"There may be some stock orders in these letters," he said; "we willgo back to the office, give them to Mr. Clark to open, and then youcan go with me to the Stock Exchange."
Ten minutes later they entered the large room used by the brokers asan Exchange. Grant looked about him in undisguised astonishment. Itseemed like a pandemonium. The room was full of men, shouting,gesticulating and acting like crazy men. The floor was littered withfragments of paper, and on a raised dais were the officers of theExchange, the chief among them, the chairman, calling rapidly thenames of a long list of stocks. Each name was followed by a confusedshouting, which Grant learned afterward to be bids for the stocknamed. There were several groups of brokers, each apparentlyinterested in some leading security. In each of the galleries, oneat each end, overlooking the stock room, curious spectators werewatching what was going on.
Harry Decker was amused at Grant's look of surprise andbewilderment.
"You'll get used to it in time," he said. "Say--there is Mr.Reynolds. I must speak to him."
Mr. Reynolds stood near a placard on which, in prominent letters,was inscribed "Erie." Harry handed him a paper, which he took,glanced at quickly, and then resumed his bidding.
"He has just bought one thousand Erie," said Harry, aside, to Grant.
"One thousand?"
"Yes, a thousand shares, at fifty-five."
"Fifty-five dollars?"
"Yes."
"Why, that will make fifty-five thousand dollars," ejaculated Grant,in wonder.
"Yes, that is one of the orders I brought over just now."
"A man must have a great deal of capital to carry on this business,if that is only an item of a single day's business."
"Yes, but not so much as you may imagine. I can't explain now, butyou'll understand better as you go on. Now we'll go back and see ifthere's anything to do in the office."
Not long afterward Harry had to come back to the Exchange again, andGrant came with him. He found something new to surprise him.
A tall man of dignified presence was walking across the floor, whena fellow member with a sly stroke sent his tall hat spinning acrossthe floor. When the victim turned the mischief-maker was intent uponhis memorandum book, and the tall man's suspicions fell upon ashort, stout young man beside him. With a vigorous sweep he knockedthe young man's hat off, saying, "It's a poor rule that don't workboth ways."
This led to a little scrimmage, in which a dozen were involved. Thebrokers, staid, middle-aged men, most of them, seemed like a pack ofschool boys at recess. Grant surveyed the scene with undisguisedastonishment.
"What does it mean, Harry?" he asked.
"Oh, that's a very common occurrence," said Harry, smiling.
"I never saw grown men acting so. Won't there be a fight?"
"Oh, it's all fun. The brokers are unlike any other class of men inbusiness hours," explained Harry. "It's one of the customs of theplace."
Just then, to his astonishment, Grant saw his employer, Mr.Reynolds, pursuing his hat, which was rolling over the floor. He wasabout to run to his assistance, but Harry stopped him.
"No interference is allowed," he said. "Leave them to their fun. Iused to think it strange myself, when I first came into theExchange, but I'm used to it now. Now we may as well go back to theoffice."
There is no occasion to follow the boys through the day's routine.Grant found his companion very obliging, and very ready to give himthe information he needed. Many boys would have been superciliousand perhaps been disposed to play tricks on a country boy, but Harrywas not one of them. He took a friendly interest in Grant, answeredall his questions, and did his best to qualify him for the positionhe was to assume.
Before the office closed, Grant and his new friend went to the bankto make a deposit of money and checks. The deposit amounted to abouttwenty thousand dollars.
"There must be plenty of money in New York," said Grant. "Why, up inColebrook, if a man were worth twenty thousand dollars he would beconsidered a rich man."
"It takes a good deal more than that to make a man rich in New York.In the stock business a man is likely to do a larger business inproportion to his capital than in the mercantile business."
On their way back from the bank, Grant came face to face with TomCalder. Tom was busily engaged in talking to a companion, some yearsolder than himself, and didn't observe Grant. Grant was by no meansprepossessed in favor of this young man, whose red and mottled face,and bold glance made him look far from respectable.
"Do you know those fellows?" asked Harry Becker.
"The youngest one is from Colebrook."
"He is in bad company. I hope he is not an intimate friend ofyours?"
"Far from it. Still, I know him, and am sorry to see him with such acompanion."
At four o'clock Mr. Reynolds proposed to go home. He beckoned toGrant to accompany him.
CHAPTER XI -- GRANT MAKES A FRIEND
"What do you think of your first day in Wall Street?" asked Mr.Reynolds, kindly.
"I have found it very interesting," answered Grant.
"Do you think you shall like the business?"
"Yes, sir, I think so."
"Better than if you had been able to carry out your original plan,and go to college?"
"Yes, sir, under the circumstances, for I have a better prospect ofhelping the family."
"That feeling does you credit. Have you any brothers and sisters?"
"One of each, sir."
"I have but one boy, now nine years old. I am sorry to say he is notstrong in body, though very bright and quick, mentally. I wish hewere more fond of play and would spend less time in reading andstudy."
"I don't think that is a common complaint among boys, sir."
