Mark the Match Boy or Richard Hunter's Ward — Ch. 21-22

CHAPTER XXI. ROSWELL JOINS THE MADISON CLUB.

It was not until Saturday night that Roswell obtained the key.

The locksmith, like tradesmen and mechanics in general, kept putting him off, to Roswell's great annoyance.

As he did not get the key till Saturday night, of course there would be no opportunity of using it till Monday.

The only time then was the hour in which Mr. Baker and Mr. Jones were absent, and Roswell was left alone.

But to his great vexation, an old gentleman came in directly after Mr. Baker went out, and inquired for him.

"He's gone to dinner," said Roswell.

"I think I'll wait till he returns," said the visitor, coolly sitting down in Mr. Baker's arm-chair.

Roswell was in dismay, for this would of course prevent his using the key which he had taken so much trouble to obtain.

"Mr. Baker is always out a good while," said Roswell.

"Never mind, I can wait for him.

I came in from the country this morning, and shall not need to start back till four."

"Perhaps," suggested Roswell, "you could go out and do the rest of your errands, and come back at two o'clock.

Mr. Baker will be sure to be back then."

"Who told you I had any more errands to do?"

asked the old gentleman, sharply.

"I thought you might have," said Roswell, somewhat confused.

"You are very considerate; but, as my business is over for the day, I will ask your permission to remain till my nephew returns."

So this was Mr. Baker's uncle, a shrewd old gentlemen, if he did live in the country.

"Certainly," said Roswell, but not with a very good grace, adding to himself; "there'll be no chance for me to get the money to-day.

I hope the old fellow won't come round again to-morrow."

The next day was Tuesday.

In the evening the club was to meet, so there was no time to lose.

Fortunately, as Roswell thought, the coast was clear.

"Suppose the key won't fit?"

he thought with uneasiness.

It would have been lucky for Roswell if the key had not fitted.

But it proved to fit exactly.

Turning it in the lock, the drawer opened, and before him lay a pile of bills.

How much or how little there might be Roswell did not stop to examine.

He knew that a customer might come in at any time, and he must do at once what he meant to do.

At the top of the pile there was a five-dollar bill.

He took it, slipped it hastily into his vest-pocket, relocked the drawer, and, walking away from it, began to dust the books upon the counter.

He felt that he had taken the decisive step.

He was supplied with the necessary money to pay the initiation fee.

The question was, would Mr. Baker find it out?

Suppose he should, how would it be possible to evade suspicion, or to throw it upon some one else?

"If I could make him think it was the match boy," thought Roswell, "I should be killing two birds with one stone.

I must see what can be done."

When Mr. Baker returned, Roswell feared he would go to the drawer, but he did not seem inclined to do this.

He just entered the store, and said, "Mr. Jones, I am obliged to go over to Brooklyn on a little business, and I may not be back this afternoon."

"Very well, sir," said Mr. Jones.

Roswell breathed freer after he had left the shop.

It had occurred to him as possible that if the money were missed, he might be searched, in which case the key and the bill in his pocket would be enough to convict him.

Now he should not see Mr. Baker again till the next day probably, when the money would be disposed of.

Mr. Baker, as he anticipated, did not return from Brooklyn before Roswell left the store.

Roswell snatched a hasty supper, and went over to his friend, Ralph Graham's room, immediately afterwards.

"Glad to see you, Roswell," said Ralph; "are you coming to the club with me to-night?"

"Yes," said Roswell.

"Have you got the five dollars?"

"Yes."

"How did you manage it?"

"Oh, I contrived to get it," said Roswell, who did not like to confess in what way he had secured possession of the money.

"Well, it's all right, as long as you've got it.

I was afraid you wouldn't succeed."

"So was I," said Roswell.

"I had hard work of it.

What time do the club meetings begin?"

he asked.

"At eight o'clock, but I generally go round about half an hour before.

Generally, some of the fellows are there, and we can have a social chat.

I guess we'll go round at half-past seven, and that will give me a chance to introduce you to some of the members before the meeting begins."

"I should like that," said Roswell.

In a short time the boys set out.

They paused before a small house on Fourth Avenue, and rang the bell.

The summons was answered by a colored man.

"Any members of the club upstairs?"

inquired Ralph.

"Yes, sir," said the attendant.

"There's Mr. Tracy, Mr. Wilmot, and Mr. Burgess."

"Very well, I'll go up."

"Jackson," said Ralph, "this gentleman is Mr. Crawford, a new member."

"Glad to make your acquaintance, sir," said Jackson.

"Thank you," said Roswell.

"Jackson takes care of the club-room," explained Ralph, "and is in attendance to admit the members on club nights.

Now let us go upstairs."

They went up one flight of stairs, and opened the door of a back room.

It was not a very imposing-looking apartment, being only about twenty feet square, the floor covered with a faded carpet, while the furniture was not particularly sumptuous.

At one end of the room was a table, behind which were two arm-chairs.

"That is where the president and secretary sit," said Ralph.

There were already three or four youths in the room.

One of them came forward and offered his hand to Ralph.

"How are you, Graham?"

he said.

