Jed, the Poorhouse Boy

CHAPTER XXXI.

JED RETURNS GOOD FOR EVIL

In the short time before the Juno left for Bar Harbor, Schuyler Roper became quite intimate with Jed. There was never a trace of condescension in his manner to his boy friend, but Jed was always treated as if in birth and position he was the equal of the young patrician. Together they walked about the city, and frequently dined together, always at some expensive hotel or restaurant.

"What time is it, Jed?" asked Mr. Roper one day as they were passing the Star Theatre.

"I am afraid I left my watch at home," answered Jed, smiling.

"Then we shall have to supply its place."

Schuyler Roper turned the corner of Fourteenth Street, and led the way to Tiffany's well-known establishment on the corner of Fifteenth Street and Union Square.

"Let us see some gold watches," he said to a salesman.

A tray of handsome timepieces was produced.

"How expensive a watch would you like, sir? Is it for yourself?"

"No, for this young gentleman. Look over these watches, Jed, and see what one you like best."

Jed made choice of a very neat gold watch with a handsome dial.

"What is the price?" asked Mr. Roper.

"A hundred and twenty-five dollars."

Jed opened his eyes wide in astonishment. A hundred and twenty-five dollars seemed to him a very large sum, and so unaccustomed was he to expensive jewelry that he had not known that there were any watches so costly.

"Very well; we will take it. Show me some gold chains."

Choice was made of a fifty-dollar gold chain. It was attached to the watch, and Mr. Roper, handing it to Jed, said, "Put it in your pocket."

"Do you really mean the watch and chain for me?" asked Jed, almost incredulous.

"Certainly."

"How can I thank you, Mr. Roper?" said Jed gratefully.

"My dear boy," rejoined Roper kindly, "I want your appearance to do me credit. That you will do me credit I feel confident."

It was about this time that Jed met an old acquaintance—one whom he had no reason to remember with kindly feelings. He had occasion to go across Cortlandt Street ferry, when on board the boat he saw in front of him a figure that seemed familiar. He walked forward till he could see the face of the young man to whom it belonged. Then it flashed upon him that it was Maurice Graham, the young man who had invited him to his room on Twenty-Seventh Street and robbed him of his small stock of money.

Now that the tide had turned, Jed did not feel so incensed against the fellow as at first. Still he determined to let him understand that he knew exactly how he had been swindled.

He touched Graham on the shoulder, and the young man wheeled round with an apprehensive look, which he did not lose when he saw and recognized Jed.

"Did you touch me?" he asked, with an evident intention of ignoring Jed's acquaintance.

"Yes, Mr. Graham. We parted rather suddenly, you remember," said Jed significantly.

"Oh, I see. You are–"

"Jed Gilman."

"I was wondering what became of you. I was called up town to the house of a sick friend that evening, and when I went back the next day Mrs. Gately told me you had gone away."

"Indeed! Did she tell you that I was robbed of thirty-five dollars during the night, and that I awoke penniless?"

"No," answered Graham faintly. "I am surprised."

"I thought you might be. Are you in the habit of borrowing money from people who are asleep?"

"What do you mean? You don't think I took the money?"

"Yes, I think you did."

"Why, didn't I tell you that I spent the night with a sick friend in—in Eighty-Seventh Street. How could I rob you?"

"You came back during the evening and found me asleep."

"That's a mistake!" said Graham quickly.

"It is true. Mrs. Gately let you in, as she informed me the next morning."

Maurice Graham looked very much disconcerted, and looked eagerly to the Jersey shore, which they were fast approaching.

"Do you know that I would have had no breakfast if Mrs. Gately had not taken compassion on me?"

"You don't look—very destitute—now."

"I am not. I have been lucky enough to find a good position. But that thirty-five dollars belonged to me. How much of it can you return to me?"

Maurice Graham colored and looked embarrassed.

"I—the fact is," he stammered, "I'm almost broke."

"Is this true?"

"On my honor I've only got a dollar and ten cents in my pocket, and I don't know what will become of me when that is gone."

