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From Farm to Fortune; or, Nat Nason's Strange Experience, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 10. Out Of Work Once More |
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_ CHAPTER X. OUT OF WORK ONCE MORE During the time that he worked in the wholesale paper establishment Nat wrote a long letter to Sam Price, telling his friend of his adventures since leaving home, and asking for news from the farm. A few days later an answer came back, which ran as follows: "I got your letter and found it very interesting. I hope you make your fortune in the city. It's certainly a fine place to go to, and maybe I'll try it myself some day. Country life is awful slow, and work is mighty hard. I have been hoeing corn to-day till my back aches ready to fall apart. "Your uncle was awful mad to think you had run away, and madder still when he found you had sold the cow. He thought you were hiding in Cleveland, and he stayed in that city three days before he gave up the search. He claims that the cow belonged to him--that he took it for board and clothing for you, and he also sticks to it that you tried to burn down his barn. He says he is going to make it hot for you if he ever finds you. You can make sure I shan't tell him where you are."
"I suppose Uncle Abner will always think I set fire to the barn," he thought. "Wish I could catch the person who really did do it. Must have been some tramp who was sleeping there and using a pipe." At the end of the third week's work Nat had seven dollars saved, of which amount he was reasonably proud. But now came a setback for which he was not prepared. "We have sold this concern to another party," said one of the proprietors to him. "After Saturday your services will be no longer required." "Won't the new bosses need me?" "No, for they have all the help of their own that they can use. Only our head bookkeeper will remain." This was on Thursday, and during the balance of the week our hero looked around in his spare hours for another position, but without success. Monday morning found him doing nothing. "As you said, it is not so easy to get a hold," said he to Dick. "Still, I don't feel quite so green as when I first reached New York. I at least know something about the streets and the stores." Nat lost no time in looking for another place. But nothing turned up Monday or Tuesday, and Wednesday it rained so hard that he did not go out until after noon. Then he visited a fashionable wholesale jewelry establishment. Here he was asked to wait, while one of the proprietors interviewed a young man who had come in ahead of our hero. The young man was dressed as a perfect dude, with a light checked suit, and very light gloves. He spoke with a drawl, and Nat heard every word that he said. "What is your business, sir?" asked the jeweler. "I believe, sir," said the young gentleman, "that you advertised for a--aw--a secretary." "A clerk, yes, sir." "Aw, all the same. Well, sir--aw--if we can agree upon terms, I should be--aw--flattered to proffer my services." "Ah, indeed!" And the jeweler raised his eyebrows slightly. "Yes, sir. You will be pleased to learn that all my connections--aw--move in the first circles." "Undoubtedly that is very gratifying. But you mentioned terms. May I ask you what you expect?" "Well, sir, perhaps a couple of thousand or so, a year. Then, I should wish to make certain stipulations--aw--as to the time I'm employed." "Go on." "For example, I never--aw--get up very early. I think it injures the health. But I think I could manage to get to the office by ten in the morning." "I see." "Then, I should want--aw--to have Saturday afternoons to myself, both in winter and summer. I always go to the theater matinees--so many--aw--pretty girls there," continued the dude. "And what else?" "I should not want to work later than five in the afternoon. Excessive labor is injurious to the health." "Perhaps that is true." "Then I should--aw--wish it understood that I could have five or six weeks off in the summer, so that I can visit the springs or the seashore," continued the dude. "Is that satisfactory?" "I suppose it would be, to you," answered the jeweler. "I think so." "It wouldn't satisfy us at all." "Really! That is too bad!" "We want a man here who can work, and who is not afraid of long hours, and who doesn't set quite such a high figure on his services. You'll never fill the bill in the wide world. Good-day!" "Really!" murmured the dude, and after staring at the jeweler, he turned on his heel and left in utter disgust. Several who had overheard the interview laughed out-right. "What a perfect fool!" thought Nat. "I wonder if anybody will ever give him anything to do?" "What can I do for you, young man?" asked the jeweler, turning to the boy. "I am looking for work, sir." "Are your expectations as high as those of the chap who just left?" "No, sir. I am willing to work hard and I am not afraid of long hours." "Then you are not a dude?" "No, sir. Do I look like one?" "You look like a country lad." "I came from the country about a month ago. I've been working for Trumbull & Davison, the paper dealers. But they have sold out to another firm and don't need me any longer." "I see. Well, I am sorry for you, for you look bright and honest. But I need somebody with experience in the jewelry line." "Then you haven't any place that I can fill?" "No, I--but hold on. I'll tell you what I might do. Do you know anything about horses?" "Yes, sir." "And about a garden?" "Yes, sir. I was brought up on a farm." "I need a man around my country home in New Jersey. I might try you there, at twelve dollars a month and your board." Again Nat's face fell. "Thank you, but I want to get something to do in the city," said he. "I am tired of farm life." "Then I can't give you anything," and the jeweler turned away. During the remainder of the day Nat visited several other stores and offices. But everywhere he received the same answer--that he was too late and the position advertised was already filled. "Perhaps I did wrong not to take that position over in New Jersey," he thought, on his way to his boarding house. "But I don't want to go back to farm work if I can help it." Two additional days passed, and still Nat found nothing to do, although he tramped from Forty-second Street clear down to the Battery several times. Then he obtained a job which lasted three days and paid him but two dollars. "This isn't earning a living," he reasoned. "Unless I do better I'll have to try selling papers or blacking boots." One morning he did try selling papers, under the tutorship of Dick, but the effort was not a success. By noon he had earned exactly nineteen cents and had sixteen papers still on hand. "I guess you wasn't cut out for a newsboy," said Dick, frankly. "What you want to do is, to get a steady job in a store or office." "Yes, but the jobs are mighty scarce," answered Nat. A week passed, and the country boy could find nothing more to do that was steady. One day he helped a man distribute bills, and on another occasion he carried out packages for a florist, and the two jobs brought him in just a dollar. By this time the soles were worn from his shoes and he had to have them mended. "Making one's way in the city isn't so easy after all," he thought one night, as he sat in his little room, on the edge of the bed. He had been counting up his money and found that he had but a little over four dollars left. "I'll have to give Mrs. Talcott three and a half of that," he continued, "and that will leave me sixty-five cents. I've got to hustle or I'll be high and dry by next week." Nat hustled all of the next week, but without results. In one store the proprietor was unusually harsh to him, and he came back to Mrs. Talcott's house more downcast than ever. "I guess they don't want me in New York after all," he mused. "If I can't get something to do I can't stay here, for Mrs. Talcott can't afford to keep me. I'll have to starve!" He was so disheartened that he did not feel like eating. Immediately after the meal he went to his little room. Then, of a sudden he thought of the letter Paul Hampton had given him. "I may as well open that," he reasoned. "Goodness knows I am short enough of funds, and pretty well discouraged too." The letter was in his pocket, still pinned fast, and he brought it forth and gazed at it speculatively. "It would be just like him to put a five-dollar bill in it," he thought. With his penknife he slit the envelope open, and looked inside. It contained a slip of paper and another slip, of a green color. "A bill, as sure as I'm in this room!" he ejaculated. "I don't suppose it's less than a five, and maybe it's a ten. If he--well I declare!" Nat rushed to the window to look at the bill, and then with a gasp he sank back on the only chair which the little bedroom contained. He could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses. The bank bill was one for a hundred dollars. _ |
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