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Driven From Home; or Carl Crawford's Experience, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 17. Carl Enters The Factory |
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_ CHAPTER XVII. CARL ENTERS THE FACTORY When they left the factory Mr. Jennings said, with a smile: "Now you are one of us, Carl. To-morrow you begin work." "I am glad of it, sir." "You don't ask what salary you are to get." "I am willing to leave that to you." "Suppose we say two dollars a week and board--to begin with." "That is better than I expected. But where am I to board?" "At my house, for the present, if that will suit you." "I shall like it very much, if it won't inconvenience you." "Hannah is the one to be inconvenienced, if anyone. I had a little conversation with her while you were getting ready for dinner. She seems to have taken a liking for you, though she doesn't like boys generally. As for me, it will make the home brighter to have a young person in it. Hannah and I are old-fashioned and quiet, and the neighbors don't have much reason to complain of noise." "No, sir; I should think not," said Carl, with a smile. "There is one thing you must be prepared for, Carl," said Mr. Jennings, after a pause. "What is that, sir?" "Your living in my house--I being your employer--may excite jealousy in some. I think I know of one who will be jealous." "Leonard Craig?" "And his uncle. However, don't borrow any trouble on that score. I hope you won't take advantage of your position, and, thinking yourself a favorite, neglect your duties." "I will not, sir." "Business and friendship ought to be kept apart." "That is right, sir." "I am going back to the house, but you may like to take a walk about the village. You will feel interested in it, as it is to be your future home. By the way, it may be well for you to write for your trunk. You can order it sent to my house." "All right, sir; I will do so." He went to the post office, and, buying a postal card, wrote to his friend, Gilbert Vance, as follows:
"Carl Crawford." This postal carried welcome intelligence to Gilbert, who felt a brotherly interest in Carl. He responded by a letter of hearty congratulation, and forwarded the trunk as requested. Carl reported for duty the next morning, and, though a novice, soon showed that he was not without mechanical skill. At twelve o'clock all the factory hands had an hour off for dinner. As Carl passed into the street he found himself walking beside the boy whom he had succeeded--Leonard Craig. "Good-morning, Leonard," said Carl, pleasantly. "Good-morning. Have you taken my place in the factory?" "Yes." "Do you think you shall like it?" "I think I shall, though, of course, it is rather early to form an opinion." "I didn't like it." "Why not?" "I don't want to grow up a workman. I think I am fit for something better." "Mr. Jennings began as a factory hand." "I suppose he had a taste for it. I haven't." "Then you like your present position better?" "Oh, yes; it's more genteel. How much does Jennings pay you?" "Two dollars a week and board." "How is that? Where do you board?" "With him." "Oh!" said Leonard, his countenance changing. "So you are a favorite with the boss, are you?" "I don't know. He gave me warning that he should be just as strict with me as if we were strangers." "How long have you known him?" Carl smiled. "I met him for the first time yesterday," he answered. "That's very queer." "Well, perhaps it is a little singular." "Are you a poor boy?" "I have to earn my own living." "I see. You will grow up a common workman." "I shall try to rise above it. I am not ashamed of the position, but I am ambitious to rise." "I am going to be a bookkeeper," said Leonard. "My uncle is going to teach me. I would rather be a bookkeeper than a factory hand." "Then you are right in preparing yourself for such a post." Here the two boys separated, as they were to dine in different places. Leonard was pleased with his new position. He really had very little to do. Twice a day he went to the post office, once or twice to the bank, and there was an occasional errand besides. To Carl the idleness would have been insupportable, but Leonard was naturally indolent. He sat down in a chair by the window, and watched the people go by. The first afternoon he was in luck, for there was a dog fight in the street outside. He seized his hat, went out, and watched the canine warfare with the deepest interest. "I think I will buy you a system of bookkeeping," said his uncle, "and you can study it in the office." "Put it off till next week, Uncle Julius. I want to get rested from the factory work." "It seems to me, Leonard, you were born lazy," said his uncle, sharply. "I don't care to work with my hands." "Do you care to work at all?" "I should like to be a bookkeeper." "Do you know that my work is harder and more exhausting than that of a workman in the factory?" "You don't want to exchange with him, do you?" asked Leonard. "No." "That's where I agree with you." Mr. Jennings took several weekly papers. Leonard was looking over the columns of one of them one day, when he saw the advertisement of a gift enterprise of a most attractive character. The first prize was a house and grounds valued at ten thousand dollars. Following were minor prizes, among them one thousand dollars in gold. Leonard's fancy was captivated by the brilliant prospect of such a prize. "Price of tickets--only one dollar!" he read. "Think of getting a thousand dollars for one! Oh, if I could only be the lucky one!" He took out his purse, though he knew beforehand that his stock of cash consisted only of two dimes and a nickel. "I wonder if I could borrow a dollar of that boy Carl!" he deliberated. "I'll speak to him about it." This happened more than a week after Carl went to work in the factory. He had already received one week's pay, and it remained untouched in his pocket. Leonard joined him in the street early in the evening, and accosted him graciously. "Where are you going?" he asked. "Nowhere in particular. I am out for a walk." "So am I. Shall we walk together?" "If you like." After talking on indifferent matters, Leonard said suddenly: "Oh, by the way, will you do me a favor?" "What is it?" "Lend me a dollar till next week." In former days Carl would probably have granted the favor, but he realized the value of money now that he had to earn it by steady work. "I am afraid it won't be convenient," he answered. "Does that mean that you haven't got it?" asked Leonard. "No, I have it, but I am expecting to use it." "I wouldn't mind paying you interest for it--say twenty-five cents," continued Leonard, who had set his heart on buying a ticket in the gift enterprise. "I would be ashamed to take such interest as that." "But I have a chance of making a good deal more out of it myself." "In what way?" "That is my secret." "Why don't you borrow it of your uncle?" "He would ask too many questions. However, I see that you're a miser, and I won't trouble you." He left Carl in a huff and walked hastily away. He turned into a lane little traveled, and, after walking a few rods, came suddenly upon the prostrate body of a man, whose deep, breathing showed that he was stupefied by liquor. Leonard was not likely to feel any special interest in him, but one object did attract his attention. It was a wallet which had dropped out of the man's pocket and was lying on the grass beside him. _ |
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