"You have got rid of it very quick."

"I've been a fool," said Graham gloomily. "I spent it mostly on pool and drinks. Then of course I've had to live."

"But your situation–"

"I haven't any."

"Perhaps you will meet another boy from the country."

"I treated you awful mean—I know I did," burst out Graham, "and I've been very sorry for it. I've often wished that I had left you five dollars."

"Well, that would have helped me. But don't you think it would have been better to have left me the whole?"

"Yes, it would; but I am very unlucky."

"I am afraid you don't deserve good luck. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"Yes."

"Can't you find another broker to take you in his office?"

"I never was in a broker's office," confessed Graham.

"What was your business, then? I suppose you had some way of making a living?"

"I am a barber by trade, but I got tired of the confinement, and so I thought I'd become a sport. I started out with a hundred dollars which it took me a year to save up, and I got rid of it in two weeks. Then I fell in with you."

"And with my thirty-five dollars."

"Yes."

"The best thing you can do is to go back to your business."

"I would if I could."

"Why can't you?"

"Because my razors are in hock."

It is the custom of journeymen barbers to supply their own razors and a pair of shears for hair-cutting.

"I suppose that means in pawn?"

"Yes."

"When can you get a place if you get your razors back?"

"I can go to work to-morrow."

"What sum will get them out?"

"Four dollars and a half."

"Where are they?"

"In a pawnshop on the Bowery."

"Come with me and I will get them out for you if you will promise to go to work."

"I will," answered Graham earnestly. "I'll give you my word I will."

"Come back on the next boat, then, and I will go with you to the pawnshop."

"It will take up your time. You don't mean to give me in charge when we reach New York?" said Graham apprehensively.

"No; I am willing to give you a fresh chance. I hope you will improve it."

Jed took out his watch to note the time.

"Is that watch yours? It's a beauty," said Graham.

"Yes; it came from Tiffany's."

"Did you have it when I met you?"

"No; if I had, that would have gone the same way as the money."

"You must be awfully lucky!"

"I suppose I have been. At any rate I have been honest."

"Honesty seems to pay. I must try it."

"I advise you to," said Jed, smiling.

When Jed parted from Graham it occurred to him that he would call on Mrs. Gately. She had provided him with a breakfast when he needed one, and seemed kindly disposed towards him.

When he rang the bell of the small house on Twenty-Seventh Street, Mrs. Gately herself came to the door.

"Did you wish to see me, sir?"

"You don't remember me, Mrs. Gately?"

The old lady peered through her glasses.

"Why bless me!" she said, "if it isn't the young man from the country. But you're dressed so fine I hardly knew you. I hope you're prosperin'."

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Gately. I have been quite lucky, but I was pretty low in spirits as well as in pockets when I left you."

"Why, you're lookin' fine. Won't you stay for supper? Luella Dickinson will be home soon—she that tends at Macy's. I've often spoken to her about you. Luella's very romantic."

"I am not, Mrs. Gately, and I'm afraid I can't stop. I must be on board my yacht in an hour."

"Your yacht! Bless me, you don't mean to say you've got a yacht?"

"Well, it belongs to a friend, but we enjoy it together."

"Have you seen the bad young man who robbed you?"

"Yes; I saw him this afternoon."

"You don't say! Did you have him arrested?"

"No; I helped him get some things out of pawn."

"That's a real Christian act, but I don't think I'd have done it. You deserve to prosper. I wish you could stay and meet Luella."

"Some other time, Mrs. Gately."

At supper the landlady told Miss Dickinson of Jed's call. Luella expressed great regret that she had not seen him.

"I should fall in love with Mr. Gilman, I know I would," she said. "Why didn't you ask him to call at Macy's?"

"I will when I see him again."

CHAPTER XXXII.

AT BAR HARBOR

About eleven o'clock one forenoon the yacht Juno came to anchor in the harbor of Mount Desert.

Jed gazed admiringly at the rugged shores, the picturesque village, the background of hills, the smaller islands surrounding the main island, like the satellites of a larger planet.

