Chapter VIII Dan, the Newsboy by Jr. Horatio Alger
MIKE RAFFERTY'S TRICK
Dan carefully husbanded the money which Mr. Grant had lent him, and the result was that for two months he was comparatively easy in his circumstances. His mother earned five cents more daily, on account of the higher price she received for work, and though this was a trifle, it was by no means to be despised where the family income was so small as in the case of the Mordaunts.
Still Dan was not satisfied.
"Mother," said he, "I suppose I ought to be contented with earning enough to pay our expenses, but I should like to be saving something."
"Yes, Dan, it would be pleasant. But we ought to be thankful for what we are now receiving."
"But, mother, suppose I should fall sick? What should we do then?"
Mrs. Mordaunt shuddered.
"Don't mention such a thing, Dan," she said. "The very idea terrifies me."
"But it might happen, for all that."
"Don't you feel well, Dan? Is anything the matter with you?" asked Mrs. Mordaunt, anxiously.
"Don't be frightened, mother," answered Dan, laughing. "I'm as strong as a horse, and can eat almost as much. Still, you know, we would feel safer to have a little money in the savings-bank."
"There isn't much chance of that, Dan, unless we earn more than we do now."
"You are right there. Well, I suppose there is no use thinking of it. By the way, mother, you've got enough money on hand to pay the rent to-morrow, haven't you?"
"Yes, Dan, and a dollar over."
"That's good."
The door of the room was partly open, and the last part of the conversation was heard by Mike Rafferty, the son of the tenant who occupied the room just over the Mordaunts. He was a ne'er-do-well, who had passed more than one term of imprisonment at Blackwell's Island. His mother was an honest, hard-working washerwoman, who toiled early and late to support herself and her three children. Mike might have given her such assistance that she could have lived quite comfortably, for her own earnings were by no means inconsiderable. Her wash-tub paid her much more than Mrs. Mordaunts needle could possibly win, and she averaged a dollar a day where her more refined neighbor made but twenty-five cents. But Mike, instead of helping, was an additional burden. He got his meals regularly at home, but contributed scarcely a dollar a month to the common expenses. He was a selfish rowdy, who was likely to belong permanently to the shiftless and dangerous classes of society.
Mike had from time to time made approaches to intimacy with Dan, who was nearly two years younger, but Dan despised him for his selfishly burdening his mother with his support, and didn't encourage him. Naturally, Mike hated Dan, and pronounced him "stuck up" and proud, though our hero associated familiarly with more than one boy ranking no higher in the social scale than Mike Rafferty.
Only the day before, Mike, finding himself out of funds, encountering Dan on the stairs, asked for the loan of a quarter.
"I have no money to spare," answered Dan.
"You've got money, Dan; I saw you take out some a minute ago."
"Yes, I've got the money, but I won't lend it."
"You're a mane skinflint," said Mike, provoked.
"Why am I?"
"Because you've got the money, and you won't lend it."
"What do you want to do with it?"
"I want to go to the Old Bowery to-night, if you must know."
"If you wanted it for your mother I might have lent it to you, though I need all I can earn for my own mother."
"It's for my mother I want it, thin," said Mike. "I guess I won't go to the theater to-night."
"That's too thin. Your mother would never see the color of it."
"Won't you lend me, thin?"
"No, I can't. If you want money, why don't you earn it, as I do?"
"I ain't lucky."
"It isn't luck. If you go to work and sell papers or black boots, you will be able to help your mother and pay your way to the theater yourself."
"Kape your advice to yourself," said Mike, sullenly. "I don't want it."
"You'd rather have my money," said Dan, good-humoredly.
"I'll never see that. You're too mane."
"All right. I'll be mane, then."
"I'd like to put a head on you," muttered Mike.
"I've got one already. I don't need another," said Dan.
"Oh, you think you're mighty smart wid your jokes," said Mike.
Dan smiled and walked off, leaving Mike more his enemy than ever.
This was the boy who overheard Mrs. Mordaunt say that she had more than the rent already saved up. Mike's cupidity was excited. He knew that it must amount to several dollars, and this he felt would keep him in cigarettes and pay for evenings at the theater for several days.
"I wish I had it," he said to himself. "I wonder where the ould woman kapes it."
The more Mike thought of it the more he coveted this money, and he set to work contriving means to get possession of it.
Finally he arranged upon a plan.
About three o'clock in the afternoon he knocked at Mrs. Mordaunt's door. She answered the knock in person.
"Mike Rafferty!" she said, in surprise. "Won't you come in?"
"Oh, no; I can't. It's bad news I bring you about Dan."
"What is it? Tell me quick, in Heaven's name!" she exclaimed, her heart giving a great bound.
"He's been run over, ma'am, by a hoss, in front of the Astor House, and they took him into the drug store at the corner. He wants you to go right over."
"Is he—badly hurt?" asked the agonized mother.
"I guess he's broke his leg," said Mike.
In two minutes Mrs. Mordaunt, trembling with apprehension, her faltering limbs almost refusing to bear her weight, was on her way to the Astor House.
As Mike had calculated, she did not stop to lock the door.
The young scape-grace entered the deserted room, rummaged about till he found the scanty hoard reserved for the landlord, and then went off whistling.
"Now I'll have a bully time," he said to himself. "Didn't I fool the ould woman good?"