The Telegraph Boy. Jr. Horatio Alger
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"He wanted me to pass counterfeit money for him, and I refused."
"If that is true, it is to your credit."
"It is true, sir," said Frank, quietly.
"Come, Mr. Bowen, what do you say—shall we accept this boy's services? It will save you time and trouble."
"If I were sure he could be trusted," said Bowen, hesitating. "He might pawn the umbrella. It is a valuable one."
"I hope, sir, you won't think so badly of me as that," said Frank, with feeling. "If I were willing to steal anything, it would not be a gift from your dead son."
"I'll trust you, my boy," said the old gentleman quickly. "Your tone convinces me that you may be relied upon."
"Thank you, sir."
The old gentleman drew a card from his pocket, containing his name and address, and on the reverse side wrote the name of the friend at whose office he felt sure the umbrella had been left, with a brief note directing that it be handed to the bearer.
"All right, sir."
"Stop a moment, my boy. Have you got money to ride?"
"No, sir."
"Here, take this, and go down at once in the next stage. The sooner you get there the better."
Frank followed directions. He stopped the next stage, and got on board. As he passed the City-Hall Park, Dick Rafferty espied him. Frank nodded to him.
"How did he get money enough to ride in a 'bus?" Dick asked himself in much wonderment. "A few minutes ago he wanted to borrow some money of me, and now he's spending ten cents for a ride. Maybe he's found a pocket-book."
Frank kept on his way, and got out at Wall street. He found Mr. Peckham's office, and on presenting the card, much to his delight, the umbrella was handed him.
"Mr. Bowen was afraid to trust me with it over night," said Mr. Peckham, with a smile.
"He thought some visitor might carry it off," said Frank.
"Not unlikely. Umbrellas are considered common property."
Frank hailed another stage, and started on his way up-town. There was no elevated railway then, and this was the readiest conveyance, as Mr. Bowen lived on Madison avenue.
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