The Cash Boy [18]
Cash,'' said Thomas, chuckling anew at the old joke.
``Well, aunt,'' said he, when they were once more in the housekeeper's room, ``do you think the old gentleman will do anything for me?''
``I hope so; but I am not sure, Thomas, whether you were not too familiar. You spoke of money too quick.''
``It's my way to come to business.''
``I wish you were his reader, instead of that boy.''
``Well, I don't. I wouldn't want to he mewed up in that room with the old man every night. I should get tired to death of it.''
``You would have a chance to get him interested in you. That boy is artful; he is doing all he can to win Mr. Wharton's favor. He is the one you have most reason to dread.''
``Do you think he will do me any harm?''
``I think he will injure your chances.''
``Egad! if I thought that, I'd wring the young rascal's neck.''
``There's a better way, Thomas.''
``What's that?''
``Can't you get him dismissed from Gilbert & Mack's?''
``I haven't enough influence with the firm.''
``Suppose they thought him dishonest?''
``They'd give him the sack, of course.''
``Can't you make them think so, Thomas?''
``I don't know.''
``Then make it your business to find out.''
``I suppose you know what good it's going to do, aunt, but I don't. He's got his place here with the old man.''
``If Mr. Wharton hears that he is discharged, and has lost his situation, he will probably discharge him, too.''
``Perhaps so; I suppose you know best.''
``Do as I tell you, and I will manage the rest.''
``All right. I need your help enough. To-night, for instance, I'm regularly cleaned out. Haven't got but twenty-five cents to my name.''
``It seems to me, Thomas,'' said his aunt, with a troubled look, ``you are always out of money. I'll give you five dollars, Thomas, but you must remember that I am not made of money. My wages are small.''
``You ought to have a good nest-egg laid aside, aunt.''
``I've got something, Thomas, and when I die, it'll be yours.''
``I hope I shan't have to wait too long,'' thought Thomas, but he did not give utterance to the thought.''
``Come again, Thomas, and don't forget what I have said,'' said Mrs. Bradley.
CHAPTER XI
JOHN WADE
A tall man, with a sallow complexion, and heavily- bearded face, stood on the deck of a Cunard steamer, only a few miles distant from New York harbor.
``It's three years since I have seen America,'' he said to himself, thoughtfully. ``I suppose I ought to feel a patriotic fervor about setting foot once more on my native shore, but I don't believe in nonsense. I would be content to live in Europe all my life, if my uncle's fortune were once in my possession. I am his sole heir, but he persists in holding on to his money bags, and limits me to a paltry three thousand a year. I must see if I can't induce him to give me a good, round sum on account--fifty thousand, at least--and then I can wait a little more patiently till he drops off.''
``When shall we reach port, captain?'' he asked, as he passed that officer.
``In four hours, I think, Mr. Wade.''
``So this is my birthday,'' he said to himself.
``Thirty five years old to-day. Half my life gone, and I am still a dependent on my uncle's bounty. Suppose he should throw me off--leave me out in the cold--where should I be? If he should find the boy--but no, there is no chance of that. I have taken good care of that. By the way, I must look him up soon--cautiously, of course--and see what has become of him. He will grow up a laborer or mechanic and die without a knowledge of his birth, while I fill his place and enjoy his inheritance.''
At six o'clock the vessel reached the Quarantine. Most of the passengers decided to remain on board one night more, but John Wade was impatient, and, leaving his trunks, obtained a small boat, and soon touched the shore.
It was nearly eight when John Wade landed in the city. It was half-past eight when he stood on the steps of his uncle's residence and rang the bell.
``Is my uncle is Mr.
``Well, aunt,'' said he, when they were once more in the housekeeper's room, ``do you think the old gentleman will do anything for me?''
``I hope so; but I am not sure, Thomas, whether you were not too familiar. You spoke of money too quick.''
``It's my way to come to business.''
``I wish you were his reader, instead of that boy.''
``Well, I don't. I wouldn't want to he mewed up in that room with the old man every night. I should get tired to death of it.''
``You would have a chance to get him interested in you. That boy is artful; he is doing all he can to win Mr. Wharton's favor. He is the one you have most reason to dread.''
``Do you think he will do me any harm?''
``I think he will injure your chances.''
``Egad! if I thought that, I'd wring the young rascal's neck.''
``There's a better way, Thomas.''
``What's that?''
``Can't you get him dismissed from Gilbert & Mack's?''
``I haven't enough influence with the firm.''
``Suppose they thought him dishonest?''
``They'd give him the sack, of course.''
``Can't you make them think so, Thomas?''
``I don't know.''
``Then make it your business to find out.''
``I suppose you know what good it's going to do, aunt, but I don't. He's got his place here with the old man.''
``If Mr. Wharton hears that he is discharged, and has lost his situation, he will probably discharge him, too.''
``Perhaps so; I suppose you know best.''
``Do as I tell you, and I will manage the rest.''
``All right. I need your help enough. To-night, for instance, I'm regularly cleaned out. Haven't got but twenty-five cents to my name.''
``It seems to me, Thomas,'' said his aunt, with a troubled look, ``you are always out of money. I'll give you five dollars, Thomas, but you must remember that I am not made of money. My wages are small.''
``You ought to have a good nest-egg laid aside, aunt.''
``I've got something, Thomas, and when I die, it'll be yours.''
``I hope I shan't have to wait too long,'' thought Thomas, but he did not give utterance to the thought.''
``Come again, Thomas, and don't forget what I have said,'' said Mrs. Bradley.
CHAPTER XI
JOHN WADE
A tall man, with a sallow complexion, and heavily- bearded face, stood on the deck of a Cunard steamer, only a few miles distant from New York harbor.
``It's three years since I have seen America,'' he said to himself, thoughtfully. ``I suppose I ought to feel a patriotic fervor about setting foot once more on my native shore, but I don't believe in nonsense. I would be content to live in Europe all my life, if my uncle's fortune were once in my possession. I am his sole heir, but he persists in holding on to his money bags, and limits me to a paltry three thousand a year. I must see if I can't induce him to give me a good, round sum on account--fifty thousand, at least--and then I can wait a little more patiently till he drops off.''
``When shall we reach port, captain?'' he asked, as he passed that officer.
``In four hours, I think, Mr. Wade.''
``So this is my birthday,'' he said to himself.
``Thirty five years old to-day. Half my life gone, and I am still a dependent on my uncle's bounty. Suppose he should throw me off--leave me out in the cold--where should I be? If he should find the boy--but no, there is no chance of that. I have taken good care of that. By the way, I must look him up soon--cautiously, of course--and see what has become of him. He will grow up a laborer or mechanic and die without a knowledge of his birth, while I fill his place and enjoy his inheritance.''
At six o'clock the vessel reached the Quarantine. Most of the passengers decided to remain on board one night more, but John Wade was impatient, and, leaving his trunks, obtained a small boat, and soon touched the shore.
It was nearly eight when John Wade landed in the city. It was half-past eight when he stood on the steps of his uncle's residence and rang the bell.
``Is my uncle is Mr.