Chapter XXV: Tom’s Promotion--Conclusion

Never had a trolley car seemed to travel so slowly as did that one from the Back Bay section, in which the three anxious ones rode. But finally they reached their destination. As they hurried into the lobby of the hotel they were met by Mr. Keen.

“Well?” asked Mr. Boise anxiously.

“We caught them just in time,” replied his partner. “They had engaged a cab, and had tickets to New York, when I appeared on the scene with an officer, and placed them under arrest.”

“Where are they now?”

“Safe in a room, with a policeman on guard. I thought that better than taking them to the station house, as I believe they will confess, and make restitution. They are both badly frightened.”

This proved to be the case. All the bluster had gone from Mr. Sandow, and his wife was no longer the sneering woman she had been. She was weeping in one corner of the room as Dr. Spidderkins and his friends entered.

“So, this is the way you repay me for my kindness to you both, is it?” the aged physician exclaimed.

“Oh, Lemuel, forgive me!” pleaded his sister-in-law. “I don’t know why we did it! But you had so much money and we didn’t have any.”

“I would always have provided you with a comfortable home,” went on the doctor. “But now I will compel you to give up what you stole, and I will turn you out of my house.”

“We’ll--we’ll give it all back, Lemuel,” promised Mrs. Sandow. “We didn’t spend much of it. That lawyer got some, but the rest we have.”

“Yes; Eli Cutler is as guilty as we are,” added Mr. Sandow. “Why don’t you arrest him?”

“Perhaps we will,” replied Mr. Boise. “But are you now ready to turn over to Dr. Spidderkins all that you took belonging to him?”

“I suppose so,” mumbled Sandow.

“If they do I think it would be better to avoid the notoriety of an arrest and prosecution,” suggested the lawyer to his client.

Dr. Spidderkins nodded, and thus the matter was arranged. Sandow turned over to the lawyer certain valuable papers, bonds and mortgages which he had managed to secure from the doctor, chiefly through that old gentleman’s forgetfulness about business details. The scheming couple had also secured considerable cash, by the simple process of making the doctor make out checks twice for the same bill. The second checks they kept for themselves.

“There will be no prosecution, in case you leave Boston and never return,” said Mr. Boise, when the details had been completed, and most of Dr. Spidderkins’ stolen fortune had been restored to him. “Do you agree to that?”

“We have to, I suppose,” remarked Sandow.

He and his wife left the Parker House, taking their baggage with them. The police officer escorted them to the depot--to see that they took the train.

“Now that this disagreeable business is over, I think I can return to my home and my books,” remarked Dr. Spidderkins. “I suppose you will deal with Mr. Cutler?”

“I do not think there will be a chance,” replied Mr. Boise. “I fancy he is far enough away from here by this time.”

After events proved that he was, for he sailed for England with his ill-gotten gains, which, however, were much smaller than they would have been, had not Tom heard that mysterious message going over the wire, and acted as he did. Mr. Leeth also disappeared, but he had secured only a small sum.

“I can not tell you how much I am indebted to you, for what you have done for me, Mr. Boise,” went on the doctor. “If it had not been for you I would be a poor man to-day, and I could never buy any more choice books.”

“Don’t thank me; thank Tom. He is the hero on this occasion,” replied the lawyer, looking at the telephone boy. “He engineered all this, and, by revealing to me the duplicity of my partner, enabled me to act in time to save your wealth. Had it not been for Tom we never could have succeeded.”

“That’s so,” agreed the doctor heartily. “I had nearly forgotten that. Oh, what shall I do about my treacherous memory? But I’ll not forget you, Tom. I am a little tired over this excitement, but I will call on you this evening, and properly express my appreciation. Where do you live?”

Tom gave him the address, the physician writing it down on the fly-leaf of a book, as the best place for such an important memorandum.

“You need not report back to the office, Tom,” said his employer. “I fancy you have done enough for one day.”

“Thank you,” replied our hero, as he left the hotel and went home.

It seemed that Mrs. Baldwin, and Tom’s Aunt Sallie would never finish asking questions about what had happened, when Tom told them the occurrences of the day.

“And to think that you did the most part,” exclaimed his aunt.

“Oh, well, it just happened so,” replied Tom, who was nothing if not modest. “I guess the telephone did the most part. That’s a wonderful invention.”

They were talking in the small sitting-room after supper that evening, when there came a knock on the door.

“I’ll go,” said Tom, and when he opened the portal there stood Dr. Spidderkins.

“Does Tom Baldwin----” he began, when he saw the boy who had been of such service to him. “Why, of course, there you are,” he finished. “I guess I must have knocked at half a dozen houses. You see I wrote your address down in a book, and then I forgot what book I had written it in. But I called up Mr. Boise and, fortunately, he remembered it. I have come to thank you for what you did for me.”

“Come in,” invited Tom, and he ushered the guest into the modest sitting-room.

“This is my mother, Dr. Spidderkins,” he said, “and my aunt, Miss Ramsey.”

“Ramsey--Ramsey----” repeated the physician. “Why, I used to know a Ramsey family. Let me see, there was a Jeanette Ramsey--and a Sallie Ramsey--and--why, bless my soul--you’re Jeanette Ramsey, aren’t you?” and he looked at Tom’s mother.

“That was my name before I was married. But is this the Dr. Spidderkins that used to live in Lowell?”

“The very same. Bless my soul! I suppose I’ve grown so old you wouldn’t know me, but I’d remember you anywhere,” said the doctor gallantly, with a bow to the ladies. “Bless my soul! To think of meeting you again, after all these years. Tom, you young rascal, why didn’t you tell me your mother was Jeanette Ramsey, with whom I used to play when I was a boy, though I was ever so much older than she was?”

“You never asked me,” replied Tom.

The doctor spent a pleasant evening with his former friends, talking over old times.

“I heard Tom speak of a Dr. Spidderkins,” said Mrs. Baldwin, “but I did not know it was the one I used to know.”

“Well, well, this is a strange world,” mused the old gentleman. “But I am nearly forgetting what I came for, in the excitement of meeting you two ladies again. Tom, I want to show my appreciation of what you did for me. I understand from Mr. Boise that you want to study law. There is no better profession in the world. Now I am going to send you to college and then to a law school. I expect you to graduate with honors, and then you can look after my legal business for me, for I am getting to have such a bad memory that I need a guardian. Will you go, Tom?”

Tom was silent a moment. The offer was so unexpected that it nearly took his breath away. He had never dreamed of such advancement.

“Well,” asked Dr. Spidderkins, inquiringly, “I hope you don’t prefer being a telephone boy to becoming a lawyer?”

“Oh, no. If I could study law I think I would like it better than anything else.”

“Then you shall study law,” went on the doctor firmly. “It’s the least I can do for you, after you saved my fortune for me. After you graduate I shall see that you do not lack for practice.

“There is another matter. Now that the Sandows are gone I shall be all alone in that big house. That would never do. I need some one to look after me, or I would forget to eat. Won’t you come and take charge of the place, Mrs. Baldwin? I would pay you and Miss Ramsey well, and it would be a good home for Tom.”

It did not need much urging to have the two women give up their sewing work, which had paid very poorly of late, and accept the doctor’s offer. Within a week they were established in the Spidderkins mansion, and Tom had been entered at college, where he was to make a specialty of law.

One evening, not long after this, Tom was called to the telephone, in the doctor’s house. He heard a girl’s voice speaking.

“Is this Tom Baldwin?” she asked.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“I thought you were coming over to see my brother, and learn something about a telephone switchboard,” came back over the wire, followed by a jolly laugh.

“Oh, so I am. Why, it’s--it’s Minnie Renfield!” exclaimed Tom, as he recognized the voice of the central girl, who had done him such a good turn.

“Of course it is,” she replied. “When are you coming over?”

“I don’t need to learn about a switchboard any more,” replied Tom. “I’m going to study law. But I’m coming to see--your brother, just the same.”

Minnie laughed.

Tom went at the difficult study of law as he had done at learning how to operate a switchboard, and he did well. Soon after our hero left the law office, Charley Grove took his place, as the brokerage firm he was with failed, and Charley made a most efficient telephone operator.

As for Tom, when he graduated, and had to spend some time in a law office, before he could be admitted to the bar, he naturally selected the firm of Boise & Keen, for Mr. Cutler’s name was dropped after his flight.

To-day the firm is Boise, Keen & Baldwin, for Tom, in a few years, was made the junior member. He no longer lives in Dr. Spidderkins’ house, though his mother and aunt continue to reside there, for Tom is married, but I don’t believe you can guess who the young lady was. What’s that? Minnie Renfield, the telephone girl? Why, how ever in the world did you guess it, boys?

THE END

TO THE READER

Now that you have finished reading this story, we desire to call your attention to all the other volumes in this remarkable series for boys.

We feel that we have made a distinct find in Mr. Frank V. Webster, who is under contract to write exclusively for the Cupples & Leon Company. Mr. Webster’s style is very much like that of the late-lamented Mr. Alger, but his tales are all thoroughly up-to-date. This author, though still young, has been a great traveler, and therefore he knows exactly what he is writing about, be it a story of city or country life, a tale of the far west, or of the frozen north.

“How can you write such fine stories?” a boy once asked Mr. Webster.

“Oh, I guess it comes natural,” answered the author. “I have been through so much and seen so much, it seems as if I could go on telling stories forever.”

On the following pages we give the outlines of some of Mr. Webster’s stories. Read them--they will interest you.

THE BOY FROM THE RANCH

Did you ever stop to think how strange life in a big city must appear to a boy who has never been anywhere but on the boundless plains?

“I simply had to write that story--I couldn’t help it,” said Mr. Webster, in telling us how “The Boy from the Ranch; or, Roy Bradner’s City Experiences,” came to be penned. “Some years ago I was on a ranch, and there I met a lad just like Roy, who told me of all the things that had happened to him when he went to Chicago for his uncle on business.”

