Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune by Jr. Horatio Alger (booksvooks txt) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune by Jr. Horatio Alger (booksvooks txt) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
“Humph! so he gave you a dollar. Why didn’t you take it and stay with them?”
“Because he gave it to me expressly for the theater. It would have looked strange if I had stayed with them after all.”
“I would have found a way, but you are not smart.”
Felix did not make any reply, being content with having deceived his cousin as to Mr. Perkins’ gift.
“I say, Cousin David, aren’t you going to bounce that boy pretty quick and give me his place?”
“Yes, as soon as I get a good excuse.”
“Will you do it to-day?”
“No; it would look strange. You may be sure I won’t keep him long.”
At this point Chester came into the office and was surprised to see Mr. Mullins and Felix already there. Usually the bookkeeper did not show up till half an hour later.
“Good-morning,” said Mullins, smoothly. “Did you dine with Mr. Perkins last evening?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I suppose you went to the theater?”
“No; Mr. Perkins preferred to take a walk, as he has not been in New York since he was a boy. Did you enjoy the play, Felix?”
“Yes, thank you. It was very nice. I am ever so much obliged to Mr. Perkins for the money to go.”
“Mr. Perkins must be a rich man?” said Mullins, interrogatively.
“I think he is pretty well off,” answered Chester.
“How long does he stay in the city?”
“He was to leave this morning. He is going to Washington.”
David Mullins was glad to hear this. It would make it easier for him to discharge Chester.
He dispatched him on an errand, and was about to make some entries in the books when Dick Ralston strolled in.
“How are you, Dick? Can I do anything for you this morning?”
“Yes; you can let me have a hundred dollars.”
“I can’t do that,” answered the bookkeeper, with a slight frown.
“You’ll have to settle up soon,” said Ralston, in a surly tone.
“Give me time, can’t you? I can’t do everything in a minute. What is the matter with you? You look as if you had got out of the wrong side of the bed.”
“I had a disagreeable thing happen last evening. Who should appear to me on Madison Avenue but the old man.”
“Your father?”
“Yes; he left a good, comfortable home up in the country, and came here to see if he couldn’t get some money out of me.”
“Did he?”
“I gave him a quarter and advised him to go back. He seems to think I am made of money.”
“So he has a comfortable home?”
“Yes,” answered Ralston, hesitating slightly. “He’s better off than I am in one way. He has no board to pay, and sometimes I haven’t money to pay mine.”
“I suppose he is staying with friends or relatives,” said Mullins, who was not aware that Mr. Ralston, senior, was the inmate of a poorhouse.
“It is an arrangement I made for him. I felt angry to see him here, and I told him so. However, he isn’t likely to come again. Have you heard from Fairchild yet?”
“No; it isn’t time. He won’t reach Chicago till this evening or to-morrow morning.”
“Meanwhile—that is, while he is away—you have full swing, eh?”
“Yes; I suppose so.”
“Then you’ll be a fool if you don’t take advantage of it.”
David Mullins did not answer. He repented, now that it was too late, that he had placed himself in the power of such a man as Dick Ralston. As long as he owed him seven hundred and fifty dollars there was no escaping him, and Mullins felt very uncomfortable when he considered what steps the gambler wanted him to take to get free from his debts.
At this moment a dignified-looking gentleman living on West Forty-seventh Street entered the office. He was the owner of a large building, of which Mr. Fairchild acted as agent. He looked askance at Dick Ralston, whose loud dress and general appearance left little doubt as to his character.
“Is Mr. Fairchild in?” the caller asked.
“No, sir; he started for the West yesterday.”
“I am sorry.”
“I can attend to your business, Mr. Gray.”
“No, thank you. I prefer to wait. How long will Mr. Fairchild be absent?”
“Probably six weeks.”
The gentleman took his leave, with another side glance at Ralston.
When he had gone, Ralston said, “Who is that, Mullins?”
“Mr. Gray, a wealthy banker, living on Forty-seventh Street.”
“So? Why didn’t you introduce me to the old duffer? I might have made something out of him.”
“He is not your style, Dick. He wouldn’t care to be introduced to a stranger.”
“So he puts on airs, does he?”
“No; but he is rather a proud, reserved man.”
“Thinks himself better than his fellow men, I suppose,” sneered the gambler.
“I can’t say, but it wouldn’t have been policy to make you acquainted. If you won’t be offended, Dick, I will say that though I am personally your friend, I am afraid that it isn’t best for you to be here so much.”
“So you are getting on your high horse, Mullins, are you?”
“No; but you are too well known, Dick. If you were only an ordinary man, now, it would be different, but your striking appearance naturally makes people curious about you.”
Dick Ralston was not insensible to flattery, and this compliment propitiated him. He was about to go out when Chester entered, returning from his errand.
“How are you, kid?” inquired Ralston.
“Very well, Mr. Ralston,” answered Chester, coldly, for he could not forget how the gambler had treated his old father.
“Well, did you pass the evening with that cowboy from Minneapolis?”
“I spent the evening with Mr. Perkins.”
“Of course! That’s what I mean. Has he got money?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“He gave Felix money to go to the theater,” interposed Mullins.
“Is that so? He seems to be liberal. I’d like to cultivate his acquaintance. How long is he going to stay at the Fifth Avenue?”
“He left for Washington this morning.”
“I am sorry to hear it. Another chance gone, Mullins.”
The bookkeeper looked warningly at Ralston. He did not care to have him speak so freely before the office boy.
“I don’t suppose we are likely to have any business with Paul Perkins,” he said. “I offered to sell him a house, but he doesn’t care to locate in New York.”