"No, I judge not from my own remembrance and observation. My wife isdead, and I am such a busy man that I am not able to give my boy asmuch attention as I wish I could. My boy's health is the moreimportant to me because I have no other child."
Grant's interest was excited, and he looked forward to meeting hisemployer's son, not without eagerness. He had not long to wait.
The little fellow was in the street in front of the house when hisfather reached home. He was a slender, old-fashioned boy inappearance, who looked as if he had been in the habit of keepingcompany with grown people. His frame was small, but his head waslarge. He was pale, and would have been plain, but for a pair oflarge, dark eyes, lighting up his face.
"Welcome home, papa," he said, running up to meet Mr. Reynolds.
The broker stooped over and kissed his son. Then he said: "I havebrought you some company, Herbert. This is Grant Thornton, the boy Ispoke to you about."
"I am glad to make your acquaintance," said the boy, withold-fashioned courtesy, offering his hand.
"And I am glad to meet you, Herbert," responded Grant, pleasantly.
The little boy looked up earnestly in the face of his father'soffice boy.
"I think I shall like you," he said.
Mr. Reynolds looked pleased, and so did Grant.
"I am sure we shall be very good friends," said our hero.
"Herbert," said his father, "will you show Grant the room he is tooccupy?"
"It is next to mine, isn't it, papa?"
"Yes, my son."
"Come with me," said Herbert, putting his hand in Grant's. "I willshow you the way."
Grant, who was only accustomed to the plain homes in his nativevillage, was impressed by the evidence of wealth and luxuryobservable in the house of the stock broker. The room assigned tohim was small, but it was very handsomely furnished, and he almostfelt out of place in it. But it was not many days, to anticipatematters a little, before he felt at home.
Herbert took Grant afterward into his own room.
"See my books," he said, leading the way to a bookcase, containingperhaps a hundred volumes, the majority of a juvenile character, butsome suited to more mature tastes. "Do you like reading?" askedGrant.
"I have read all the books you see here,"
answered Herbert, "andsome of papa's besides. I like to read better than to play."
"But you ought to spend some of your time in play, or you will notgrow up healthy."
"That is what papa says. I try to play some, but I don't care muchabout it."
Grant was no longer surprised at the little boy's delicacy. It wasclear that he needed more amusement and more exercise. "Perhaps," hethought, "I can induce Herbert to exercise more."
"When do you take dinner?" he asked.
"At half-past six. There is plenty of time."
"Then suppose we take a little walk together. We shall both have abetter appetite."
"I should like to," replied Herbert; "that is, with you. I don'tlike to walk alone."
"How far is Central Park from here?"
"A little over a mile."
"I have never seen it. Would you mind walking as far as that?"
"Oh, no."
So the two boys walked out together. They were soon engaged in ananimated conversation, consisting, for the most part, of questionsproposed by Grant, and answers given by Herbert.
Not far from the park they came to a vacant lot where some boys wereplaying ball.
"Now, if we only had a ball, Herbert," said Grant, "we might have alittle amusement."
"I've got a ball in my pocket, but I don't use it much."
"Let me see it."
Herbert produced the ball, which proved to be an expensive one,better than any Grant had ever owned.
"There, Herbert, stand here, and I will place myself about fiftyfeet away. Now, throw it to me, no matter how swiftly."
They were soon engaged in throwing the ball to each other. Grant wasa good ball player, and he soon interested the little boy in thesport. Our hero was pleased to see Herbert's quiet, listless mannerexchanged for the animation which seemed better suited to a boy.
"You are improving, Herbert," he said, after a while. "You wouldmake a good player in time."
"I never liked it before," said the little boy. "I never knew therewas so much fun in playing ball."
"We shall have to try it every day. I suppose it is about time to gohome to supper."
"And we haven't been to Central Park, after all."
"That will do for another day. Are boys allowed to play ball in thepark?"
"Two afternoons in the week, I believe, but I never played there."
"We shall have to try it some day."
"I should like to play--with you."
They reached home in full time for dinner. At the dinner table Mr.Reynolds was struck by the unusually bright and animated face of hisson, and his good appetite.
"What have you been doing to make you so hungry, Herbert?" he asked.
"I took a walk with Grant, and we had a fine game of ball."
"I am glad to hear it," said the broker, much pleased. "If you wantto become stout and strong like Grant, that is the best thing foryou to do."
"I never liked playing ball before, papa."
"That is a compliment to you, Grant," said the broker, smiling.
"I think," he said to the prim, elderly lady who presided over thehousehold, acting as housekeeper, "Herbert will be the better forhaving a boy in the house."
"I don't know about that," said Mrs. Estabrook, stiffly. "When hecame into the house he had mud on his clothes. He never did thattill this boy came."
"I won't complain of that, if his health is improved."
Mrs. Estabrook, who was a poor relation of Herbert's mother, pursedup her mouth, but did not reply. In her eyes, it was more importantthat a boy should keep his clothes whole and clean than to havecolor in his cheeks, and health in his frame.
"I hope that boy won't stay here long," she thought, referring, ofcourse, to Grant. "He'll quite spoil Herbert by making him rough andcareless of his appearance."
