A Boy's Fortune. Horatio Alger Jr.
boy like you is not qualified to judge what is best for him," said Mr. Walton, harshly. "Did I not promise, if you learned farming, that when you got older I would set you up on a farm of your own?"
"I never should succeed as a farmer, for I don't like it," answered Ben.
"What fault have you to find with it?" demanded the merchant, testily.
"None whatever, uncle, except that I am not suited for it."
"You don't look to me suited for anything else," said Clarence Plantagenet, insolently.
"I don't think you know me well enough to judge what I am fit for," answered Ben, calmly.
"You might make a good blacksmith, perhaps," continued Clarence, in the same offensive tone. "Isn't there any opening in that line in the country?"
"There might be. The business is not to my taste, though it may be to yours."
"To my taste!" ejaculated the horrified Plantagenet. "What have I to do with such a dirty business as that?"
"Stop this foolish discussion, Plantagenet," said his father. "You had better go to meet your friend, Van Dyke, and I will settle matters with your cousin here."
"Pack him back to the country, pa!" said Clarence. "That is the best place for him."
So saying, the young "dude" sauntered out of the office and left the store, several of the clerks who wished to stand well with their employer bowing deferentially to him. Plantagenet barely acknowledged their bows by a supercilious nod. He did not look upon them as his social equals.
"I am inclined to agree with my son," said the merchant, after Plantagenet had left the office. "I think the country is the best place for you."
"Then, Uncle Nicholas, you won't give me a place in your store?" asked Ben, his face showing his disappointment.
"I will do nothing to encourage you in a step which I consider so ill-advised as coming to the city."
"Then I must bid you good-morning," said Ben, soberly.
"Stay!" said his uncle. "I am willing to make up to you the expense of your trip to the city, on condition that you go back to-day."
He put his hand into his pocket as he spoke.
"Thank you, Uncle Nicholas," said Ben. "I thank you for your offer, but I won't accept it; I shall not go back to Sunderland."
"You won't go back!" gasped the merchant. "What will you do, then?"
"Look elsewhere for a place," said Ben.
"You are a foolish, headstrong boy. I wash my hands of you. You need not expect any help from me. You must make your own way."
"I mean to," answered Ben, quietly, as he bowed and walked out of the office.
"This is very annoying," said Mr. Walton to himself. "He is an obstinate boy. However, his eyes will soon be opened to his folly, and he will have to go back, after all. Perhaps it is as well for him to try, and fail. He will be more manageable afterward."
CHAPTER VI.
Ben Gets Into Trouble
Ben went out of his uncle's store in a serious frame of mind. He knew that his uncle was opposed to his leaving his country home and coming to New York, but he had hoped that he would nevertheless be willing to extend to him a helping hand, especially as it would cost him so little.
He found himself now in a critical position. He had in his pocket a dollar and twenty-seven cents, and this constituted his entire worldly capital. It was enough to carry him back to Sunderland, but, if he had been willing to do that, it would have been for his interest to accept his uncle's offer to refund to him what his trip would cost.
But Ben was not easily discouraged. His motto was:
"If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try again!"
"I won't go back to Sunderland unless I am obliged to," he said to himself. "There are other stores besides my uncle's in this large city, and more ways of making a living than one. I won't give up till I have tried my best."
So he walked along Broadway in a leisurely way, keeping his eyes wide open, and interested, in spite of his critical circumstances, in the crowds and bustle of that brilliant thoroughfare.
Presently he came to a shop window on which was posted the notice —
"Boy Wanted."
"Here's a chance for me," he thought, hopefully. "I'll apply for the place. I can't be any more than refused."
He entered. It was a store appropriated to "Gentlemen's Furnishing Goods."
A tall young man, with his auburn hair parted in the middle, glanced at him languidly.
"I see you want a boy," said Ben, plunging at once into business.
"Humph! Are you the boy?"
"I am a boy, and would like a place," answered Ben.
The clerk picked his teeth languidly with a wooden toothpick which he had brought from the cheap restaurant where he had taken his breakfast.
"Are you from the country?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long have you been in the city?"
"I arrived yesterday."
"Then you don't know your way round New York?"
"No; but I would soon learn."
"That wouldn't suit us. Besides, you don't live with your parents."
"My father is dead; my mother lives in the country."
"You won't suit us, then. However, you can go back and speak to Mr. Talbot. There he is, in the rear of the store."
Ben had at first supposed that the young man with whom he was speaking was the proprietor. He did not dream that he was a clerk, working for nine dollars a week. He made application to Mr. Talbot, a middle-aged gentleman, not half so consequential as his clerk, but was asked essentially the same questions as before.
"I am afraid I must refuse you," said Mr. Talbot, kindly. "We require a boy who is used to the city streets, and we prefer that he should live with his parents. I am sorry for your disappointment."
"Thank you, sir," said Ben; but it was in rather a subdued tone. His prospects did not seem quite so good as a little while before.
Coming out into the street, Ben saw quite a crowd of boys and young men, who were following a tall lady, just in advance, and showing signs of amusement. It only took a glance to discover the cause of their mirth.
The lady wore a sack, evidently just purchased, on which was a card, bearing in large, distinct characters, the words:
"Cheap for Cash."
This it was that had excited the amusement of the crowd.
Ben was also amused, but he sympathized with the lady; and, stepping forward promptly, touched her on the arm.
She looked back in surprise, and then for the first time became aware of the crowd that was following her. She was a lady probably nearing forty, and had a shrewd, kindly look.
"What does it all mean?" she asked.
"There is something on your sack, madam. Allow me to remove it."
And Ben plucked off the ticket, which he handed to the lady.
"I am not surprised at the amusement of the boys," said the lady, smiling. "The ticket should have been removed. I am very much obliged to you, my young friend."
"You are quite welcome," said Ben, bowing and falling back.
The lady smiled, and passed on. She would have remained had she known that by his act of kindness her young acquaintance had involved himself in trouble.
No sooner had the lady disappeared than the disappointed young ruffians who had been making sport of her turned angrily upon our hero.
"Ain't you smart?" sneered