Adventures of a Telegraph Boy or 'Number 91'. Horatio Alger Jr.

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      PAUL BECOMES A CAPITALIST

      Paul did not fail to meet the appointment at Mr. Cunningham’s office the next morning. He had no difficulty in getting away, for it was understood at the office that he was wanted to run an errand and his time would be paid for.

      “You seem to be in with the Cunninghams, Number 91,” said the superintendent.

      “Yes, sir, they are very kind to me,” answered Paul.

      “That is well. We like to have boys on good terms with customers. It increases the business of the office.”

      Mr. Cunningham was talking with another gentleman when Paul entered his office.

      “Sit down, Paul,” he said in a friendly tone, indicating a chair. “I shall soon be at leisure, and then I will attend to you.”

      “Thank you, sir,” said the telegraph boy.

      He had to wait about ten minutes. Then Mr. Cunningham’s visitor left him, and he turned to Paul.

      “How is business this morning?” he asked, with a smile.

      “This is my first call, sir.”

      “Oh, well, no doubt you will have plenty before the day is over.”

      “Yes, sir, I am engaged for the afternoon.”

      “Indeed! And in what way?”

      “I am to go shopping with a lady.”

      “Can’t she go by herself there?”

      “Yes, sir, I suppose so, but she wants me to carry her bundles.”

      “Retail merchants generally send them home.”

      “Yes, sir, but she once had one miscarry, and now she prefers to take a boy with her.”

      “How do you like that business?” asked Mr. Cunningham.

      “It is rather tiresome,” answered Paul, “as the lady is hard to suit and spends a good deal of time in each store. However, there is one thing that reconciles me to it.”

      “What is that?”

      “She is liberal, and always gives me something for myself.”

      “That is very considerate of her. I was speaking of that to my wife this morning.”

      “Of what, sir?” inquired Paul.

      “We both decided that you were entitled to a present for your brave defense of the house.”

      Now I suppose it would have been the proper thing for Paul to protest against receiving any present, but I am obliged to record the fact that he had no objection to having his services acknowledged in that way.

      “I only did my duty, sir,” he said, modestly.

      “Very true, but that is no reason why I should not show my appreciation of the service rendered. I suppose you have no bank account?”

      “I never got along as far as that, sir,” said Paul.

      “Then I won’t give you a check, as it might inconvenience you.”

      Paul was a little surprised, for a bank check sounded large, and the gratuities he usually received seldom reached as high as fifty cents.

      Mr. Cunningham drew out his pocketbook, and, taking out three bills, placed them in Paul’s hands.

      Paul’s eyes expanded when he saw that the first bill was a ten. But he was destined to be still more surprised, for each of the other two was a twenty. There was fifty dollars in all.

      “Is all this for me?” he asked, almost incredulous.

      “Yes, Paul.”

      “But here are fifty dollars.”

      “I am quite aware of it,” said the merchant, smiling. “That is the exact sum I intended to give you.”

      “I don’t know how to thank you,” said Paul, warmly. “To me it is a fortune.”

      “Excuse my giving you advice, but I hope you will spend it wisely.”

      “I will try to do so, sir. I will put all but ten dollars in a savings bank.”

      “You could not do better. You may in time be able to add to it.”

      “I shall try to, sir, when I earn more money.”

      “How much do you earn now?”

      “With presents, it amounts to six or seven dollars a week – sometimes less.”

      “You can’t save out of that?”

      “No, sir; I live with an old man, and give him two dollars and a half a week for rent and other expenses. Hereafter I am to give him three dollars. I should give more, but I pay for my own meals.”

      “Then you have no parents living?”

      “No, sir; I am alone in the world.”

      “Is the old man any relation to you?”

      “No, sir.”

      “When you need friends to call on you will always be welcome at my house.”

      “Thank you, sir,” said Paul, gratefully, and he decided to avail himself of the invitation soon. He was anxious to meet Jennie Cunningham again. Having no sister, he had enjoyed scarcely any opportunities of meeting girls, except such as sold matches or papers in the streets, and these, for the most part, were bold and unattractive.

      Mr. Cunningham turned to his desk, and Paul saw that his interview was over.

      He did not like to carry around so much money. He was liable to be robbed; that he could not afford. So he resolved to go around to the Bowery Savings Bank and deposit forty dollars, taking out a book. Then he would feel safe as to that. The ten dollars he had a use for, as he wished to buy a cheap bureau, or trunk; he had not quite made up his mind which.

      He took the shortest cut to the Bowery Savings Bank. This is one of the largest and most important savings banks in the city, and its deposits exceed twenty millions. It is a blessing to thousands of salaried men and women, mechanics and others, in providing them a safe place of deposit for their surplus money.

      Paul entered the bank, and, going up to the proper clerk, subscribed the books of the bank, giving his age, and other particulars necessary to identification; and then, rather to the surprise of the bank officer, wrote out a deposit check for forty dollars.

      “You have just been paid off, I take it,” he said with a smile.

      “Yes, sir,” answered Paul.

      “Two weeks’ pay, I presume?”

      “I earned it in considerably less time than that, sir.”

      “Indeed!”

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