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- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition by Jr. Horatio Alger (e books free to read .txt) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
“Yes, but not so much as you may imagine. I can't explain now, but you'll understand better as you go on. Now we'll go back and see if there's anything to do in the office.”
Not long afterward Harry had to come back to the Exchange again, and Grant came with him. He found something new to surprise him.
A tall man of dignified presence was walking across the floor, when a fellow member with a sly stroke sent his tall hat spinning across the floor. When the victim turned the mischief-maker was intent upon his memorandum book, and the tall man's suspicions fell upon a short, stout young man beside him. With a vigorous sweep he knocked the young man's hat off, saying, “It's a poor rule that don't work both ways.”
This led to a little scrimmage, in which a dozen were involved. The brokers, staid, middle-aged men, most of them, seemed like a pack of school boys at recess. Grant surveyed the scene with undisguised astonishment.
“What does it mean, Harry?” he asked.
“Oh, that's a very common occurrence,” said Harry, smiling.
“I never saw grown men acting so. Won't there be a fight?”
“Oh, it's all fun. The brokers are unlike any other class of men in business hours,” explained Harry. “It's one of the customs of the place.”
Just then, to his astonishment, Grant saw his employer, Mr. Reynolds, pursuing his hat, which was rolling over the floor. He was about to run to his assistance, but Harry stopped him.
“No interference is allowed,” he said. “Leave them to their fun. I used to think it strange myself, when I first came into the Exchange, but I'm used to it now. Now we may as well go back to the office.”
There is no occasion to follow the boys through the day's routine. Grant found his companion very obliging, and very ready to give him the information he needed. Many boys would have been supercilious and perhaps been disposed to play tricks on a country boy, but Harry was not one of them. He took a friendly interest in Grant, answered all his questions, and did his best to qualify him for the position he was to assume.
Before the office closed, Grant and his new friend went to the bank to make a deposit of money and checks. The deposit amounted to about twenty thousand dollars.
“There must be plenty of money in New York,” said Grant. “Why, up in Colebrook, if a man were worth twenty thousand dollars he would be considered a rich man.”
“It takes a good deal more than that to make a man rich in New York. In the stock business a man is likely to do a larger business in proportion to his capital than in the mercantile business.”
On their way back from the bank, Grant came face to face with Tom Calder. Tom was busily engaged in talking to a companion, some years older than himself, and didn't observe Grant. Grant was by no means prepossessed in favor of this young man, whose red and mottled face, and bold glance made him look far from respectable.
“Do you know those fellows?” asked Harry Becker.
“The youngest one is from Colebrook.”
“He is in bad company. I hope he is not an intimate friend of yours?”
“Far from it. Still, I know him, and am sorry to see him with such a companion.”
At four o'clock Mr. Reynolds proposed to go home. He beckoned to Grant to accompany him.
CHAPTER XI — GRANT MAKES A FRIEND
“What do you think of your first day in Wall Street?” asked Mr. Reynolds, kindly.
“I have found it very interesting,” answered Grant.
“Do you think you shall like the business?”
“Yes, sir, I think so.”
“Better than if you had been able to carry out your original plan, and go to college?”
“Yes, sir, under the circumstances, for I have a better prospect of helping the family.”
“That feeling does you credit. Have you any brothers and sisters?”
“One of each, sir.”
“I have but one boy, now nine years old. I am sorry to say he is not strong in body, though very bright and quick, mentally. I wish he were more fond of play and would spend less time in reading and study.”
“I don't think that is a common complaint among boys, sir.”
“No, I judge not from my own remembrance and observation. My wife is dead, and I am such a busy man that I am not able to give my boy as much attention as I wish I could. My boy's health is the more important to me because I have no other child.”
Grant's interest was excited, and he looked forward to meeting his employer's son, not without eagerness. He had not long to wait.
The little fellow was in the street in front of the house when his father reached home. He was a slender, old-fashioned boy in appearance, who looked as if he had been in the habit of keeping company with grown people. His frame was small, but his head was large. He was pale, and would have been plain, but for a pair of large, dark eyes, lighting up his face.
“Welcome home, papa,” he said, running up to meet Mr. Reynolds.
The broker stooped over and kissed his son. Then he said: “I have brought you some company, Herbert. This is Grant Thornton, the boy I spoke to you about.”
“I am glad to make your acquaintance,” said the boy, with old-fashioned courtesy, offering his hand.
“And I am glad to meet you, Herbert,” responded Grant, pleasantly.
The little boy looked up earnestly in the face of his father's office boy.
“I think I shall like you,” he said.
Mr. Reynolds looked pleased, and so did Grant.
“I am sure we shall be very good friends,” said our hero.
“Herbert,” said his father, “will you show Grant the room he is to occupy?”
“It is next to mine, isn't it, papa?”
“Yes, my son.”
“Come with me,” said Herbert, putting his hand in Grant's. “I will show you the way.”
Grant, who was only accustomed to the plain homes in his native village, was impressed by the evidence of wealth and luxury observable in the house
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