Alger Horatio Jr.
Bound to Rise; Or, Up the Ladder
CHAPTER XIII. AN INVITATION DECLINED
The summer passed quickly, and the time arrived for Robert Leavitt to go to the city. By this time Harry was well qualified to take his place. It had not been difficult, for he had only been required to peg, and that is learned in a short time. Harry, however, proved to be a quick workman, quicker, if anything, than Robert, though the latter had been accustomed to the work for several years. Mr. Leavitt was well satisfied with his new apprentice, and quite content to pay him the three dollars a week agreed upon. In fact, it diminished the amount of cash he was called upon to pay.
"Good-by, Harry," said Robert, as he saw the coach coming up the road, to take him to the railroad station.
"Good-by, and good luck!" said Harry.
"When you come to the city, come and see me."
"I don't think I shall be going very soon. I can't afford it."
"You must save up your wages, and you'll have enough soon."
"I've got another use for my wages, Bob."
"To buy cigars?"
Harry shook his head. "I shall save it up to carry home."
"Well, you must try to make my place good in the shop."
"He can do that," said Mr. Leavitt, slyly; "but there's one place where he can't equal you."
"Where is that?"
"At the dinner table."
"You've got me there, father," said Bob, good-naturedly. "Well, good-by all, here's the stage."
In a minute more he was gone. Harry felt rather lonely, for he had grown used to working beside him. But his spirits rose as he reflected that the time had now come when he should be in receipt of an income. Three dollars a week made him feel rich in anticipation. He looked forward already with satisfaction to the time when he might go home with money enough to pay off his father's debt to Squire Green. But he was not permitted to carry out his economical purpose without a struggle.
On Saturday evening, after he had received his week's pay, Luke Harrison, who worked in a shop near by, met him at the post office.
"Come along, Harry," he said. "Let us play a game of billiards."
"You must excuse me," said Harry.
"Oh, come along," said Luke, taking him by the arm; "it's only twenty-five cents."
"I can't afford it."
"Can't afford it! Now that's nonsense. You just changed a two-dollar note for those postage stamps."
"I know that; but I must save that money for another purpose."
"What's the use of being stingy, Harry? Try one game."
"You can get somebody else to play with you, Luke."
"Oh, hang it, if you care so much for a quarter, I'll pay for the game myself. Only come and play."
Harry shook his head.
"I don't want to amuse myself at your expense."
"You are a miser," said Luke, angrily.
"You can call me so, if you like," said Harry, firmly; "but that won't make it so."
"I don't see how you can call yourself anything else, if you are so afraid to spend your money."
"I have good reasons."
"What are they?"
"I told you once that I had another use for the money."
"To hoard away in an old stocking," said Luke, sneering.
"You may say so, if you like," said Harry, turning away.
He knew he was right, but it was disagreeable to be called a miser. He was too proud to justify himself to Luke, who spent all his money foolishly, though earning considerably larger wages than he.
There was one thing that Harry had not yet been able to do to any great extent, though it was something he had at heart. He had not forgotten his motto, "Live and Learn," and now that he was in a fair way to make a living, he felt that he had made no advance in learning during the few weeks since he arrived in Glenville.
The day previous he had heard, for the first time, that there was a public library in another part of the town, which was open evenings. Though it was two miles distant, and he had been at work all day, he determined to walk up there and get a book. He felt that he was very ignorant, and that his advance in the world depended upon his improving all opportunities that might present themselves for extending his limited knowledge. This was evidently one.
After his unsatisfactory interview with Luke, he set out for the upper village, as it was called. Forty minutes' walk brought him to the building in which the library was kept. An elderly man had charge of it—a Mr. Parmenter.
"Can I take out a book?" asked Harry.
"Do you live in town?"
"Yes, sir."
"I don't remember seeing you before. You don't live in this village, do you?"
"No, sir. I live in the lower village."
"What is your name?"
"Harry Walton."
"I don't remember any Walton family."
"My father lives in Granton. I am working for Mr. James Leavitt."
"I have no doubt this is quite correct, but I shall have to have Mr. Leavitt's certificate to that effect, before I can put your name down, and trust you with books."
"Then can't I take any book to-night?" asked Harry, disappointed.
"I am afraid not."
So it seemed his two-mile walk was for nothing. He must retrace his steps and come again Monday night.
He was turning away disappointed when Dr. Townley, of the lower village, who lived near Mr. Leavitt, entered the library.
"My wife wants a book in exchange for this, Mr. Parmenter," he said. "Have you got anything new in? Ah, Harry Walton, how came you here? Do you take books out of the library?"
"That's is what I came up for, but the librarian says I must bring a line from Mr. Leavitt, telling who I am."
"If Dr. Townley knows you, that is sufficient," said the librarian.