"It is beautiful!" he said. "I never dreamed of such a place."

"Yes," said Roper, "it is by far the most attractive island on the American coast. I think we shall find it pleasant to stay here for a time."

"I shall enjoy it at any rate," said Jed. "Where shall we stay?"

"I generally go to the Newport. It is one of the smaller hotels, but its location is excellent, being very near the water. Besides, I am expecting my aunt, Mrs. Frost, to arrive in a few days. She always goes to the Newport, and has the same room every year. There is the hotel yonder."

Mr. Roper pointed out a pleasant but unpretentious hostelry on the left of the pier.

"The large house farther up the hill is Rodick's," he said. "Rodick is an old name at Mount Desert, and the island just across from the wharf, separated by a bar, was once called Rodick's island."

The yacht was anchored, and Jed and Mr. Roper were rowed to shore. They secured rooms at the Newport, and walked up the hill.

As they passed the post-office Schuyler Roper said, "I will see if there are any letters awaiting me. There may be one from my aunt."

Jed waited at the door. Mr. Roper came out, holding a letter which he regarded with some curiosity.

"Here is a letter in an unknown hand, post-marked Scranton," he said. "I don't know any person living there."

"I do," said Jed. "It was my old home."

"Then why should it be addressed to me? It ought to have been sent to you."

"Will you let me see the handwriting?" asked Jed.

His heart beat a little rapidly, for he recognized the hand as that of Percy Dixon.

"I know who it is from," he said.

"Is it from a friend of yours?"

"No, an enemy."

"I don't understand."

"You will understand when you come to read it, Mr. Roper. It is from a boy whom I entertained on the yacht three days before we sailed for Bar Harbor. He has probably written you in the hope of injuring me."

"Does he know anything to your disadvantage then?"

"Not to the disadvantage of my character. But please read the letter, Mr. Roper, and then you will understand."

Schuyler Roper's curiosity was aroused, and he cut open the envelope. The letter, which was written in a schoolboy hand, read thus:

Dear Sir:

Though I am a stranger to you, I will take the liberty to write and let you know something of the boy who is travelling with you. He is not fit to associate with a gentleman like yourself, for he was brought up in the poorhouse in this place, and lived here till four months ago, when he ran away, and has been living since by hook or by crook. He has a great deal of cheek, and that is what has helped him to push himself in among people who are far above him.

Perhaps you may like to know who I am. My father, Squire Dixon, is a prominent man in Scranton, and is Overseer of the Poor, which makes him a sort of guardian of Jed Gilman. He could force him to go back to his old home, but the boy gave so much trouble, being naturally headstrong and rebellious, that he thinks it best to let him follow his own course. Probably Jed will some time apply to be taken back to his old home, as he is likely to be found out to be an impostor sooner or later.

I have taken the trouble to write you because my father thinks it very proper that you should know the character of the boy whom you have taken into your employ. When I was in New York lately he invited me to go on board of your yacht in order to show off. He made as free as if the yacht were his own, treating me to a lunch, and ordering the men around as if he owned the yacht. I couldn't help being amused, remembering that he was nothing but a pauper a few months since.

Excuse me for taking up so much of your valuable time. I have no ill-will against Jed, but I should think better of him if he would keep his place, and not try to intrude into fashionable society.

Jed noticed the face of Mr. Roper rather anxiously when he was reading this letter.

"Will it prejudice him against me?" he asked himself.

He felt that in that case he should indeed be depressed, for he had come to have a sincere attachment for his patron. He was reassured by the smile that lighted up the young man's countenance as he finished reading the letter.

"This letter appears to have been written by a great friend of yours, Jed," he said. "He is a great friend of mine, too, for he seems afraid that I shall be injured by associating with you, and so puts me on my guard."

"I thought as much," said Jed. "I suppose he tells you that I was brought up in the Scranton poorhouse."

"Yes; is this true?"

"Yes," answered Jed soberly.

"But how did it happen? Did your parents lose their property?"

