Carl Crawford

“ Crawford burst into the room in evident excitement.
“Husband,” she cried, “Peter has brought home a terrible report. He has heard from a person who has just come from Milford that Carl has been run over on the railroad and instantly killed!”
Dr. Crawford turned pale, his features worked convulsively, and he put his hand to his heart, as he sank back in his chair, his face as pale as the dead.
“Woman!” said Ashcroft, sternly, “I believe you have killed your husband!” ”

“ My own name is Chauncy Hubbard, at your service.”
“I am Carl Crawford.”
“That’s a good name. I predict that we shall be great chums, if I manage to get you a place in our establishment.”
“Is Mr. Brandes a good man to work for?”
“Yes, he is easy and good-natured. He is liberal to his clerks. What salary do you think I get?”
“I couldn’t guess.”
“Forty dollars a week, and I am only twenty-five. Went into the house at sixteen, and worked my way up.”
“You have certainly done well,” said Carl, respectfully.
“Well, I’m no slouch, if I do say it myself.” ”

“ Poor Carl! he felt that he was decidedly in a tight place. He had never before found himself unable to meet his bills, nor would he have been so placed now but for Hubbard’s rascality. A dollar and a quarter seems a small sum, but if you are absolutely penniless it might as well be a thousand. Suppose he should be arrested and the story get into the papers? How his stepmother would exult in the record of his disgrace! He could anticipate what she would say. Peter, too, would rejoice, and between them both his father would be persuaded that he was thoroughly unprincipled. ”

“ It’s no joke walking a dozen miles under a hot sun, with a heavy gripsack in your hand. It’s a good introduction to a life of labor, which I have reason to believe is before me. I wonder how I am coming out—at the big or the little end of the horn?”
He paused, and his face grew grave, for he understood well that for him life had become a serious matter. In his absorption he did not observe the rapid approach of a boy somewhat younger than himself, mounted on a bicycle.
The boy stopped short in surprise, and leaped from his iron steed.
“Why, Carl Crawford, is this you? ”

“ Movement, indeed, not plot in the stricter sense, is Crawford’s chief excellence. He could not tell a story badly, but flowed on without breaking or faltering, managing his material and disposing his characters and scenes without apparent effort, in a style always clear and bright. This lightness of movement is accompanied, perhaps accounted for, by an absence of profound ideas or of any of that rich colour of life which comes only—as in Scott, Balzac, Tolstoy—when fiction is deeply based in a native soil. ”

“ Crawford, “that by the will your estate is divided equally between Carl and Mrs. Crawford.”
“Yes.”
“And nothing is said of any guardianship on the part of Mrs. Crawford?”
“No; I think it would be better, Ashcroft, that you should be Carl’s guardian. A man can study his interests and control him better.”
“I will accept the trust,” said Ashcroft, “though I hope it may be many years before the necessity arises.”
Mrs. Crawford bit her lips, and darted an angry glance at the two friends. She foresaw that her plans were threatened with failure. ”

“ It was about ten o’clock when, looking along the road, his curiosity was excited by a man of very unusual figure a few rods in advance of him. He looked no taller than a boy of ten; but his frame was large, his shoulders broad, and his arms were of unusual length. He might properly be called a dwarf.
“I am glad I am not so small as that,” thought Carl. “I am richer than he in having a good figure. I should not like to excite attention wherever I go by being unusually large or unusually small.” ”

“ Stuyvesant,” said the nobleman, “the person I was talking with this morning. Mr. Crawford tells me he is a—what do you call it?—a confidence man.”
“I have no acquaintance with him, my lord. I saw him just now leaving the hotel.”
“I am afraid he has gone away with my valise and money,” said Carl.
“If you should be inconvenienced, Mr. Crawford,” said the nobleman, “my purse is at your disposal.”
“Thank you very much, Lord Bedford,” said Carl, gratefully. “I am glad to say I am still fairly well provided with money.”
“I was about to make you the same offer, Mr. Crawford,” said Atwood. ”

“ Crawford. Did you say that Carl had but thirty seven cents?”
“Yes, sir; I presume you don’t want him to starve?”
“No, of course not. He is my son, though he has behaved badly. Here, give him that!” and Dr. Crawford drew a ten-dollar bill from his wallet, and handed it to Gilbert.
“Thank you, sir. This money will be very useful. Besides, it will show Carl that his father is not wholly indifferent to him.”
“Of course not. Who says that I am a bad father?” asked Dr. Crawford, peevishly. ”

“ Carl quickened his pace, and as he caught up with him, he raised his hat, and said: “Lord Bedford, I believe.”
“Yes,” answered the Englishman, inquiringly.
“I must apologize for addressing a stranger, but I want to put you on your guard against a young man whom I saw walking with you on the piazza.”
“Is he—what do you know of him?” asked Lord Bedford, laying aside his air of indifference.
“I know that he is an adventurer and a thief. I made his acquaintance on a Hudson River steamer, and he walked off with my valise and a small sum of money.” ”

