Poor and Proud; Or, The Fortunes of Katy Redburn: A Story for Young Folks by Optic (classic books to read .txt) 📖

replied Katy, pointing to her assailant.

"Go ahead, Katy; don't mind him."

"Won't you give me some candy?" said Johnny, stepping up before her again.

"Go ahead, Katy," repeated Tommy, placing himself between her and the bully. "Don't mind him, Katy."

As she advanced, Johnny pushed forward, and made another dive at the tray, but Katy's champion caught him by the arm and pulled him away.

"You mind out!" growled the bully, doubling up his fists, and placing himself in the most approved attitude, in front of the unwhipped vassal.

"Go ahead, Katy; clear out as fast as you can," said Tommy, who, though his bosom swelled with indignation, still preserved his wonted coolness; and it was evident to the excited spectators that he did not intend to "mind out."

"Come on, if you want to fight!" shouted Johnny, brandishing his fists.

"I don't want to fight; but you are a mean, dirty blackguard, or you wouldn't have treated a girl like that," replied Tommy, standing as stiff as a stake before the bully.

"Say that again, and I'll black your eye for you."

"Once is enough, if you heard me; but I will tell your father about it."

"Will you? Just say that again."

Somehow, it often happens that bullies want a person to say a thing over twice, from which we infer that they must be very deaf or very stupid. Tommy would not repeat the offensive remark, and Johnny's supporters began to think he was not half so anxious to fight as he seemed, which was certainly true. I have no doubt, if they had been alone, he would have found a convenient excuse for retiring from the field, leaving it unsullied by a black eye or a bloody nose.

My young friends will excuse me from digressing so far as to say that, in more than a dozen years with boys, in school and out, I have never heard of such a thing as two boys getting up a fight and having it out alone. There must be a crowd of bruisers and "scallewags" around, to keep up the courage of the combatants. Therefore, those who look on are just as bad as those who fight, for without their presence the fight could not be carried through.

Tommy Howard had said all he had to say, and was therefore ready to depart. He turned to do so, and walked several steps down the alley, though he kept one eye over his shoulder to guard against accidents.

"Hit him, Johnny!" cried one of the vagabond troops that followed in the train of the bully.

"He darsen't fight," replied Johnny.

"Nor you, nuther," added another of the supporters.

This was too much for Johnny. It cut him to the quick, and he could not stand it. If he did not thrash Tommy now, his reputation would be entirely ruined.

"Darsen't I?" exclaimed he. "Come back here;" but as Tommy did not come, he ran up behind him, and aimed a blow at the side of his head.

Katy's intrepid defender, who had perhaps read in some Fourth of July oration that "eternal vigilance is the price of liberty," was not to be surprised, and facing about, he warded off the blow. Johnny's imperiled reputation rendered him desperate. He had gone too far to recede, and he went into action with all the energy and skill of a true bruiser. Tommy was now fully roused, and his blows, which were strictly in self-defense, fell rapidly and heavily on the head of his assailant. But I am not going to give my young readers the particulars of the fight; and I would not have let Tommy engage in such a scene, were it not to show up Johnny as he was, and finish the portrait of him which I had outlined; to show the difference between the noble, generous, brave, and true-hearted boy, and the little bully, whom all my young friends have seen and despised.

In something less than two minutes, Johnny Grippen, after muttering "foul play," backed out with bloody nose, as completely whipped, and as thoroughly "cowed down," as though he had been fighting with a royal Bengal tiger. His supremacy was at an end, and there was danger that some other bold fellow might take it into his head to thrash the donkey after the lion's skin had been stripped from his shoulders.

"If you are satisfied now, I'll go about my business," said Tommy, as he gazed with mingled pity and contempt upon his crest-fallen assailant.

"You don't fight fair," grumbled Johnny, who could not account for his defeat in any other way. "If you're a mind to fight fair, I'll try it again with you some time."

"I don't fight for the fun of it. I only fight when some cowardly bully like you comes at me, and I can't help myself. When you feel like whipping me again, you needn't stop to let me know it beforehand. But I will tell you this much: if you ever put your hand on Katy Redburn, or meddle with her in any way, I promise to pound you as handsomely as I know how, fair or foul, the very next time I meet you, if it isn't for seven years. Just bear that in mind."

Johnny made no reply; he was not in a condition to make a reply, and the victor in the conquest departed, leaving the bully to explain his defeat as best he could to his admirers and supporters.

"He did not hurt you—did he?" asked Katy, as Tommy joined her at the foot of the alley, where she had been anxiously waiting the result of the encounter.

"Not a bit, Katy. He talks very loud, but he is a coward. I'm sorry I had to thrash him though I think it will do him good."

"I was afraid he'd hurt you. You were very kind to save me from him, Tommy. I shall never forget you, as long as I live, and I hope I shall be able to do something for you one of these days."

"Oh, don't mind that, Katy. He is an ugly fellow, and I wouldn't stand by and see him insult a girl. But I must go now. I told Johnny if he ever meddled with you again I should give him some; if he does, just let me know."