"He is all right, Mr. Parmenter. He is a young neighbor of mine."
"That is enough. He can select a book."
Harry was quite relieved at this fortunate meeting, and after a little reflection selected the first volume of "Rollin's Universal History," a book better known to our fathers than the present generation.
"That's a good, solid book, Harry," said the doctor.
"Most of our young people select stories."
"I like stories very much," said Harry; "but I have only a little time to read, and I must try to learn something."
"You are a sensible boy," said the doctor, emphatically.
"I'm afraid there are few of our young people who take such wise views of what is best for them. Most care only for present enjoyment."
"I have got my own way to make," said Harry, "and I suppose that is what influences me. My father is poor and cannot help me, and I want to rise in the world."
"You are going the right way to work. Do you intend to take out books often from the library?"
"Yes, sir."
"It will be a long walk from the lower village."
"I would walk farther rather than do without the books."
"I can save you at any rate from walking back. My chaise is outside, and, if you will jump in, I will carry you home."
"Thank you, doctor. I shall be very glad to ride."
On the way, Dr. Townley said: "I have a few miscellaneous book in my medical library, which I will lend to you with pleasure, if you will come in. It may save you an occasional walk to the library."
Harry thanked him, and not long afterwards availed himself of the considerate proposal. Dr Townley was liberally educated, and as far as his professional engagements would permit kept up with general literature. He gave Harry some valuable directions as to the books which it would benefit him to read, and more than once took him up on the road to the library.
Once a week regularly Harry wrote home. He knew that his letters would give pleasure to the family, and he never allowed anything to interfere with his duty.
His father wrote: "We are getting on about as usual. The cow does tolerably well, but is not as good as the one I lost. I have not yet succeeded in laying up anything toward paying for her. Somehow, whenever I have a few dollars laid aside Tom wants shoes, or your sister wants a dress, or some other expense swallows it up."
Harry wrote in reply: "Don't trouble yourself, father, about your debt to Squire Green. If I have steady work, and keep my health, I shall have enough to pay it by the time it comes due."
CHAPTER XIV. THE TAILOR'S CUSTOMER
At the end of six weeks from the date of Robert's departure, Harry had been paid eighteen dollars. Of this sum he had spent but one dollar, and kept the balance in his pocketbook. He did not care to send it home until he had enough to meet Squire Green's demand, knowing that his father would be able to meet his ordinary expenses. Chiefly through the reports of Luke Harrison he was acquiring the reputation of meanness, though, as we know, he was far from deserving it.
"See how the fellow dresses," said Luke, contemptuously, to two of his companions one evening. "His clothes are shabby enough, and he hasn't got an overcoat at all. He hoards his money, and is too stingy to buy one. See, there he comes, buttoned to the chin to keep warm, and I suppose he has more money in his pocketbook than the whole of us together. I wouldn't be as mean as he is for a hundred dollars."
"You'd rather get trusted for your clothes than do without them," said Frank Heath, slyly; for he happened to know that Luke had run up a bill with the tailor, about which the latter was getting anxious.
"What if I do," said Luke, sharply, "as long as I am going to pay for them?"
"Oh, nothing," said Frank. "I didn't say anything against it, did I? I suppose you are as able to owe the tailor as anyone."
By this time, Harry had come up.
"Where are you going, Walton?" asked Luke. "You look cold."
"Yes, it's a cold day."
"Left your overcoat at home, didn't you?"
Harry colored. The fact was, he felt the need of an overcoat, but didn't know how to manage getting one. At the lowest calculation, it would cost all the money he had saved up for one, and the purchase would defeat all his plans. The one he had worn at home during the previous winter was too small for him, and had been given to his brother.
"If I only could get through the winter without one," he thought, "I should be all right." But a New England winter is not to be braved with impunity, useless protected by adequate clothing. Luke's sneer was therefore not without effect. But he answered, quietly: "I did not leave it at home, for I have none to leave."
"I suppose you are bound to the tailor's to order one."
"What makes you think so?" asked Harry.
"You are not such a fool as to go without one when you have money in your pocket, are you?"
"You seem very curious about my private affairs," said Harry, rather provoked.
"He's only drumming up customers for the tailor," said Frank Heath. "He gets a commission on all he brings."
"That's the way he pays his bill," said Sam Anderson.
"Quit fooling, boys," said Luke, irritated. "I ain't a drummer. I pay my bills, like a gentleman."
"By keeping the tailor waiting," said Frank.
"Quit that!"
So attention was diverted from Harry by this opportune attack upon Luke, much to our hero's relief. Nevertheless, he saw, that in order to preserve his health, he must have some outer garment, and in order the better to decide what to do, he concluded to step into the tailor's, and inquire his prices.
