Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience by Jr. Horatio Alger (book club books .txt) 📕
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- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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“What can I show you?” he asked.
“You may show me Mr. Norris, if you please,” responded Carl, with a smile.
“He is in the office,” said the clerk, with an answering smile.
Carl entered the office and saw Mr. Norris, a man of middle age, partially bald, with a genial, business-like manner.
“Well, young man?” he said, looking at Carl inquiringly.
“You must excuse me for troubling you, sir,” said Carl, who was afraid Mr. Norris would laugh at him, “but I thought you might direct me to Rachel Norris.”
Mr. Norris looked surprised.
“What do you want of Rachel Norris?” he asked, abruptly.
“I have a little business with her,” answered Carl.
“Of what nature?”
“Excuse me, but I don’t care to mention it at present.”
“Humph! you are very cautious for a young man, or rather boy.”
“Isn’t that a good trait, sir?”
“Good, but unusual. Are you a schoolboy?”
“No, sir; I am a drummer.”
Mr. Norris put on a pair of glasses and scrutinized Carl more closely.
“I should like to see—just out of curiosity—the man that you travel for,” he said.
“I will ask him to call whenever he visits Albany. There is his card.”
Mr. Norris took it.
“Why, bless my soul!” he exclaimed. “It is Henry Jennings, an old schoolmate of mine.”
“And a good business man, even if he has sent out such a young drummer.”
“I should say so. There must be something in you, or he wouldn’t have trusted you. How is Jennings?”
“He is well, sir—well and prosperous.”
“That is good news. Are you in his employ?”
“Yes, sir. This is the first time I have traveled for him.”
“How far are you going?”
“As far as Chicago.”
“I don’t see what you can have to do with Rachel Norris. However, I don’t mind telling you that she is my aunt, and—well, upon my soul! Here she is now.”
And he ran hastily to greet a tall, thin lady, wearing a black shawl, who at that moment entered the office.
CHAPTER XXX. AN ECCENTRIC WOMAN.
Miss Norris dropped into a chair as if she were fatigued.
“Well, Aunt Rachel, how are you feeling this morning?” asked her nephew.
“Out of sorts,” was the laconic reply.
“I am very sorry for that. I suppose there is reason for it.”
“Yes; I’ve been robbed.”
“Indeed!” said Mr. Norris. “Lost your purse? I wonder more ladies are not robbed, carrying their money as carelessly as they do.”
“That isn’t it. I am always careful, as careful as any man.”
“Still you got robbed.”
“Yes, but of a bank book.”
Here Carl became attentive. It was clear that he would not have to look any farther for the owner of the book he had found in his stateroom.
“What kind of a bank book?” inquired Mr. Norris.
“I had nearly a thousand dollars deposited in the Sixpenny Savings Bank. I called at the bank to make some inquiries about interest, and when I came out I presume some rascal followed me and stole the book——”
“Have you any idea who took it?”
“I got into the horse cars, near the bank; next to me sat a young man in a light overcoat. There was no one on the other side of me. I think he must have taken it.”
“That was Stuyvesant,” said Carl to himself.
“When did this happen, Aunt Rachel?”
“Three days since.”
“Why didn’t you do something about it before?”
“I did. I advertised a reward of twenty-five dollars to anyone who would restore it to me.”
“There was no occasion for that. By giving notice at the bank, they would give you a new book after a time.”
“I preferred to recover the old one. Besides, I thought I would like to know what became of it.”
“I can tell you, Miss Norris,” said Carl, who thought it time to speak.
Hitherto Miss Norris had not seemed aware of Carl’s presence. She turned abruptly and surveyed him through her glasses.
“Who are you?” she asked.
This might seem rude, but it was only Miss Rachel’s way.
“My name is Carl Crawford.”
“Do I know you?”
“No, Miss Norris, but I hope you will.”
“Humph! that depends. You say you know what became of my bank book?”
“Yes, Miss Norris.”
“Well?”
“It was taken by the young man who sat next to you.”
“How do you know?”
“He robbed me last night on the way from New York in a Hudson River steamboat.”
“That doesn’t prove that he robbed me. I was robbed here in this city.”
“What do you say to this?” asked Carl, displaying the bank book.
“Bless me! That is my book. Where did you get it?”
Carl told his story briefly, how, on discovering that he had been robbed, he explored the stateroom and found the bank book.
“Well, well, I am astonished! And how did you know Mr. Norris was my nephew?”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything about him or you, but finding his name in the directory, I came here to ask if he knew any such person.”
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