"Well, Herbert, and how do you like Grant?" asked Mr. Reynolds, ashis son was bidding him good-night before going to bed.
"I am so glad you brought him here, papa. I shall have good timesnow. You'll let him stay all the time, won't you?"
"I'll see about it, Herbert," answered his father, smiling.
CHAPTER XII -- MRS. ESTABROOK'S PLANS
Grant was going home with Mr. Reynolds at the close of the fourthday, when it occurred to him to say what had been in his mind forsome time: "Isn't it time, Mr. Reynolds, for me to be looking outfor a boarding place?"
The broker smiled, and said with assumed concern: "Are youdissatisfied with your present boarding place?"
"How could I be, sir?" returned Grant, earnestly. "But you told me Icould stay with you a week, while I was looking about for a suitableplace to board."
"That is true. Now, however, there is a difficulty about your makinga change."
"What is that, sir?"
"Herbert would not give his consent. The fact is, Grant, Herbertfinds so much pleasure in your society, and derives so muchadvantage from the increased exercise you lead him to take, that Ithink you will have to make up your mind to stay."
Grant's face showed the pleasure he felt.
"I shall be very glad to stay, Mr. Reynolds," he answered, "if youare willing to have me."
"I had this in view from the first," said the broker, "but I wantedto see how you and Herbert got along. I wished to be sure, also,that your influence on him would be good. Of that I can have nodoubt, and I am glad to receive you as a member of my family."
There was one member of the household, however, who was not so wellpleased with the proposed arrangement. This was Mrs. Estabrook, thehousekeeper.
As the week drew to a close, she said, one evening after the boyshad retired:
"How much longer is the office boy to stay here, Mr. Reynolds?"
"Why do you ask?" inquired the broker.
"Only with reference to domestic arrangements," answered thehousekeeper, disconcerted.
"He will remain for a considerable time, Mrs. Estabrook."
"I--I thought he was only going to stay a week."
"He is company for Herbert, and I think it desirable to keep him."
"Herbert soils his clothes a deal more now than he used to do," saidthe housekeeper, discontentedly. "I am sure I don't know where theother boy carries him."
"Nor I, but I am not afraid to trust him with Grant. As to theclothes, I consider them of very small account, compared with myboy's health."
Mrs. Estabrook knitted in silence for five minutes. She was by nomeans pleased with her employer's plan, having taken a dislike toGrant, for which, indeed, her chief reason was jealousy. She had astepson, a young man of twenty-one, in Mr. Reynolds' office, whomshe would like to have in the house in place of Grant. But Mr.Reynolds had never taken notice of her occasional hints to thateffect. The housekeeper's plans were far-reaching. She knew thatHerbert was delicate, and doubted if he would live to grow up. Inthat case, supposing her stepson had managed to ingratiate himselfwith the broker, why might he not hope to become his heir? Now thisinterloper, as she called Grant, had stepped into the place whichher own favorite--his name was Willis Ford--should have had. Mrs.Estabrook felt aggrieved, and unjustly treated, and naturallyincensed at Grant, who was the unconscious cause of herdisappointment. She returned to the charge, though, had she beenwiser, she would have foreborne.
"Do you think a poor boy like this Grant Thornton is a suitablecompanion for a rich man's son, Mr. Reynolds? Excuse me forsuggesting it, but I am so interested in dear Herbert."
"Grant Thornton is the son of a country minister, and has had anexcellent training," said the broker, coldly. "The fact that he ispoor is no objection in my eyes. I think, Mrs. Estabrook, we willdismiss the subject. I think myself competent to choose my son'sassociates."
"I hope you will excuse me," said the housekeeper, seeing that shehad gone too far. "I am so attached to the dear child."
"If you are, you will not object to the extra trouble you may havewith his clothes, since his health is benefited."
"That artful young beggar has wound his way
into his employer'sconfidence," thought Mrs. Estabrook, resentfully, "but it may not bealways so."
A few minutes later, when the housekeeper was in her ownsitting-room, she was told that Willis Ford wanted to see her.
Mrs. Estabrook's thin face lighted up with pleasure, for she wasdevotedly attached to her stepson.
"Bring him up here at once," she said.
A minute later the young man entered the room. He was a thin,sallow-complexioned young man, with restless, black eyes, and adiscontented expression--as of one who thinks he is not well used bythe world.
"Welcome, my dear boy," said the housekeeper, warmly. "I am so gladto see you."
Willis submitted reluctantly to his stepmother's caress, and threwhimself into a rocking chair opposite her.
"Are you well, Willis?" asked Mrs. Estabrook, anxiously.
"Yes, I'm well enough," muttered the young man.
"I thought you looked out of sorts."
"I feel so."
"Is anything the matter?"
"Yes; I'm sick of working at such starvation wages."
"I thought fifteen dollars a week a very good salary. Only lastJanuary you were raised three dollars."
"And I expected to be raised three dollars more on the first ofJuly."
"Did you apply to Mr. Reynolds?"
"Yes, and he told me I must wait till next January."