Alger Horatio Jr.
Rupert's Ambition
CHAPTER I.
RUPERT LOSES HIS PLACE
"Rupert, the superintendent wishes to see you."
Rupert Rollins, a tall boy of sixteen, was engaged in folding some pieces of cloth which had been shown during the day to customers. It was the principal salesroom of Tenney & Rhodes, who conducted a large wholesale dry goods house in the lower part of New York city.
"Very well, Harry," he said. "I will go at once. I wonder what he wants to see me about."
"I don't know. I hope it is to raise your wages."
"That isn't likely in these dull times, though a raise would be very welcome."
When Rupert had finished folding the pieces he was upon he left his place and knocked at the door of a small room occupied by the superintendent.
A man of about forty was seated at a desk writing.
"Mr. Frost," said Rupert, respectfully, "I hear you wish to speak with me."
"Yes; take a seat."
Rupert was tired, for he had been on his feet all day, and was glad to sink into a chair near the door.
"How long have you been in our employ?" asked the superintendent, in the quick tones habitual to him.
"Nearly six months."
"So I supposed. You are one of the last clerks taken on."
"Yes, sir."
"I am sorry, I have bad news for you. Mr. Tenney feels, in view of the dullness in business, that it will be advisable to diminish his clerical force. As you are one of the last taken on, he has selected you and a few others for discharge."
Rupert turned pale. What a terrible misfortune this would be to him he well knew. The future seemed to him dark indeed.
"I hope, sir," he said, in an unsteady voice, "that the firm is not dissatisfied with me."
"Oh, no. No indeed! I have heard only good reports of you. We shall be glad to recommend you to any other firm."
"Thank you, sir. When do you wish me to go?"
"You can stay till the end of the week."
Rupert bowed and left the room. His head was in a whirl, and he felt that a calamity had indeed fallen upon him. His wages were but five dollars a week, but this sum, small as it was, was the main support of his mother and sister, the latter a chronic invalid, only two years younger than himself. What they were to do when this small income was taken away he could not conjecture. He felt that he must look out at once for a new place.
"Well, Rupert, what business did the superintendent have with you?" asked Harry Bacon, Rupert's most intimate friend in the store.
"Only to tell me that I was discharged," said Rupert, quietly.
"Why, that's a shame!" exclaimed Harry, impetuously. "What are you discharged for?"
"Only on account of dull times. The house will give me a recommendation."
"It seems too bad you are to go. Why didn't they discharge me, too?"
"You have been here longer, and it is only those last taken on who must go. I suppose it is all right, but it is hard."
"Keep up your courage, Rupert. It isn't as if you were discharged for cause. With a recommendation from Tenney & Rhodes you ought to find another place here."
"Yes, in ordinary times, but you know business is dull elsewhere as well as with us. It isn't a good time to change places."
"Well, you'll get something else. All branches of business may not be as dull as ours."
Harry Bacon had a sanguine disposition, and always looked on the bright side. His assurances encouraged Rupert a little, and he determined to do his best to find something to do, no matter what.
At five o'clock the store closed. Retail stores kept open later, but early hours are one of the advantages of a wholesale establishment.
Rupert bent his steps towards Elizabeth Street. In an upper apartment in one of the shabby houses fronting on this thoroughfare lived his mother and sister. It was only a three-story house, and there were but two flights of stairs to ascend.
Entering the principal room, Rupert saw his mother with her head bent in an attitude of despondency over the table. Through a door he could see his sister lying uneasily on a bed in a small inner room, her face showing that she was suffering pain.
Rupert stepped forward and with tender sympathy strove to raise his poor mother from her position of despondency.
"What is the matter, mother?" he asked. "Are you not well?"
"Yes, Rupert," she answered, raising her head, "but for the moment I felt discouraged. Grace has been suffering more than usual to-day. Sickness and poverty, too, are hard to bear."
"That is true, mother," and Rupert's heart sank as he remembered that by the end of the week the poverty would become destitution.
"Grace has been unable to eat anything to-day. She thought she could eat an orange, but I absolutely didn't have money enough to buy one."
"She shall have an orange," said Rupert, in a low voice.
The sick girl heard, and her face brightened. It was an instinctive craving, such as a sick person sometimes has.
"I should enjoy an orange," she said, faintly. "I think I could sleep after eating one."
"I will go right out and get one."
Rupert put on his hat and went down stairs.
"You may buy a loaf of bread, Rupert," said his mother, as he was starting, "that is, if you have money enough."
"Yes, mother."
There was an Italian fruit vender's stall at the next corner. As he stepped out on the sidewalk Rupert took out his slender purse and examined its contents. It held but thirty-five cents, and this must last till Saturday night, when he would receive his weekly wages.
Going to the stand, he examined the Italian's stock. He saw some large, attractive oranges marked "five cents." There were some smaller ones marked three cents, but Rupert judged that they were sour, and would not please his sister. Yet five cents was considerable for him to pay under the circumstances. It represented one-seventh of his scanty stock of money.
"Won't you let me have one of these oranges for four cents?" he asked.
Nicolo, the Italian, shook his head.
"No," he answered. "It is good-a orange. It is worth more than I ask."
Rupert sighed and hesitated.
"I suppose I shall have to pay it," he said, regretfully.
He drew out his purse and took out a nickel.
"I'll take an orange," he said.
"Is it for yourself?" asked a gentle voice.
Rupert turned, and saw a tiny woman, not over five feet in height, with a pleasant, kindly face.
"No," he said, "it is for my sister."
"Is your sister sick?"
"Yes. She has taken a fancy to an orange, and I want her to have one, but—it is extravagant for one in my circumstances to pay a nickel for one."
"Would you mind," said the little woman, hesitatingly, "would you mind if I sent an orange to your sister?"
Rupert hesitated. He was proud, but not foolishly so, and he saw that the offer was meant in kindness.
"I should say it was very kind in you," he said, candidly.
The little woman nodded contentedly, and spoke a low word to the Italian.
He selected four oranges and put them in a paper bag.
"But that is too many," expostulated Rupert.
"No," answered the little woman, with a smile. "Keep the rest for to-morrow," and before Rupert had a chance to thank her she had paid Nicolo and was hurrying down the street.
The spontaneous kindness of the little woman, who was a perfect stranger, helped to cheer Rupert. He felt that there were some kind people in the world, and his trust in Providence was increased. He went to a baker's, near by, and purchased a ten-cent loaf of bread. Then he made his way back to his humble home in Elizabeth Street.
As he entered the room, the sick girl looked up eagerly. Rupert emptied the oranges on the table, and her face brightened as she saw the yellow fruit which she craved.
"Rupert, I am afraid you were extravagant," said his mother. "These oranges must have cost five cents each."
"Yes, they did."
"We cannot afford such a large purchase in our circumstances."
"They cost me nothing, mother. They are a present to Grace from a lady who met me at the stand."
"She must have a kind heart. Do you know who she was?"
"No, I never saw her before."
"The world is not all unkind. Grace, I will prepare an orange for you. I hope you will relish it."
The sick girl enjoyed the fruit, and after eating it lay back content.
"May I have another in the morning?" she asked.
"Yes, my child."
So the evening passed not wholly unhappily, but still Rupert could not help thinking of the next week, when he would be out of a position.
CHAPTER II.
OUT OF WORK
On Saturday Rupert received his last week's wages at the store.
"I am awfully sorry you are going, Rupert," said Harry Bacon. "It is a shame you are discharged."
"No, it is not a shame. It is only because business is dull that I have to go. I can't blame the firm."
Rupert ascended the stairway at his humble home in Elizabeth Street with a slow step. He felt that he could no longer conceal his discharge from his mother, and he knew what a blow it would be to her. So as he handed the money to Mrs. Rollins he said: "I have bad news for you, mother. I am discharged."
"Discharged!" repeated his mother, in dismay. "Why? What have you done?"
"There is no dissatisfaction with me. I am discharged because times are dull, and business has fallen off."
"I am glad at least that no fault is found with you, but what shall we do? Your salary was all we had to depend upon except the little I make by sewing."
"Don't be discouraged, mother. I shall start to find a place Monday morning. I am allowed to refer to the old firm."
"But—do you think there is any chance to get in elsewhere? Won't other firms be affected by the dull times?"
This was precisely what troubled Rupert, but he answered his mother cheerfully.
"To-morrow is Sunday," he said. "Don't let us think of the future till Monday morning. I am sure something will turn up. At the worst, I can earn something by selling papers."
When Monday morning came Rupert started out on his quest. He had been sent on errands to several houses in the same line, and he resolved to go from one to another in the hope of finding a vacancy.
At the first he was pleasantly received. He was recognized as coming from Tenney & Rhodes, and it was supposed he came on an errand from them. When he asked for a place the superintendent looked distrustful.
"Why do you leave Tenney & Rhodes?" he was asked.
"Because the times are dull, and they are parting with some of their clerks."
"Will they recommend you?"
"Yes. Here is a recommendation," and Rupert took a folded paper from the envelope in which he had placed it.
"That is satisfactory," said the superintendent, his face clearing, "but the same dullness which has reduced their business affects ours. So far from taking on new clerks, we may have to discharge some of those at present in our employ."
Of course there was no more to be said. Rupert visited five other firms, but in each case the answer was the same. They had no vacancy, and did not expect to have any.
It was one o'clock, time for lunch, but Rupert did not feel hungry. His anxiety had taken away his appetite. He rested for an hour on one of the benches in City Hall Park, and then started out again. He resolved now to apply for a position of any kind, since there seemed to be no opening in the business to which he had been trained.
But he met with no better success. Everywhere there were complaints of hard times.
"You are doing better than I am, my boy," said one business man bluntly.
Rupert looked about the large store in which he was standing, and said: "I don't see how that can be, sir, I am making nothing."
"And I am making less than nothing. Last month I fell behind five hundred dollars."
"I am sorry to hear it, sir," said Rupert, in a tone of sympathy.
The merchant looked at him approvingly.
"You appear to be a good boy," he said. "I wish I had a place for you. I can send you on an errand, if that will be any object to you."
"Anything, sir, will be welcome."
"Then you may take a note from me to a firm in Astor Place. Wait five minutes and it will be ready."
Rupert took a seat, and in five minutes the merchant reappeared with a sealed note.
"This is the note," he said, "and here is a quarter for taking it."
"Thank you, sir."
The sum was not large, but Rupert was pleased to think that he would earn something.
"Well," said his mother, when at five o'clock he entered the room. "Have you found a place?"
"No, mother, places seem to be scarce. Still, I have earned something."
She looked at him inquiringly.
"It isn't much—only twenty-five cents. I received it for going on an errand."
"It is better than nothing."
"Yes, it will buy our supper."
Two days more passed. They were equally barren of results. It was nearing the end of the week, and except the silver quarter Rupert had earned nothing.
Things began to look serious. But little was left of his last week's wages, and the time was coming when they would be entirely destitute. Rupert, as he passed through the business district, reflected sadly that while thousands were at work there seemed to be no place and no work for him. He was going down Chambers Street toward the Elevated station when he saw in front of him a young man, perhaps thirty years of age, whose unsteady movements seemed to indicate that he was under the influence of liquor. He came near falling as Rupert neared him.
"Can't I assist you?" asked Rupert, stepping to his side.
The young man glanced at the boy who addressed him with a look of inquiry.
"Yes," he said. "Take my arm."
Rupert did so.
"Where do you wish to go?" he asked.
"I live in Harlem—at One-hundred-and-Seventeenth Street," replied the young man. "Have you a couple of hours to spare?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then see me home. I will make it worth your while."
"I shall be glad to do so," said Rupert, cheerfully.
"I suppose you understand what is the matter with me?"
"I should think you had been drinking too much."
"You are right. I have. Shameful, isn't it?"
"Well, it isn't altogether creditable," said Rupert, not wishing to hurt the other's feelings.
"I should say not. However, it isn't quite so bad as it seems. I haven't been drinking hard, only I am so constituted that I can drink but little without its affecting me."
They had now reached the stairway leading up to the Elevated road.
"Help me upstairs, boy. What is your name?"
"Rupert."
"Very well, Rupert."
When they reached the landing the young man took his purse from his pocket.
"Pay out of that," he said.
Rupert selected a dime and bought two tickets. Then they passed the box where the tickets were to be deposited, and entered a train which had just arrived. They took seats in one corner, and the young man sat down with an air of relief.
"I feel sleepy," he said. "If I should fall asleep, wake me up at One-hundred-and-Sixteenth Street Station."
"Yes, sir."
Rupert was able now to examine his companion a little more closely. He did not have a dissipated look, and Rupert judged that he was not in the habit of allowing himself to be overcome by liquor. Indeed, he had rather a refined look. It seemed to the boy a pity that he could not resist the temptation to drink.
As they were approaching One-hundred-and-Sixteenth Street Rupert aroused his companion, who opened his eyes in a bewildered way.
"Eh? What?" he asked.
"This is where we are to get out, sir."
"Oh, yes, I remember. Let me take your arm."
With this help he got down stairs, and they turned to the left.
"It is perhaps ten minutes' walk," said the young man. "You will see me all the way home?"
"Yes, sir. Do you feel any better?"
"I can walk a little more steadily. You are sure I am not putting you out?"
"Oh, yes, sir. I have plenty of time on my hands, for I am out of work."
"Indeed! And are you poor?"
"Yes, sir."
"Don't you live with your father?"
"My father is dead. I am helping to support my mother and sister."
"Why, that is too bad!" said the young man, in a tone of sympathy. "I am out of work, too, but then I am rich."
"I am not troubled in that way," said Rupert, smiling.
"I live with my mother. I am glad she is out of the city, so that she won't see me in my present condition."
"Don't you think of working, sir? I shouldn't think you would know how to pass the time."
"I only lately returned from Europe. I may go into business after awhile. To be sure I don't need to earn anything, but if I have some steady employment I shall be less likely to disgrace myself."
"May I ask your name, sir?"
"Certainly. My name is Frank Sylvester, I hope you are not a newspaper reporter."
"Oh, no, sir," said Rupert, smiling again.
"I should not like to have this little adventure of mine get into the papers. Do you see that house yonder?"
"Yes."
"It is the one where I live. If you have a little more time to spare won't you come in and stay a short time?"
"Yes, sir, if you desire it."
They reached the house and Sylvester rang the bell.
The door was opened by a maid servant about forty years of age. She looked at Sylvester's companion curiously.
"A young friend of mine, Rachel," said the young man. "Get ready a little supper for us, will you? Some tea, cold meat and toast."
"All right, Mr. Frank."
They went into a pleasant sitting-room, where Rupert was invited to sit down.
"That was an old family servant," exclaimed Sylvester. "If you hadn't been with me she would have taken me to task, for she saw I had been drinking."
CHAPTER III.
IN A TIGHT PLACE
Presently Rachel announced tea. Sylvester had bathed his face, and thus removed some of the indications of his conviviality.
The house was handsomely furnished. The room in which the tea table was spread was particularly cozy and comfortable, and when he took his seat at the table, Rupert could not help wishing that his mother could be with him.
"What are you thinking about, Rupert?" asked Frank Sylvester, who noticed his expression.
Rupert hesitated.
"Come, tell me. I am your friend."
"I couldn't help thinking of the very different supper my mother will have."
"To be sure. You are a good boy for thinking of her. Where do you live?"
"At 117 Elizabeth Street."
Frank Sylvester took out a note book and jotted down the address.
Rachel Clark waited upon the table. Sylvester saw that her curiosity was excited about Rupert, and he decided to gratify it.
"I suppose you are wondering where I met my new friend, Rachel?" he said.
"Yes, sir."
"He met me. I had been drinking too much, and I am afraid I should have got into trouble if he had not taken charge of me."
Rachel beamed upon Rupert.
"He was very kind," she said, "but oh, Mr. Frank–"
"I know just what you are going to say, Rachel," said Sylvester, good-humoredly. "I am going to have Rupert come and see me often, and he will help keep me straight. And by the way, Rachel, his mother is poor, and I want you to put up some cold meat and other nice things in a basket. I will send them to her."
"I shall be very glad to do so, Mr. Frank."
"You will stand high in Rachel's good graces, Rupert," said Sylvester, as she left the room. "She thinks everything of me, and evidently believes I am safe in your company. Suppose I make you my guardian?"
"I am afraid you wouldn't look up to me with the proper respect, Mr. Sylvester."
"Then for respect we will substitute attachment. Now tell me a little about yourself. How does it happen that you are out of a place?"
"It's the dull times, Mr. Sylvester. I was in the employ of Tenney & Rhodes."
"I know the firm."
"And they would have retained me if business had been good, but I was laid off on Saturday."
"What wages did they pay you?"
"Five dollars a week."
"And you lived on that?"
"We tried to."
"While I have had and wasted large sums of money. If I were in business I would give you a place. As it is, I will see if any of my friends want a clerk."
When supper was over, Rupert said he must go.
"Won't you stay the evening?" asked his new friend. "At least wait a few minutes. Rachel is putting up a basket for you."
The servant presently appeared with a basket neatly covered with a napkin.
"Perhaps I had better send it by an expressman, Rupert."
"Oh, no, sir. I shall be glad to carry it myself. It will be very acceptable at home."
As Rupert lifted it, Sylvester took from his pocket the purse from which Rupert had paid the car fare and handed it to him.
"Accept it," he said, "in return for your friendly services."
"You are paying me too liberally, Mr. Sylvester."
"Let me judge of that."
