Andy Grant's Pluck by Jr. Horatio Alger (simple e reader txt) π
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- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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The man was about to speak rudely, when a lady mounted the steps.
"Are you from Mr. Flint?" she asked.
"Yes, madam."
"I am Mrs. Mason."
"I remember you," said Andy, bowing. "Will you be kind enough to give me a receipt?"
"Certainly. Step into the hall, and I won't keep you waiting long."
Andy sat down.
"Why didn't you give me the parcel, boy?" asked the servant.
"Because you are not Mrs. Mason. I had strict orders to deliver it to her."
"Humph! that is being mighty particular."
"I have nothing to do with Mr. Flint's rules."
Mrs. Mason returned almost immediately.
"Here is the receipt, and thank you," she said, pleasantly.
Andy bowed, and opened the door to go out.
"I am afraid I have interfered with your lunch," she said.
"I am going to it now, thank you."
"My lunch is just ready. Perhaps you will accept an invitation to lunch with me?"
"I shall be very glad to do so."
Andy had been brought up as a gentleman, and was not at all embarrassed, as some boys would have been, by this attention from a lady.
"Follow me, then," she said, as she led the way downstairs to the front basement.
A small table was set there, and Mrs. Mason pointed to a seat.
"You are my only guest," she said. "My boy is out of town just at present. Shall I help you to some cold chicken?"
"Thank you."
Besides the chicken there was bread and butter, some kind of preserve, and hot tea. It was all very plain, but Andy enjoyed it.
"I ought to know the name of my guest," said Mrs. Mason.
"My name is Andrew Grant."
"Have you been long at Mr. Flint's?"
"This is my first day."
"I hope you will find the situation a pleasant one. You are not a city boy?"
"No, I came from Arden."
They were waited upon at table by Gustave, the man who had treated Andy rudely.
He did not look at all pleasant at having to wait upon the boy from "Flint's," and evidently considered his mistress very eccentric.
Mrs. Mason gossiped pleasantly, and evidently enjoyed her young company.
"That is better than eating alone," she said, as she rose from the table. "I feel quite well acquainted with you, Andrew. You must come up sometime when my boy is at home. He is a year or two younger than you, but I think you will get on together."
"I shall be very glad to come," replied Andy, gratefully. "Thank you for all your kindness."
He went back to the store at once.
"You are back early," said Mr. Flint.
"Yes, sir; Mrs. Mason invited me to lunch, and that saved time."
Simon Rich looked surprised. His nephew had never received so much attention from a customer.
CHAPTER XVII. β ANDY'S FELLOW BOARDERS.
As time went on, Andy became sensible that Simon Rich was indeed no friend of his. He was watched with a cold vigilance that was nothing less than a lookout for imperfections. Andy saw that it would be necessary for him to be unusually careful and attentive to his duties.
Mr. Flint, on the other hand, was always kind and cordial, notwithstanding the slighting words from Mr. Rich.
One day when Andy returned from lunch he found a boy talking with Simon Rich. He recognized him as his predecessor.
The boy, John Crandall, looked at him with an ill-natured glance. As Simon Rich did not see fit to introduce him he did not speak. When Rich went out to lunch John Crandall accompanied him.
"Don't you think there is any chance of my getting back, Uncle Simon?" asked John.
"Not at present. That boy you saw seems to have the inside track with Mr. Flint."
"What sort of a boy is he?"
"He's too fresh. I don't like him."
"What made Mr. Flint take him on?"
"Heaven knows; I don't."
"Do you think he is likely to stay?"
"Not if I can help it."
"Can't you prejudice Mr. Flint against him?"
"I will if I can. I am looking for a chance to get him into trouble, but it isn't easy, as he is a goody-goody sort of a boy. He tries to get in with people. You know Mrs. Mason, of Fifty-sixth Street?"
"Yes; I have carried purchases there."
"The very first day he was here he went there with a chain, and she invited him to lunch."
"You don't mean it?" exclaimed John, in surprise. "She never took any notice of me."
They went to the Dairy Restaurant, on Union Square, for lunch.
"Uncle Simon," said John, when they were going out, "can't you give me fifty cents? You know I haven't a cent of money, now that my salary is stopped."
"What do you want fifty cents for?" demanded his uncle, frowning.
"I want to go to the Grand Opera House to-night. I haven't been to the theater for two weeks."
"And you can't expect to while you are not earning anything."
"But that isn't my fault," pleaded John.
"Yes, it is. You neglected your duties at Flint's, and he saw it. That is why you lost your place."
"It is pretty hard going about without a cent of money in your pocket."
"Then you should have kept your place. Have you been around to look for another position?"
"No;
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