Alger Horatio Jr.
Sam's Chance, and How He Improved It
CHAPTER XXI.
ARRIVED IN BOSTON
At nine o'clock the train entered the Old Colony depot. As they entered, Julia began to show signs of uneasiness.
"I am afraid there will be no one here to meet me," she said.
"Then I'll see you safe home," said Sam, rather hoping that it would be necessary for him to do so.
They got out of the cars and walked slowly along, Julia scanning every face anxiously, in the hope of seeing her father or brother. But she could see no familiar face.
"They must have been at the first train, and gone home," she said, in disappointment.
"Have a carriage, sir?" asked the hackman.
"I guess you'd better take one," said Sam.
"Will you ride, too? I should be afraid to go alone."
"Yes, I will go, too," answered Sam.
"Any baggage?" asked the hackman.
"I've got a trunk," said Julia; "I got it checked."
"Give me the check, and I'll see to it."
"Shall I?" asked Julia, appealing to Sam.
"Yes, it'll be all right. How much will you charge?"
"Where do you want to be carried?"
"No. – , Mount Vernon Street," answered Julia.
"I guess that's about right," said Sam, agreeably surprised with the smallness of the charge in comparison with the extortionate demands of New York hackmen. He considered it only gallant to offer to pay the hack fare, and was glad it would not be too heavy a tax on his scanty resources.
The trunk was soon secured, and Sam and Julia entered the hack.
"It seems so good to be in dear old Boston again," said Julia, with a young girl's warmth of feeling.
"I suppose it does," said Sam, "but I never was here. I don't think the streets are as wide as they are in New York."
"Oh, we've got some wide streets," said. Julia, jealous of the fair fame of her native city. "This isn't the best part of Boston, by any means. Wait till you see the common."
"Shall we pass it?"
"I don't know," said Julia; "I guess we shall."
They did, in fact, go through a side street to Tremont, and drove alongside of the common.
"What do you think of that?" asked Julia, triumphantly.
"Is that the common?"
"Yes; isn't it pretty?"
"It's small," answered Sam. "Is it the biggest park you have got?"
"Isn't it big enough?" retorted Julia.
"It's nothing to Central Park."
"Perhaps it isn't quite as large," admitted Julia, reluctantly; "but it's got bigger trees, and then there's the frog pond. There isn't any frog pond in Central Park."
"There's a lake there."
"And then there's the Old Elm, too," continued Julia, "It was standing hundreds of years before America was discovered."
"I don't see how that can be known," said Sam, shrewdly. "Who said so?"
"It's an Indian tradition, I suppose."
"Where is it? I should like to see it."
It was pointed out; but it's appearance neither contradicted nor confirmed Julia's assertion in regard to its antiquity.
"What is that big building on the hill?" asked Sam.
"Oh, that's the State House. You can go up to the dome and see the view from there. It's grand."
"Isn't Bunker Hill monument round here somewhere?" asked Sam.
"It over in Charlestown, only about two miles off."
"I must go over there some time. I knew a boy that went up there."
"What was his name?"
The boy referred to by Sam was a bootblack named Terry O'Brien – a name which Sam conveniently forgot when questioned by Julia, as he was anxious to have her think that he had moved in good society in New York.
Mount Vernon Street was now close at hand. The hack stopped before a nice-looking swell-front house, such as used to be in favor with Bostonians, and Julia exclaimed, joyfully: "There's mother looking out of the window!"
Sam descended and helped Julia out.
"Now mind," said Julia, "you're coming in. I want to introduce you to mother."
She took out her purse to pay the driver.
"Let me attend to that," said Sam.
"No," said Julia, decidedly, "mother wouldn't like to have me. The carriage was got on my account, and I ought to pay for it."
The hackman was paid, and Julia and Sam walked up the front steps.
CHAPTER XXII.
FIRST EXPERIENCES IN BOSTON
"Mamma," said Julia, after the first greeting was over, "this young gentleman is Mr. Sam Barker, who has been very polite to me."
"I am much indebted to you, Mr. Barker," said Mrs. Stockton, cordially extending her hand, "for your kindness to my daughter."
"Oh, it's nothing," said Sam, embarrassed. "I didn't do anything."
"I met him on the boat, mamma, and he saw me on the train, and when there was nobody to meet me he came home with me in the hack."
"Your father was at the depot on the arrival of the first train," said Mrs. Stockton. "As you did not come then, he concluded you did not start yesterday afternoon. He was surprised that you did not telegraph him."
"I did come, mamma; but, would you believe it, I slept so sound I didn't hear the gong, nor Sam either. Did you, Sam?"
"We both slept pretty sound," said Sam.
"Well, Julia, I am glad you got through without accident. Have you had any breakfast?"
"Not a mouthful, mamma. I'm as hungry as a bear."
"I will have some sent up at once. Mr. Barker, I hope you will join my daughter at breakfast."
"Thank you," said Sam, not without satisfaction, for he certainly did feel frightfully hungry.
A substantial breakfast was brought up, and, unromantic as it may seem, both Sam and Julia made great havoc among the eatables.
"I don't think I ever felt so hungry in the whole course of my life," said Julia. "Did you, Sam?"
"I never did, either," said Sam, with his mouth full.
"My dear," said Mrs. Stockton, "Mr. Barker will think you very familiar. It is not the custom to use a gentleman's first name on such short acquaintance."
"I feel as if I had known Sam ever so long. He asked me to call him by his first name."
Mrs. Stockton smiled. Considering Sam's youth, she did not think it necessary to press the matter.
"Is this your first visit to Boston, Mr. Barker?" she inquired.
"Yes, ma'am."
"I hope you will like it."
"I think I shall, ma'am."
"Are you a New Yorker?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I know something of New York. In what part of the city do you live?"
Sam was rather embarrassed. He did not like to mention the unfashionable street where he had lodged.
"I boarded downtown," he answered, indefinitely; "to be near my business."
"You are young to have been in business."
"I was a clerk in a Pearl Street store," said Sam.
"Are you visiting Boston on business?"
"Yes, ma'am. I shall try to find a place here."
"I hope you may succeed."
"Thank you, ma'am."
By this time breakfast was over, and Sam rose.
"I think I'll be going," he said.
Julia did not seek to detain him. The fact was, that after her absence there were quite a number of things she wanted to do, among others to unpack her trunk.
"What hotel are you going to stop at?" she inquired.
"I haven't made up my mind," answered Sam, embarrassed. He well knew that it would be very foolish for him to engage board at a first-class hotel.
"Parker's is a good hotel," suggested Julia. "It's on School Street, not far from here."
"I would recommend a boarding-house," said Mrs. Stockton. "The Parker House is expensive, and, if Mr. Barker is going to stay for some time he may wish to get along more economically."
"I think I shall," said Sam.
"Be sure and call again," said Julia, extending her hand.
"We shall be glad to see you again, Mr. Barker," said Mrs. Stockton, cordially. "Mr. Stockton will wish to thank you for your attention to Julia."
Sam thanked her, and went out into the street. He had enjoyed a good breakfast, and been cordially received by a lady who evidently stood high socially; and these circumstances contributed to put him in good spirits.
"I like Boston," he thought. "The people take more notice of a fellow than they do in New York."
Sam was generalizing upon his very limited experience, and perhaps might be led hereafter to change his views.
"Julia spoke of Parker's Hotel," he said to himself. "I guess I'll inquire where it is, and take a look at it."
"Where is Parker's Hotel?" he asked of a boy who overtook him near the State House.
"It's on School Street. I'm going as far as Tremont Street myself, and you can come along with me," answered the boy.
"Thank you," said Sam. "I am a stranger in Boston, and don't know my way."
"Are you going to stop at Parker's?"
"I don't think I shall; I am afraid they will charge too much."
"It's pretty high-priced," said his new acquaintance.
"Do you know what they charge for a room?"
"A dollar and a half and two dollars a day – that is, for the common rooms."
"That's too much for me."
"Then you've got your meals to pay for besides."
"I shall try to find a boarding-house," said Sam. "Do you know of any?"
"There's an acquaintance of mine, a clerk, who boards on Harrison Avenue."
"Where is that?".
"Not far from Washington Street – up near the Boston and Albany depot."
"Is it near the depot where I came in from New York?"
"How did you come?"
"By the Fall River line."
"Then it isn't far away. I'll give you the number if you want it."
"I wish you would."
"Here's Tremont Street," said the guide, "and that is the Parker House."
"Thank you," said Sam.
He went into the hotel, and, ascending a short staircase, found himself in the office. On one side was a writing-room, on the other a reading-room.
"It looks like a good hotel," thought Sam. "I should like it if I could afford to stay here."
Sam went into the reading-room, and saw lying on a chair a file of a New York paper. It seemed in this strange place like a familiar friend. He was reading the local news, when some one addressed him in a nasal voice: "I say, yeou, do yeou live round here?"
CHAPTER XXIII.
SAM FINDS A ROOMMATE
Looking up, Sam's glance rested on a young man, of rustic dress and manners, which made him seem quite out of place in a fashionable hotel.
"No," answered Sam. "I am a stranger in Boston. I came from New York."
"You don't say! It's an all-fired big city, isn't it?" said the countryman.
"It is very large," said Sam, patronizingly.
"I live in the country," said the other – quite needlessly, so Sam thought – "up in New Hampshire. I've come down here to get a job."
"So have I," responded Sam, with new interest in his companion.
"Are you boardin' here?" asked the countryman.
"No; I am going to try to find a boarding-place. The prices are too steep here."
"Let me go with you," said the young man, eagerly.
Sam thought, on the whole, it would be pleasanter to have company, and accepted this proposal.
They bought a copy of the Boston Herald and picked out a list of boarding-houses which appeared to come within their means. Among these were two on Harrison Avenue. One of these was the very house which had already been mentioned to Sam by his boy acquaintance of the morning.
"Do you know your way round the city?" asked Sam of his companion.
"A little," said the other.
"Do you know how to go to Harrison Avenue?"
"Yes, I know that."
"Is it far?"
"Not very far. We can walk easy enough."
"That's all right, then. Let us go."
The two set out on their expedition, walking up Washington Street as far as Essex, and, turning there, soon entered Harrison Avenue. They beguiled the time on the way by conversation.
"What, was you calc'latin' to find to do?" asked the countryman.
"I was clerk in a store in New York," said Sam; "I'd like to get into a store here."
"So should I."
Sam privately thought him too countrified in appearance for the position he desired, but did not say so.
"Have you had any experience?" he asked, curiously.
"Oh, yes; I used to drive the wagon for a grocery store, to hum."
Sam privately doubted whether this experience would be of any particular value to his new acquaintance. However, he had not much faith in his own qualifications, and this concerned him more.
"What's your name?" inquired Sam.
"Abner Blodgett," was the reply. "What's yours?"
"Sam Barker."
"You don't say! There's a doctor in our town by the name of Barker; any relation?"
"I guess not. I never heard of a doctor in our family."
Presently they reached the number indicated. Sam rang the bell.
"You are looking for a boarding-place," he explained. "We saw your advertisement in the Herald."
"Walk in," said the servant. "I'll tell Mrs. Campbell."
Mrs. Campbell presently appeared; a shrewd-looking Scotch lady, but kindly in expression.
"You are looking for a boarding place, gentlemen?" she inquired.
"Yes, ma'am."
"I have one single room and one double one. For the single room I have eight dollars a week; for the double one fourteen, that is, seven dollars for each gentleman. Do you two gentlemen wish to room together?"
"Yes," answered Blodgett, immediately; "if you are willing," he added aside, to Sam.
"Let us look at the rooms," said Sam, "and then we can tell better."
"Walk up this way, gentlemen," said Mrs. Campbell.
