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Fame and Fortune Weekly, No. 801, February 4, 1921
Fame and Fortune Weekly, No. 801, February 4, 1921 / Stories of boys that make money
Dick's head, falling forward when he lost consciousness, hit the door and the sound attracted the attention of the proprietor and his two clerks. "What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Bacon. He pulled the door open and the office boy fell out
Dick Darling's Money; or, The Rise of an Office Boy
CHAPTER I. – The Office Boy's Peril
"Dick, come into my office," said Mr. Roger Bacon, a well-known wholesale dealer in watches, jewelry and silverware, on John street, New York City.
"Yes, sir," replied Dick Darling, his fifteen-year-old office boy – a bright, good-looking lad, who had not yet graduated out of knickerbockers, though most boys of his age would have dispensed with them for trousers. Somehow or another Dick looked to unusual advantage in knickerbockers, and he made a pretty figure in the store, which naturally made his employer partial to that kind of attire in him. That was one reason why he continued to wear them at his age.
Another reason was because being the youngest of a family of four, the older members being all girls, he was regarded by his mother and sisters as the baby of the family, and they wouldn't hear to his making any change in his attire. He was only a baby in name, however, for there wasn't a pluckier young chap of his years in his neighborhood, or in the city for that matter. The boys in his block, who knew him well, and those employed in the vicinity of Mr. Bacon's store, downtown, often made his knickerbockers the butt of their witticism, but Dick was a self-reliant, independent youth, and he didn't care a rap for the fun and criticism that was directed at his apparel. He surprised the downtown lads by polishing off a couple of them who got too gay on the subject, which made the rest rather shy about tackling him, since it was apparent that he knew how to use his fists if forced to call upon them. When Dick followed his employer into his private office the merchant pointed at the chair beside the desk, so the office boy sat down and awaited developments.
"Dick," said Mr. Bacon, "I'm going to send you on an unusual mission. I want you to take this package," laying his hand on a square one which stood on his desk, "to Springville, New Jersey. The village is about an hour's ride from Jersey City, on the line of the Central Railroad of New Jersey. A train that will stop there leaves Jersey City at four-thirty, and you have thirty minutes to catch it. You will deliver the package at the home of Mr. Goodrich – his name and address are written on the outside. As he is well known in the place, the station agent or anybody in the village will direct you to his house, which I believe is not over ten minutes' walk from the station. Under ordinary circumstances this package would be sent by express, but the order came only a short time ago, and the article must reach the gentleman early this evening. I may as well tell you that it is a wedding present, and is worth about $330. You ought to be able to deliver the package and get back to the station in time to take the train for Jersey City which stops at Springville at six-fifteen. That is all. Go to the cashier and he will hand you money enough to cover all your expenses."
Dick took the package and carried it with him into the counting room, where the cashier handed him a five-dollar bill and told him to turn in the change in the morning. Then he put on his hat and started for the Cortlandt street ferry. He landed in Jersey City in ample time to catch the accommodation train which stopped at all points north of its destination. Dick enjoyed the ride to Springville, where he arrived about half-past five.
He found no trouble in reaching the Goodrich house, where he asked for Mr. Goodrich and delivered the package to him. The gentleman presented him with a dollar, treated him to some cake and lemonade, after which Dick started back for the station. He arrived there five minutes before train time and went to the window to buy a return ticket. The agent was busy at the telegraph key and Dick had to wait for him to get through.
"I want a ticket for Jersey City," said the office boy.
"Sorry, but there's just been an accident down the road. The train you expect to take, due here in five minutes, ran into a number of freight cars on a siding, owing to a switch having been imperfectly locked, and it stuck there. It may be hours before the tangle is straightened out. You will have to wait for the nine-ten, which is the next train that stops here."
"Nine-ten!" exclaimed Dick. "That's three hours from now."
The agent nodded.