Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience by Jr. Horatio Alger (golden son ebook TXT) 📖

house, the prospect of a supper at a first-class hotel was very attractive. He was a pleasant-faced young man of twenty, who had drifted to Chicago from his country home in Indiana, and found it hard to make both ends meet on a salary of nine dollars a week. His habits were good, his manner was attractive and won him popularity with customer’s, and with patience he was likely to succeed in the end.

“I wish I could live like this every day,” he said, as he rose from a luxurious supper. “At present my finances won’t allow me to board at the Sherman.”

“Nor would mine,” said Carl; “but I am allowed to spend money more freely when I am traveling.”

“Are you acquainted in New York?” asked Gray.

“I have little or no acquaintance in the city,” answered Carl.

“I should be glad to get a position there.”

“Are you not satisfied with your present place?”

“I am afraid I shall not long keep it.”

“Why not? Do you think you are in any danger of being discharged?”

“It is not that. I am afraid Mr. French will be obliged to give up business.”

“Why?” asked Carl, with keen interest.

“I have reason to think he is embarrassed. I know that he has a good many bills out, some of which have been running a long time. If any pressure is brought to bear upon him, he may have to suspend.”

Carl felt that he was obtaining important information. If Mr. French were in such a condition Miss Norris would be pretty sure to lose her money if she advanced it.

“To what do you attribute Mr. French’s embarrassment?” he asked.

“He lives expensively in a handsome house near Lincoln Park, and draws heavily upon the business for his living expenses. I think that explains it. I only wonder that he has been able to hold out so long.”

“Perhaps if he were assisted he would be able to keep his head above water.”

“He would need a good deal of assistance. You see that my place isn’t very secure, and I shall soon need to be looking up another.”

“I don’t think I shall need to inquire any farther,” thought Carl. “It seems to me Miss Norris had better keep her money.”

Before he retired he indited the following letter to his Albany employer:

Miss Rachel Norris.

“Dear Madam:—I have attended to your commission, and have to report that Mr. French appears to be involved in business embarrassments, and in great danger to bankruptcy. The loan he asks of you would no doubt be of service, but probably would not long delay the crash. If you wish to assist him, it would be better to allow him to fail, and then advance him the money to put him on his feet. I am told that his troubles come from living beyond his means.

“Yours respectfully,

“Carl Crawford.”

By return mail Carl received the following note:

“My Dear Young Friend:—Your report confirms the confidence I reposed in you. It is just the information I desired. I shall take your advice and refuse the loan. What other action I may take hereafter I cannot tell. When you return, should you stop in Albany, please call on me. If unable to do this, write me from Milford.

“Your friend,

“Rachel Norris.”

Carl was detained for several days in Chicago. He chanced to meet his English friend, Lord Bedford, upon his arrival, and the nobleman, on learning where he was staying, also registered at the Sherman House. In his company Carl took a drive over the magnificent boulevard which is the pride of Chicago, and rose several degrees in the opinion of those guests who noticed his intimacy with the English guest.

Carl had just completed his Chicago business when, on entering the hotel, he was surprised to see a neighbor of his father’s—Cyrus Robinson—a prominent business man of Edgewood Center. Carl was delighted, for he had not been home, or seen any home friends for over a year.

“I am glad to see you, Mr. Robinson,” he said, offering his hand.

“What! Carl Crawford!” exclaimed Robinson, in amazement. “How came you in Chicago? Your father did not tell me you were here.”

“He does not know it. I am only here on a business visit. Tell me, Mr. Robinson, how is my father?”

“I think, Carl, that he is not at all well. I am quite sure he misses you, and I don’t believe your stepmother’s influence over him is beneficial. Just before I came away I heard a rumor that troubled me. It is believed in Edgewood that she is trying to induce your father to make a will leaving all, or nearly all his property to her and her son.”

“I don’t care so much for that, Mr. Robinson, as for my father’s health.”

“Carl,” said Robinson, significantly, “if such a will is made I don’t believe your father will live long after it.”

“You don’t mean that?” said Carl, horror-struck.

“I think Mrs. Crawford, by artful means will worry your father to death. He is of a nervous temperament, and an unscrupulous woman can shorten his life without laying herself open to the law.”

Carl’s face grew stern.

“I will save my father,” he said, “and defeat my stepmother’s wicked schemes.”

“I pray Heaven you can. There is no time to be lost.”

“I shall lose no time, you may be sure. I shall be at Edgewood within a week.”