Produced by David Edwards and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book wasproduced from scanned images of public domain materialfrom the Google Print project.)
"Your forged document will help you little," said Mr.Grey, triumphantly. "I have torn it into a hundred pieces."--Page 138.]
TOM, THE BOOTBLACK;
OR,
THE ROAD TO SUCCESS
BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.
_Author of "Joe's Luck," "Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy," "Tom Temple'sCareer," "The Errand Boy," "Tom Turner's Legacy," etc., etc._
ILLUSTRATED
A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS52-58 DUANE STREET, NEW YORK
TOM, THE BOOTBLACK.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCING TOM, THE BOOTBLACK.
"How do you feel this morning, Jacob?" asked a boy of fifteen, bendingover an old man crouched in the corner of an upper room, in a poortenement-house, distant less than a quarter of a mile from the New YorkCity Hall.
"Weak, Tom," whined the old man, in reply. "I--I ain't got muchstrength."
"Would you like some breakfast?"
"I--I don't know. Breakfast costs money."
"Never you mind about that, Jacob. I can earn money enough for both ofus. Come, now, you'd like some coffee and eggs, wouldn't you?"
There was a look of eager appetite in the old man's eyes as he heardthe boy speak.
"Yes," he answered, "I should like them; but we can't afford it."
"Don't you be afraid of that. I'll go and ask Mrs. Flanagan to get someready at once. I've earned thirty cents this morning already, Jacob,and that'll pay for breakfast for the two of us. I think I could eatsome breakfast myself."
Jacob uttered a feeble remonstrance, but the boy did not stop to hearit. He went down the rough staircase, and knocked at the door of theroom below. It was opened by a stout, wholesome-looking Irish woman,who saluted the boy heartily.
"Well, Tom, and how's your grandfather this mornin'?"
"He's weak, Mrs. Flanagan; but he'll be the better for some breakfast,and so shall I. I'll go and buy half a dozen eggs, if you'll be kindenough to cook them, and make some coffee for us. I'll pay you for yourtrouble."
"Of course I will, Tom. And for the eggs you needn't go out, for I'vegot the same in the closet; but I'm short of bread, and, if you'll buya loaf, I'll have the coffee and eggs ready in no time."
While Tom is on his way to the baker's shop, a few words of explanationand description may be in place. First, for our hero. I have alreadysaid he was fifteen. Let me add that he was stout and strongly built,with an open, prepossessing face, and the air of one who is ready tofight his own battles without calling for assistance. His position inlife is humble, for he is a street bootblack. He has served, by turns,at other vocations; but he has found none of them pay so well as this.He has energy and enterprise, and few of his comrades secure so manycustomers as he. For years he has lived with the old man introduced asJacob, and is popularly regarded as his grandson; but Jacob has nevermade claim to that relationship, nor has he ever volunteered anyinformation to the boy as to what originally brought them together.Occasionally Tom has tried to obtain some information, but on suchoccasions Jacob has been very reticent, and has appeared, for somereason, unwilling to speak. So, by degrees, Tom has given up askingquestions, and has been much more concerned about the means of livingthan about his pedigree.
Jacob has done little or nothing for their common support, though attimes, greatly to the annoyance of Tom, he has gone out on the streetand asked alms. Tom, being high-spirited and independent, has resentedthis, and has always interfered, in a very decided manner, to preventJacob's figuring as a beggar. Though only a bootblack, he has an honestindependence of feeling, in which any one is justified who works,however humbly, for his support.
Old Jacob is, moreover, a miser, so far as he can be. Whatever money hemay have acquired by begging, he has kept. At all events, he hasoffered nothing of it for the common expenses. But Tom has not troubledhimself about this. He suspects that Jacob may have a few dollarssecreted somewhere, but is perfectly willing he should keep them forhis own satisfaction. His earnings average over a dollar a day, andwith this sum he is able to pay the small rent of their humbleapartment, and buy their food.
In ten minutes Tom reappeared with a loaf under his arm. The door ofMrs. Flanagan's room was partly open, and he entered without ceremony.The good woman was bustling about preparing the eggs. The coffee-potwas already on the stove.
"It'll be ready in a minute, Tom," she said. "A cup of hot coffee'll dothe poor craythur, yer grandfather, a power of good. So he's fable, ishe?"
"Yes, Mrs. Flanagan."
"He won't last long, to my thinkin'."
"Do you think he's going to die?" asked Tom, thoughtfully.
"Yes, poor craythur. It's all he can do to drag himself up and downstairs."
"I shall be sorry to have him die," said Tom, "though I don't believehe's any relation to me."
"Isn't he your grandfather, then?" asked Mrs. Flanagan, in surprise.
"No; he never said he was."
"Then what makes the two of you live together? Maybe he's your uncle,though he looks too old for that."
"I don't think he's any relation. All I know is, I've lived with himever since I was so high."
And Tom indicated with his hand the height of a boy of six.
"Then he's never told you anything?"
"No. I've asked him sometimes, but he didn't seem to want to speak."
When Tom re-entered the room he found the old man crouching in thecorner, as at first.
"Come, Jacob," he said, cheerfully, "get up; I've got some breakfastfor you."
The old man's features lighted up as he inhaled the grateful odor ofthe coffee, and he rose with some effort to his feet, and seatedhimself at the little table on which our hero placed it.
"Now, Jacob," said Tom, cheerfully, "I'll pour you out a cup of coffee.Mrs. Flanagan made it, and it's bully. It'll put new life into you.Then what do you say to a plate of eggs and some roll? I haven't gotany butter, but you can dip it in your coffee. Now, isn't this a nicebreakfast?"
"Yes, Tom," said the old man, surveying the coffee and eggs with eyesof eager desire. "It's nice; but we can't afford to live so all thetime."
"Never you mind about that; we can afford it this morning; so don'tspoil your appetite with thinkin' how much it costs."
"Now," said Tom, after he had helped the old man, "I don't mind takin'something myself. I ain't troubled with a delicate appetite, 'speciallywhen I've been up and at work for two hours."
"Did you make much, Tom?"
"Well, I ain't made my fortune yet. I've earned thirty cents, but I'llmake it up to a dollar before noon."
"You're a good boy, Tom," said the old man, approvingly. "Don't beafraid of work; I'd work, too, if I wasn't so old. It costs a sight tolive, and I don't earn a cent."
"There ain't no need of it, Jacob; I can earn enough for the two of us.I'm young and strong. You are old and weak. When I'm an old man, likeyou, I won't want to work no more."
"I ain't so very old," said Jacob, jealously. "I'm only turnedsixty-five. There's a good many years of life in me yet."
"Of course there is, Jacob," said Tom, though as he looked at hiscompanion's thin, wasted face and shaking hand, he felt very doubtfulon this point.
"My father lived to be seventy-five," said Jacob.
"So will you," said Tom, though, to the boy of fifteen, sixty-fiveappeared a very advanced age, and but little younger than eighty.
"I'll be stronger soon," said Jacob. "The weather ain't suited me."
"That's it, Jac
ob. Now let me give you another cup of coffee. It goesto the right spot, don't it? Don't you be afraid; there's plenty ofit."
So he filled Jacob's cup once more, and the old man drank the contentswith evident relish.
"Now don't you feel better?" asked Tom. "Why, you look ten yearsyounger'n you did before you sat down. There's nothing like a bullybreakfast to make a feller feel tip-top."
"Yes, I do feel better," said Jacob. "I--I think you're right, Tom. IfI was rich, I'd always have a good breakfast."
"So you shall now, Jacob. It don't cost much. Now lie down again, andI'll take these dishes down to Mrs. Flanagan."
Tom speedily reappeared, and said, cheerfully:
"If there's nothing more you want, Jacob, I'll go out and look out forwork. Mrs. Flanagan will bring you up some toast at noon, and I'll beback at six o'clock."
"All right, Tom. Go to work, there's a good boy. It costs a sight ofmoney to live."
Tom seized his blacking-box and hurried down stairs. He had delayedlonger than he intended, and was resolved to make up for lost time.