the young man. "It is only to take this note up to Mr. Conant's room, on the fourth floor of this building."

They were standing in front of a high building occupied as offices.

The boy hesitated.

"Is there an answer?" he asked.

"No; you can come right down as soon as the letter is delivered."

"I suppose I could spare the time for that," said John Riley.

"Of course you can. It won't take you two minutes. Here is the ten cents. I'll hold your bundle for you while you run up."

"All right!" said the errand-boy, and, suspecting nothing, he surrendered his parcel, and taking the note and the dime, ran upstairs.

No sooner was he out of sight than the young man began to walk off rapidly with the bundle. It was an old trick, that has been many times played upon unsuspecting boys, and will continue to be played as long as there are knavish adventurers who prefer dishonest methods of getting a living to honest industry.

In this case, however, the rogue was destined to disappointment. It may be stated that he had been present in the dry-goods store from which the parcel came, and, knowing that the contents were valuable, had followed the boy.

No sooner did Frank understand the fellow's purpose than he pursued him, and seized him by the arm.

"What do you want of me?" demanded the rogue, roughly. "I am in a hurry and can't be detained."

"I want you to give me that bundle which you are trying to steal from my friend, John Riley."

The rogue's countenance changed.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, to gain time.

"I mean that I heard your conversation with him, and I know your game.

Come back, or I will call a policeman."

The young man was sharp enough to see that he must give up his purpose.

"There, take the bundle," he said, tossing it into Frank's arms. "I was only going for a cigar; I should have brought it back."

When John Riley came downstairs, with the letter in his hand,--for he had been unable to find any man named Conant in the building,--he found Frank waiting with the parcel.

"Holloa, Frank! Where's that man that sent me upstairs? I can't find Mr.

Conant."

"Of course you can't. There's no such man in the building. That man was a thief; but for me he would have carried off your bundle."

"What a fool I was!" said the errand-boy. "I won't let myself be fooled again."

"Don't give up a bundle to a stranger again," said Frank. "I'm only a country boy, but I don't allow myself to be swindled as easily as you."

"I wish that chap would come here again," said Johnny, indignantly. "But I've come out best, after all," he added, brightening up. "I've made ten cents out of him."

CHAPTER XVIII.

A RICH WOMAN'S SORROW.

One day Frank was summoned to a handsome residence on Madison avenue.

"Sit down in the parlor," said the servant "and I will call Mrs.

Graham."

As Frank looked around him, and noted the evidences of wealth in the elegant furniture and rich ornaments profusely scattered about, he thought, "How rich Mrs. Graham must be! I suppose she is very happy. I should be if I could buy everything I wanted."

It was a boy's thought, and betrayed our hero's inexperience. Even unlimited means are not sure to produce happiness, nor do handsome surroundings prove wealth.

Five minutes later an elderly lady entered the room. She was richly dressed, but her face wore a look of care and sorrow.

As she entered, Frank rose with instinctive politeness, and bowed.

"You are the telegraph boy," said the lady, inquiringly.

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Graham looked at him earnestly, as if to read his character.

"I have sent for you," she said, at length, "to help me in a matter of some delicacy, and shall expect you not to speak of it, even to your employers."

"They never question me," said Frank, promptly. "You may rely upon my secrecy."

Frank's statement was correct. The business entrusted to telegraph messengers is understood to be of a confidential nature, and they are instructed to guard the secrets of those who make use of their services.

"I find it necessary to raise some money," continued the lady, apparently satisfied, "and am not at liberty, for special reasons, to call upon my husband for it. I have a diamond ring of considerable value, which I should like to have you carry, either to a jeweller or a p.a.w.nbroker, and secure what advance you can upon it."

"And I believed she had plenty of money," thought Frank, wondering.

"I will do the best I can for you, madam," said our hero.

Mrs. Graham drew from her pocket a small box, containing a diamond ring, which sparkled brilliantly in the sunshine.