In the street Rupert did not wait to examine the purse. It was growing late, and he was in haste to get home. He feared that his mother might feel anxious about him, and he made his way as quickly as possible to the nearest Elevated station.
The train was only partly full, and Rupert found a seat near the door. He placed the basket on the floor in front of him.
Next to him sat a young woman rather showily dressed. Rupert casually took out the purse which had just been given him with the intention of examining the contents, but it occurred to him that he might find a more suitable place than an Elevated car, and he put it back again. His actions had, however, been noticed by the girl at his side.
At Fiftieth Street she rose to leave the car, but had not quite reached the door when she put her hand into her pocket and uttered a cry.
"I have been robbed," she exclaimed.
"Of what have you been robbed?" asked the guard.
"Of a purse."
"Where were you sitting?"
"Just here."
"Do you suspect anyone of taking your purse?"
"Yes, this boy took it. I am almost sure of it."
As she spoke she pointed to Rupert, who flushed with indignation.
"It is false," he said.
"If you don't believe me," said the girl, "search him. I am sure he has the purse in his pocket."
"What kind of a purse was it?" asked a quiet-looking man, sitting on the opposite side.
"It was a morocco purse," and the girl described the purse Rupert had in his pocket.
"Young man we will have to search you," said the guard. "If you have a purse in your pocket, produce it."
Rupert did so mechanically.
"There!" said the girl, triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you? Give it to me and I won't say anything more about it."
"I can't do that," said Rupert, sturdily, "for it belongs to me."
"What barefaced depravity!" groaned a severe-looking old lady opposite. "And so young, too."
"You're right, ma'am. It's shocking," said the girl. "I didn't think he'd go to do it, but you can't tell from appearances."
"Young man, you'd better give up the purse," said the guard, who was quite deceived by the young woman's assurance.
"No, sir!" said Rupert, pale but resolute. "The purse is mine, and I will keep it."
"Did you ever hear the like!" said the girl. "You'd better call an officer. I did mean to get off here, but I'll stay till I get my purse."
"Stop a minute," said the quiet-looking man opposite. "How much money was there in the purse you say the boy took from you?"
"I can't rightly say," repeated the girl, hesitating.
"You can give some idea."
"Well, there was a little over two dollars in silver change."
"My boy," said the new actor in the scene, "will you trust me with the purse while I ascertain whether this young woman is correct."
"Yes, sir," answered Rupert, who felt confidence in the good will of his new acquaintance.
The lawyer, for he was one, opened the purse, and his eye lighted up, as he looked inside.
"Did you say there was as much as five dollars in the purse?" he asked.
"No, sir, there wasn't as much as that," answered the girl, positively.
The lawyer nodded as if a suspicion were verified.
"Then the purse isn't yours," he said.
"There may have been more," said the girl, finding she had made a mistake. "Yes, I remember now there was, for my sister paid me back some money she was owing me."
"That won't do," said the lawyer, quietly. "The purse isn't yours."
"If it isn't hers," said the old lady sharply, "how did she happen to describe it so exactly?" and she looked round triumphantly.
"I could have described it just as accurately," returned the lawyer.
"You're smart!" said the severe-looking old lady, with a sneer.
"Not at all. Soon after the boy got in the car he took out the purse, so that anyone could see it. The person who charges him with taking it from her saw it in his hands, and scrutinized it closely. I understand now the object she had in doing so."
"It's a shame," said the girl, with a last desperate effort at imposition. "It's a shame that a poor girl should be robbed, and a gentleman like you," she added spitefully, "should try to protect the thief."
"So I say," put in the old lady, frowning severely at Rupert. "I don't know who you are, young woman, but I advise you to call an officer and have the young scamp arrested."
Rupert felt uneasy, for he knew that in an arrest like this he might not be able to clear himself.
"Why don't you ask the boy how much money there is in the purse?" continued the old lady.
"Well thought of. My boy, can you tell me what the purse contains?"
Rupert colored. He saw at once that he was in a tight place. He wished now that he had examined the purse when he left the house in Harlem.
"No," he answered. "I do not know."
"Didn't I tell you?" cried the old lady, venomously.
Even the lawyer looked surprised.
"How is it that you can't tell, if the purse is yours?" he asked.
"Because, sir, it was given me this evening by a gentleman in Harlem, and I have not yet had time to examine it."
"Your story may be true," said the lawyer, "but it does not seem probable."
"Oho!" the old lady said, "the boy owns up that he is a thief. If he didn't get it from this young woman he stole it from a man in Harlem."
Rupert glanced from one to the other, and he realized that things looked dark for him.
