Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 220 — page 4: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

4. Tom Tanner, Scalawag and Scapegrace. ee the industrious brother was off on his long jour- ney in search of work, with all the burden of the family on his young shoulders. CHAPTER IIL. GETTING INTO SITUATIONS. “Want work, eh?’ and Mr. Thompson, of the firm of Thompson, Clark & Co., looked up over his spectacles. ‘‘ Well, you’re a spruce looking boy. What are you good for?’ “T am good to try most anything,” answered Frank Tanner respectfully. ‘“‘l haven’t done any work in your line, but I am young and willing. I can learn.” Mr. Thompson shook his head as he continued to look at the boy. ‘«No, my lad,” he said. ‘‘ We are not in need of any students. We cannot take on anybody that does not know the business.” ‘But how is anybody to know it, sir, if you give no one achance to learn?’ ‘He has you there,” laughed Mr. Clark, look- ing up for a moment from his account book. ‘©As the old blood dies out new blood must come in.” **That’s it!” cried Frank eagerly. ‘‘ I’m new blood, and good blood too. Just try me, sir, and you'll see if [ ain’t square up to the mark.” He looked wistfully at Mr. Thompson, as the latter silently surveyed him. ‘Are you a good eater!” he asked, with a queer smile. ‘*T don’t know,” answered Frank. ‘‘ I eat all I can get, but I don’t often have a chance to eat all I want.” “How much can you lift?” “Tsuppose I might fetch up a hundred and fifty pounds. I’m only a boy yet, you see.” **Can you hit a square blow?” “T ain’t much on the muscle,” replied Frank modesily. ‘‘I generally get out of the way when I see a fight coming.” ‘But if you were insulted? If some other ae were to wipe his feet on you?’ rank’s eyes flashed and his hands involun- wees clinched, ‘Ym afeard that boy’s house would go down,” he answered. Mr. Thompson laughed. He looked comically across at his partner. “The little man has grit in him,” he said. ‘“We might give him a chance.” Frauk’s face lighted up at this announce- ment. ‘*What is your name?” “ Frank Tanser, sir.” ‘‘ Where do yon live? But don’t tell me, ’d be sure to forget. Write it down on this paper. rank wrote his name and residence in a neat, round hand, Mr. Thompson looking curiously on. “You write a fair hand,” he remarked. ‘“Whut say, Clark? Shall we give the lad a chance to learn the business?” “Yes,” rejoined Mr. Clark, glancing up from the book. ‘‘Thank you, sir,” said Frank, gratefully. ‘* But—” and he hesitated. ‘* But, sir— Iwas going to ask—” “Well? Out with it, boy. going to ask?” ‘¢ About the wages, sir. It wasn’t about the work. Iain’t afeard of work. But how much will you pay me?” Mr. Thompson looked sharply up. “Pay, hey? Weare going to teach you the business, boy. That’s pay enough. You'll be more trouble than use to us fora year, and we should charge you something for taking you in hand. It isn’t much fun licking young cubs into shape,” he continued, looking over to Clark. ‘* However, you look like a smart boy, and we'll give youachance, But we can’t pay you for the first year.” ‘‘[’m sure I’m much obliged,” answered poor Frank, in a faltering tone. ‘‘ But I can’t work without pay. I’ve got to help keep my father nnd mother, sir, or I wouldn’t care. We're very poor.” * All right, my lad. That’s very good in ou,” and Mr. Thompsons tone was so benevo ent that Frank began to hope. ‘ But we do not do business for charity, and cannot under- take to keep your father and mother. So I sg en 5 have to look further.” . Clark looked quickly up, resting his pen- handle on his nose. . A aS . . ‘1 am very sorry—” began Frank. *¢T suppose so,” broke in Mr. Thompson, curt- ly. “But that’s not business. We've given you all the time we can spare, my brisk little chap, Yes and no is business talk, You have What were you sss OO ee said no. And so—” he looked significantly at the door. Frank took the hint and walked reluctantly away, with a very crestfallen look upon his face. Mr. Thompson turned again to the letter he had been writing, but Mr. Clark watched the boy’s sorrowful passage through the store, still slowly scratching his nose with the end of his pen. He then turned to his partner, who seemed to have quite forgotten the boy’s exist- ence, ‘“See here, Thompson,” cried Mr. Clark, sharply, ‘‘do you know that you’re confound- edly cold-blooded?” ‘“ Hey?’ answered Thompson, looking up with a startled air. “Tf you didn’t want the boy, what was the use of your being so rascally short with him?’ ‘*Oh! drop all that, Clark. Don’t you be lug- ging sentiment into business. What in the sun have feelings to do in a counting-room?” Mr. Clark seemed on the point of giving a sharp answer, but he restrained himself, and said: “Very well. Let us drop sentiment then. But that was a live boy. lv’s my notion he’s worth taking in hand, even if we have to pay him. Something could be made of him.” ‘“Do you think we’d better make Lyons Brothers, of Belfast, another offer for those linens? {s there any money in them?” A deep frown came upon Mr. Clark’s brow. * As you please,” he answered shortly and turned to his accounts. an, Mr. Thompson quietly picked up the address which Frank had written for him, thrust it Into his vest pocket, and dashed again into the heart of his letter. Meanwhile the subject of their conversation was walking up Broadway. He turned into store after store, letting scarcely one pass him, But it was the same tune in them all. ‘ Don’t want anybody.” ‘‘ Boys are more plague than profit.” Or more kindly. ‘‘No, my lad, am 7 Pla have no opening.” Or more curtly. ** No. Whatever the words they all came to the same. There was no room for Frank Tanner. Somewhat discouraged he -turned into Chatham street, and wandered along in front of clothing stores and other retail lines of busi- ness. Eager salesmen stood outside the doors, inviting every shabbily dressed passer, with the promise of a bargain. ‘“ Why couldn’t I do that?” Frank asked him- self. ‘It may not be pleasant, but there’s no disgrace in it. I suppose they wouldn’t have boys, though.” ehad just caught sight of a store, with a plentiful display of clothing in front, but with- out a salesman to descant onits merits. The thought struck him to try in there. Without hesitation Frank plunged in. The proprietor, a sallow-faced, hook-nosed fellow, came briskly forward. ‘‘Goot-mornin’, my young frient. What can I do for you this mornin’? Tt can fit you mita nice suit, and very sheap.” ‘*T don’t want a suit,” answered Frank. “Well, den, a nice cut-away coat. come down this way. I fit you right off.” ‘““No, no,” cried Frank, escaping from his hands, as he was proceeding to measure him, ‘‘T don’t want a coat. I—I want a job.” ‘You vant a job?” and the proprietor fell back in rise. “Yes,” broke in Frank. ‘‘ You haven’t any barker out front. All the other stores have them. I’m only a boy, I know, but I can talk, and I’ll come cheap, Just try me, Mr. Franks. Ill earn my wages.” ) *¢ Jist ‘“Vou’re only a poy? And you'll come sheap? | —Say, now, how you know my name’s Franks?” ‘¢T saw it on the sign at the door.” “Very goot. But I don’t want no barker. They ain’t no count.” “Just try me. I'll do my best.” ‘© See here, poy,” and Mr. Franks’s nose curled cunningly. ‘* You go out dere and fetch me in gustomers. For every one as puys I gives you ten cents; for every one as don’t puy, I gives you not’ings. Is dat good?” “Vos.” cried Frank, eager for anything that looked like a chance to make money. ‘“I will try it.” ‘When you try?” ‘* Now.” f. : Dat’s business. You go right out front.” Within ten minutes from the time that Frank had entered the store he was installed as regular out-door salesman, and had taken bis station up- on the pavement, eagerly looking for some one who might seem as if he needed clothing. While Frank was thus occupied his idle brother Tom was otherwise engaged. Gip had finally disposed of the rat, and the group of young vagabonds was lounging easily along the street, seeking some other game to