"I know nothing of them, Mr. Roper. I was only two years of age when I was placed in the poorhouse. Mr. and Mrs. Avery were in charge. They were kind people and took good care of me."

"Did they never tell you the circumstances of your being placed in the institution?"

"No; but Mrs. Avery always promised that she would tell me all she knew on my sixteenth birthday."

"Are you not sixteen yet?"

"Yes; but when I reached that age Mr. and Mrs. Fogson were in charge of the poorhouse. Mr. and Mrs. Avery were removed by the father of this Percy Dixon who has written to you."

"What sort of people are they?"

"Mean, selfish and unkind to the poor people who are unfortunate enough to be under their charge. Mr. Fogson tried to tyrannize over me, and I rebelled."

"I can't blame you," said Roper.

"Finally I ran away, as Percy writes. It was high time I did, for I felt able to earn my own living, and was ashamed to be supported by the town, though I am sure I did work enough to pay for the miserable board I got at the poorhouse.

"When Mr. and Mrs. Avery were in charge I did not feel my position. It seemed to me as if I were living with kind friends. When they went away I realized that I was a pauper. Indeed, Mr. and Mrs. Fogson reminded me of it half a dozen times a day."

"So you ran away? What did you do first?"

"Perhaps you will laugh, Mr. Roper, but I became an actor."

Schuyler Roper looked amazed.

"But how on earth did you get a chance to go on the stage?" he asked.

"Through an actor whose acquaintance I made. He was playing in 'The Gold King.' The young actor who took the boy's part was taken suddenly sick, and they tried me. The manager seemed satisfied, and I played in it till the end of the season."

"There must be something in you, Jed, or you could not have met the requirements of such a position. Well, and what next?"

"I went to Sea Spray and was given the charge of a young boy, boarding at the Spray Hotel, by his father. I lost the place through the same Percy Dixon who wrote to you."

"How was that?"

"He informed the boy's aunt, in the absence of his father at Chicago, that I was only a pauper, and Miss Maria Holbrook discharged me at once."

"Do you think Mr. Holbrook would have discharged you?"

"I don't think so, for the boy was very fond of me."

"So am I, Jed," said Mr. Roper affectionately, "and I shall not allow young Dixon to separate us."

"Thank you, Mr. Roper," replied Jed gratefully.

"As to your history, you ought to know more of it. When we leave Bar Harbor I will let you go back to Scranton and obtain from the Averys all the information you can. You may get a clew that may lead to a discovery of your parentage."

"I hope so," answered Jed. "I don't like to feel that I have no relations."

"Meanwhile you may take this letter of your friend Percy's and answer it as you see fit."

A few days later Percy Dixon received the following letter:

My Dear and Considerate Friend Percy:

Mr. Roper has asked me to answer your kind letter. He appreciates your interest in him, but he doesn't seem to think that my company will injure him as much as you imagine. He thinks I shall enjoy myself better with him than in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Fogson, and therefore won't send me away. We are staying at the Newport House, and enjoying ourselves very much. If you come down this way call on us, and I will give you a good dinner. Tell Mr. and Mrs. Fogson not to worry about me, as I am well and happy.

"I never saw such cheek!" said Percy in mortified anger as he tore Jed's letter to pieces. "It is strange how that young pauper prospers. But it won't always last!" and this reflection afforded him some satisfaction.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE POORHOUSE RECEIVES TWO VISITORS

Let us change the scene to the Scranton poorhouse. Mr. Fogson has just come in from splitting wood. It was a task to which he was very much averse, but he had not been able to find any one to fill Jed's place.

"Drat that boy!" he said, as he sank into a chair.

"What boy?"

"Jed Gilman. He ought to be here at work instead of roaming round doing no good to himself or anybody else."

"Perhaps he would be glad to come back. I dare say he has seen the time when he didn't know where his next meal was coming from," rejoined Mrs. Fogson hopefully.

"I hope so."

"I don't know as I want him back," went on the woman.

"I do! He's good for splitting wood, if he ain't good for anything else."

At this moment a knock was heard at the door, and Percy Dixon entered the house.

"How do you do, Master Percy?" said Mrs. Fogson deferentially. "I am always glad to see you enter our humble house."

"We were just talking of Jed Gilman before you came in," added Fogson.

"I saw him two days since," said Percy.

"You did!" exclaimed Fogson eagerly. "Where was he?"

"In the streets of New York. You know I went to the city Tuesday."

"What was he doing—blacking boots for a living?"

"Not much! I wish he was. That boy is about the luckiest chap I ever set eyes on."

"What did he do?" asked Mrs. Fogson curiously.

"Invited me to go on board his yacht."

"What!"

"That's just what he did."

"He was bluffing. He wanted to deceive you."

"No he didn't, for I accepted his invitation and went on board."

"You don't say! Jed Gilman got a yacht!" exclaimed Fogson, his eyes almost protruding from their sockets.

"Well, I don't say it's his, but he acts as if it were. He hired a boat to take me out to the Juno—that's the name of the yacht, and it's a regular beauty—and took me on board and treated me to some lunch. He ordered the men about just as if he were a gentleman."

"Well, of all things!" exclaimed Mrs. Fogson, looking surprised and scandalized. "Did he explain how he came to have anything to do with the boat?"

"Yes; he said the owner had taken a fancy to him and was taking care of him."

"Did he say who the owner was?"

"Yes; it's Schuyler Roper, a rich young man living in New York."

"Well, what next?"

"I stayed on board an hour or more, and then went back to the city."

"It seems strange how that boy gets along. Mr. Roper will find him out sooner or later."

"I should say he would. I've written him a letter, and I brought it along, thinking you might like to hear it read."

So Percy read the letter already laid before the reader in the last chapter.

Mr. and Mrs. Fogson nodded delighted approval as Percy read his exposure of Jed's humble past.

"I do say that's about the best-written letter I ever heard," said Mrs. Fogson, as Percy concluded.

"Do you think so?" asked Percy with a gratified smile.

"Think so! I am sure of it. Master Percy, I had no idea you had so much talent. Did it take you long to write it?"

"Oh no, I just dashed it off in a few minutes," answered Percy carelessly.

"You ought to be a lawyer; you do express things so neat. Don't you think so, Simeon?"

"Yes, Mrs. Fogson. I always thought Percy a smart boy. But where are you going to send the letter?"

"To Bar Harbor. Jed said that they were going there in a day or two. I thought Mr. Roper ought to know what a low fellow he has with him."

"Of course he ought. You've only done your duty in informing him against Jed. When are you going to mail the letter?"

"To-night. It'll go off the first thing to-morrow morning."

"I'm very much obliged to you for letting us hear the letter, Master Percy. I expect it'll cook Jed's goose."

"Probably Mr. Roper will send him off as soon as he reads it. I'd just like to be there when it is read."

Percy left the poorhouse and went on his way to the post-office. He sealed the letter, first reading it over again to himself complacently, and inclined to agree with the Fogsons that it was a decidedly clever piece of composition.

He had hardly walked a hundred yards when he met a quiet-looking man of medium height dressed in a gray suit.

"Young man," said the stranger, "am I on my way to the poorhouse?"

"Well, sir," replied Percy jocosely, "that depends on your habits."

The other smiled.

"I see you are a young man of original humor. Is the building used as a poorhouse near by?"

"Yes, sir, that is it," said Percy, pointing to the forlorn-looking dwelling he had just left.

"Thank you, sir," said the stranger, and resumed his walk.

"I wonder what he wants," speculated Percy. "Perhaps he is a relation of Mr. and Mrs. Fogson. I wish I had asked him."

The quiet-looking man was soon at the outer door of the poorhouse, and knocked, for there was no bell.

Mrs. Fogson answered the knock, and surveyed the stranger with some curiosity.

"I believe this is the Scranton poorhouse."

"Yes, sir."

"And you, perhaps, are in charge."

"Yes, sir. Did you wish to see any of the paupers?" asked Mrs. Fogson, thinking that the visitor, who was inexpensively dressed, might be related to some of her boarders.