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. The Errand Boy; Or, How Phil Brent Won Success by Jr. Horatio Alger (i like reading books .TXT) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «The Errand Boy; Or, How Phil Brent Won Success by Jr. Horatio Alger (i like reading books .TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
“Yes, for the present.”
“Do you think you shall like your employer?”
“He is certainly treating me very well,” said Phil, smiling. “He has paid me twenty dollars in advance.”
“Then the age of wonders has not passed,” said the widow. “Of course I believe you, Philip, but it seems extraordinary.”
“There is something more extraordinary to come,” said Phil. “He has sent you some money, too.”
“Me!” exclaimed Mrs. Forbush, in great surprise.
“What can he know about me?”
“I told him about you.”
“But we are strangers.”
“He used to know you, and still feels an interest in you, Mrs. Forbush.”
“Who can it be?” said the widow, looking bewildered.
“I don't want to keep you in suspense any longer, so I may as well say that it is your Uncle Oliver.”
“Uncle Oliver! Why, he is in Florida.”
“No; he came home from Charleston. I happened to be at the pier—I went down to see if I could get a job at smashing baggage—when I saw him walking down the gang-plank.”
“Has he gone to his old quarters at Mr. Pitkin's?”
“No; what I told about the way they treated you and me made him angry, and he drove to the Astor House. I have a room there, too, and am to act as his private secretary.”
“So that is your new situation, Phil?” said Julia.
“Yes, and it is a good one.”
“And he really feels kindly to me?” said Mrs. Forbush hopefully.
“He sends you this and will call to-morrow,” said Phil. “Actions speak louder than words. There are a hundred dollars in this roll of bills.”
“He sent all this to me?” she said.
“Yes, and of his own accord. It was no suggestion of mine.
“Julia,” said Mrs. Forbush, turning to her daughter, “I believe God has heard my prayer, and that better days are in store for all of us.”
“Philip included,” added Phil, smiling.
“Yes. I want you to share in our good fortune.”
“Mother, you had better consult Phil about keeping the house.”
“Oh, yes.”
Mrs. Forbush thereupon told Philip of the landlord's visit and his proposal to ask a higher rent.
“I hesitated about taking the house,” she said; “but with this handsome gift from Uncle Oliver, I don't know but I may venture. What do you think?”
“I think, Mrs. Forbush, you had better not decide till you have seen your uncle. He may have some plan of his own for you. At any rate, you had better consult him. He will call to-morrow. And now, let me pay you for my week's board.”
“No, Philip. I shall not want it with all this money, which I should not have received but for you.”
“A debt is a debt, Mrs. Forbush, and I prefer to pay it. I shall not be here to supper, as Mr. Carter is expecting me back to the Astor House. I shall probably come with him when he calls upon you to-morrow.”
On his return to the hotel, as he was walking on Broadway, Phil came face to face with Alonzo Pitkin.
“I think I'll ask him about that letter his uncle gave him to post to me,” thought Phil, and he waited until Alonzo was close at hand.
CHAPTER XXV. ALONZO IS PUZZLED.
Alonzo, who had his share of curiosity, as soon as he saw Phil's approach, determined to speak to him, and ascertain what were his plans and what he was doing. With the petty malice which he inherited from his mother, he hoped that Phil had been unable to find a place and was in distress.
“It would serve him right,” said Alonzo to himself, “for trying to get into Uncle Oliver's good graces. I s'pose he would like to cut me out, but he'll find that he can't fight against ma and me.”
“Oh, it's you, is it?” was Alonzo's salutation when they met.
“Yes,” answered Phil.
“Pa bounced you, didn't he?” continued Alonzo complacently.
“Yes,” answered Phil. “That is, he discharged me. I suppose that is what you meant.”
“You've got it right the first time,” said Alonzo.
“Have you got another place?”
“Do you ask because you feel interested in me?” asked Phil.
“Well, not particularly,” answered Alonzo appearing quite amused by the suggestion.
“Then you ask out of curiosity?”
“S'pose I do?”
“I don't mind telling you that I have found a place, then.”
“What sort of a place?” asked Alonzo, disappointed.
“There is no need of going into particulars.”
“No. I s'pose not,” sneered Alonzo. “You're probably selling papers or blacking boots.”
“You are mistaken. I have a much better situation than I had with your father.”
Alonzo's lower jaw fell. He was very sorry to hear it.
“Didn't your employer ask for a recommendation?”
“He didn't seem to think one necessary!” replied Phil.
“If he'd known pa had sacked you, he wouldn't have wanted you, I guess.”
“He knows it. Have you got through asking questions, Alonzo?”
“You are too familiar. You can call me Mr. Pitkin.”
Phil laughed at Alonzo's assumption of dignity, but made no comment upon it.
“I want to ask you what you did with that letter Mr. Carter gave you to post for me?” asked Phil.
Alonzo was indeed surprised, not to say dismayed. The truth was that, judging from the “feel” of the letter, it contained money, and he had opened it and appropriated the money to his own use. Moreover he had the bank-note in his pocket at that very moment, not having any wish to spend, but rather to hoard
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