She led the way first to the double room. It was a square room, the second floor back, and looked quite neat and comfortable. Sam liked the appearance of it, and so apparently did Abner Blodgett.
"Ain't it scrumptious, though?" he said, admiringly. "We ain't got many rooms like that to hum."
"I suppose you are from the country, sir?" said Mrs. Campbell, with a good-natured smile.
"Yes," said Blodgett, "I'm from New Hampshire; away up near Mount Washington."
"Let me see the single room," requested Sam.
The single room was shown; but it was, of course, much smaller, and the furniture was inferior.
"We'd better take the big room together," said Abner.
Sam hesitated a moment. He was not very particular, but he did not altogether fancy the appearance of Mr. Blodgett.
"How much do you charge for the large room for a single person?" he asked.
"I couldn't take less than eleven dollars," said the landlady.
It was, of course, impossible for Sam to pay any such sum, and he reluctantly agreed to occupy the room jointly with Mr. Blodgett.
"When will you move in?" asked Mrs. Campbell.
"To-day," said Sam.
"I must ask you to pay something in advance, to secure the room, gentlemen."
Sam had no luggage beyond a small bundle, and he answered at once,
"I'll pay a week in advance."
"Thank you, sir."
Sam handed the landlady ten dollars and received in return three.
"I'll pay you to-morrow," said Blodgett. "I've got to get the money from my cousin."
"I'll wait till to-morrow to oblige you," said the landlady, "but no longer."
"Oh, I'll have the money then," said Abner, confidently.
"Will you be here to dinner, gentlemen?"
"When do you have dinner?"
"At six o'clock. We used to have it in the middle of the day, but it was inconvenient to some of our boarders, and we changed it."
"We have dinner to hum, where I live, at noon," said Abner.
"We have lunch at half-past twelve, if you choose to come."
"I guess we will," said Abner. "We'll go out and take a walk, Mr.
Barker, and come back in time."
"Just as you say," answered Sam.
After a walk they returned to lunch. Sam was usually possessed of a good appetite, but he stared in astonishment when he saw Blodgett eat. That young man appeared to have fasted for a week, and ate accordingly.
"What's the matter with you, Mr. Barker? You don't eat nothin'," he said.
"I had a late breakfast," said Sam. "I guess you'll get your money's worth."
"I mean to. Seven dollars is an awful lot to pay for board. Up to hum they don't charge but three."
"Then I wish they'd open a branch boarding-house here."
"Suppose we go over to Bunker Hill?" said Sam, after lunch. "I want to see the monument."
"Just as you say," said Abner.
"We can ask the way."
"There's some cars go over that way, I've heerd," said Abner.
As they were walking down Washington Street a young man, rather flashily attired, stopped Blodgett, whom he appeared to recognize.
"What's in the wind now?" he asked. "Who have you got in tow?"
"It's my friend, Mr. Barker."
"How do you do, Mr. Barker?" said the young man, who appeared very much amused about something.
"How's your father, the deacon?" he inquired of Blodgett, and laughed again.
"Pretty smart," said Blodgett.
"Just give him my respects when you write, will you?"
"I won't forget,"
The new acquaintance winked, and went his way. Sam was rather surprised at his manner, and also at the fact of his countrified companion being apparently on intimate terms with a person so different in appearance.
"Who is that?" he asked.
"That's a young man from our town," said Mr. Blodgett. "He's been living in Boston for five or six years. He's got a good place in Milk Street."
"What sort of a fellow is he?"
"You don't say nothin' about it," said Abner, looking about him as if fearing to be overheard; "but I'm afraid he's a fast young man."
"Shouldn't wonder," said Sam.
"I've heard that he plays cards!" added Abner, in a horrified whisper.
"Very likely," said Sam, amused.
He had had some suspicions of his companion, occasioned by the apparent good understanding between him and the young man they had met, but this remark dissipated them. He felt amused by the verdancy of Abner Blodgett, and anticipated a good deal of entertainment from his remarks.