Things went on as usual for the rest of the day. Mr. Mullins, if anything, treated Chester better than usual, and the office boy began to think that he had done the bookkeeper injustice. Felix spent considerable of his time in the office, spending his time in reading nickel libraries, of which he generally carried a supply with him.
On the next day, about three o’clock in the afternoon, Chester was sent downtown on an errand. He was delayed about ten minutes by a block on the Sixth Avenue car line. When he entered the office, Mullins demanded, sharply, “What made you so long?”
Chester explained.
“That’s too thin!” retorted the bookkeeper. “I have no doubt you loitered, wasting your employer’s time.”
“That isn’t true, Mr. Mullins,” said Chester, indignantly.
“You won’t mend matters by impertinence. It is clear to me that you won’t suit us. I will pay you your wages up to this evening, and you can look for another place.”
“Mr. Fairchild engaged me, Mr. Mullins. It is only right that you should keep me till he returns, and report your objections.”
“I don’t require any instructions from you. You are discharged—do you understand?”
“Yes,” answered Chester, slowly.
“You needn’t wait till evening. Here is your money. Felix will take your place for the present.”
“Yes, Cousin David,” returned Felix, with alacrity.
“I protest against this sudden discharge,” said Chester, “for no fault of my own, Mr. Mullins.”
“You have said enough. I understand my business.”
There was nothing for Chester to do but to accept the dismissal. It took him by surprise, for though he anticipated ill treatment, he had not expected to be discharged.
“Well, Felix,” said the bookkeeper, “you’ve got the place at last.”
“Yes,” smiled Felix, complacently. “Didn’t Chester look glum when you bounced him?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. I have no further use for him. He’s too fresh!”
CHAPTER XXIV.
INTRODUCES MR. SHARPLEIGH, THE DETECTIVE.
Chester was not so much disturbed by his discharge, so far as it related to his own welfare, as by the thought that Mr. Fairchild’s interests were threatened. He felt that his absent employer ought to be notified at once.
Accordingly he went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel and telegraphed to Chicago:
“I am discharged. Felix Gordon is in my place. Will write.”
A few hours later Chester received the following message at his lodgings.
“Your telegram received. Will write you instructions. Fairchild.”
Two days later Chester received a letter requesting him to call at once on a well-known detective, give him all the available information and request him to keep careful watch of Mr. Mullins and his operations, and interfere if any steps were taken prejudicial to Mr. Fairchild’s interests.
Chester called on the detective and was fortunate enough to find him in. He expected to see a large man of impressive manners and imposing presence, and was rather disappointed when he found a small personage under the average height, exceedingly plain and unpretentious, who might easily have been taken for an humble clerk on a salary of ten or twelve dollars a week.
Mr. Sharpleigh listened attentively to Chester’s communication, and then proceeded to ask questions.
“Do you know anything of Mr. Mullins outside of the office?” he asked.
“A little, sir.”
“Has he any bad habits? Is he extravagant? Does he drink?”
“I have never seen any evidence that he drank,” answered Chester. “Perhaps he may drink a glass of wine or beer occasionally.”
“I don’t mean that. He is not what may be called an intemperate man?”
“No, sir.”
“Any other objectionable habits?”
“I think he gambles.”
“Ha! this is important. What makes you think so?”
“He seems to be intimate with a man who, I am told, is a well-known gambler.”
“Who is it?”
“Dick Ralston.”
“Ralston is as well known as any gambler in the city. How is it that this has not excited the suspicions of Mr. Fairchild?”
“I don’t think Mr. Fairchild knows it.”
“Then Ralston doesn’t come into the office?”
“He did not when Mr. Fairchild was in town. As soon as Mr. Fairchild left he came at once, and now spends considerable time there.”
“Probably Mullins owes him money lost in gambling.”
“I think he does. I overheard him one day urging Mr. Mullins to give him money.”
“That makes it probable. Do you know if they keep company outside?”
“I have seen them walking late in the evening.”
“Why do you think Mr. Mullins discharged you?”
“He wanted the place for a cousin of his.”
“What name?”
“Felix Gordon.”
“Is he there now?”
“Yes; Felix was taken on when I was discharged.”
“At once?”
“Yes. He was in the office, probably waiting for the vacancy.”
“The plan seems to have been cut and dried. What sort of a boy is Felix?”
“I don’t know him very well. He seems on confidential terms with Mr. Mullins.”
“Did the bookkeeper have any other reasons for disliking you?”
“Yes; I interfered to prevent his cheating a mechanic out of his month’s rent.”
“State the circumstances.”
Chester did so.
“How long has Mr. Mullins been in Mr. Fairchild’s employ?”
“About five years, I think I have heard.”
“That speaks well for him. Probably his acquaintance with Ralston is recent, or he would have done something before this to insure his discharge.”
There was a short silence, and Chester asked: “Have you any more questions, Mr. Sharpleigh?”
“Not at present. Will you give me your address?”
Chester did so.
“I will send for you if I need you. I think you can help me materially. You seem to have a clear head, and are observing.”
It was the evening for Chester to call at Prof. Hazlitt’s.
“I passed your office this morning, Chester,” said Arthur Burks, “and thought of calling in, but I was in haste.”
“You wouldn’t have found me, Arthur. I am discharged.”
“What!” exclaimed Arthur, in surprise. “What complaint does Mr. Fairchild make of you?”
“None at all. He is out of the city. The bookkeeper, who dislikes me, discharged me, and gave the place to his cousin.”
“I am awfully sorry. What will you do?”
“I have some money saved up. Besides, I shall devote more time to drawing.
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