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. Andy Grant's Pluck by Jr. Horatio Alger (books to read to get smarter txt) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Andy Grant's Pluck by Jr. Horatio Alger (books to read to get smarter txt) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
"I would like to wash, if you will send up some water and a towel."
"Eva will bring them right up. Have you soap of your own?"
"Yes."
"Gentlemen often prefer providing their own. If you will give me your name in full, I will enter it on my books."
"My name is Andrew Grant."
"Very well."
"What is your rate of board? Mr. Gale will pay it, but I should like to know what it is."
"Five dollars a week for your room. Mr. Warren pays seven, but he has a large room to himself. If you should decide to room with him, I shall charge you five dollars apiece."
"Thank you; I don't think we shall come to any agreement."
She went downstairs, and Andy surveyed his room with interest.
It was certainly small—quite the narrowest room he had ever seen. There was one window from which he had a view of the back yard, rather a forlorn-looking space. There was a cat perched on the high, board fence separating the yard from that of the adjoining house.
Andy liked cats, and called out "Pussy." The cat looked up, and mewed her recognition and acknowledgment of the friendly overture. Then Eva came up with a pitcher of water and a towel.
"Will one do you?" she asked. "The rest are in the wash, and I'll bring you another this evening."
"One will be sufficient for the present."
"So you're comin' here to live?" she said, sociably.
"Yes, Eva."
"I hope you don't have fits, like Mr. Warren."
"I don't think I ever had one yet," answered Andy, with a smile.
"I'm glad of that. I'm afraid of gentlemen that have fits."
Eva went downstairs, and Andy proceeded to make his ablutions. It was a dusty day, and the water was refreshing.
After he had washed his face and hands he opened his gripsack and took out his brush and comb, which he placed on a tiny bureau in one corner of the room. It contained two drawers, and in one of them he put away the contents of the valise.
By this time it was half-past ten, and he put on his hat and went downstairs. He went out into the street, and after a moment of indecision walked to Broadway. He thought he could not do better than to walk down this wonderful thoroughfare, of which he had heard so much.
It did occur to him that he might report at the jewelry store, but he would see enough of that hereafter and he preferred to take a little walk about the city.
Andy used his eyes to good advantage. He looked in at the shop windows, and watched the human tide that swept by him.
Finally he found himself accosted by one of the passersby.
"My young friend, could you oblige me with a quarter to take me to Newark? My pocket has been picked, and—"
All this seemed familiar. Andy looked up and recognized at once the stranger whom he had relieved in front of the Grand Central Depot.
"When did you get back from Yonkers?" he asked, abruptly.
"I never was in Yonkers."
"I gave you a quarter only an hour or two ago to get to your sick sister in Yonkers."
Muttering that there was some mistake, the man hurried away, looking confused.
"I wonder if I shall ever meet him again?" thought Andy.
CHAPTER XV. — ANDY'S OPPOSITE NEIGHBOR.
Andy walked about the city, using his eyes industriously. At one o'clock he went into a restaurant on Park Row, where he got a fair lunch for twenty-five cents.
This was more than he intended to pay usually, but on this first day in the city he did not care to go back to the boarding house.
After lunch he made his way to the entrance of the Brooklyn Bridge, and got into one of the cars. He enjoyed the prospect visible from the windows, and felt that this alone would pay him for visiting New York.
Just before they reached the other end there was a cry of alarm from a stout German woman who sat on the other side of the car.
"I've been robbed!" she exclaimed. "My purse is gone!"
Of course this attracted general attention.
"Was there much in the purse, madam?" asked a kind-looking, elderly man.
"Yes, there was six dollars—it was a great deal to me."
"Are you sure you had it when you entered the car?"
"Yes; I took it out of my pocket when I paid for a ticket."
"I think your pocket must have been picked."
Sitting next to the woman was a man who seemed absorbed in reading a morning newspaper; even the woman's complaint did not appear to excite his attention.
This led Andy to move his head to get a nearer view of him. He started in surprise. It was the adventurer, whom he had already met twice that morning. He had little doubt that he was the thief.
It was perhaps somewhat rash to hazard a charge without proof, but he felt indignant and could not resist the impulse.
"I think that man has your purse," he said, pointing to the individual behind the newspaper.
"This is an outrage!" exclaimed the latter, with assumed anger. "I am a Boston merchant."
He was respectably dressed, and the charge did not seem very plausible.
"My boy, you should be careful how you make such charges," said his next neighbor, reprovingly.
But Andy was not abashed.
"I know something of that man," he said, quietly. "I have met him twice this morning."
"Has he robbed you?"
"No; but he asked me to give him a quarter to take him to his sick sister in Yonkers. This was at the Grand Central Depot; an hour or two later I met him on Broadway, and he wanted money to take him to Newark."
"The boy is entirely mistaken," said the adventurer.
At the same instant,
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