Three People Part 23

Our young man caught his breath and held it in for a moment after reading this remarkable epistle. Yes, he knew Mr. Stephens' place of business very well indeed; it was the largest and finest mercantile house in the city; and to be fairly launched forth in his employ, with a reasonable prospect of suiting him, was to be a possible millionaire.

And to think that that fearful ten-dollar bill, which had made his cheeks burn so many, _many_ times, was the means that had brought him such a letter as this. "All things work together for good to them--" Oh yes, he knew that verse, and believed it, too. But what a strange idea that Mr. Stephens should have been watching him, should have known so much about his affairs, and instinctively he ran over his life to see what things he could have done differently had he known that Mr.

Stephens was watching. Then his face flushed as he thought of the All-seeing Eye that had been fixed on him night and day; then he held his head erect, and reminded himself that whatever Mr. Stephens might have seen to condemn, G.o.d knew his heart, knew that through many failures and constant blunders he had been honestly trying to follow his guide. But how strange that Mr. Stephens should suppose him fitted for a clerkship in his store. He tried to decide what would be expected of him, what he ought to know in order to be fitted for the position.

Prices and positions of goods? About these he knew nothing, nor did his want of knowledge in this respect particularly disturb him; he knew perfectly well that he had a quick eye and a quick memory, and a remarkably convenient determination to learn everything that could be learned in as short a s.p.a.ce of time as possible. Book-keeping? How fortunate it was that he should have happened into Joe Brower's father's store just as Joe's father was giving his son a lesson in book-keeping, and that then and there had arisen _his_ determination to study book-keeping, and that he had commenced it; and at first with a little of Joe's help, and then with a good deal of his father's, and finally with no help at all, he conquered it. Then what an extraordinary thing it was that he should have gone home to tea a little earlier than usual that evening three years ago, and so surprised Winny in the act of wiping away two tears, and found that they were shed because the dear mother couldn't possibly pay for the desire of Winny's heart, namely: French lessons; and that after much discussion and ex-postulation he should have been allowed to consecrate one of the ten piles, in which he always kept his money, to French lessons, and that he had begun at first for pure fun, and ended by working hard over the lessons, Winny, on her part, laboring earnestly to repeat in the evening just what she had learned during the day, until now after the lapse of three years he knew perfectly well that while he would undoubtedly make a Frenchman wild with his attempts at p.r.o.nunciation, yet the French letter would have to be very queerly written that he could not translate, and the message an exceedingly crooked one that he could not render into smoothly written French. But how did Mr. Stephens know all these things? Well, never mind. Only, he said with energy, there are some more things that I _will_ know if I have the good fortune to get near that German clerk of his, and Winny shall have her chance at German yet.

Callers found their usually brisk host almost inattentive during the remainder of that afternoon. About five o'clock he dispatched a note, addressed "J. H. McPherson, Euclid House," and astonished and delighted his young waiter by an unusually early putting up of shutters, and of putting things generally to rights for the night. In fact, it was not more than seven o'clock when Jim McPherson arrived and found his old-time companion alone and in waiting.

"Halloo! What's up?" was his greeting.

"You received my note?"

"Yes, and have been dying of curiosity ever since to know what the 'important business intimately connected with' myself, could be about I thought at one time though, that I wasn't going to get away. All creation appeared to want to take supper with us to-night. What are you all shut up so early for?"

"Business. Jim, I have just the chance for you to get away from there."

"How?"

"Well," and then his companion launched forth in an account of his afternoon letter, and the prospects which were opening before him, and also his idea of the prospects which were opening before Jim. When he ceased, the said Jim gazed at him in silence for a moment, and then said:

"And you offer me an out-and-out partnership?"

"Out-and-out. You can come right in here and take the business just as it is, furniture and fixtures of all sorts, and from this time forth until we change our minds I'll pay half the expenses and share the profits. That is--well, there's only one proviso."

"I thought there must be something somewhere. What is it?"

"You know, Jim, this is a temperance business."

"Of course. What's your proviso?"

"You must sign the pledge."

"Stuff and nonsense."

"Very well, if that's your final answer we will drop the subject."

"But, Tode, that's perfectly silly. Can't you trust a fellow unless he puts his name to a piece of paper like a baby? I don't drink, and I won't sell rum here. What more do you want?"

"Want you to say so on paper."

"What for?"

"To gratify me perhaps. It isn't a great deal to do. If you mean what you say you can have no serious objection to doing so."

"Yes, but I have. I don't approve of signing away my liberty in that style."

"Who has been saying that to you?" asked Theodore, gravely.

"Perhaps I said it myself."

"I think not. I believe _you_, personally, have more sense."

Whereat Jim laughed and looked a little ashamed.

"No matter," he said at last, "I ain't going to sign a pledge for anybody, but I'm willing to get out of that business. I don't like making drunkards any better than you do, and I should have quit before if I could have seen any chance just on mother's account, but I never expected an offer like this."

To all of which Theodore made answer only by setting himself comfortably back in his arm-chair, pushing a fruit-basket toward his companion, and saying:

"Have a pear, Jim?"

Then the talk drifted on to pears and peaches, and divers other fruits, until Jim said:

"Come, let's talk business."

Theodore opened his eyes large, and looked inquiring.

"I thought we were done with business," he said, innocently.

"Do you really mean that you withdraw your offer unless I will sign the pledge?"

"Why certainly. I thought you understood that to be my proviso."

"But, Tode, don't you think that is forcing a fellow?"

"Not at all. You are perfectly free, of course, to do as you please. If you please to decline a good offer, merely because you won't promise not to drink what you say you don't drink, and not to sell what you say you don't want to sell, why that is your own matter, of course, and I can not help myself."

Jim mused a little.

"Well, you see," he said presently, "I do now and then take a drop of wine, not enough to amount to much, and I'm in no danger of doing it very often, for I honestly don't care much for it."

"No. What then?"

"Why, I'd have to stop that, of course, if I signed your pledge."

"Of course. What then?"

"Why, then," and here Jim broke down and laughed, and finally added: "Tode, I wish you were not such an awful fanatic about this."

"But since I am, what is to be done?"

Silence fell between the two for a time, until Jim said with a little touch of disgust:

"Tode, you're as set in your way as a stone wall."

"All right. What is the conclusion of the whole matter?"

"Oh fudge! bring on your pledge and give us a pen."

Instantly a drawer from a side table was drawn energetically out, and pen, ink, and a veritable pledge were placed before the young man. A few quick dashes of the pen, and "James H. McPherson" stood out in plain relief under the strongly worded total abstinence pledge.