The Telegraph Boy Part 27

"This is an outrage!" said the rogue, angrily; "I will have you arrested, monsieur."

"I will give you a chance, for here is an officer," said the detective.

"I give this man in charge for pa.s.sing counterfeit money," said the detective. "The next time, Mr. Stanley, don't select so smart a telegraph boy. He recognized you, in spite of your disguise, by the ring upon your finger."

The rogue angrily drew the ring from his finger, and threw it on the sidewalk.

"Curse the ring!" he said. "It has betrayed me."

It only remains to add that Stanley was convicted through Frank's testimony. He proved to be an old offender, and the chief of a gang of counterfeiters.

CHAPTER XVII.

FRANK MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

Frank was more fortunate than the generality of the telegraph boys in obtaining fees from those who employed him. He was not allowed to solicit gifts, but was at liberty to accept them when offered. In one way or another he found his weekly receipts came to about seven dollars.

Out of this sum he would have been able to save money, even if he had been obliged to pay all his expenses, that is by the exercise of strict economy. But, as we know, he was at no expense for room or board, with the exception of a light lunch in the middle of the day. Making a little calculation, he found that he could save about four dollars a week. As it had only been proposed to him to stay at Mrs. Vivian's while Fred was in the country, it seemed prudent to Frank to "make hay while the sun shone," and save up a little fund from which he could hereafter draw, in case it were necessary.

So when he had saved ten dollars he presented himself at the counter of the Dime Savings-Bank, then located in Ca.n.a.l street, and deposited it, receiving a bank-book, which he regarded with great pride.

"I begin to feel like a capitalist," he said to himself. "I am rather better off now than I was when I led round old Mills, the blind man. I wonder how he is getting along."

As Frank entered Broadway from Ca.n.a.l street, by a strange coincidence he caught sight of the man of whom he had been thinking. Mills, with the same querulous, irritable expression he knew well, was making his way up Broadway, led by a boy younger than Frank.

"Pity a poor blind man!" he muttered from time to time in a whining voice.

"Look out, you young rascal, or you will have me off the sidewalk,"

Frank heard the blind man say; "I'll have a reckoning with you when I get home."

The boy, who was pale and slight, looked frightened.

"I couldn't help it, Mr. Mills," he said. "It was the crowd."

"You are getting careless, that's what's the matter," said Mills, harshly. "You are looking in at the shop windows, and neglect me."

"No, I am not," said the boy, in meek remonstrance.

"Don't you contradict me!" exclaimed the blind man, grasping his stick significantly. "Pity a poor blind man!"

"What an old brute he is!" thought Frank; "I will speak to him."

"How do you do, Mr. Mills?" he said, halting before the blind man.

"Who are you?" demanded Mills, quickly.

"You ought to know me; I am Frank Kavanagh, who used to go round with you."

"I have had so many boys--most of them good for nothing--that I don't remember you."

"I am the boy who wouldn't pa.s.s counterfeit money for you."

"Hus.h.!.+" said the blind man apprehensively, lest some one should hear Frank. "There was some mistake about that. I remember you now. Do you want to come back? This boy doesn't attend to his business."

Frank laughed. Situated as he was now, the proposal seemed to him an excellent joke, and he was disposed to treat it as such.

"Why, the fact is, Mr. Mills, you fed me on such rich food that I shouldn't dare to go back for fear of dyspepsia."

"Or starvation," he added to himself.

"I live better now," said Mills. "I haven't had any boy since, that suited me as well as you."

"Thank you; but I am afraid it would be a long time before I got rich on the wages you would give me."

"I'll give you fifty cents a week," said Mills, "and more if I do well.

You can come to-day, if you like."

"You are very kind, but I am doing better than that," said Frank.

"What are you doing,--selling papers?"

"No; I have given that up. I am a telegraph boy."

"How much do you make?"

"Seven dollars last week."

"Why, you will be rich," said the blind man, enviously. "I don't think I get as much as that myself, and I have to pay a boy out of it."

His poor guide did not have the appearance of being very liberally paid.

"Then you won't come back?" said Mills, querulously.

"No, I guess not."

"Come along, boy!" said Mills, roughly, to his little guide. "Are you going to keep me here all day?"

"I thought you wanted to speak to this boy."

"Well, I have got through. He has deserted me. It is the way of the world. There's n.o.body to pity the poor, blind man."

"Here's five cents for old acquaintance' sake. Mr. Mills," said Frank, dropping a nickel into the hand of the boy who was guiding him.

"Thank you! May you never know what it is to be blind!" said Mills, in his professional tone.

"If I am, I hope I can see as well as you," thought Frank. "What a precious old humbug he is, and how I pity that poor boy! If I had a chance I would give him something to save him from starvation."