 | CHAPTER IX.
LAND AT LAST. Barriers burned away |  |
9. CHAPTER IX.
LAND AT LAST.
During the latter part of a busy afternoon, Dennis
came to a spacious, elegant store before which the snow lay
untouched save as trodden by passers-by. Over the high
arched door-way were the words in gilt letters “Art building,”
and as far as a mere warehouse for beautiful things
could deserve this title, this place did, for it was crowded
with engravings, chromos, paintings, bronzes, statuary, and
every variety of ornament. With delighted eyes and lingering
steps he had passed slowly through this store a few
days previous in his search, but had received the usual cool
negative. He had gone reluctantly out into the cold street
again as Adam might have gone out of Paradise.
A large florid looking man with a light curling mustache,
now stood in the door-way. His appearance was
unmistakably that of a German of the highest and most
cultivated type. And yet when he spoke, his English was
so good that you only detected a foreign accent.
Strong vexation was stamped upon his face as he looked
at the snowy, untidy sidewalk.
“Mr. Schwartz,” he asked of one of his clerks, “was
Pat here this morning?”
“Yes sir.”
“Was he perfectly straight?”
“I cannot say that he was, sir.”
“He is off on a spree again. Send him to me the moment
he returns.”
“Shall I clear your sidewalk?” said Dennis, stepping
up and touching his hat respectfully.
“Yes,” said the gentleman scarcely looking at him,
“and when through come to the office for your money,”
and then he walked back into the store with a frowning
brow.
Though Dennis was now pretty thoroughly fatigued
with the hard day's work, he entered on this task with a
good will as the closing labor of the day, hoping from the
wide space to be cleared to receive proportionate recompense.
And yet his despatch was not so great as usual, for
in spite of himself his eyes were continually wandering
to the large show windows, from which smiled down upon
him Summer landscapes, lovely faces that seemed all the
more beautiful in contrast with the bleak and darkening
street.
He was rudely startled from one of the stolen glances
at a sweet, girlish face that seemed peering archly at him
from a corner, by the loud tones and strong brogue of
“Pat” returning thus late to his neglected duties.
“Bad luck to yez! what yez doin' here?”
“Clearing the sidewalk,” said Dennis, laconically.
“Give me that shovel, or I'll knock bloody blazes out
of yez.”
Dennis at once stood on the defensive, and raised his
tool threateningly. At the same time seeing a policeman,
he called out—
“Will you please cause this drunken fellow to move
on?”
The officer was about to comply, when the Irishman
with a snort like that of a mad bull, rushed to the door of
the out-building, wrenched it open, and leaving it so, tore
down the long store, crying
“Misther Ludolph! Misther Ludolph! here's a bloody
spalpane a doin' my work.”
He had scarcely got half way to the office before there
was a crash and a general commotion.
Pat, in his blind rage, and steps uncertain from the effects
of whiskey, had struck a valuable marble, and it lay
broken on the floor. This catastrophe sobered him, and
he stood looking at the destruction he had wrought in
dismay. His employer, the gentleman whom Dennis had
seen at the door, now appeared upon the scene in a towering
passion, and scrupled not to heap maledictions upon
the head of the unfortunate Hibernian.
“What do you mean by rushing through the store in
this mad style?” he demanded.
“There's an impudent fellow outside a doin' my work,”
said Pat.
“Why didn't you do it yourself, instead of going off
to the gin-mills this morning? Didn't I warn you? Didn't
I tell you your last spree should be the last in my employ?
Now, begone! you drunken idiot, and if you ever show
your face on these premises again, I'll have you arrested
and compel payment for this marble, and it will take every
cent you have got in the world, and more too.”
“Ah! Misther Ludolph, if you'll only give me one
more—”
“I tell you be off! or I will call the policeman at
once.”
“But Bridget and the childer will starve.”
“What's Bridget and the children to me? If you
wont take care of them, you can't expect other people to.
Begone!” said his employer, advancing threateningly and
stamping his foot.
Pat looked around in vain for help—the clerks were
but fainter echoes of their master.
Seeing his case to be hopeless, he turned about and
hurried away, his big red face distorted by many contending
emotions. Nor did he stop until he reached one of
in huge potations of the fiery element that was destroying
him, and bringing wretchedness to “Bridget and
the childer.”
Again Dennis had a lesson on drinking for the effects.
He rapidly completed his work and entered the store.
A clerk handed him fifty cents.
“May I see Mr. Ludolph a moment?” he asked, for
he had learned that this was the proprietor's name from
the scene he had witnessed through the open door.
“Yes,” replied the clerk, “he is in the office there; but
I guess you won't find him very smooth this evening,”
looking at the same time suggestively toward the broken
marble.
But Mr. Ludolph was not in as bad a humor as was
imagined. This thrifty Teuton had not lost much by the
mishap of the afternoon, for a month or two of wages was
due Pat, and this kept back would pay in the main for the
injury he had done. His whole soul being bent on the acquirement
of money, for reasons that will be explained
further on, his momentary passion soon passed away when
he found he had sustained no material injury. To Dennis's
knock he responded in his usual tone.
“Come in!” and Dennis stood in a warm, lighted, cozy
office, where the object of his quest sat writing rapidly,
with his back to the door. Dennis waited respectfully till
the facile pen glided through the sentence, and then Mr.
Ludolph looked up. Dennis's bearing and appearance
was so unmistakably that of a gentleman, that Mr. Ludolph,
not recognizing him as the person who had cleared
his sidewalk, rose courteously and said:
“Did you wish to see me?”
“Yes sir,” replied Dennis, “I understand that you dismissed
a person in your employ this afternoon. I would
respectfully apply for his place, if it is not promised.”
The gentleman smiled and said—
“You are mistaken, I think. I discharged a drunken
Irishman, who had been porter and man-of-all-work about
the store, this afternoon; but I have no place vacant,
young sir, that you would care to fill.”
“If you think me competent to fill the position of porter
and your man-of-all-work, I would be very glad to obtain
it, that is if it will support me and those dependent
on me.”
The merchant muttered to himself, “I thought he was
a gentleman.”
Then, as this was a business matter of some importance,
he caused Dennis to stand full in the light, while he
withdrew somewhat in the shadow, and gave it his attention
with characteristic shrewdness and caution.
“You seem rather above the situation you ask for,” he
said.
“I am not above it in circumstances,” said Dennis,
and it certainly is better than shoveling snow all day.”
“Are you the man that just cleaned my sidewalk?”
“I am, sir.”
“You must be aware that your general appearance is
very different from that of the man discharged to-day, and
from those seeking the menial place in question. Can
you explain this fact satisfactorily?”
“I can readily explain it, and I hope satisfactorily.
At any rate I shall be perfectly open.” And Dennis told
him briefly, but plainly, just how he was situated.
As the keen man of the world watched with the closest
scrutiny the honest young face, he believed every word.
Accustomed to deal with all classes of men from childhood,
he had learned to read them as the open page of a
book.
He asked coolly, however, “Have you no recommendations?
Dennis produced the ministerial letter, which Mr. Ludolph
glanced at with good-natured contempt.
“This is all right,” he said; “superstition is an excellent
thing for some minds. I managed Pat a year through
his priest, and then he got beyond the priest and me
too.”
This undisguised contempt of all that he held sacred,
and the classing of true faith with gross superstition,
pained Dennis; and his face showed it, though he said
nothing.
“There,” said the gentleman, “I did not mean to hurt
your feelings, but to the educated in our land, these
things seem very childish.”
“I would serve you none the worse,” said Dennis with
quiet dignity, “if I believed that the duty I owed to you I
owed also to God.”
Mr. Ludolph looked as if a new idea had struck him,
smiled, and said—
“Most people's religion, as far as my experience has
gone, is not of this practical kind. But I believe that I
can trust you, and your face and story are worth much
more to me than this letter. A scamp might possess that
as well as an honest youth like you. Now, as to terms—
I will give you forty dollars a month for the first two
months, and then, if you develop and take well to the
work, I will give you sixty.”
Dennis thought that this, with close economy, would
enable him to live and support his mother and sisters, and
he accepted the terms.
“Moreover, to show the advantage of telling a straightforward
story, you may sleep in the store—the building
will be safer for having some one it. I will pay you at
the end of every week as long as you suit, so that you can
commence sending something to your mother immediately.
You see that I take an interest in you,” said the
business, and work for me as for yourself.”
Simple, honest Dennis could not see that Mr. Ludolph
cared infinitely more for himself than all the world combined,
and made it his life-study to get the most out of it
with the least cost to himself. Under the words that seemed
so kind and considerate Dennis's heart swelled with the
strong and grateful purpose to spare himself in no way in
the service of such an employer. The wily man saw this,
and smiled to himself over the credulity of mankind.
“Have you enough to last till next Saturday night?”
he asked.
“I will make it last,” said Dennis, sturdily.
“That is right,” said Mr. Ludolph, “stand on your own
feet if you can. I never give any more help than will
barely enable a man to keep himself,” a maxim which not
only had the advantage of being sound, but of according
exactly with his disposition.
After a moment's thought, Mr. Ludolph spoke in a tone
so sharp, and manner so stern, that Dennis was startled:
“Mark me, young man, I wish a plain understanding
in one respect—you take Pat's place, and I expect you to
do Pat's work. I wish no trouble to arise from your being
above your business.”
“You will have none,” said Dennis, quietly and firmly.
“All right, then. Mr. Schwartz will show you about
closing up the store. Be here early Monday morning, and
remember that all depends upon yourself.”
In the depths of his grateful heart Dennis felt how
much the success of that day and every day of life depended
on God.
Mr. Ludolph put on his coat and gloves and went out
with Dennis into the store.
“Gentlemen,” said he to his clerks, “this young man,
Dennis Fleet by name, will take the place of Pat Murphy,
it is necessary to do to-night? He will be here on Monday
morning at the usual time for opening the store, and
after that will sleep in the building.”
The clerks looked at him for a moment, as they might
at a new piece of furniture, or labor-saving machine, and
then coolly finished their duties, and followed their employer.
Mr. Schwartz showed him about closing up the
store, the furnace, etc., and Dennis saw that his place was
no sinecure. Still it was not work, but its lack that he
dreaded, and his movements were so eager and earnest
that a faint expression of surprise and curiosity tinged
the broad stolid face of Mr. Schwartz, but he only buttoned
his coat to the chin and muttered “new broom,”
and went his way homeward, leaving Dennis to go his.
| CHAPTER IX.
LAND AT LAST. Barriers burned away | |