Herbert Carter's Legacy; Or, the Inventor's Son by Jr. Horatio Alger
CHAPTER XXXII
OPENING THE CAMPAIGN
Not knowing his way, but wandering wherever the fancy seized him,Herbert finally came to Washington Square, and took a seat on one ofthe benches provided for the public. He looked around him with interest,surveying the groups that passed him, though without the expectation ofrecognizing anyone. But, as good fortune would have it, the very personhe most desired to see strolled by.
Mr. Cornelius Dixon looked like a cheap swell. In his dress hecaricatured the fashion, and exhibited a sort of pretentious gentilitywhich betrayed his innate vulgarity. He stared in wonder when a boy witha bundle under his arm started from his seat, and hurried toward himwith the greeting: “How do you do, Mr. Dixon?”
“Really,” drawled Cornelius, “you have the advantage of me.”
“Don’t you remember me? I am your cousin, Herbert Carter.”
“What! the boy the old fellow left his old clothes to?” asked Cornelius.
“The same one,” answered Herbert, smiling.
“You haven’t got any of ‘em on, have you?” asked Mr. Dixon, surveyinghim with curiosity.
“Yes; this coat was made from my uncle’s cloak.”
“Shouldn’t have thought it. It looks quite respectable, ‘pon my honor.When did you come to the city?”
“Only this morning.”
“On a visit?”
“No; I want to find a place.”
“Humph!” muttered Cornelius, thoughtfully. “Places don’t grow on everybush. Where are you hanging out?”
“I haven’t found a place yet. I want to find a cheap boarding house.”
“You might come to mine.”
“Perhaps you pay more than I could afford,” suggested Herbert, who wasnot aware that Cornelius had a very limited income, and occupied a roomon the fourth floor of a Bleecker Street boarding house, at the weeklyexpense of five dollars.
“You can come into my room for a day or two, and then we’ll see whatarrangement we can make. I’m going there now. Will you come along?”
Herbert gladly accepted the invitation. He was tired of wandering aboutthe great city, not knowing where to lay his head; accordingly he joinedhis genteel cousin, and they walked toward Bleecker Street.
“Have you got any money?” queried Cornelius, cautiously.
“Not much. If I don’t find something to do in a week, I must go back tothe country.”
“A week’s a short time to find a place. But hold on! We want a boy inour store. I guess I could get you in.”
“What wages would I get?”
“Two dollars a week, to begin with.”
“I couldn’t live on that, could I?”
“I guess not. Four dollars a week would be the least you could getboarded for.”
“Then it will be better for me to go home than to stay here, and getinto debt.”
“Perhaps it would,” said Cornelius, who was afraid Herbert might want toborrow of him.
“Can’t I get something better? How much do you get?”
“Ahem! only twenty dollars a week,” answered Mr. Dixon, who really gotabout half that.
“Why, that’s splendid!” said Herbert.
“So it would be if I only got it,” thought Cornelius. “I can’t saveanything,” he answered. “I have to dress in the fashion, you know, onaccount of my position in society.”
Herbert privately thought, from an inspection of his cousin’s wardrobe,that the fashion was a queer one, but he did not say so.
“It’s a shame the old man didn’t leave us more,” said Mr. Dixon, in anaggrieved tone.
“It would have been convenient,” Herbert admitted.
“He ought to have left us ten thousand dollars apiece.”
“What would you have done with so much money?”
“Gone into business on my own account. If I had a store of my ownI might have offered you a place.”
“But suppose I had ten thousand dollars, too?”
“Then I would have taken you into partnership. It would be a grand thingfor you to be junior partner in a New York firm.”
Herbert thought so, too, though it is doubtful whether a firm of whichMr. Dixon was the head would have occupied so proud a position as someothers.
“I suppose you have spent all your legacy?” said Herbert.
“I should say so. What’s a hundred dollars? I bought a new suit ofclothes, a dozen pair of kids, and a box of cigars, and that took upabout all of it. You don’t smoke, do you?”
“Oh, no,” answered Herbert, surprised at the question.
“Better not. It’s expensive. Wait a minute. I want to buy a cigar.”
Mr. Dixon dove into a cigar store, and emerged with one in his mouth.
Soon they reached the boarding house. It was a five-story brickbuilding, rather shabby outwardly.
Cornelius opened the door with a night key, and bade Herbert follow.So he did, up to the fifth floor, where his guide opened a door andadmitted him into a room about ten feet square, in a bad state ofdisorder. In the corner was a bed, not very inviting in appearance. Itlooked very different from the neat little bed which Herbert slept inat home. The furniture was of hair, and had evidently seen better days.There were two chairs, both of them covered with portions of Mr. Dixon’swardrobe. Cornelius cleared off one, and invited Herbert to be seated.
“This is my den,” he said.
“Den,” seemed to be the right word, though Herbert did not say so. Hewondered why a man with so large an income did not live better.
“You can brush your hair if you want to,” said Cornelius. “The supperbell will ring right off. I’ll take you down with me.”
“Will there be room?” asked Herbert.
“Oh, yes; I’ll arrange about that. If you like you can room with me, andI guess I can fix it so you needn’t pay more than four dollars a week,getting your lunch outside.”
“I wish you would,” said Herbert, who felt that, dirty as the room was,it would be more like home to him than where he was wholly unacquainted.
At the table below, Herbert found a seat next to Cornelius. There wereother clerks at the table whom Mr. Dixon knew, also two or three marriedcouples, and two extra ladies.
“That lady is an actress,” whispered Cornelius, pointing to a ratherfaded woman, of about thirty, on the opposite side of the table.
“Is she?” returned Herbert, examining her with considerable curiosity.“Where does she play?”
“At the Olympic,” said Mr. Dixon. “She is Rosalie Vernon.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“It’s only her stage name. Her real name is Brown.”
“Did you ever see her play?”
“Often; she’s good.”
“She looks very quiet.”
“She don’t say much here; but on the stage she has enough to say forherself. Do you see that man with gray hair and spectacles?”
“Yes.”
“He’s an Italian count. He lost his property somehow, and is obliged togive lessons in French and Italian. Quite a come-down, isn’t it?”
In the evening he discussed his plans with Cornelius.
“Can’t I get more than two dollars a week in a store?” he asked.
“I am afraid not; though you might stumble on a place where they wouldgive three.”
“Even that would not be enough to live upon. I must make that, at anyrate, and I hoped to be able to save something.”
“There are some newsboys who make a dollar a day,” suggested Cornelius.
“A dollar a day? That’s six dollars a week.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you think I could go into that?”
“Of course you can, if you’ve got money enough to buy a stock of papersto start with. You’ll be your own boss. Then there’s boot-blacking; butthat ain’t genteel.”
“I should prefer selling papers.”
“Then you’d better try it. I’ve spoken to the landlady, and she’ll takeyou for
Herbert closed the day in good spirits. He thought he saw his way clearto supporting himself in the city. Before he went to bed he wrote acheerful letter to his mother and deposited it in a post office box atthe corner.