Adventures of a Telegraph Boy or 'Number 91'

“Paul Parton.”

“A very good name. That will do quite nicely.”

Mrs. Holbrook sat down at the desk, and wrote the following letter:

“My Dear Aunt:

“I am taking a liberty in sending you a boy in whom I am interested, with the request that you will give him a home for a few weeks, if he should be contented. I know you have a large house and plenty of room. I think a young companion will help enliven the house. Paul Parton (that is his name) will be happy to be of service to you in any way. He understands horses, and will drive you out any time, harness and unharness, read to you or write for you, should you require it. I ask you to receive him as a guest, for my sake, but to make him useful.

“I hope, my dear aunt, you are in comfortable health, and in a condition to enjoy life, notwithstanding your advanced years.

    “Your affectionate niece,
    “Louisa Holbrook.”

“There,” said Mrs. Holbrook, after reading the letter to Paul, “I think this will secure you an entrance into my aunt’s house, and should it be read by the housekeeper, as is likely to be the case, it will tell her nothing. Now we will go out and see about getting you a supply of clothes.”

CHAPTER XXX

PAUL’S RECEPTION AT ROCKVILLE

Paul found himself unable to start for Rockville in the afternoon. He was obliged to make arrangements at home for an indefinite absence, and procure from the savings bank a supply of money for current expenses, which he left in the hands of Mrs. Hogan. His outfit was provided by Mrs. Holbrook, who made it as ample as if Paul were the son of a well to do family, instead of a telegraph boy, dependent upon his own exertions for a scanty living in a shabby tenement house.

When his new patroness parted from him, she put a pocketbook into his hands.

“This is not intended for remuneration,” she said, “for I shall pay the telegraph company their usual charges. But I wish you to have money to use, as you may require it.”

“Thank you,” said Paul. “You are very kind.”

“No, I am only considerate and just.”

“Have you any special directions to give, Mrs. Holbrook?”

“None beyond what I have already given. I must trust greatly to your own good judgment and discretion. I am sure I can do so with confidence, after the good report Mr. Cunningham has made of you.”

“Thank you; I will try to deserve your confidence.”

“You may write to me from time to time, when you have anything to communicate.”

Paul promised to do so, and at nine o’clock took a train at the Grand Central Depot for Rockville.

Fairly seated in the cars, he opened the pocketbook given him by Mrs. Holbrook.

It contained three five dollar bills, and five dollars more in small notes.

“Mrs. Holbrook is very liberal,” he reflected, complacently. “It will be a pleasure to be in her service. I am fortunate in finding such good friends.”

Paul was fortunate, but his good fortune was deserved. He always tried to do his duty, was always courteous and obliging, and not afraid to work. Such boys generally find friends. If any of my readers think they are badly treated by their employers, and are poorly provided with friends, let them consider whether they have taken pains to deserve them.

Paul had never traveled, and two hours’ ride on the cars from New York to Rockville, on a pleasant, sunny morning, interested him very much.

He knew very little of the country, having spent most of his time in the lower part of the city. He began to think the world was more beautiful than he imagined.

Finally, the cars came to a stop; the conductor called out “Rockville!” and Paul, with curious anticipation, stepped from the cars upon the platform.

There was the usual crowd around the depot. On the platform stood a man with a whip in his hand, evidently a driver.

“Carriage for the hotel, or any part of the village!” he called out.

Paul stepped up to him and inquired: “Can you tell me how far from here Mrs. Granville lives?”

“The widder Granville?” queried the driver.

“I suppose so. She is an old lady.”

“Just so. Well, she lives about a mile away, on the Plainfield Road.”

“Can you take me there?”

“Well, as you ain’t over and above hefty, I guess the horses can manage it,” added the driver, humorously. “Just hop on. We’ll be starting directly.”

Paul got on the front seat with the driver, feeling disposed to a social chat with that personage. There was but one other passenger, a lady, who was bound for the hotel.

“Are you going to visit the widder?” asked the knight of the whip.

“I am expecting to stay at her house a little while.”

“I suppose you know her?”

“No, I have never seen her. I bring a letter from her niece in New York, Mrs. Louisa Holbrook.”

“I’ve heard tell of her. She was down here a week last summer. I guess she and the housekeeper couldn’t hitch hosses.”

“Mrs. Mercer is the housekeeper, I believe,” said Paul.

“Folks call her the housekeeper. I call her the boss,” said the driver. “She’s got the old lady under her thumb, if all accounts are true.”

“Is she agreeable?”

Amos, the driver, emitted a short laugh. “Wait till you see her,” he said, significantly.

“Do you think Mrs. Granville stands in dread of her?” asked Paul, rather anxiously.

He was beginning to think his task might be a hard one.

“No; the old lady is easy goin’, that is all. If she ever got roused she’d turn out to have a will of her own, or I’m greatly mistaken. Bless your soul, Mrs. Mercer wouldn’t dare to go too far, for she wants the old lady to leave her a good slice of her property. But she gets round her in an underhand way. For instance, if her son wants to go off anywhere, and it isn’t convenient for him to drive the old lady out, Mrs. Mercer persuades her that she isn’t looking well, or that the wind is cold and raw, and she’d better stay at home. I shouldn’t be surprised if she’d get the old lady to make a will in her favor.”

“I wonder what sort of a reception the housekeeper will give me,” said Paul, thoughtfully.