"I hope he won't again," replied Katy, as Tommy moved towards home.

This was Katy's first day in mercantile life; it had been full of incidents, and she feared her path might be a thorny one. But her light heart soon triumphed over doubts and fears, and when she reached Washington Street, she was as enthusiastic as ever, and as ready for a trade.

CHAPTER XI. KATY MEETS WITH EXTRAORDINARY SUCCESS.

"Buy some candy?" said Katy to the first gentleman she met.

He did not even deign to glance at her; and five or six attempts to sell a stick of candy were failures; but when she remembered the success that had followed her disappointment in the morning, she did not lose her courage. Finding that people in the street would not buy, she entered a shop where the clerks seemed to be at leisure, though she did not do so without thinking of the rude manner in which she had been ejected from a store in the forenoon.

"Buy some candy?" said she to a good-natured young gentleman, who was leaning over his counter waiting for a customer.

"How do you sell it?"

"Cent a stick; it is very nice. I sold fourteen sticks of it to the mayor this forenoon. He said it was good."

"You don't say so? Did he give you a testimonial?"

"No; he gave me half a dollar."

The clerk laughed heartily at Katy's misapprehension of his word, and his eye twinkled with mischief. It was plain that he was not a great admirer of molasses candy, and that he only wanted to amuse himself at Katy's expense.

"You know what they do with quack medicines—don't you?"

"Yes, I do; some folks are fools enough to take them," replied Katy, smartly.

"That's a fact; but you don't understand me. Dr. Swindlehanger, round the corner, would give the mayor a hundred dollars to say his patent elixir is good. Now, if you could only get the mayor's name on a paper setting forth the virtues of your candy, I dare say you could sell a thousand sticks in a day. Why don't you ask him for such a paper?"

"I don't want any paper, except to wrap up my candy in. But you don't want to buy any candy, I see;" and Katy moved towards some more clerks at the other end of the store.

"Yes, I do; stop a minute. I want to buy six sticks for my children!"

"For what?"

"For my grandchildren."

"You are making fun of me," said Katy, who could see this, though the young man was so pleasant and so funny, she could not be offended with him. "I don't believe your mother would like it, if she should hear you tell such a monstrous story."

The young man bit his lip. Perhaps he had a kind mother who had taught him never to tell a lie, even in jest. He quickly recovered his humor, however, though it was evident that Katy's rebuke had not been without its effect.

"For how much will you sell me six sticks?" continued the clerk.

"For six cents."

"But that is the retail price; when you sell goods at wholesale you ought not to ask so much for them."

"You shall have them for five cents then," replied Katy, struck with the force of the suggestion.

"I can't afford to give so much as that. I am a poor man. I have to go to the theater twice a week, and that costs me a dollar. Then a ride Sunday afternoon costs me three dollars. So you see I don't have much money to spend upon luxuries."

"I hope you don't go out to ride Sundays," said Katy.

"But I do."

"What does your mother say to it?"

The clerk bit his lip again. He did not like these allusions to his mother, who perhaps lived far away in the country, and had taught him to "remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy." Very likely his conscience smote him, as he thought of her and her blessed teachings in the far-off home of his childhood.

"I will give you two cents," said the clerk.

"I can't take that; it would hardly pay for the molasses, to say nothing of firewood and labor."

"Call it three cents, then."

"No, sir; the wholesale price is five cents for six sticks."

"But I am poor."

"You wouldn't be poor if you saved up your money, and kept the Sabbath. Your mother——"

"There, there! that's enough. I will take a dozen sticks!" exclaimed the young man, impatiently interrupting her.

"A dozen?"

"Yes, a dozen, and there are twelve cents."

"But I only ask ten."

"No matter, give me the candy, and take the money," he replied, fearful, it may be, that she would again allude to his mother.

Katy counted out the sticks, wrapped them up in a paper, and put the money in her pocket. If she had stopped at the door to study the young man's face, she might have detected a shadow of uneasiness and anxiety upon it. He was a very good-hearted, but rather dissolute, young man, and the allusions she had made to his mother burned like fire in his heart, for he had neglected her counsels, and wandered from the straight road in which she had taught him to walk. If she could have followed him home, and into the solitude of his chamber, she could have seen him open his desk, and write a long letter to his distant mother—a duty he had too long neglected. We may not follow the fortunes of this young man, but if we could, we might see how a few words, fitly spoken, even by the lips of an innocent youth; will sometimes produce a powerful impression on the character; will sometimes change the whole current of a life, and reach forward to the last day of existence.

Katy, all unconscious of the great work she had done, congratulated herself on this success, and wished she might find a few more such customers. Glancing into the shop windows as she passed along, to ascertain whether there was a good prospect for her, she soon found an inviting field. It was a crockery ware store that she entered this time, and there were several persons there who seemed not to be very busy.

"Buy some candy?" said she, presenting the tray to the first person she met.

"Go home and wash your face," was the ill-natured response.

Was it possible she had come out with a dirty face? No; she had washed herself the last thing she had done. It is true her clothes were shabby, there was