They took the horse cars to Bunker Hill; Sam paid the fare both ways, as his companion did not expect to have any money till tomorrow. He did not relish lending, his own stock of money being so scanty; but Abner was so confident of being in funds the next day that he did not refuse. He was interested in the view from the summit of the monument, and spent an additional hour in exploring Charlestown. When the two got back to Boston they found the afternoon well advanced and the dinner hour near.
CHAPTER XXIV.
AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE
After dinner Sam and his roommate took a walk. As they passed the Boston theater, Abner proposed going in; but Sam knew very well that the expense of both tickets would come upon him, and declined.
"I am tired," he said; "I've been walking about all day, and, besides, I got up very early in the morning. I would rather go home and go to bed."
"Lend me a dollar, and I'll go," said Abner. "I don't feel sleepy."
"Not much," answered Sam. "When you've got your money, it will be time enough to go to the theater; but if you haven't got any more than I have, you'd better not go to the theater much."
The reader may be surprised at such sensible advice proceeding from Sam; but he had begun to feel the responsibilities of life more keenly than ever before. For the first time, too, he saw how foolish he had been in the past, and felt an eager desire to win a respectable position. He was sanguine and hopeful, and felt that it was not too late to turn over a new leaf.
"All right," said Abner. "I can wait till another evening, but I thought I'd like to go to the theater, seein' as I never went there."
"Never went to the theater!" exclaimed Sam, with a gratifying sense of superiority. "I've been ever so many times in New York."
"I've been to the circus," said Abner. "There was one come round last summer to our place. Is the theater any like the circus?"
"No," said Sam; "but the circus is pretty good. I like to see it myself. You miss a good many things by living in the country."
"Did you ever live in the country?" inquired Abner.
"A good many years ago," answered Sam. "The fact is, I was born there, but I got tired of it and went to New York."
Presently fatigue overpowered Sam, and he announced his intention of returning to the boarding-house, and going to bed.
"I won't go yet," said Abner. "I'll be along pretty soon."
Sam did not lie awake long after once getting into bed. The early hour at which he had risen on the boat, and the miles he had traveled during the day were too much for him, and he sank into a dreamless sleep.
At eleven o'clock Abner Blodgett opened the door and softly entered.
He approached the bed on tiptoe, fearing to wake Sam.
"Poor fool!" he muttered, smiling disagreeably; "he thinks I am a verdant rustic, while I am able to turn him round my little finger. There's nothing about city life that I don't know. I can give him points and discount him as far as that goes, even if he has been living in New York for years. Fast asleep!" he continued, listening to Sam's regular breathing. "No danger of his waking up till morning. I may as well see what money he's got."
He coolly felt in Sam's pocket, and drew out his pocket-book, eagerly examining the contents.
"Only ten dollars and a half!" he muttered, in disappointment. "That hardly pays me for my trouble. However, it's better than nothing. Let me see if there is anything more."
But this appeared to be all the money Sam possessed, and he put it in his pocket, grumbling.
"I guess it'll be safe for me to go to bed, and sleep till near morning," Abner said to himself. "The boy sleeps soundly, and he won't be awake till six or seven."
He proved to be correct. Sam slept like a log, and was not conscious when, at a quarter of six, Abner hurriedly dressed, and left the house with all of poor Sam's available funds.
"It's a pity he payed for his board in advance," thought Abner. "I would have got seven dollars more. It's money thrown away."
Abner hoped to get out of the house without being seen by any one, but he was destined to be disappointed.
As he was slipping out of the front door the landlady herself came downstairs.
"You are going out early, Mr. Blodgett," she remarked, in some surprise.
"Yes, ma'am," said Abner. "I'm used to gettin' up early in the country. I'm goin' to take a walk before breakfast."
"Your young friend thought he wouldn't go out with you?"
"He got pretty tired yesterday. He's sound asleep."
"There's something about that man I don't like," thought Mrs. Campbell. "I don't believe he's so verdant as he pretends to be. He must pay me something on account to-day, or I won't keep him."
