CHAPTER VI.
SAM'S LUCK.
When towns and cities find their income insufficient to meet theirexpenditures, they raise money by selling bonds. Sam would gladly haveresorted to this device, or any other likely to replenish his emptytreasury; but his credit was not good. He felt rather bashful aboutapplying to his roommate for money, being already his debtor, and, inhis emergency, thought of the senior clerk, William Budd.
"Mr. Budd," he said, summoning up his courage, "will you lend me adollar?"
"What for?" inquired the young man, regarding him attentively.
"I haven't got anything to pay for my meals the rest of the week,"said Sam.
"How does that happen?"
"I can't live on five dollars a week."
"Then suppose I lend you a dollar, I don't see that you will be ableto repay me."
"Oh, I'll pay you back," said Sam, glibly.
"Have you got any security to offer me?"
"Any security?" asked Sam, who was inexperienced in business.
"Yes. Have you got any houses or lands, any stocks or bonds, which youcan put in my hands as collateral?"
"I guess not," said Sam, scratching his head. "If I had any houses,I'd sell 'em, and then I wouldn't have to borrer."
"So you can't get along on five dollars a week?"
"No."
"The boy that was here before you lived on that."
"I've had to pay a lot of money for clothes," Sam explained,brightening up with the idea.
"How much?"
"Well, I had to buy the suit I have on, and then I had to get someshirts the other day."
"How much does it cost you for billiards?" asked William Budd,quietly.
Sam started and looked embarrassed.
"Billiards?" he stammered.
"Yes, that's what I said."
"Who told you I played billiards?"
"No one."
"I guess you're mistaken, then," said Sam, more boldly, concludingthat it was only a conjecture of his fellow clerk.
"I don't think I am. I had occasion to go into French's Hotel, to seea friend in the office, and I glanced into the billiard room. I sawyou playing with another boy of about your age. Did he beat you?"
"Yes."
"And you had to pay for the game. Don't you think, as your income isso small, that you had better stop playing billiards till you getlarger pay?"
"I don't play very often," said Sam, uneasily.
"I advise you not to let Mr. Dalton know that you play at all. Hewould be apt to think that you were receiving too high pay, since youcould afford to pay for this amusement."
"I hope you won't tell him," said Sam, anxiously.
"No, I don't tell tales about my fellow clerks."
"Then won't you lend me a dollar?" inquired Sam, returning to thecharge.
"I would rather not, under the circumstances."
Sam was disappointed. He had five cents left to buy lunch with, andhis appetite was uncommonly healthy.
"Why wasn't I born rich?" thought Sam. "I guess I have a pretty hardtime. I wish I could find a pocket-book or something."
Sam was a juvenile Micawber, and trusted too much to something turningup, instead of going to work and turning it up himself.
However, strangely enough, something did turn up that very afternoon.
Restricted to five cents, Sam decided to make his lunch of apples. Forthis sum an old woman at the corner would supply him with three, andthey were very "filling" for the price. After eating his apples hetook a walk, being allowed about forty minutes for lunch. He bent hissteps toward Wall Street, and sauntered along, wishing he were notobliged to go back to the office.
All at once his eye rested on a gold ring lying on the sidewalk at hisfeet. He stooped hurriedly, and picked it up, putting it in his pocketwithout examination, lest it might attract the attention of the owner,or some one else who would contest its possession with him.
"That's almost as good as a pocket-book," thought Sam, elated. "It'sgold--I could see that. I can get something for that at thepawnbroker's. I'll get some supper to-night, even if I can't borrerany money."
Some boys would have reflected that the ring was not theirs to pawn;but Sam, as the reader has found out by this time, was not a boy ofhigh principles. He had a very easy code of morality, and determinedto make the most of his good fortune.
When he got a chance he took a look at his treasure.
There was a solitary diamond, of considerable size, set in it. Sam didnot know much about diamonds, and had no conception of the value ofthis stone. His attention was drawn chiefly to the gold, of whichthere was considerable. He thought very little of the piece of glass,as he considered it.
"I'd orter get five dollars for this," he thought, complacently. "Fivedollars will be a great help to a poor chap like me. I'll go round tothe pawnbroker's just as soon as I get out of the store."
William Budd was rather puzzled by Sam's evident good spirits.Considering that he was impecunious enough to require a loan which hehad been unable to negotiate, it was rather remarkable.
"Have you succeeded in borrowing any money, Sam?" he asked, with somecuriosity.
"No," answered Sam, with truth; "I haven't asked anybody but you."
"You don't seem to mind it much."
"What's the use of fretting?" said Sam. "I'm expecting a legacy frommy uncle."
"How much?"
"Five dollars."
"That isn't very large. I hope you won't have to wait for it toolong."
"No, I hope not. I guess I'll get along."
"Did you get any lunch?"
"Yes, I bought three apples."
"Did they fill you up?" asked Budd, with a smile.
"There's a little room left," answered Sam, "if you'd like to try theexperiment."
"There's a peanut, then."
"Thankful for small favors. I'm afraid it'll be lonely if you don'tgive me another."
"Take that, then; it's the last one I have."
"He's a good-natured boy, after all," thought the young clerk. "Someboys would have been offended with me for having refused to lend."
He did not understand the cause of Sam's good spirits, but thought himunusually light hearted.
When the office closed, and Sam was released from duty, he took hisway at once to a small pawn office with which he had become familiarin the course of his varied career, though he had not often possessedanything of sufficient value to pawn.
The pawnbroker, a small old man, a German by birth, scanned Samattentively, regarding him as a possible customer.
"How do you do, my boy?" he said, politely.
"Oh, I'm tiptop. Have you got any money to give away?"
"What shall I give it for?" asked the old man.
"I've got a ring here," said Sam, "that I want to pawn."
"Show it to me."
The pawnbroker started in surprise and admiration when his eye fell onthe sparkling brilliant.
"Where did you get it?" he asked.
"It was left by my grandmother," said Sam, promptly.
The pawnbroker shrugged his shoulders, not believing a word of thestory.
"Isn't it a nice ring?" asked Sam.
"So so," answered the old man. "I have seen much better. How much doyou want for it?"
"How much will you give me?"
"Two dollars," answered the old man.
"Then you won't get it," said Sam. "You won't get it for a cent underfive."
"That is too much," said the old man, from force of habit. "I'll giveyou four."
"No, you won't. You'll give me five; and I won't sell it for that,neither. I may want to get it back, as it was my aunt's."
"You said your grandmother left it to you," said the old man,shrewdly.
"So she did," answered Sam, unabashed; "but she left it to my auntfirst. When my aunt died it came to me."
Without dwelling upon the efforts which the pawnbroker made to get thering cheaper, it is sufficient to say
that Sam carried his point, andmarched out of the store with five dollars and a pawn ticket in hispocket.