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 Cash Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger (ebooks children's books free TXT) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «The Cash Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger (ebooks children's books free TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
“What does a cash-boy do?”
“In large retail establishments every salesman keeps a book in which his sales are entered. He does not himself make change, for it would not do to have so many having access to the money-drawer. The money is carried to the cashier’s desk by boys employed for the purpose, who return with the change.”
“Do you think I can get a situation as cash-boy?”
“I will try at Gilbert & Mack’s. I know one of the principal salesmen. If there is a vacancy he will get it for you to oblige me.”
They entered a large retail store on Broadway. It was broad and spacious. Twenty salesmen stood behind the counter, and boys were running this way and that with small books in their hands.
“How are you, Duncan?” said Jasper.
The person addressed was about Jasper Wheelock’s age. He had a keen, energetic look and manner, and would be readily singled out as one of the leading clerks.
“All right, Wheelock. How are you?” he responded. “Do you want anything in our line?”
“No goods; I want a place for this youngster. He’s a friend of mine. I’ll answer for his good character.”
“That will be satisfactory. But what sort of a place does he want?”
“He is ready to begin as cash-boy.”
“Then we can oblige you, as one of our boys has fallen sick, and we have not supplied his place. I’ll speak to Mr. Gilbert.”
He went up to Mr. Gilbert, a portly man in the back part of the store. Mr. Gilbert seemed to be asking two or three questions. Frank waited the result in suspense, dreading another disappointment, but this time he was fortunate.
“The boy can stay,” reported Duncan. “His wages are three dollars a week.”
It was not much, but Frank was well pleased to feel that at last he had a place in the city.
He wrote a letter to Grace in the evening, announcing his success, and expressing the hope that he would soon be able to send for her.
CHAPTER VII THE CASH BOY HAS AN ADVENTURE
Four weeks passed. The duties of a cash-boy are simple enough, and Frank had no difficulty in discharging them satisfactorily. At first he found it tiresome, being on his feet all day, for the cash-boys were not allowed to sit down, but he got used to this, being young and strong.
All this was very satisfactory, but one thing gave Frank uneasiness. His income was very inadequate to his wants.
“What makes you so glum, Frank?” asked Jasper Wheelock one evening.
“Do I look glum?” said Frank. “I was only thinking how I could earn more money. You know how little I get. I can hardly take care of myself, much less take care of Grace.”
“I can lend you some money, Frank. Thanks to your good advice, I have got some laid up.”
“Thank you, Jasper, but that wouldn’t help matters. I should owe you the money, and I don’t know how I could pay you.”
“About increasing your income, I really don’t know,” said Jasper. “I am afraid Gilbert & Mack wouldn’t raise your wages.”
“I don’t expect it. All the rest of the cash-boys would ask the same thing.”
“True; still I know they are very well pleased with you. Duncan told me you did more work than any of the rest of the boys.”
“I try to do all I can.”
“He said you would make a good salesman, he thought. Of course you are too young for that yet.”
“I suppose I am.”
“Frank, I am earning fifteen dollars a week, you know, and I can get along on ten, but of the five I save let me give you two. I shall never feel it, and by and by when you are promoted it won’t be necessary.”
“Jasper, you are a true friend,” said Frank, warmly; “but it wouldn’t be right for me to accept your kind offer, though I shan’t forget it. You have been a good friend to me.”
“And you to me, Frank. I’ll look out for you. Perhaps I may hear of something for you.”
Small as Frank’s income was, he had managed to live within it. It will be remembered that he had paid but fifty cents a week for a room. By great economy he had made his meals cost but two dollars a week, so that out of his three dollars he saved fifty cents. But this saving would not be sufficient to pay for his clothes. However, he had had no occasion to buy any as yet, and his little fund altogether amounted to twenty dollars. Of this sum he inclosed {sic} eight dollars to Mr. Pomeroy to pay for four weeks’ board for Grace.
“I hope I shall be able to keep it up,” he said to himself, thoughtfully. “At any rate, I’ve got enough to pay for six weeks more. Before that time something may turn up.”
Several days passed without showing Frank any way by which he could increase his income. Jasper again offered to give him two dollars a week out of his own wages, but this our hero steadily refused.
One Friday evening, just as the store was about to close, the head salesman called Frank to him.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“In Sixth avenue, near Twenty-fifth street.”
“There’s a bundle to go to Forty-sixth street. I’ll pay your fare upon the stage if you’ll carry it. I promised to send it to-night, and I don’t like to disappoint the lady.”
“I can carry it just as well as not.”
Frank took the bundle, and got on board a passing omnibus. There was just one seat vacant beside an old gentleman of seventy, who appeared to be quite feeble.
At Forty-fifth street he pulled the strap and prepared to descend, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so. By some mischance the horses started a little too soon and the old man, losing his footing, fell in the street. Frank observed the accident and sprang out instantly to his help.
“I hope you are not much hurt, sir?” he said, hastily.
“I have hurt my knee,” said the old gentleman.
“Let me assist you, sir,” said Frank,
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