CHAPTER III. RICHARD BRIGGS.

Gilbert told his story briefly.

“So you see,” he said in conclusion, “my position is like yours, after all. I am thrown upon my own exertions, and must face the world, without the help of money.”

“I’m truly sorry,” said John, in a tone of sympathy.

“Thank you, John; I knew you would be; but do you know, I am not sure whether I am so very sorry myself.”

“But it must be hard for you to give up the hope of wealth.”

“I needn’t give up the hope,” said Gilbert, “only if the hope is to be realized I shall have to make it for myself. As far as that goes I am no worse off 30than you; but there is one advantage you have over me.”

“You are a better scholar than I am.”

“I don’t mean that. You have a father and mother and sister to encourage you, while I have no one.”

“You have a friend, Gilbert; but he can’t help you much.”

“I know that, old fellow. You have been my most intimate friend for the last three years, and I hope and believe that our friendship is going to last. But I can’t help feeling alone in the world.”

“Why don’t you ask your guardian about your father?”

“I mean to; but I don’t believe he will tell me.”

“Have you any idea what views he has for you?”

“Not the slightest. I suppose he will provide me with a place somewhere.”

“Then you are entirely in the dark as to your prospects?”

“Entirely so.”

31“I wish you would write to me, Gilbert, after you are settled. I shall want to know all about it.”

“I will certainly write. In fact, you will be my only correspondent. You must write me about yourself, too.”

“There won’t be much to write. My life will be uneventful. But you may like to hear news of the village and the school, that is, after vacation is over. I’ll write all that I think will interest you.”

“Thank you. You may be sure I shall want to hear. And now, John, I must bid you good-night, and good-by, for I am to start early in the morning, and have not yet packed my trunk.”

“Good-night, then. Take care of yourself, Gilbert.”

“The same to you, John.”

So the two boys parted, but they saw each other once more. As Gilbert was about to get into the cars, John came up hurriedly and gave him a farewell shake of the hand.

“He’s a capital fellow,” thought Gilbert. “I 32hope he’ll have good luck, and that we shall meet again soon.”

An hour and a half brought our hero to the city. He stepped upon the platform, and getting upon a horse-car rode down-town to his guardian’s office. He had a check for his trunk, but did not claim it at once, not feeling certain what would be his destination.

In a busy street, not five minutes’ walk from Wall Street, was the office of Richard Briggs. Gilbert had no trouble in finding it, for he had been there before. Now, however, he had a new feeling as he entered the handsomely fitted-up room. He was no longer the wealthy ward, but as it appeared the humble dependent of the rich merchant whom he was to meet. The change was not an agreeable one, but he had made up his mind that he must face whatever was disagreeable in his position in a manly way.

“Is Mr. Briggs in?” he inquired, of a clerk who was writing at a desk.

“Yes; but I don’t know if he will see you.”

“He sent for me.”

33“Oh, did he? Well, he’s in there.”

The clerk pointed to an inner room, partitioned off from the main office.

Gilbert approached it, and as the door was partially open entered, and, removing his hat, said, “Good-morning, Mr. Briggs.”

Mr. Briggs was a short man, inclined to be corpulent, with marked features.

He turned as he heard Gilbert’s salutation.

“So you received my letter,” he said.

“Dr. Burton did.”

“Yes, I wrote to him. It’s all the same.”

“I thought I had better come up at once, sir.”

“You did right.”

“I was rather surprised at what your letter contained. Dr. Burton let me read it.”

“You fancied yourself rich?” said the merchant, coldly.

“Yes, sir; I had always been led to suppose so.”

“I never told you so.”

“You did not tell me I was poor, and would have to make my own way.”

34“You complain of that, do you?” demanded Mr. Briggs, frowning.

“I wish I had known it before.”

“It wasn’t necessary to tell you. As to that, my judgment is of course superior to yours. You understand, do you, that you must now go to work?”

“I am ready, sir.”

“Have you improved your time while at school?”

“Dr. Burton could tell you better than I as to that.”

“He would be more reliable, of course. Still you must have some idea. Give me your own impressions. If you misrepresent, I shall find you out.”

“I shall not misrepresent, sir.”

“Of course not,” said Mr. Briggs, ironically. “I suppose you were a model scholar.”

“No; I was not; but I think I did pretty well.”

“What do you know?”

“I can tell you how far I have been in my studies. I have been so far in Latin and Greek that in another year—perhaps less—I should be prepared for Yale College.”

35“You won’t go there. You can’t expect me to pay your expenses.”

“I don’t,” said Gilbert, promptly. “I was only trying to give you an idea of what I knew.”

“Very well. Are you good in arithmetic?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How far have you been?”

“Through the book.”

“That is well. How do you write?”

“Shall I give you a specimen of my writing, sir?”

“Yes. Here is a pen. Write anything you like. You may copy the first three lines of this newspaper article.”

Gilbert did so.

“That will do very well. You don’t write rapidly enough, but you will in time. I shall get you a place as soon as possible. Where is your trunk?”

“At the depot.”

“You can have it sent to my house. You will stay there till I can get you a boarding-place or make some other arrangement for you. Do you know where I live?”

36“Yes, sir.”

“Give your check to an expressman, and tell him to bring it round. Stay, here is my son. I will put you in his charge.”

A boy, about Gilbert’s age, had just entered the office. He was the counterpart of his father, and no one could be likely to mistake the relationship. He glanced at Gilbert, but did not speak.

“Randolph, this is Gilbert Greyson,” said his father.

“Good-morning,” said Randolph, curtly. “Father, I want five dollars.”

“What for? It seems to me you are always wanting money.”

“Everybody needs money,” said the son, pertly. “I want to go to a matinée this afternoon.”

“I want you to go with Gilbert; he is going to stop with us a short time.”

“He’s old enough to take care of himself,” said Randolph, unpleasantly.

“I can get along by myself,” said Gilbert, quickly. “I don’t want to trouble your son.”

37There was no great self-denial in this. It did not seem to our hero that he should particularly enjoy Randolph’s companionship.

“At any rate you can go with him to the office of Adams’ Express. He wants to send for his trunk.”

“Will you give me the five dollars, then?”

“Here it is. Don’t come again for a week.”

“All right. Come along, whatever your name is.”

This last polite invitation was addressed to our hero, who answered, shortly, “My name is Gilbert Greyson.”

“Well, come along. I’m in a hurry.”

When they had reached the street, Randolph’s curiosity led him to say, “I thought you were at school.”

“So I was; but your father sent for me.”

“He’s your guardian, isn’t he?”

“So I thought; but he tells me I have no money, and must work for my living.”

“Oh, indeed!” said Randolph, superciliously. “That’s quite a different matter.”

38Gilbert didn’t like his tone, but did not want to quarrel without cause.

They walked on without further conversation.

Presently Randolph said, “There’s the express office. Now you can look after yourself.”

He darted off, and Gilbert entered the office, not sorry to be rid of his uncongenial companion.