occupy their inquir- ing minds. The first bit of fun that came to them was in the shape of a well dressed child, who was walk- ing heedfully along with a small pitcher of milk. The ragged urchin who had trapped the rat managed to stumble against this child, and topple him over into the gutter, the fallen pitcher spreading a white blotch of milk upon the pavement. The boys laughed as if this was the greatest fun in the world, but Tom Tanner, witha great show of kindness, picked up the erying child, and affected to smcoth down his muddy clothes. He then wiped his well-soiled hands over the little fellow’s face, until, what with mud and tears, he presented a very sorry aspect. ‘‘ Don’t cry, little pretty,” solaced Tom. ‘It’s mammy won't say nothin’ fer breakin’ the old pitcher. He mustn’t cry.” The child cried the louder at this. ‘“‘There, there, let me wipe its pretty little eyes,” and the young rogue managed to close up both the little fellow’s eyes with a broad plaster of mud. His ragged companions stood beck against the houses, laughing loudly at this. One of them came out to help Tom in the nice sport be was engaged in. He had taken a double bandful of mud from the gutter, and wasslyly approaching the disconsolate child, when there came a sudden diverson, in the shape of a boot toe that lifted him bodily from the gutter. ' “You young rapscallions!” roared the man who had made this assault. ‘‘ Hang your ugly pictures Tl! cool you off.” He grabbed savagely at Tom, but the latter was too quick. He stooped and darted like a rat between the man’s legs, coming up with a disdainful laugh on the other side. “Scoot, boys! Scoot!” he cried, ‘It’s Joe Grimes. He'll skin you if he catches you.” The group of boys broke asunder like a string of beads, and darted in every direction, leaving their assailant to wipe the mud from the child’s eyes, and solace him in his trouble. Tom Tanner lounged lazily on, after he saw there was to be no pursuit. is accomplices in mischief had disappeared, and there was nofan : in practical jokes without some one to do the laughing, so he quieted down. ‘“There’s no use talkin’,” he cogitated, as some new thoughts came to him. ‘‘Dad’s not to be fooled witb. He’ll salt me if I don’t strike somethin’ to do. I don’t see why I can’t keep on havin’ a good time, like the other boys; but dad’s a terror when he gits his back uy.” He walked on through street after street, looking lazily around him, ana thinking what he would like best as a steady occupation. ‘‘if IT could git to be marker for a billiard table, now. Or to set up pins in a ten-pin alley. I expect that fool of a Frank Tanner is buntin’ round for a job like a dog after bones. If he eits one, and I don’t, there’ll be a howlin’ old time. Ill warp him out of it, that’s all. He ain’t a-goin’ to discount me.” “By hookey! there’s the thing, now!” he eried, slapping his knee. “Queer I didn’t think of it afore. Bet I discount Frank yet.” This exclamation arose from his seemg_be- fore him an oyster cellar, kept by one Fred Jones, according to the sign. Tom plunged down the steps like one well acquainted with the locality, and presented him- self before the raw-boned and blear-eyed pro- | prietor. eee eee ees ‘‘- You axed me last week to come round,” ex- claimel Tom. ‘Here Iam. Here’s yer oyster.” ae ‘“TIey! you scapegrace of the slums, is it you?” roared the man, with a hearty laugh. * So ye’r’ here, eh?” and he caught Tom effec- tionately by the hair and hauled him forward. ‘“Tet’s have a look at you. What d’ye want?” ‘Want a job at h’isting the shells off of oysters,” answered Tom, with a leer. “ You told me you’d put me to work.” ‘All right, my little cove; you’re prime at shell h’isting, that’s a fact. ig ri:ht In. Here’s Mrs. Trim’s kettle from round the cor- ner. She wants a hundred slap out primes, Dig in.” Within five minutes Tom had his coat_ off, was girded with an apron, and was handling an oyster-knife with the skill of a professor. Both the Tanner boys had their jobs, 7GOiMmM ELNOOKS (E@)