Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition. Alger Horatio Jr.

      “Yes.”

      “Just my luck,” said Tom, ruefully.

      “When are you goin’ to work?” asked Tom, after a pause.

      “Next Monday.”

      “Where are you going to board? We might take a room together, you know. It would be kind of social, as we both come from the same place.”

      It did not occur to Grant that the arrangement would suit him at all, but he did not think it necessary to say so. He only said: “I am going to Mr. Reynolds’ house, just at first.”

      “You don’t say so! Why, he’s taken a regular fancy to you.”

      “If he has, I hope he won’t get over it.”

      “I suppose he lives in a handsome brownstone house uptown.”

      “Very likely; I’ve never seen the house.”

      “Well, some folks has luck, but I ain’t one of ‘em,” grumbled Tom.

      “Your luck is coming, I hope, Tom.”

      “I wish it would come pretty soon, then; I say, suppose your folks won’t let you take the place?” he asked, suddenly, brightening up.

      “They won’t oppose it.” “I thought they wanted you to go to college.”

      “I can’t afford it. It would take too long before I could earn anything, and I ought to be helping the family.”

      “I’m goin’ to look out for number one,” said Tom, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s all I can do.”

      Tom’s mother was a hard-working woman, and had taken in washing for years. But for her the family would often have lacked for food. His father was a lazy, intemperate man, who had no pride of manhood, and cared only for himself. In this respect Tom was like him, though the son had not as yet become intemperate.

      “I don’t think there is any chance of my giving up the place,” answered Grant. “If I do, I will mention your name.”

      “That’s a good fellow.”

      Grant did not volunteer to recommend Tom, for he could not have done so with a clear conscience. This omission, however, Tom did not notice.

      “Well, Tom, I must be going. Good-by, and good luck.”

      Grant went home with a cheerful face, and announced his good luck to his mother.

      “I am glad you are going to your employer’s house,” she said. “I wish you could remain there permanently.”

      “So do I, mother; but I hope at any rate to get a comfortable boarding place. Tom Calder wants to room with me.”

      “I hope you won’t think of it,” said Mrs. Thornton, alarmed.

      “Not for a moment. I wish Tom well, but I shouldn’t like to be too intimate with him. And now, mother, I think I ought to write to Uncle Godfrey, and tell him what I have decided upon.”

      “That will be proper, Grant.” Grant wrote the following letter, and mailed it at once:

      “DEAR UNCLE GODFREY:

      I am afraid you won’t like what I have to tell you, but I think it is my duty to the family to give up the college course you so kindly offered me, in view of father’s small salary and narrow means. I have been offered a place in the office of a stock broker in New York, and have accepted it. I enter upon my duties next Monday morning. I hope to come near paying my own way, and before very long to help father. I know you will be disappointed, Uncle Godfrey, and I hope you won’t think I don’t appreciate your kind offer, but I think it would be selfish in me to accept it. Please do forgive me, and believe me to be

      Your affectionate nephew, GRANT THORNTON.”

      In twenty-four hours an answer came to this letter. It ran thus: