Paul the Peddler; Or, The Fortunes of a Young Street Merchant by Jr. Horatio Alger (ebook reader for comics TXT) 📖

Now, to tell the truth, Mrs. Flagg had not been particularly struck by the moral worth of her lodger, and this testimony led her to entertain doubts as to the discernment of her clerical visitor.

“You know him, then?”

“I know him as myself, madam. Have you never heard him mention the name of Rev. Mr. Barnes, of Hayfield Centre, Connecticut?”

“I can't say I have,” answered the landlady.

“That is singular. We were always very intimate. We attended the same school as boys, and, in fact, were like Damon and Pythias.”

Mrs. Flagg had never heard of Damon and Pythias, still she understood the comparison.

“You're in rather a different line now,” she remarked, dryly.

“Yes, our positions are different. My friend dwells in the busy metropolis, while I pass a quiet, peaceful existence in a secluded country village, doing what good I can. But, my dear, we are perhaps detaining this worthy lady from her domestic avocations. I think we must be going.”

“Very well, I am ready.”

The first sound of her voice drew the attention of the landlady. Mrs. Felix Montgomery possessed a thin somewhat shrill, voice, which she was unable to conceal, and, looking attentively at her, Mrs. Flagg penetrated her disguise. Then, turning quickly to the gentleman, aided by her new discovery, she also recognized him.

“Well, I declare,” said she, “if you didn't take me in beautifully.”

Mr. Montgomery laughed heartily.

“You wouldn't know me, then?” he said.

“You're got up excellent,” said Mrs. Flagg, with a slight disregard for grammar. “Is it a joke?”

“Yes, a little practical joke. We're going to call on some friends and see if they know us.”

“You'd do for the theatre,” said the landlady, admiringly.

“I flatter myself I might have done something on the stage, if my attention had been turned that way. But, my dear, we must be moving, or we shan't get through our calls.”

“I wonder what mischief they are up to now,” thought Mrs. Flagg, as she followed them to the door. “I know better than to think they'd take the trouble to dress up that way just to take in their friends. No, they're up to some game. Not that I care, as long as they get money enough to pay my bill.”

So the worldly-wise landlady dismissed them from her thoughts, and went about her work.

Mr. Barnes and his wife walked up toward Broadway at a slow, decorous pace, suited to the character they had assumed. More than one who met them turned back to look at what they considered a perfect type of the country minister and his wife. They would have been not a little surprised to learn that under this quiet garb walked two of the most accomplished swindlers in a city abounding in adventurers of all kinds.

Mr. Barnes paused a moment to reprove a couple of urchins who were pitching pennies on the sidewalk.

“Don't you know that it's wrong to pitch pennies?” he said gravely.

“None of your chaff, mister,” retorted one of the street boys, irreverently. “When did you come from the country, old Goggles?”

“My son, you should address me with more respect.”

“Just get out of the way, mister! I don't want to hear no preachin'.”

“I am afraid you have been badly brought up, my son.”

“I ain't your son, and I wouldn't be for a shillin'. Just you go along, and let me alone!”

“A sad case of depravity, my dear,” remarked Mr. Barnes to his wife. “I fear we must leave these boys to their evil ways.”

“You'd better,” said one of the boys.

“They're smart little rascals!” said Mr. Montgomery, when they were out of hearing of the boys. “I took them in, though. They thought I was the genuine article.”

“We'd better not waste any more time,” said his wife. “That boy might get out, you know, and give us trouble.”

“I don't believe he will get out in a hurry. I locked the door and he'd have to pound some time before he could make any one hear, I declare, I should like to see how he looked when he recovered from his stupor, and realized that his ring was gone.”

“What sort of boy was he, Tony?”

“Better not call me by that name, my dear. It might be heard, you know, and might not be considered in character. As to your question, he was by no means a stupid boy. Rather sharpish, I should say.”

“Then how came he to let you take him in?”

“As to that, I claim to be rather sharp myself, and quite a match even for a smart boy. I haven't knocked about the world forty-four years for nothing.”

They were now in Broadway. Turning the corner of Amity street, they walked a short distance downtown, and paused before the handsome jewelry store of Ball & Black.

“I think we had better go in here,” said Felix Montgomery—(I hesitate a little by which of his numerous names to call him).

“Why not go to Tiffany's?”

“I gather from what the boy told me that the ring has already been offered there. It would be very likely to be recognized and that would be awkward, you know.”

“Are you sure the ring has not been offered here? asked his wife.

“Quite sure. The boy would have mentioned it, had such been the case.”

“Very well. Let us go in then.”

The Rev. Mr. Barnes and his wife, of Hayfield Centre; entered the elegant store, and ten minutes later Paul Hoffman entered also, and took his station at the counters wholly unconscious of the near proximity of the man who had so artfully swindled him.