Tom, The Bootblack Part 15

Though our hero was occupied considerably with thoughts of Bessie Benton, he did not lose sight of the two princ.i.p.al objects he had in visiting Cincinnati. One was, to ascertain the whereabouts of his uncle, the other, to obtain something to do. His cash was low, and he must find some employment.

He consulted a copy of the city directory, which he found in the office of the hotel; but, though he found plenty of Greys, he found but one bearing the name of James Grey. This one was a carpenter, and, of course, could not be his uncle.

"He must have left the city," thought Tom. "I wonder where his place of business was? I might find out something there."

"Have you any old directories?" he asked, at the office.

"How far back?"

"Five or six years."

"We have one of six years back."

"Will you let me look at that?"

The volume was found, after some difficulty, and put in Tom's hands. He turned at once to the g's, and, to his great joy, found the name of James Grey, merchant. His place of business was also given.

"That's something," thought our hero. "I'll go there at once."

There was no difficulty in finding the street and number, but there was a new name on the sign:

WILLIAM FERGUSON.

Tom entered, and asked the first clerk he met if he could see Mr.

Ferguson.

"What's your business?" inquired the subordinate.

"With Mr. Ferguson," answered Tom, promptly.

"Wouldn't I do as well?"

"How long have you been here?"

"What do you want to know that for?"

"If you've been here five years, I'll tell you."

"I haven't."

"Then I want to see Mr. Ferguson."

"It strikes me you are a young man of some importance."

"I am glad you have found it out," said our hero, coolly. "If you're not too much pressed by important business," (the clerk was leaning back, picking his teeth), "perhaps you wouldn't mind asking Mr.

Ferguson if he will see a merchant from New York."

The clerk laughed.

"You're a hard nut to crack, young man," he said.

"Don't try to crack me, then."

The clerk went into the counting-room, and, returning quickly, told Tom he might go in.

Entering, Tom found himself in the presence of a man of about forty.

"Do you wish to see me?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I should like to ask if you know anything of Mr. Grey, who used to be in business in this place?"

"I know a good deal of them--there were two."

"I know that, sir, but one died."

"Yes--it was John Grey."

"My father."

"Your father!" exclaimed the merchant, in astonishment.

"Yes, sir."

"But I thought John Grey's son died?"

"No, sir; that was a mistake. Can you tell me where my Uncle James lives? I don't find his name in the directory."

"No; he moved away, after selling out the business to me. I was head salesman in the establishment under the brothers Grey. Now the business is mine."

"And you don't know where my uncle went?"

"He went to Minnesota, I think; but where, I cannot tell. I don't think it was to St. Paul, or to any large place."

"How long ago was that, sir?"

"About five years since. But I always supposed John Grey's son was lost. You have a strong family look, however."

"Do I?" asked Tom. "I don't remember my father."

"Where have you been all these years?"

"I will tell you, sir," said Tom, "if you have time to hear the story.

I didn't know who I was myself till a little while ago."

"Proceed. I am busy, but I have time to listen. Take a seat."

Tom told the story with which we are already familiar. Mr. Ferguson listened with strong intent. When it was finished, he said: