The Erie Train Boy

CHAPTER XXIV.

FRED'S GOOD LUCK

Fred made a short trip the next day, and returned home at four o'clock. He was glad to be back so early, as it gave him time to prepare for his evening visit. Naturally his mind had dwelt upon it more or less during the day, and he looked forward to the occasion with pleasant anticipations. The broker's gracious manners led Fred to think of him as a friend.

"I would like to be in the employ of such a man," he reflected.

He started from home in good season, and found himself on the broker's steps on the stroke of eight.

The door was opened by the same servant as on the evening previous, but he treated Fred more respectfully, having overheard Mr. Wainwright speak of him cordially.

So when Fred asked, "Is Mr. Wainwright at home?" he answered "Yes, sir; come right in. I believe as you are expected."

The old man was descending the stairs as Fred entered, and immediately recognized him.

"Ha, my young friend!" he said. "I am glad to see you," and he held out his hand.

"I hope you are feeling better, sir," said Fred respectfully.

"Oh, yes, thank you. I feel quite myself to-day. It was the length of the journey that upset and fatigued me. I couldn't travel every day, as you do."

"No, sir, I suppose not now; but when you were of my age it would have been different."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"And I am seventy-one, the same figures, but reversed. That makes a great difference. Come in here; my nephew will be down at once."

The train boy followed the old gentleman into the handsome drawing-room, and sat down on a sofa feeling, it must be owned, not quite as much at home as he would have done in a plainer house.

"Did you make much to-day?" asked Silas Corwin (that was his name) in a tone of interest.

"No, sir, it was a poor day. I only sold three dollars' worth."

"And how much did that yield you?"

"Sixty cents. I have a commission of twenty per cent."

"What was the most you ever made in a day?"

"I took in thirteen dollars once – it was on a holiday."

"That would give you two dollars and sixty cents."

"Yes, sir."

"Very good indeed!"

"If I could keep that up I should feel like a millionaire."

"Perhaps happier than a millionaire. I have known millionaires who were weighed down by cares, and were far from happy."

Fred listened respectfully, but like most boys of his age found it impossible to understand how a very rich man could be otherwise than happy.

At this point Mr. John Wainwright entered the room.

"Good evening, my boy!" he said cordially. "I won't apologize for being late, as my uncle has no doubt entertained you."

"Yes, sir; he was just telling me that millionaires are sometimes unhappy."

"And you did not believe him?"

"I think I should be happy if I were worth a million."

"You might feel poorer than you do now. I knew a millionaire once – a bachelor – who did not venture to drink but one cup of coffee at his breakfast (he took it at a cheap restaurant) because it would involve an added expenditure of five cents."

"Was he in his right mind, sir?"

"I don't wonder you ask. I don't think a man who carries economy so far is quite in his right mind. However, he was shrewd enough in his business transactions. But now tell me something about yourself. Are you alone in the world?"

"No, sir; I have a mother and little brother."

"Are they partly dependent upon you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you make enough to support them comfortably?"

"I can in the summer, sir, but in the winter my earnings are small."

"How small?"

"Not over four dollars a week."

"That is certainly small. Do you like your present employment?"

"I am getting tired of it," answered Fred. "I should be glad to find a place where I can have a chance to rise, even if the pay is small."

"What do you think of going into a broker's office?"

Fred's heart gave a bound.

"I should like it very much," he said.

"Then I think I can offer you a place in mine. Come down on Saturday, and I will introduce you to the office employees, and on Monday you can begin work."

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Wainwright."

"Before you know how much pay you are to receive?" asked the broker, smiling.

"I can safely trust that to you, sir."

"Then we will say eight dollars to begin with."

"My mother will be pleased with my good luck. I hope I shall prove satisfactory."

"We generally ask references from those about to enter our employment, but my uncle here insists that it is unnecessary in your case."

"I'll go security for the boy, John," said Silas Corwin.

"Thank you, sir," said Fred. "I will see that you don't run any risk."

At this moment a young girl of fourteen entered the room. She was the picture of rosy health, and Fred looked at her admiringly. She, too, glanced at him curiously.

"Fred, this is my daughter, Rose," said Mr. Wainwright.

"Is this the boy who came home with Uncle Silas?" asked the young lady.

"Yes, Rose."

"He looks like a nice boy."

Fred blushed at the compliment, but coming from such lips he found it very agreeable.

"Thank you," he said.

"How old are you?" continued Rose. "I'm fourteen."

"I am three years older."

"When I am three years older I shall be a young lady."

"I don't think I shall ever be a young lady," said Fred demurely.

"Why, of course you won't, you foolish boy," said Rose, with a merry laugh. "Papa, may I invite Fred to my New Year's party?"

"Yes, if you like."

"You'll come, won't you?" asked Rose.

"If your father approves," answered Fred, hesitating.

"Of course he does. Didn't he say so? If you'll tell me where you live, I'll send you a card. Do you dance?"

"Not much; but I will practise beforehand."

"That's right. You must dance with me, you know."

"Rose," said her father gravely, "are you under the impression that this is Leap Year? You seem to be very attentive to this young man."

Rose was the pride of her father's heart, as she might well be, for she was an unusually attractive child, and had been a good deal indulged, but by no means spoiled. Mr. Wainwright had no foolish ideas about exclusiveness, and was not disturbed by his daughter's cordiality to Fred.

"Do you play backgammon, Fred?" asked Rose, after some further conversation.

"Yes, a little."

"Then I'll get the backgammon board, and we'll have a game."

Fred was not a skilful player, and the young lady beat him three games in succession, which put her in high spirits. Her favorable opinion of Fred was confirmed, and when he rose to go she pressed him to come again.

"Thank you," said Fred, "I shall be very glad indeed to come."

"Rose," said her father, after Fred's departure, "it seems to me you have been flirting with Fred."

"He's a nice boy, don't you think so, papa?"

"I hope he will prove so, for I am going to take him into my office."

"That's good. Then I shall see him often."

"Really, Rose, I was a little alarmed lest you should make him an offer this evening."

"You needn't be afraid, papa. I will wait till I am a little bit older."

"And then shall you offer yourself to Fred?"

"Perhaps I shall if I don't see any one I like better."

"You must remember he is poor."

"That doesn't make any difference. You can give us all the money we want."

"A very satisfactory arrangement, upon my word! I am glad you don't insist upon getting married at once, but give me a few hours to get reconciled to the thought."

CHAPTER XXV.

ROSE WAINWRIGHT'S PARTY

As Fred would make his debut in fashionable society at Rose Wainwright's party, he was naturally solicitous to make a favorable impression. He had for some time been intending to procure a new suit, but hesitated on account of the expense. Now with a new position in prospect, and a liberal salary he no longer delayed, but purchased a neat black suit – a misfit – for seventeen dollars, and a few small articles of which he stood in need.

The next thing required was to obtain some knowledge of dancing. Fortunately he was acquainted with a gentleman who gave private as well as class lessons, and was a very successful teacher. He called upon Professor Saville, and asked him if he could qualify him to make a creditable appearance at the party.

"How much time have you?" asked the professor.

"Ten days."

"Then come to me every evening, and I will guarantee to make you more than an average dancer in that time."

"And your terms?"

"To you will be half price. I know very well, Fred, that you are not a millionaire, and will adapt my terms to your circumstances."

Professor Saville kept his word, and when the eventful day arrived Fred felt a degree of confidence in his newly-acquired skill. When he was dressed for the party in his new suit, with a white silk tie and a pair of patent leather shoes, it would have been hard to recognize him as a poor train boy.

"You look nice, Fred," said Albert.

"Do I? I must give you a dime for that compliment. Now don't go and spend it for whisky."

"I never drink whisky," said Albert, indignantly.

"I was only joking, Bertie. Well, mother, I will bid you good-evening."

"I wish you a pleasant time, Fred. Shall you be out late?"

"I can't tell, mother. It is so long since I have been to a fashionable party that I have forgotten when they do close."

Some of the boys who attended Miss Wainwright's party engaged cabs, but Fred would have thought this a foolish expenditure. It was a dry crisp day, with no snow on the ground, and he felt that it would do him no harm to walk. He did not expect to meet any one he knew, but on turning into Madison Avenue, he nearly ran into Raymond Ferguson.

Raymond did not at first recognize him. When he did, he surveyed him in his party dress in unconcealed amazement.

"Where did you get that rig?" he inquired, with more abruptness than ceremony.

Fred was glad to meet Raymond, and enjoyed his surprise.

"I bought it," he answered briefly.

"But why did you buy it? I don't see where you found the money. You'd better have saved it for food and rent."

"I'll think over your advice, Cousin Raymond," said Fred with a twinkle of fun in his eyes.

"Were you going to call at our house?" asked Raymond.

"Not this evening."

"I don't care to have you call me Cousin Raymond."

"I won't, then. I am just as much ashamed of the relationship as you are."

"If that's a joke it's a very poor one," said Raymond, provoked.

"It's no joke, I assure you."

Fred seemed so cool and composed that his cousin was nonplussed. He started as if to go on, but curiosity got the better of him.

"You haven't told me where you were going in that absurd dress," he said.

"I don't see anything absurd in it. I am going to a party."

"To a party? what party?"

"Miss Rose Wainwright's."

"What, the daughter of Mr. Wainwright, the broker?" asked Raymond, incredulously.

"Yes."

Now it happened that Raymond had been particularly anxious to get an invitation to this party. Some of his friends at the Columbia Grammar School were going and he had intrigued, but unsuccessfully, to get a card of invitation. The idea that his cousin – an obscure train boy – had succeeded where he had failed seemed absurd and preposterous. It intensified his disappointment, and made him foolishly jealous of Fred.

"There must be some mistake about this," he said harshly. "You only imagine that you are invited."

"I am not quite a fool, Cousin Raymond – excuse me, Mr. Ferguson. What do you say to this?"

He drew from his pocket a note of invitation requesting the favor of Mr. Fred Fenton's company at Miss Rose Wainwright's New Year's party.

"How did she happen to send you this card?" asked Raymond, his surprise increasing. "You don't mean to say you know Rose Wainwright?"

"Yes, I know her. I spent an evening at the house nearly two weeks ago, and played backgammon with her."

"I never heard the like. Have any bootblacks been invited?"

"I don't know. The young lady didn't tell me who were coming."

"Take my advice and don't go."

"Why not?"

"You will be about as much at home at a fashionable party as a cat would be at the opera."

"But I have accepted the invitation."

"That won't matter. You can write a note tomorrow saying that you thought it wiser to stay away."

"Besides there is another objection."

"What is that?"

"Rose expects me to dance with her."

"You dance!"

"Certainly, why not?"

"I begin to think you are crazy, Fred Fenton."

"I don't see why."

"Of course you can't dance."

"Of course I can. I am a pupil of Professor Saville. But I must bid you good evening, as it is time I was at the party."

Raymond gazed after Fred as he walked toward the scene of the evening's enjoyment with corrugated brows.

"I never heard of anything more ridiculous," he muttered. "It's like a beggar on horseback. Think of a poor boy like Fred figuring at Rose Wainwright's party. It is disgusting."

Fred would not have had his share of human nature if he had not enjoyed the discomfiture of his haughty cousin.

"He thinks this world was made for him," he said to himself. "There would be no place for me in it if he had his will."

The broker's house was blazing with light, and already many of the young guests had arrived. Plants and flowers were to be seen in profusion, and the mansion wore a holiday look. Fred was dazzled, but did not allow himself to appear ill at ease.

"Second floor back," said the servant who admitted him.

Fred went up-stairs and arranged his toilet in the room appropriated to gentlemen. Three or four other boys were present, but he knew no one. With one of these, an attractive boy of his own age, Fred stumbled into acquaintance, and they went downstairs together.

"Come with me." said the other boy, "we will pay our respects to Rose together."

Fred was glad to have some one take him in tow, and said so, adding, "Won't you tell me your name?"

"My name is George Swain. I am a Columbia schoolboy."

"And mine, Fred Fenton. I am in Mr. Wainwright's office."

Rose greeted both boys cordially. She glanced approvingly at Fred's dress. She had been a little uncertain whether he would be able to appear in suitable costume.

"You won't forget our dance?" she said, smiling.

"Oh, no; I am counting upon it."

"Then put down your name here," and she presented a card containing the order of dances.

"May I put down my name, too?" asked George "Certainly. I shall be pleased to dance with you."

When his turn came Fred acquitted himself very creditably, thanks to his skilful instructor, Professor Saville.

At ten o'clock a series of tableaux was announced. At one end of the dining-room a miniature stage had been erected, and there was a circular row of footlights. In the third tableau, Rose took part. She incautiously drew too near the footlights, and in an instant her dress caught fire.

There was a wild scene of excitement. All seemed to have lost their presence of mind except Fred. Occupying a front seat, he jumped to his feet in an instant, stripped off his coat, and jumping on the stage wrapped it round the terrified Rose.

CHAPTER XXVI.

FRED BECOMES A NEWSPAPER HERO

"Lie down instantly! Don't be alarmed! I will save you," said Fred rapidly, as he reached the girl.

He spoke in a tone of authority required by the emergency, and Rose obeyed without question. Her terror gave place to confidence in Fred. Her prompt obedience saved her life. A minute's delay, and it would have been too late.

There was a wild rush to the stage. First among those to reach Fred and the little girl was Mr. Wainwright. He had seen his daughter's peril, and for a moment he had been spellbound, his limbs refusing to act. Had Fred been affected in the same way, the life of Rose would have been sacrificed.

"Are you much hurt, my darling?" he asked, sick with apprehension.

"Just a little, papa," answered Rose, cheerfully. "If it hadn't been for Fred, I don't know what would have happened."

The coat was carefully removed, and it was found that the chief damage had been to the white dress. The little girl's injuries were of small account.

Fortunately there was a physician present, who took Rose in hand, and did what was needed to relieve her.

"It is a miracle that she was saved, Mr. Wainwright," he said. "But for this brave boy – "

"Hush, doctor, I cannot bear to think of it," said Mr. Wainwright with a shudder. "I can never forget what you have done for me and mine," he added, turning to Fred, and wringing his hand. "I won't speak of it now, but I shall always remember it."

Fred blushed and tried to escape notice, but the guests surrounded him and overwhelmed him with congratulations. One little girl, the intimate friend of Rose, even threw her arms round his neck and kissed him, which caused Fred to blush more furiously then ever. But upon the whole he bore himself so modestly that he won golden opinions from all.

The incident put an end to the party. As soon as it was understood that Rose was in no danger, the guests began to take their leave.

George Swain and Fred went out together.

"Fred, you have shown yourself a hero," said his friend warmly.

"You would have done the same thing," said Fred.

"Perhaps I should, but I should not have acted so promptly. That was the important point. You had your wits about you. I was sitting beside you, but before I had time to collect my thoughts you had saved Rose."

"I acted on the impulse of the moment."

"How did you know just what to do – making her lie down, you know?"

"I read an account of a similar case some months since. It came to me in a moment, and I acted upon it."

"If I ever catch fire, I hope you'll be on hand to put me out."

"Oh, yes," laughed Fred. "I'll stand you on your head directly."

"Thank you! It's a good thing to have a considerate friend."

"Did you have a pleasant evening, Fred?" asked Mrs. Fenton. "Are you not home earlier than you expected?"

"Yes, mother. There was as an accident that broke up the party."

He described the affair, but said nothing of his own part in it.