The Errand Boy; Or, How Phil Brent Won Success by Jr. Horatio Alger (bearly read books .txt) 📕

Leaving Phil, we will precede him to the house of Mrs. Forbush.

She had managed to pay the rent due, but she was not out of trouble. The time had come when it was necessary to decide whether she would retain the house for the following year. In New York, as many of my young readers may know, the first of May is moving-day, and leases generally begin at that date. Engagements are made generally by or before March 1st.

Mr. Stone, the landlord, called upon the widow to ascertain whether she proposed to remain in the house.

“I suppose I may as well do so,” said Mrs. Forbush.

She had had difficulty in making her monthly payments, but to move would involve expense, and it might be some time before she could secure boarders in a new location.

“You can't do better,” said the landlord. “At fifty dollars a month this is a very cheap house.”

“You mean forty-five? Mr. Stone?” said Mrs. Forbush.

“No, I don't,” said the landlord.

“But that is what I have been paying this last year.”

“That is true, but I ought to get fifty dollars, and if you won't pay it somebody else will.”

“Mr. Stone,” said the widow, in a troubled voice, “I hope you will be considerate. It has been as much as I could do to get together forty-five dollars each month to pay you. Indeed, I can pay no more.”

“Pardon me for saying that that is no affair of mine,” said the landlord brusquely. “If you can't pay the rent, by all means move into a smaller house. If you stay here you must be prepared to pay fifty dollars a month.”

“I don't see how I can,” answered the widow in dejection.

“I'll give you three days to consider it,” said the landlord indifferently. “You'll make a mistake if you give the house up. However, that is your affair.”

The landlord left the house, and Mrs. Forbush sat down depressed.

“Julia,” she said to her daughter, “I wish you were old enough to advise me. I dislike to move, but I don't dare to engage to pay such a rent. Fifty dollars a month will amount to——”

“Six hundred dollars a year!” said Julia, who was good at figures.

“And that seems a great sum to us.”

“It would be little enough to Mrs. Pitkin,” said Julia, who felt that lady's prosperity unjust, while her poor, patient mother had to struggle so hard for a scanty livelihood.

“Oh, yes; Lavinia is rolling in wealth,” sighed Mrs. Forbush. “I can't understand how Uncle Oliver can bestow his favors on so selfish a woman.”

“Why don't you ask Philip's advice about keeping the house?” said Julia.

It must be explained that Philip and Julia were already excellent friends, and it may be said that each was mutually attracted by the other.

“Poor Philip has his own troubles,” said Mrs. Forbush. “He has lost his place through the malice and jealousy of Mr. and Mrs. Pitkin, for I am sure that Lavinia is the cause of his dismissal, and I don't know when he will be able to get another.”

“You won't send him away, mother, if he can't pay his board?”

“No,” answered her mother warmly. “Philip is welcome to stay with us as long as we have a roof over our heads, whether he can pay his board or not.”

This answer seemed very satisfactory to Julia, who rose impulsively and kissed her mother.

“That's a good mother,” she said. “It would be a pity to send poor Philip into the street.”

“You seem to like Philip,” said Mrs. Forbush, smiling faintly.

“Yes, mother. You know I haven't any brother, and Phil seems just like a brother to me.”

Just then the door opened, and Philip himself entered the room.

Generally he came home looking depressed, after a long and ineffectual search for employment. Now he was fairly radiant with joy.

“Phil, you've got a place; I know you have!” exclaimed Julia, noticing his glad expression. “Where is it? Is it a good one?”

“Have you really got a place, Philip?” asked Mrs. Forbush.