“But I can’t be satisfied to plod along in that way,” said Gus, to himself. “If I could have two or three hundred dollars all in a lump, so that I could buy some things I need, pay all my debts and have a good-sized nest-egg left, I might get up ambition enough to go to saving; but this thing of laying by pennies—Pshaw!”
Mr. Robbins often talked to his boys in this way, and he had finally succeeded in convincing Bob that it was not best to despise the day of small things, and that the surest road to prosperity was the one his father had pointed out. Like his brother, Bob had been in the habit of spending every cent he made, and more, too, if he could get it; but of late he had taken to saving, and now he had grown to be, to quote from Gus, “the very quintessence of meanness.” But he had money in the bank, and being safely out of debt, he was not continually harassed by duns as his brother was. More than that, he got into the way of being very attentive to his work (one good habit leads to another, you know), and before he had been in the store a year he was given entire charge of one branch of his father’s business, and his wages were increased.
This left Gus at the very lowest round of the ladder. He was obliged to open the store in the morning, build the fires and sweep out, and he looked upon this as very degrading work. He grew more negligent and discontented every day, and always made it a point, after the store was closed for the night, to make up for the tiresome hours he had spent behind the counter. He often wished for Ned Ackerman. When the latter was in his father’s employ he had a companion who was always ready to join him in any thing; but Ned was in Texas, Bob had gone back on him, and Gus was very lonely.
Our discontented dry-goods clerk received a very severe blow, and the little ambition he had was all crushed out of him when his younger brother was placed over him. It was a disgrace that he could not put up with, and so he tried to run away from it. There was a news-depôt for sale in the city, and Gus could have purchased it on very advantageous terms, if he had only had the money; but he didn’t have it. Mr. Robbins, who knew more about his son’s habits than Gus thought he did, would not advance it, and so Gus was obliged to stay in the store. Everything seemed to be working against him, and Gus grew desperate. He spent his money as fast as it was paid to him, and when it gave out, he went as deeply in debt as he could go. He had always been able to satisfy his creditors by paying them a little every month; but now they were getting impatient, and were all presenting their bills at once.
“Fifteen dollars!” repeated Gus, as he walked toward his own counter. “To-morrow afternoon!” he murmured, as he chucked one of the bolts of calico spitefully upon the shelf. “Moses! won’t there be a row, unless I can think up some plausible story between this time and that! I must owe at least fifty dollars—almost three months’ wages. I wish I could leave here this very night, and never set eyes on this town again! But how can I get away without money? That’s the question.”
Just then Gus heard something fall on the counter, and looked up to see his brother Bob walking through the store, with a bundle of letters and papers in his hand. He had just returned from the post-office, and had thrown a letter for his brother on the counter, as he passed by.
“Just look at young Dignity!” said Gus, as his brother disappeared through the door that led into the office. “One would think, by the airs he throws on, that he owned the store! Who has been writing to me, I wonder!”
Gus allowed the letter to lie where it had fallen, until he had cleared the counter, folded all the goods and placed them on the shelves, where they belonged. Then he picked it up and glanced at the envelope, fully expecting to recognise the handwriting of some of his creditors, who not unfrequently wrote notes to him, to remind him that there was a little balance due them, which they would be happy to receive at the earliest possible moment that he could make it convenient to hand it to them. But this letter was not from a creditor. It was from Ned Ackerman, the very boy who had been in his thoughts a score of times that day. Gus ran his eyes hastily over the last few lines above the signature, and saw something in them that excited and delighted him.
“Hurrah!” said he to himself. “Plague take it!”
These two exclamations, so different in meaning, were called forth by very different emotions. He had read enough of the letter to learn that his old friend Ned was having a fine time down there in Texas; that he was lonely in spite of it, and wanted Gus and his brother to come on and pay him a long visit; and that the want of money need not prevent them from doing so, for Ned would send them enough to pay their fare and all other expenses. But before Gus could read any farther, he was interrupted by the entrance of two or three ladies, who came up to his counter. They proved to be very exacting, too, and Gus handed down a good many different kinds of cloth for their inspection. He fumed inwardly and used some hard words to himself, while he was doing it, and as soon as the ladies had departed, he caught up his letter and read it through.