Home > Authors Index > Horatio Alger > Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune > This page
Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune, a fiction by Horatio Alger |
||
Chapter 20. Paul Perkins, Of Minneapolis |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XX. PAUL PERKINS, OF MINNEAPOLIS If a bomb had exploded in the office David Mullins and his friend Ralston could not have been more astonished than by the appearance of Paul Perkins, whose name was invented without the slightest idea that any such person existed. Before relating what followed, a word of explanation is necessary. Chester went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel without the slightest suspicion that he had been sent on a fool's errand. He imagined, indeed, that Mr. Mullins wanted to get rid of him, but did not doubt that there was such a man as Paul Perkins, and that he was expected to arrive at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. He walked up Broadway in a leisurely manner, feeling that his hasty return was not desired. He reached the Fifth Avenue, and entering--it was the first time he had ever visited the hotel--went up to the desk. The clerk was giving instructions to a bell boy, who was directed to carry a visitor's card to No. 221. When at leisure, Chester asked: "Has Mr. Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis, arrived at the hotel?" The clerk looked over the list of arrivals. Finally his forefinger stopped at an entry on the book. "Yes," he answered, "he arrived last evening. Did you wish to see him?" About this Chester was in doubt. He had only been asked to inquire if Mr. Perkins had arrived. He assumed, however, that the bookkeeper wished to see Mr. Perkins at the office. Accordingly he answered, "Yes, sir. I should like to see him." The clerk rang a bell and another bell boy made his appearance. "Write your name on a card," said the clerk, "and I will send it up." "The gentleman won't know my name," said Chester. "Then give the name of your firm." So Chester, after slight hesitation, wrote: "Chester Rand. From Clement Fairchild, Real Estate Broker." "Take that up to 169," said the clerk to the bell boy. In five minutes the boy returned. "Mr. Perkins says you are to come upstairs to his room," he reported. Chester followed the bell boy to the elevator. He had never before ridden in such a conveyance and the sensation was a novel one. They got off at one of the upper floors, and Chester followed his guide to the door of a room near by. The bell boy knocked. "Come in," was heard from the inside. Chester entered and found himself in the presence of a man of fifty, with a sandy complexion and thick, brown beard. He held the card in his hand, and was looking at it. "Are you Chester Rand?" he asked, in a high-pitched voice. "Yes, sir." "And you come from Clement Fairchild?" "Yes, sir." "This is very curious. I never heard the name before." Chester looked surprised. "I can't explain it, sir," he said. "I was asked to come to the hotel and ask if you had arrived." "Where is Mr. Fairchild's office?" "On West Fourteenth Street." "And he is a real estate broker?" "Yes, sir." "I don't understand what he wants of me, or how in the name of all that is curious he ever heard of me. I don't own any real estate, except a three-story house in which I live." "Perhaps, sir, if you will go to the office with me you will get an explanation." "Precisely. That is a very practical and sensible suggestion. Is it far off? I ask because I have never been in New York before." "It is only about ten minutes' walk." "Then I'll go with you, that is, if you can wait fifteen minutes while I finish writing a letter to my wife, apprising her of my safe arrival." "Yes, sir, I am in no especial hurry." "Then sit down, and--you may look at this," handing him the last copy of _Puck_. Chester opened the paper eagerly, for _Puck_ had accepted two of his sketches. He opened it at random, and his eye lighted up, for there was one of the two sketches handsomely reproduced. He uttered a little exclamation. "What have you found?" asked Paul Perkins, looking up from his letter. "This picture--is one of mine." "You don't mean it!" exclaimed the man from Minneapolis, dropping his pen in surprise. "I thought you were an office boy." "So I am, sir, but--sometimes I sell sketches to the illustrated papers." "What did you get for this?" "Seven dollars and a half. That is, I sold this and another for fifteen dollars." "By the great horn spoon! but this is wonderful." Chester did not feel called upon to say anything. "How long did it take you to draw this picture?" "A little over half an hour." "Jerusalem! that is at the rate of ten dollars an hour. I am contented to make ten dollars a day." "So should I be, sir. I don't draw all the time," said Chester, with a smile. "I was going to ask if you wouldn't give me lessons in drawing and sketching." "I should be afraid to, sir," laughed Chester. "You might prove a dangerous rival." "You needn't be afraid. I can play as well as I can sing." "I suppose you sing well, sir," said Chester, roguishly. "You can judge. When I was a young man I thought I would practice singing a little in my room one night. The next morning my landlady said, in a tone of sympathy, 'I heard you groaning last night, Mr. Perkins. Did you have the toothache?'" Chester burst into a hearty laugh. "If that is the case," he said, "I won't be afraid of you as a rival in drawing." Mr. Perkins set himself to finishing his letter, and in twenty minutes it was done. "Now, I am ready," he said. As they went downstairs, Chester observed, "I will ask you as a favor, Mr. Perkins, not to refer to my work in _Puck_, as it is not known at the office that I do any work outside." "All right, my boy. By the way, how much do they pay you at the office?" "Five dollars a week." "Evidently it isn't as good a business as drawing." "No, sir; but it is more reliable. I can't always satisfy the comic papers, and I am likely to have sketches left on my hands." "Yes; that is a practical way of looking at it, and shows that you are a boy of sense. What sort of a man is Mr. Fairchild?" "A very kind, considerate man, but I forgot to say that you won't see him." "But I thought he sent you to call on me?" "No, sir; Mr. Fairchild started for the West this morning. It was Mr. Mullins, the bookkeeper, who sent me." "That complicates the mystery. Is he a good friend of yours?" "No, sir; he dislikes me." Mr. Perkins looked curious, and Chester, considerably to his own surprise, confided to him the story of his relations with the bookkeeper. "He's a scamp!" commented the man from Minneapolis. "Why does Mr. Fairchild keep him. I wouldn't! I'd bounce him very quick." "He has been with Mr. Fairchild five years and understands his business thoroughly." "Well, there is something in that; but I wouldn't like to have in my employ a man whom I couldn't trust. Have you ever been out West?" "No, sir." "You ought to come out there. The city I represent is a smart one and no mistake. Of course you've heard of the rivalry between Minneapolis and St. Paul." "Yes, sir." "I don't take sides, for I live in both, but I think business facilities in Minneapolis are greater. I think you are a boy who would succeed at the West." "I should like to go there some day. I own some property in Washington Territory." "You do?" exclaimed Paul Perkins, in great surprise. "Whereabouts?" "In Tacoma. I own some lots there." "Then let me tell you, my boy, that you will be a rich man." "But I thought prices of land in Tacoma were small." "So they are--at present; but it is the future terminus of the Northern Pacific Railroad. When it is completed there will be a boom. How many lots do you own?" "Five." "Take my advice and hold on to them. What square is this?" They had reached Seventeenth Street. "Union Square." "It's a pretty place. Is Tiffany's near here?" "Yes, sir; only two blocks away. We shall pass it." "All right! Point it out to me. I'm going to buy a gold watch for myself there. I've needed one for a long time, but I wanted the satisfaction of buying one at Tiffany's. Anything that is sold there must be A No. 1." "I have no doubt of it, but I don't trade there much yet." "No; you must wait till you have realized on your Western lots." They turned down Fourteenth Street, and soon stood in front of Mr. Fairchild's office. They entered, and this brings us to the point where the last chapter ends. _ |
||