"How are you, Tracy?"

returned Ralph.

"This is Mr. Crawford, who was elected a member at our last meeting.

Roswell, this is Mr. Tracy, our secretary."

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Crawford," said Tracy.

"I hope you received the notification of your election which I sent you."

"Yes," said Roswell.

"I am much obliged to you."

"I hope you intend to accept."

"It will give me great pleasure," said Roswell.

"You must have very pleasant meetings."

"I hope you will find them pleasant.

By the way, here is our president, Mr. Brandon.

Brandon, let me introduce you to a new member of our society, Mr. Crawford."

The president, who was a tall young man of eighteen, bowed graciously to Roswell.

"Mr. Crawford," said he, "allow me, in the name of the society, to bid you welcome to our gay and festive meetings.

We are a band of good fellows, who like to meet together and have a social time.

We are proud to receive you into our ranks."

"And I am very glad to belong," said Roswell, who felt highly pleased at the cordial manner in which he was received.

"You'd better go to the secretary, and enter your name in the books of the club," suggested Ralph.

"You can pay him the five dollars at the same time.

Here, Tracy, Mr. Crawford wants to enroll his name."

"All right," said Tracy; "walk this way if you please, Mr. Crawford."

Roswell wrote down his name, residence, and the store where he was employed.

"I see, Mr. Crawford, you are engaged in literary pursuits," said the secretary.

"Yes, for the present," said Roswell.

"I don't think I shall remain long, as the book business doesn't give me scope enough; but I shall not leave at present, as it might inconvenience Mr. Baker.

What is your initiation fee?"

"Five dollars."

"I happen to have the money with me, I believe," said Roswell.

"Here it is."

"Thank you; that is right.

I will enter you as paid.

The monthly assessments are one dollar, as perhaps Graham told you."

"Yes, I think he mentioned it.

It is quite reasonable, I think," said Roswell, in a tone which seemed to indicate that he was never at a loss for money.

"Yes, I think so, considering our expenses.

You see we have to pay for the room; then we pay Jackson's wages, and there are cigars, etc. , for the use of the members.

Have you ever before belonged to a club?"

"No," said Roswell.

"I have always declined hitherto (he had never before received an invitation) but I was so much pleased with what I heard of the Madison Club from my friend Graham, that I determined to join.

I am glad that you are particular whom you admit as members of the club."

"Oh, yes, we are very exclusive," said Tracy.

"We are not willing to admit anybody and everybody."

Meanwhile there had been numerous arrivals, until probably nearly all the members of the club were present.

"Order, gentlemen!"

said the president, assuming the chair, and striking the table at the same time.

"The club will please come to order."

There was a momentary confusion, but at length the members settled into their seats, and silence prevailed.

Roswell Crawford took a seat beside Ralph Graham.

CHAPTER XXII. A CLUB NIGHT.

"The secretary will read the journal of the last meeting," said President Brandon.

Tracy rose, and read a brief report, which was accepted, according to form.

"Is there any business to come before the club?"

inquired the president.

"I would like to nominate a friend of mine as a member of the club," said Burgess.

"What's his name?"

inquired a member.

"Henry Drayton."

"Will Mr. Burgess give some account of his friend, so that the members can vote intelligently on his election?"

requested Brandon.

"He's a jolly sort of fellow, and a good singer," said Burgess.

"He'll help make our meetings lively.

He's about my age--" "In his second childhood," suggested Wilmot.

This produced a laugh at the expense of Burgess, who took it good-naturedly.

"Has he got five dollars?"

inquired another member.

"His father is a rich man," said Burgess.

"There will be no fear about his not paying his assessments."

"That's the principal thing," said Wilmot.

"I second the nomination."

A vote was taken which was unanimously affirmative.

"Mr. Drayton is unanimously elected a member of the Madison Club," announced the president.

"Notification will be duly sent him by the secretary.

Is there any other business to come before the club?"

As there appeared to be none, Brandon added, "Then we will proceed to the more agreeable duties which have brought us hither."

He rang a small bell.

Jackson answered the summons.

"Jackson, is the punch ready?"

inquired the president.

"Yes, sir," said Jackson.

"Then bring it in.

I appoint Wilmot and Burgess to lend you the necessary aid."

A large flagon of hot whiskey punch was brought in and placed on a table.

Glasses were produced from a closet in the corner of the room, and it was served out to the members.

"How do you like it, Roswell?"

inquired Ralph Graham.

"It's--rather strong," said Roswell, coughing.

"Oh, you'll soon be used to it.

The fellows will begin to be jolly after they've drunk a glass or two."

"Do they ever get tight?"

whispered Roswell.

"A little lively,--that's all."

The effect predicted soon followed.

"Wilmot, give us a song," said Burgess.

"What will you have?"

said Wilmot, whose flushed face showed that the punch had begun to affect him.

"Oh, you can give us an air from one of the operas."

"Villikens and his Dinah?"

suggested Tracy.

"Very good," said Wilmot.

Wilmot was one of those, who, with no voice or musical ear, are under the delusion that they are admirable singers.

He executed the song in his usual style, and was rewarded with vociferous applause, which appeared to gratify him.

"Gentleman," he said, laying his hand upon his heart, "I am deeply grateful for your kind appreciation of my--" "Admirable singing," suggested Dunbar.

"Of my admirable singing," repeated Wilmot, gravely.

This speech was naturally followed by an outburst of laughter.

Wilmot looked around him in grave surprise.

"I don't see what you fellows are laughing at," he said, "unless you're all drunk."

He sat down amid a round of applause, evidently puzzled to understand the effect of his words.

After this, David Green arose, and rehearsed amid great applause a stump speech which he had heard at some minstrel entertainment which he had attended.

"How do you like it, Roswell?"

again inquired Ralph Graham.

"It's splendid," said Roswell, enthusiastically.

"Are you glad you joined?"

"Yes; I wouldn't have missed it for a good deal."

"I knew you'd say so.

Have your glass filled.

Here Jackson, fill this gentleman's glass."

Roswell was beginning to feel a little light-headed; but the punch had excited him, and he had become in a degree reckless of consequences.

So he made no opposition to the proposal, but held out his glass, which was soon returned to him filled to the brim.

"Speech from the new member!"

called Dunbar, after a while.

"Yes, speech, speech!"

All eyes were turned towards Roswell.

"You'd better say something," said Ralph.

Roswell rose to his feet, but found it necessary to hold on to his chair for support.

"Mr. President," commenced Roswell, gazing about him in a vacant way, "this is a great occasion."

"Of course it is," said Burgess.

"We are assembled to-night--" "So we are.

Bright boy!"

said David Green.

"I am a gentleman's son," continued Roswell.

"What's the gentleman's name?"

interrupted Wilmot.

"And I think it's a shame that I should only be paid six dollars a week for my services."

"Bring your employer here, and we'll lynch him," said Tracy.

"Such mean treatment of a member of the Madison Club should meet with the severest punishment.

Go ahead."

"I don't think I've got anything more to say," said Roswell.

"As my head doesn't feel just right, I'll sit down."

There was a round of applause, and Wilmot arose.

"Mr. President," he said, gravely, "I have been very much impressed with the remarks of the gentleman who has just sat down.

They do equal credit to his head and his heart.

His reference to his salary was most touching.

If you will allow me, I will pause a moment and wipe away an unbidden tear."

(Here amid laughter and applause, Wilmot made an imposing demonstration with a large handkerchief.

He then proceeded.

) "Excuse my emotion, gentlemen.

I merely arose to make the motion that the gentleman should furnish us a copy of his remarks, that they may be engrossed on parchment, and a copy sent to the principal libraries in Europe and America."

Roswell was hardly in a condition to understand that fun was being made of him, but listened soberly, sipping from time to time from his glass.

"The motion is not in order," said Brandon.

"The hour for business has gone by."

The punch was now removed, and cards were produced.

The remainder of the evening was spent in playing euchre and other games.

Roswell took a hand, but found he was too dizzy to play correctly, and for the remainder of the evening contented himself with looking on.

Small sums were staked among some of the players, and thus a taste for gambling was fostered which might hereafter lead to moral shipwreck and ruin.

This was the way in which the members of the Madison Club spent their evenings,--a very poor way, as my young readers will readily acknowledge.

I heartily approve of societies organized by young people for debate and mutual improvement.

They are oftentimes productive of great good.

Some of our distinguished men date their first impulse to improve and advance themselves to their connection with such a society.

But the Madison Club had no salutary object in view.

It was adapted to inspire a taste for gambling and drinking, and the money spent by the members to sustain it was worse than wasted.

Roswell, however, who would have found nothing to interest or attract him in a Debating Society, was very favorably impressed by what he had seen of the Madison Club.

He got an erroneous impression that it was likely to introduce him into the society of gentlemen, and his aristocratic predilections were, as we know, one of Roswell's hobbies.

It was about eleven when the club broke up its meeting.

Previous to this there was a personal difficulty between Wilmot and Tracy, which resulted in a rough-and-tumble fight, in which Wilmot got the worst of it.

How the quarrel arose no one could remember,--the principals least of all.

At last they were reconciled, and were persuaded to shake hands.

They issued into the street, a noisy throng.

Roswell's head ached, the punch, to which he was not accustomed, having affected him in this way.

Besides this he felt a little dizzy.

"I wish you'd come home with me, Ralph," he said to his friend.

"I don't feel quite right."

"Oh, you'll feel all right to-morrow.

Your head will become as strong as mine after a while.

I'm as cool as a cucumber."

"It's rather late, isn't it?"

asked Roswell.

"Hark, there's the clock striking.

I'll count the strokes.

Eleven o'clock!"

he said, after counting.

"That isn't very late."

Ralph accompanied Roswell to the door of his mother's house in Clinton Place.

"Good-night, old fellow!"

he said.

"You'll be all right in the morning."

"Good-night," said Roswell.

He crept up to bed, but his brain was excited by the punch he had drank, and it was only after tossing about for two hours that he at length sank into a troubled sleep.

CHAPTER XXIII.