In this story of life on the plains and in New York, Roy is a clever lad who knows how to take his own part, no matter what happens. His father being sick, he is sent to the great metropolis to transact some business. Everything is new and strange to him and he makes some queer mistakes which make very funny reading. He falls into the hands of a sharper who has been cheating Mr. Bradner out of the income of some valuable property. The sharper and his tools try to get the ranch boy out of the way. But--well, Roy turns the tables, and makes things mighty warm for the fellows.

A splendid volume, bound in cloth, and well illustrated. Published by the Cupples & Leon Company, at thirty-five cents. Sent postpaid if you can not get it from your bookseller.

THE YOUNG TREASURE HUNTER

Do you like stories of the frozen north? of great hardships amid ice and snow? and of thrilling encounters with wild beasts and with thieving Indians? If you do you will not want to miss Frank V. Webster’s book entitled: “The Young Treasure Hunter; or, Fred Stanley’s Trip to Alaska.”

“The most interesting story of the Alaskan gold fields I ever read,” one boy has written to us. “My father was one of the first men to go to Alaska, and he says the pictures of life there are true. I guess Mr. Webster must have been there himself.”

This story tells of how a poor boy joined a party in search of a golden treasure, and of how, after the treasure was discovered, a bad man, aided by some Alaskan Indians, tried to get the wealth away. Fred proved himself a hero on more than one occasion, and we know all boys will like him for that. On one occasion the youth brings down a fine moose, and on another he and his chum suffer from snow blindness and become lost in the dazzling whiteness.

This book might easily have been issued at one dollar or one dollar and a half, but Mr. Webster insisted that the price be made the same as on all his other volumes, namely, thirty-five cents. Issued by the Cupples & Leon Company, New York, and for sale by booksellers everywhere.

BOB THE CASTAWAY

One day Mr. Webster came into our office and placed a manuscript on the desk of our editor.

“Did you ever take a sea voyage when you were a boy?” he asked as he dropped into a chair.

The editor said he had never had that pleasure.

“Well, I did--and I was wrecked, too,” went on the author. “And I was sent to sea for the same reason that Bob Henderson had to go.”

Then we got very curious and read the story, which had for its title: “Bob the Castaway; or, The Wreck of the Eagle.” We had to laugh when we read that yarn. Bob was such a fun-loving fellow, and he played such awful jokes. He tried to play a joke on an old sea captain at a church donation party, but, to the boy’s horror, the minister got the benefit (?) of the fun. Then Bob’s parents sent him to sea to cure him, and the boy was wrecked on an island in the Pacific, and had many thrilling adventures. It’s a true-to-life story, for it contains many pages out of Mr. Webster’s own experiences. A very nervous passenger on the ship makes a lot of unconscious fun. There is a great hurricane, and an encounter with South Sea natives.

A fine volume, bound in cloth, and well illustrated, and the price is thirty-five cents. Buy it from your bookseller, or send to the Cupples & Leon Company, New York, for it.

THE YOUNG FIREMEN OF LAKEVILLE

“Fire! fire! fire!”

That is the cry that sometimes thrills us, ringing out during the day or in the silent hours of the night. And who is it whose heart does not jump within him when he sees the devouring flames leaping skyward, and sees the engines, hose-carts and long hook-and-ladder trucks dashing through the streets to put out the conflagration?

The life of the fireman is one full of excitement and often of peril. This Mr. Frank V. Webster fully realized when he wrote, “The Young Firemen of Lakeville; or, Herbert Dare’s Pluck.” How the boys became dissatisfied with the old “bucket brigade” and organized a real fire company, and how they worked at more than one fire, is told with great fidelity to life. And then there is the secret of the old mansion, and that is worked up in Mr. Webster’s best style.

“The mystery in this story is taken from life,” Mr. Webster wrote us. “It surrounded an old man and a fortune worth nearly half a million dollars. A good-for-nothing grandson wanted to get it away from him.”

Published, as are all the Frank V. Webster books, by the Cupples & Leon Company, New York. Bound in cloth, illustrated, and for sale everywhere at thirty-five cents.

THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS

“Say, what’s the matter with you, anyhow?”

That was the question that Jimmy Small, a New York newsboy, asked when first he met Dick, in a dark alleyway, where Jimmy had gone to sleep because he didn’t have the price of a bed at the lodging-house.

Dick was a well-dressed boy, and lay there with a nasty cut on the head. He couldn’t tell how he had got into the alleyway or where he had come from. All he could remember was his first name--and as he was found in a box, Jimmy called him Dick Box.

The poor newsboy befriended Dick, and the two became partners. Dick could not remember his past, but he remembered how to read and write, and he taught Jimmy, and the two worked their way upward. Then one day something happened--something truly wonderful--and Dick--well, he didn’t remain poor, unknown Dick Box for a great while longer.

This story, issued under the title of “The Newsboy Partners; or, Who Was Dick Box?” is a fascinating tale, told in Mr. Webster’s best style. Splendidly illustrated, bound in cloth, price thirty-five cents. Published by the Cupples & Leon Co., New York. Ask your bookseller to show you this volume.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.