A Boy's Fortune

"We don't buy second-hand jewelry," said the clerk, rudely. "We sell rings here; don't buy them."

"Then would you be kind enough to lend me two dollars on it till – till next week?" entreated Rose. "It must be worth much more than that."

"It doesn't matter how much it is worth," said the clerk. "We ain't in that line of business. You don't suppose we keep a pawnbroker's shop, do you?" and he laughed contemptuously, glancing at a tall lady who stood beside Rose and had listened attentively to the conversation, as if inviting her to enjoy the joke with him.

"Then perhaps you will direct me to a pawnbroker's," said Rose, ill at ease.

"Oh, you can go find one on the Bowery," said the clerk, carelessly. "Now, madam," turning to the tall lady, "what can I show you?"

His tone was much more respectful than the one he employed in speaking to Rose, for the lady, though far from beautiful, and no longer young, was handsomely-dressed, and had the appearance of being wealthy.

"You can't show me anything to-day, young man," said Miss Jane Wilmot, for it was she. "I wish to speak to this young lady. My dear, come out of the store with me. I wish to ask you a few questions."

The clerk arched his brows in surprise and disappointment as his hoped-for customer walked away without purchasing anything, followed by Rose.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Mrs. Flanagan Is Driven from the Field

Miss Jane Wilmot had never been pretty, even when, twenty years before, she could lay claim to being a young lady; and her manners were decided; but a kind smile lighted up her face as she said to Rose:

"My child, you seem to be in trouble."

"Yes, indeed, madam," said Rose, "I am in great trouble."

"Don't think me inquisitive," said Miss Wilmot, "if I inquire into your trouble. I infer that you are in need of money."

"Yes, madam, I am very much in need of money, or I would not think of selling my mother's ring."

"Your mother – is she living?"

"No; she has been dead for five years."

"You are not alone in the world?"

"No, thank Heaven! I don't know how I could bear to feel myself alone. I have a sick sister and a little brother."

"And does the whole burden of their support fall on you?" asked Miss Wilmot, in a tone of sympathy.

"Not quite. My little brother Harry earns two dollars a week as a cash-boy."

"That is not much help."

"It is nearly as much as I earn myself. There is not much to be earned at making vests at thirty-five cents each."

"Thirty-five!" repeated Miss Wilmot, indignantly. "Who pays you such a wretched price?"

"Walton & Co."

"No wonder they prosper, if they pay so little for having their work done. How many vests can you make in a week?"

"One vest a day is about as much as I can make, but I have made seven in a week."

"And you consider that a good week's work?" asked Miss Wilmot.

"Yes, but I cannot average that."

"That makes – let me see – two dollars and forty-five cents. You don't mean to say, child, that your united incomes amount to only four dollars and forty-five cents?"

"It generally amounts to less, for I cannot average seven vests a week."

"Well, well, what are we coming to?" ejaculated Miss Wilmot, pityingly. "You don't look, child, as if you had always been so miserably poor."

"I have not. My grandfather was rich, but he took offense at mother's marriage to father and he left all his property to my cousin."

"The old wretch! Excuse me, child, I forgot that he was your grandfather. So you were wholly left out of the will?"

"If my cousin should die, the whole property would come to us."

"He should have left the property between you. But I fancy you think I am a curious old woman, with my questions."

"I don't think you an old woman at all, madam."

Miss Wilmot smiled. Though she was a spinster of over forty she was not wholly without appreciation of a compliment, and the reply of Rose pleased her.

"At any rate, I am old enough to be your mother, my dear," she said. "But that is neither here nor there. How much did you expect to get for that ring?"

"I hoped that I might get three dollars," said Rose, hesitatingly. "I owe Mrs. Flanagan – she is my landlady – a dollar and a half, and I could pay that and have a little fund left to fall back upon."

"A little fund – a dollar and a half!" said Miss Wilmot, pityingly.

"I suppose I would not get so much at a pawnbroker's?" continued Rose.

"My child, I am not a pawnbroker, but I think it will be better for me to lend you something on the ring."

"If you only would, madam! I feel timid about going to a pawnshop."

"Where they would offer some ridiculous trifle for it, no doubt. Here, child, give me the ring."

Rose drew it from her finger and handed it to Miss Wilmot.

The latter drew a purse from her pocket and slipped the ring into it.

"It is too small for me to wear," she said. "It will be safe in my purse."

She drew out two five-dollar bills and handed them to Rose.

"Ten dollars!" exclaimed Rose, in surprise.