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 Store Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger (best sales books of all time .TXT) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «The Store Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger (best sales books of all time .TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
"The boy is right," said his mother, always ready to back up her son.
"I have good reason for wishing to know the contents of the letter," said Mrs. Hamilton sternly. "I will not open it, unless Conrad consents, but I will call on the brokers and question them as to their motive in addressing it to a boy."
Conrad was silent. He saw that there was no escape for him.
"Shall I read it?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.
"Yes," answered Conrad feebly.
The letter was opened.
It ran thus:
"Mr. Conrad Hill: "You will be kind enough to call at our office at once, and pay commission due us for buying add selling fifty shares Pacific Mail. The fall in the price of the stock, as we have already notified you, exhausted the money you placed in our hands as margin. "Yours respectfully," "BIRD & BRANT.""I hope, Cousin Hamilton, you won't be too hard on the poor boy," said the housekeeper. "He thought he would be able to replace the money."
"You and Conrad have done your best to prejudice me against Ben."
"You are mistaken," said the housekeeper quickly, showing some evidence of agitation.
"I have learned that the letter which lured Ben to a gambling house was concocted between you. The letter I have in my possession."
"Who told you such a falsehood? If it is Ben—"
"It is not Ben, Mrs. Hill. He is as much surprised as you are to learn it now. The letter I submitted to an expert, who has positively identified the handwriting as yours, Mrs. Hill. You were very persistent in your attempts to make me believe than Ben was addicted to frequenting gambling houses."
"I see you are determined to believe me guilty," said Mrs. Hill. "Perhaps you think I know about the opera glass and this stock gambling?"
"I have no evidence of it, but I know enough to justify me in taking a decisive step."
Mrs. Hill listened apprehensively.
"It is this: you and Conrad must leave my house. I can no longer tolerate your presence here."
"You send us out to starve?" said the housekeeper bitterly.
"No; I will provide for you. I will allow you fifty dollars a month and Conrad half as much, and you can board where you please."
"While that boy usurps our place?" said Mrs. Hill bitterly.
"That is a matter to be decided between Ben and myself."
"We will go at once," said the housekeeper.
"I don't require it. You can stay here until you have secured a satisfactory boarding place."
But Conrad and his mother left the house the next morning. They saw that Mrs. Hamilton was no longer to be deceived, and they could gain nothing by staying. There was an angry scene between the mother and son.
"Were you mad, Conrad," said his mother, "to steal, where you were sure to be found out? It is your folly that has turned Cousin Hamilton against us?"
"No; it is that boy. I'd like to wring his neck!"
"I hope he will come to some bad end," said Mrs. Hill malignantly. "If he had not come to the house none of this would have happened."
Meanwhile Ben and his patroness had a satisfactory conversation.
"I hope you are satisfied with my management, Mrs. Hamilton?" said our hero.
"You have done wonderfully, Ben. Through you I am the richer by thirty-five thousand dollars at the very least, for the farm would have been dear at five thousand, whereas it was sold for forty thousand."
"I am very glad you are satisfied."
"You shall have reason to be glad. I intend to pay you a commission for selling the place."
"Thank you," said Ben joyfully.
He thought it possible Mrs. Hamilton might give him fifty dollars, and this would have been very welcome.
"Under the circumstances, I shall allow you an extra commission—say 10 per cent. How much will 10 per cent. amount to on forty thousand dollars?"
"Four thousand," answered Ben mechanically.
"Consider yourself worth fourth thousand dollars, then."
"But this is too much, Mrs. Hamilton," said Ben, scarcely crediting his good fortune.
"Then give half of it to your mother," said Mrs. Hamilton, smiling.
"Now we can pay off the mortgage!" exclaimed Ben, joyfully.
"What mortgage?"
Ben told the story, and it aroused the lively sympathy of his patroness.
"As soon as the purchase money is paid," she said, "you shall have you commission, and sooner if it is needed."
CHAPTER XXXVI — A LETTER FROM ROSE GARDINER
Ben resumed his place as the secretary and confidential clerk of Mrs. Hamilton. He found his position more agreeable when Mrs. Hill and Conrad were fairly out of the house. In place of the first a pleasant-faced German woman was engaged, and there were no more sour looks and sneering words.
Of course Ben kept up a weekly correspondence with his mother. He did not tell her the extent of his good fortune—he wished that to be a surprise, when the time came. From his mother, too, he received weekly letters, telling him not unfrequently how she missed him, though she was glad he was doing so well.
One day beside his mother's letter was another. He did not know the handwriting, but, looking eagerly to the end, he saw the name of Rose Gardiner.
"What would Rose say," Ben asked himself, "if she knew that I am worth four thousand dollars?"
The money had been paid to Ben, and was deposited in four different savings banks, till he could decide on a better investment. So he was quite sure of having more than enough to pay off the mortgage and redeem the cottage.
"Since mother is worrying, I must write and set her mind at rest," he decided.
He wrote accordingly, telling his
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