Chapter XIV Dan, the Newsboy by Jr. Horatio Alger
A New Home
Mrs. Mordaunt was apprised by Fanny that Dan had gone up town with a lady, and therefore was not alarmed when he did not return home at the usual time. She hoped he would clear fifty cents, but had no idea to what extent their fortunes would be advanced by Dan’s evening’s work.
“I will save Dan some supper,” she said to herself. “He will be hungry.”
So, mother-like, she supped economically herself, on a cup of tea and some dry bread, and bought a bit of steak for Dan’s supper, for she thought he would be very hungry at so late an hour.
It was nearly half-past eight when she heard Dan’s well known step on the stairs.
She opened the door to welcome him, but the cheerful welcome upon her lips died away in surprise when she saw his companion.
“Who is this, Dan?” she asked.
“She is going to be my little sister, mother,” said Dan, gayly.
“Will you be my mother?” said Althea, releasing Dan’s hand, and putting her own confidingly in that of Mrs. Mordaunt.
“Yes, my dear,” said the widow, her heart quite won by the little girl’s innocent confidence, and she bent over and kissed her.
“What does it all mean, Dan?” she asked, in bewilderment.
“It means that Althea is to board with us, and be company for you. I have agreed with her aunt that you will take her.”
“But does her aunt know that we live in such a poor place?” asked his mother in a tone of hesitation.
“Yes, mother, but that makes no difference, as we shall move up town to-morrow.”
“I am sure you have acted for the best, Dan, but it seems so strange.”
“Will it seem strange to receive fifty dollars a month for Althea’s board?” asked Dan.
“Fifty dollars a month!” repeated the widow, incredulously.
“That’s the figure, mother. I didn’t suppose we ought to charge more.”
“More, Dan! Why, it is a fortune!”
“I don’t know. That depends on Althea’s appetite. Are you a great eater, Althea?”
“Sometimes I am,” said the little girl, naively.
“Never mind, I guess there will be enough.”
“I nearly forgot, Dan. You will want some supper. I didn’t know there would be two, but I will go cut and buy some more meat, if you can wait.”
“I have had supper, mother, or dinner rather. I dined with Althea and her aunt at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.”
Here was another surprise.
“Has Althea been stopping there, Dan?”
“Yes, mother.”
“Then how can she stay even one night in this poor place?”
“I will ask her. Althea, do you mind stopping here just one night? We will go to a better place to-morrow.”
“No, Dan, I don’t care.”
“There, mother, I told you so, Althea is a brick.”
“What a funny boy you are, Dan! How can I be a brick? A brick is red and ugly, and I am not.”
“No, Althea, you are not ugly, but your cheeks are red.”
“They don’t look like a brick, Dan.”
“No, they don’t. I take it all back.”
“I had got your supper all ready, Dan,” said his mother, regretfully.
“Then eat it yourself, mother.”
“I have had my supper.”
“You didn’t have any meat, I’ll warrant. Now, like a good mother, sit down and eat the steak.”
Assured that Dan had supped well, Mrs. Mordaunt didn’t resist his advice.
Dan looked on, and saw with pleasure that his mother relished the meat.
“We will be able to live better hereafter, mother,” he said. “There won’t be any stinting. Fifty dollars will go a good ways, and then, besides, there will be my earnings. I forgot to tell you, mother, that I have probably got a place.”
“Our good fortune is coming all at once, Dan,” said Mrs. Mordaunt, cheerfully.
“So it seems, mother. I think it has come to stay, too.”
“I feel so tired,” said Althea, at this point. “Can I go to bed?”
“Certainly, my dear child. You can go at once.”
In twenty minutes the little girl was in a sound sleep. Dan was not sorry, for he wanted to tell his mother about the days adventures, and he could do so more freely without any one to listen.
“So, mother,” he concluded, “we are going to turn over a new leaf. We can’t go back to our old style of living just yet, but we can get out of this tenement-house, and live in a respectable neighborhood.”
“God has been good to us, Dan. We ought to feel grateful to Him.”
“I know it, mother, but somehow I don’t think of that as quick as you. Who do you think I saw in the supper-room at the Fifth Avenue? Who but Tom Carver. He was wonderfully puzzled to know how I happened to be there. He told the party he was with that I was a common newsboy.”
“He is a very mean boy,” said Mrs. Mordaunt, indignantly. “After being so intimate with you too.”
“Never mind, mother. He can’t do me any harm, and I don’t care for his friendship. The time may come when I can meet him on even terms.”
“You can now, Dan.”
“I mean in a worldly way. I shall work along, and if I get rich I sha’n’t be the first rich man that has risen from the ranks.”
“God grant you success, my son!”
Early the next morning Dan started out in search of a new home.
He and his mother decided that they would like to live somewhere near Union Square, as that would be a pleasant afternoon resort for their young boarder.
“Will you go with me, mother?” he asked.
“No, Dan, I have not time this morning. Besides you know what will suit us.”
“Very well, mother; I will do my best.”
Dan crossed Broadway, and took a horse-car up town.
In West Sixteenth street his attention was drawn to the notice, “Furnished Rooms to Let,” upon a good-looking brick house.
He rang the bell, and asked to see the lady of the house.
A stout, matronly looking woman, with a pleasant face, answered the servant’s call.
“I called to inquire for rooms,” said Dan.
“For yourself?” asked Mrs. Brown.
“For my mother, and sister, and myself.”
“I have a large back room on the third floor, and a small room on the fourth floor.”
“May I see them?”
“Come up stairs, sir.”
First Dan went into the large room.
It was neatly carpeted and furnished, and had a cheerful outlook.
“This will do for mother and Althea,” he said.
“Will you look at the little room?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I am sure that will suit. It is for me, and I am not particular. But there’s one thing that may trouble us.”
“What is that?”
“Where can mother prepare our meals? She can’t cook in the bedroom.”
“I will give her the privilege of using my kitchen. I don’t care to take boarders, as it would be too much care, but your mother is welcome to use my kitchen stove.”
“Won’t it interfere with you?”
“Leave that to your mother and myself,” said Mrs. Brown, with a pleasant smile. “We can make some satisfactory arrangement.”
“How much do you want for your rooms?” asked Dan.
“Will you be permanent?”
“We will be permanent, if suited.”
“Of course; that is all I ask. Will four dollars a week suit you?”
“We will pay it,” said Dan, quite relieved, for he feared he should have to pay more. “Can we move in to-day?”
“Any time, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“I generally ask a week’s rent in advance,” said Mrs. Brown, “but in your case I won’t insist upon it.”
“Oh, it is perfectly convenient,” said Dan, and he drew out his pocket-book containing the money—over a hundred dollars—which Althea’s aunt had given him.
Mrs. Brown’s respect for Dan was considerably increased by this display of wealth, and she congratulated herself on securing such substantial lodgers.
This business accomplished Dan went down town, and informed his mother of the arrangement he had made. Before night Mrs. Mordaunt, Althea, and he were installed in their new home, much to the regret of Mrs. Rafferty, who regretted losing so good a neighbor. Before this, however, Dan sought the counting-room of Barton & Rogers.