Fame and Fortune Part 30

ROSWELL CRAWFORD RETIRES FROM BUSINESS.

"Can you send this home for me?" asked a lady in Hall & Turner's store about three o'clock in the afternoon of the day on which d.i.c.k, as we have related, was arrested.

"Certainly, madam. Where shall it be sent?" asked the clerk.

"No. 47 West Fortieth Street," was the reply.

"Very well, it shall be sent up immediately. Here, Roswell."

Roswell Crawford came forward not very willingly. He had no great liking for the task which he saw would be required of him. Fortieth Street was at least a mile and a half distant, and he had already just returned from a walk in a different direction. Besides, the bundle was a large one, containing three dress patterns. He did not think it very suitable for a gentleman's son to be seen carrying such a large bundle through the streets.

"Why don't you send Edward?" he said, complainingly. "He doesn't do half as much as I."

"I shall send whom I please," said the clerk, sharply. "You wouldn't do anything if you could help it."

"I won't carry bundles much longer," said Roswell. "You put all the heaviest bundles off upon me."

Roswell's back being turned, he did not observe Mr. Turner, who had come up as he was speaking.

"What are you complaining about?" asked that gentleman.

Roswell turned, and colored a little when he saw his employer.

"What is the matter?" repeated Mr. Turner.

"Mr. Evans always gives me the largest bundles to carry," said Roswell.

"He is always complaining of having to carry bundles," said the clerk.

"He says it isn't suitable work for a gentleman's son."

"I have noticed it," said Mr. Turner. "On the whole, I think, Mr.

Crawford," he said, with mock deference, "I think you have mistaken your vocation in entering a dry-goods store. I advise you to seek some more gentlemanly employment. At the end of the week, you are at liberty to leave my employment for one better suited to you."

"I'm ready to go now," said Roswell, sulkily.

"Very well; if you desire it, I will not insist upon your remaining. If you will come up to the desk, you shall receive what is due you."

It was somewhat humiliating to Roswell to feel that his services were so readily dispensed with. Still he had never liked the place, and heartily disliked carrying bundles. By going at once, he would get rid of the large bundle to be carried to West Fortieth Street. Congratulating himself, therefore, on the whole, on escaping from what he regarded as a degrading servitude, he walked up to the desk in a dignified manner, and received the wages due him.

"I hope you will find some more congenial employment," said Mr. Turner, who paid him the amount of his wages.

"I have no doubt I shall," said Roswell, loftily. "My father was a gentleman, and our family has considerable influence."

"Well, I wish you success. Good-by."

"Good-by," said Roswell, and walked out of the shop with head erect.

He did not quite like going home at once, as explanation would be rather awkward under the circ.u.mstances. He accordingly crossed over to Fifth Avenue, considering that the most suitable promenade for a gentleman's son. He could not help regarding with some envy the happy possessors of the elegant buildings which he pa.s.sed. Why had partial Fate denied him that fortune which would have enabled him to live in this favored locality?

"Plenty of sn.o.bs have got money," he thought. "How much better I could use it than they! I wish I were rich! You wouldn't catch me slaving my life out in a dry-goods store, or any other."

This was undoubtedly true. Work of any kind had no charms for Roswell.

To walk up the avenue swinging a dandy cane, dressed in the height of the fas.h.i.+on, or, what was better yet, sitting back luxuriously in an elegant carriage drawn by a das.h.i.+ng span; such was what he regarded himself most fit for. But, unfortunately, he was not very likely to realize his wishes. The desire to enjoy wealth doesn't bring it, and the tastes of a gentleman are not a very good stock to begin life with. So Roswell sauntered along in rather a discontented frame of mind until he reached Madison Park, where he sat down on a bench, and listlessly watched some boys who were playing there.

"Hallo, Roswell!" said one of his acquaintances, coming up by chance.

"How do you happen to be here?"

"Why shouldn't I be here?"

"I thought you were in a store somewhere on Sixth Avenue."

"Well, I was, but I have left it."

"When did you leave it?"

"To-day."

"Got sacked, hey?"

"Sacked," in the New York vernacular, means discharged from a place. The idea of having it supposed that he had been "sacked" was not pleasing to Roswell's pride. He accordingly answered, "I never was 'sacked' in my life. Besides, it's a low word, and I never use it."

"Well, you know what I mean. Did they turn you off?"

"No, they didn't. They would have been glad to have me stay."

"Why didn't you then?"

"I didn't like the business."

"Dry goods,--wasn't it?"

"Yes, a retail dry-goods store. If I ever go into that line again, it'll be in a wholesale store. There's a chance there for a man to rise."

"You don't call yourself a man yet,--do you?"

"I call myself a gentleman," said Roswell, shortly.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I'm in no hurry about a new place. I shall look round a little."

"Well, success to you. I must be getting back to the shop."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm learning a trade."