"Good-by old woman!" muttered Abner, as he closed the door, and entered the street. "I don't care about seeing you or your house again. I shall get my breakfast somewhere else."
Mr. Blodgett walked rapidly till he reached a shabby-looking brick tenement house not far from Dover Street. This he entered with a pass-key, and going up to a room which he generally occupied, proceeded to change his clothes for others more comfortable to city style. This alone changed his appearance greatly; but not satisfied with this, he took from a bureau drawer a black silky mustache and carefully attached it to his upper lip. Then he looked complacency in the glass, and said, with a smile: "I think my young friend from New York won't recognize me now. If we meet, and he suspects anything, I can easily put him off the scent."
Sam woke up about seven o'clock. He opened his eyes, and looked about him in momentary bewilderment, not immediately remembering where he was. As recollection dawned upon him, he looked for Abner Blodgett, but nothing was to be seen of him. The appearance of the bed, however, showed that he had occupied it.
"He has got up," thought Sam. "I wonder if it is very late."
A church clock began to strike, and he counted the strokes.
"Seven o'clock!" he said. "Well, that isn't very late, but I may as well get up. I've slept like a top all night long. I suppose I was sound asleep when my roommate came to bed. I guess he's gone to take a walk before breakfast."
Sam jumped out of bed and began to dress. As he was drawing on his pants, he thrust his hand mechanically into his pocket to feel for his money. He did so without the faintest suspicion of his loss. When he discovered that his pocket-book was not in its usual place he grew anxious and hurriedly examined his other pockets.
But in vain!
Then he looked on the floor. Possibly it might have slipped out of his pocket and be lying on the carpet. Again his search was vain.
Then, for the first time, suspicion of his roommate entered his mind. Sam was no stranger to the tricks and wiles of a large city, and he saw clearly now how he had been cheated.
"It's that skunk Abner Blodgett!" he exclaimed, indignantly. "He's regularly done me! I'll bet he's no more a countryman than I am. I just wish I had him here. I'd pound him."
Sam was indignant, but not discouraged. He did not give up his money for lost yet. He determined to seek Abner everywhere, and unmask him when found. If he did not recover his money it would not be for want of trying.
As he finished dressing the breakfast-bell rang and he went down to the dining-room.
Though he had lost his money he had not lost his appetite.
When he entered the dining-room he found himself first in the field.
"Good-morning, Mr. Barker," said the landlady. "You are early, but not so early as Mr. Blodgett. He left the house a little before six."
"Did you see him?" asked Sam, eagerly.
"Yes, and spoke with him."
"What did he say?"
"He said he was used to getting up early in the country, and was going out for a walk. Hasn't he returned?"
"No," answered Sam, "and I don't believe he will."
"What makes you say that?" asked the landlady, noticing a significance in his tone.
"I mean that he's gone off with all my money," said Sam, bluntly.
"You don't say so!" ejaculated the landlady. "Why, I thought he was more likely to be taken in himself. Wasn't he from the country?"
"That's what he said; but I don't believe it. I think he was in disguise."
"I thought he was an old friend of yours."
"I never saw him before yesterday. He came up to me in the Parker House yesterday morning."
"What wickedness there is in the world, I do declare! Did he take all your money?"
"Every cent," said Sam. "I'm glad I paid you a week in advance, or I should be badly off."
"I wouldn't have turned you out, Mr. Barker," said the landlady, kindly. "I have a hard time to get along myself, and it makes me sympathize with them that has had ill luck."
Good Mrs. Campbell was not quite grammatical, but she was kind-hearted, and that is better.
"Thank you," said Sam; "but all the same I'm glad you've got the seven dollars instead of Blodgett. I'm going to try to find him, and if I do I'll have the money back, unless he has spent it all."
"Be careful, Mr. Barker. He's stronger than you are, and he might do you some harm."
"I'll risk it," said Sam, who, with all his defects, was not wanting in courage. "I want nothing better than to come across him."
