Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute by Jr. Horatio Alger (romance book recommendations TXT) 📖

“Suppose you were assured that your uncle would receive you back and give you another chance?”

Gregory shook his head.

“I don’t believe he would, and I am afraid I don’t deserve it. No, I must try to get to the mines in some way. How are you fixed?” said Gregory, turning suddenly to Hector. “Could you spare a five-dollar gold piece for a chap that’s been unfortunate?”

“Perhaps I might; but I am afraid you would go back into the gambling house and lose it, as you did your other money.”

“No, I won’t; I promise you that. Four bits was nothing. Five dollars would give me a chance of going somewhere where I could earn a living.”

Gregory seemed to speak sincerely, and Hector thought it would do him no harm to reveal himself and his errand.

“Your name is Gregory Newman, isn’t it?” he inquired.

Gregory stared at him in uncontrollable amazement.

“How do you know that?” he inquired.

“And your uncle’s name is Titus Newman?”

“Yes, but—”

“He lives on Madison Avenue, does he not?”

“Yes, yes; but who are you that seem to know so much about me?”

“My name is Hector Roscoe.”

“Did I know you in New York?”

“No; I never met you, to my knowledge.”

“Then how do you recognize me and know my name?”

In answer, Hector took from his pocket a photograph of Gregory and displayed it.

“How did you come by that?” asked Gregory, hurriedly. “Are you a detective?”

Gregory looked so startled that Hector had hard work not to laugh. It seemed ludicrous to him that he should be supposed to be a detective on Gregory’s track, as the boy evidently suspected.

“No,” he answered, “I am not a detective, but a friend. I have come out to San Francisco especially to find you.”

“You won’t inform against me?” asked Gregory, nervously.

“Not at all. I come as a friend, with a message from your uncle—”

“What is it?” asked Gregory, eagerly.

“He wants you to come back to New York, and he will give you another chance.”

“Is this true?”

“Yes; will you come?”

“I shall be glad to leave San Francisco,” said Gregory, fervently. “I have had no luck since I arrived here.”

“Do you think you deserved any?” said Hector, significantly.

“No, perhaps not,” Gregory admitted.

“When will you be ready to return?”

“You forget that I have no money.”

“I have, and will pay your passage.”

Gregory grasped the hands of our hero gratefully.

“You are a trump!” said he.

Then he looked at his wretched and dilapidated suit.

“I don’t like to go home like this,” he said. “I should be mortified if I met my uncle or any of my old acquaintances.”

“Oh, that can be remedied,” said Hector. “If you can lead the way to a good clothing house, where the prices are moderate, I will soon improve your appearance.”

“That I will!” answered Gregory, gladly.

Within five minutes’ walk was a good clothing house, on Kearney Street. The two entered, and a suit was soon found to fit Gregory. Then they obtained a supply of underclothing, and Gregory breathed a sigh of satisfaction. His self-respect returned, and he felt once more like his old self.

“Now,” said Hector, “I shall take you to my hotel, and enter your name as a guest. You and I can room together.”

“Do you know,” said Gregory, “I almost fear this is a dream, and that I shall wake up again a tramp, as you found me half an hour ago? I was almost in despair when you met me.”

Though Gregory seemed quite in earnest in his desire to turn over a new leaf, Hector thought it prudent to keep the funds necessary for their journey in his own possession. He gave a few dollars to Gregory as spending money, but disregarded any hints looking to a further advance.