The tailor, Merrill by name, had a shop over the dry goods store, and thither Harry directed his steps. There was one other person in the shop, a young fellow but little larger than Harry, though two years older, who was on a visit to an aunt in the neighborhood, but lived in Boston. He belonged to a rich family, and had command of considerable money. His name was Maurice Tudor. He had gone into the shop to leave a coat to be repaired.
"How are you, Walton?" he said, for he knew our hero slightly.
"Pretty well. Thank you."
"It's pretty cold for October."
"Yes, unusually so."
"Mr. Merrill," said Harry, "I should like to inquire the price of an overcoat. I may want to order one by and by."
"What sort of one do you want—pretty nice?"
"No, I can't afford anything nice—something as cheap as possible."
"This is the cheapest goods I have," said the tailor, pointing to some coarse cloth near by.
"I can make you up a coat from that for eighteen dollars."
"Eighteen dollars!" exclaimed Harry, in dismay. "Is that the cheapest you have?"
"The very cheapest."
After a minute's pause he added, "I might take off a dollar for cash. I've got enough of running up bills. There's Luke Harrison owes me over thirty dollars, and I don't believe he means to pay it al all."
"If I buy, I shall pay cash," said Harry, quietly.
"You can't get anything cheaper than this." said the tailor.
"Very likely not," said Harry, soberly. "I'll think about it, and let you know if I decide to take it."
Maurice Tudor was a silent listener to this dialogue. He saw Harry's sober expression, and he noticed the tone in which he repeated "eighteen dollars," and he guessed the truth. He lingered after Harry went out, and said:
"That's a good fellow."
"Harry Walton?" repeated the tailor. "Yes, he's worth a dozen Luke Harrisons."
"Has he been in the village long?"
"No, not more than two or three months. He works for Mr. Leavitt."
"He is rather poor, I suppose."
"Yes. The boys call him mean; but Leavitt tells me he is saving up every cent to send to his father, who is a poor farmer."
"That's a good thing in him."
"Yes, I wish I could afford to give him and overcoat. He needs one, but I suppose seventeen dollars will come rather hard on him to pay. If it was Luke Harrison, it wouldn't trouble him much."
"You mean he would get it on tick."
"Yes, if he found anybody fool enough to trust him. I've done it as long as I'm going to. He won't get a dollar more credit out of me till he pays his bill."
"You're perfectly right, there."
"So I think. He earns a good deal more than Walton, but spends what he earns on billiards, drinks and cigars."
"There he comes up the stairs, now."
In fact, Luke with his two companions directly afterwards entered the shop.
"Merrill," said he, "have you got in any new goods? I must have a new pair of pants."
"Yes, I've got some new goods. There's a piece open before you."
"It's a pretty thing, Merrill," said Luke, struck by it; "what's your price for a pair off of it?"
"Ten dollars."
"Isn't that rather steep?"
"No; the cloth is superior quality."
"Well, darn the expense. I like it, and must have it. Just measure me, will you?"
"Are you ready to pay the account I have against you?"
"How much is it?"
The tailor referred to his books.
"Thirty-two dollars and fifty cents," he answered.
"All right, Merrill. Wait till the pants are done, and I'll pay the whole at once."
"Ain't my credit good?" blustered Luke.
"You can make it good," said the tailor, significantly.
"I didn't think you'd make such a fuss about a small bill."
"I didn't think you'd find is so difficult to pay a small bill," returned the tailor.
Luke looked discomfited. He was silent a moment, and then changed his tactics.
"Come, Merrill," he said, persuasively; "don't be alarmed. I'm good for it, I guess. I haven't got the money convenient to-day. I lent fifty dollars. I shall have it back next week and then I will pay you."
"I am glad to hear it," said Merrill.
"So just measure me and hurry up the pants."
"I'm sorry but I can't till you settle the bill."
"Look here, has Walton been talking against me?"
"No; what makes you think so?"
"He don't like me, because I twitted him with his meanness."
"I don't consider him mean."
"Has he ever bought anything of you?"
"No."
"I knew it. He prefers to go ragged and save his money."
"He's too honorable to run up a bill without paying it."
"Do you mean me?" demanded Luke, angrily.
"I hope not. I presume you intend to pay your bills."
Luke Harrison left the shop. He saw that he exhausted his credit with Merrill. As to paying the bill, there was not much chance of that at present, as he had but one dollar and a half in his pocket.
CHAPTER XV. "BY EXPRESS"
"There's a model for you," said the tailor to Maurice Tudor. "He won't pay his bills."
"How did you come to trust him in the first place?"
"I didn't know him then as well as I do now. I make it a practice to accommodate my customers by trusting them for a month or two, if they want it. But Luke Harrison isn't one to be trusted."
"I should say not."
"If young Walton wants to get an overcoat on credit, I shan't object. I judge something by looks, and I am sure he is honest."
"Well, good night, Mr. Merrill. You'll have my coat done soon?"
"Yes, Mr. Tudor. It shall be ready for you to-morrow."
Maurice Tudor left the tailor's shop, revolving a new idea which had just entered his mind. Now he remembered that he had at home and excellent overcoat which he had worn the previous winter, but which was now too small for him. He had no younger brother to wear it, nor in his circumstances was such economy necessary. As well as he could judge by observing Harry's figure, it would be an excellent fit for him. Why should he not give it to him?
The opportunity came. On his way home he overtook our hero, plunged in thought. In fact, he was still occupied with the problem of the needed overcoat.
"Good evening, Harry," said young Tudor.
"Good evening, Mr. Tudor," answered Harry. "Are you going back to the city soon?"
"In the course of a week or two. Mr. Leavitt's son is in a store in Boston, is he not?"
"Yes. I have taken his place in the shop."
"By the way, I saw you in Merrill's this evening."
"Yes; I was pricing an overcoat."
"I bought this one in Boston just before I came away. I have a very good one left from last winter but it is too small for me. It is of no use to me. If I thought you would accept it, I would offer it to you."
Harry's heart gave a joyful bound.
"Accept it!" he repeated. "Indeed I will and thank you for your great kindness."
"Then I will write home at once to have it sent to me. I also have a suit which I have outgrown; if you wouldn't be too proud to take it."
"I am not so foolish. It will be a great favor."
"I thought you would take it right," said Maurice, well pleased. "I will also send for the suit. I will get my mother to forward them by express."
"They will be as good as money to me," said Harry; "and that is not very plenty with me."
"Will you tell me something of your circumstances? Perhaps I may have it in my power to help you."
Harry, assured of his friendly interest, did not hesitate to give him a full account of his plans in life, and especially of his desire to relieve his father of the burden of poverty. His straightforward narrative made a very favorable impression upon Maurice, who could not help reflecting: "How far superior this boy is to Luke Harrison and his tribe!"
"Thank you for telling me all this," he said. "It was not from mere curiosity that I asked."
"I am sure of that," said Harry. "Thanks to your generosity, I shall present a much more respectable appearance, besides being made more comfortable."
Three days later a large bundle was brought by the village expressman to Mr. Leavitt's door.
"A bundle for you, Walton," said the expressman, seeing Harry in the yard.
"What is there to pay?" he asked.
"Nothing. It was prepaid in the city?"
Harry took it up to his room and opened it eagerly. First came the promised overcoat. It was of very handsome French cloth, with a velvet collar, and rich silk facings, far higher in cost than any Mr. Merrill would have made for him. It fitted as if it had been made for him. Next came, not one, but two complete suits embracing coat, vest and pants. One of pepper-and-salt cloth, the other a dark blue. These, also, so similar was he in figure to Maurice, fitted him equally well. The clothes which he brought with from form Granton were not only of coarse material but were far from stylish in cut, whereas these garments had been made by a fashionable Boston tailor and set off his figure to much greater advantage.
"I wonder what Luke Harrison will say?" said our hero to himself, smiling, as he thought of the surprise of Luke at witnessing his transformation.
"I've a great mind to keep these on to-night," he said.
"Perhaps I shall meet Luke. He won't have anything more to say about my going without an overcoat."
After supper Harry, arrayed in his best suit and wearing the overcoat, walked down tot he center of the village.
Luke was standing on the piazza of the tavern.
"Luke, see how Walton is dressed up!" exclaimed Frank Heath, who was the first to see our hero.
"Dressed up!" repeated Luke, who was rather shortsighted. "That would be a good joke."
"He's got a splendid overcoat," continued Frank.
"Where'd he get it? Merrill hasn't been making him one."
"It's none of Merrill's work. It's too stylish for him."
By this time Harry had come within Luke's range of vision. The latter surveyed him with astonishment and it must be confessed, with disappointment; for he had been fond of sneering at Harry's clothes, and now the latter was far better dressed than himself.
"Where did you get that coat, Walton?" asked Luke, the instant Harry came up.
"Honestly," said Harry, shortly.
"Have you got anything else new?"
Harry opened his coat and displayed the suit.
"Well, you are coming out, Walton, that's a fact," said Frank Heath. "That's a splendid suit."
"I thought you couldn't afford to buy a coat," said Luke.
"You see I've got one," answered Harry.
"How much did it cost?"
"That's a secret."
Here he left Luke and Frank.
"Well, Luke, what do you say to that?" said Frank Heath.
Luke said nothing. He was astonished and unhappy. He had a fondness for dress and spent a good share of his earnings upon it, paying where he must, and getting credit besides where he could. But he had never had so stylish a suit as this and it depressed him.