“ Crawford in Carl’s behalf.
He was within a quarter of a mile of his destination when his attention was drawn to a boy of about his own age, who was amusing himself and a smaller companion by firing stones at a cat that had taken refuge in a tree. Just as Gilbert came up, a stone took effect, and the poor cat moaned in affright, but did not dare to come down from her perch, as this would put her in the power of her assailant.
“That must be Carl’s stepbrother, Peter,” Gilbert decided, as he noted the boy’s mean face and turn-up nose. “Stoning cats seems to be his idea of amusement. ”

“ Crawford, you do the boy injustice. He hints nothing of the kind. He evidently means to raise himself gradually as his employer did before him. By the way, he has a home in his employer’s family. I think Mr. Jennings must have taken a fancy to Carl. ”

“ The presence of a stranger in a small town always attracts public attention, and many were curious about the rakish-looking man who had now for some time occupied a room at the hotel.
Among others, Carl had several times seen him walking with Leonard Craig
“Leonard,” he asked one day, “who is the gentleman I see you so often walking with?”
“It’s a man that’s boarding at the hotel. I play billiards with him sometimes.”
“He seems to like Milford.”
“I don’t know. He’s over at our house every evening.”
“Is he?” asked Carl, surprised.
“Yes; he’s an old acquaintance of Uncle Julius. ”

“ He is no longer a tramp, but a man held in respect, and moderately prosperous.
Carl is still in the employ of Mr. Jennings, and his father has removed to Milford, where he and his son can live together. Next September, on his twenty-first birthday, Carl will be admitted to a junior partnership in the business, his father furnishing the necessary capital. Carl’s stepmother is in Chicago, and her allowance is paid to her quarterly through a Chicago bank. She has considerable trouble with Peter, who has become less submissive as he grows older, and is unwilling to settle down to steady work. ”

“ We live only a mile from here, you know. The folks will be glad to see you, and while you are there I will go to your house, see the governor, and arrange for an allowance for you that will make you comparatively independent.”
“Thank you, Gilbert; but I don’t feel like asking favors from those who have ill-treated me.”
“Nor would I—of strangers; but Dr. Crawford is your father. It isn’t right that Peter, your stepbrother, should be supported in ease and luxury, while you, the real son, should be subjected to privation and want.”
“I don’t know but you are right,” admitted Carl, slowly. ”

“ Jennings and Hannah are as much attached as ever to Carl, and it is quite likely the manufacturer will make him his heir. Happy in the society of his son, Dr. Crawford is likely to live to a good old age, in spite of his weakness and tendency to heart disease, for happiness is a great aid to longevity. ”

“ He was always interferin’ with me. Now, if ma and I play our cards right we’ll get all his father’s money. Ma thinks he won’t live long, I heard her say so the other day. Won’t it be jolly for ma and me to come into a fortune, and live just as we please! I hope ma will go to New York. It’s stupid here, but I s’pose we’ll have to stay for the present.”
“Is Carl’s letter private?” asked Mrs. Crawford, after a pause.
“I—I think he would rather I didn’t show it,” returned her husband, remembering the allusion made by Carl to his stepmother. ”

“ For his own part he thought problem novels odious, cared nothing for dialect or local colour, believed it a mistake to make a novel too minute a picture of one generation lest another should think it “old-fashioned,” and preferred to regard the novel as a sort of “pocket-theatre”—with ideals, it should be added, much like those of the British and American stage from 1870 to 1890.
Thus far Crawford was carried by his cosmopolitan training and ideals: he believed that human beings are much the same everywhere and can be made intelligible everywhere if reported lucidly and discreetly. ”

“ If I was nicely dressed I might pass it, but when a chap like me offers a ten-dollar bill it’s sure to be looked at sharply. I haven’t a cent, and I’ll trouble you to hand over all you’ve got.”
“Why don’t you work for a living? You are a strong, able-bodied man.”
“You’ll find I am if you give me any more of your palaver.”
Carl saw that the time of negotiation was past, and that active hostilities were about to commence. Accordingly he turned and ran, not forward, but in the reverse direction, hoping in this way to meet with Mr. Jennings. ”

“ I don’t think Mrs. Crawford would object.”
“Good heavens! Hasn’t the man a mind of his own?” thought Gilbert.
“Jane, you may show this young gentleman up to Master Carl’s room, and give him the key of his trunk. He is going to pack his clothes.”
“When is Master Carl coming back?” asked Jane.
“I—I don’t know. I think he will be away for a time.”
“I wish it was Peter instead of him,” said Jane, in a low voice, only audible to Gilbert.
She showed Gilbert the way upstairs, while the doctor went to his study.
“Are you a friend of Master Carl’s?” asked Jane, as soon as they were alone. ”

“ Are you sure, Miss Vance, you won’t be incommoded by my gripsack?”
“Not at all.”
“Then I will accept your kind offer.”
In a trice Carl was seated next to Julia, with his valise at his feet.
“Won’t you drive, Mr. Crawford?” said the young lady.
“Don’t let me take the reins from you.”
“I don’t think it looks well for a lady to drive when a gentleman is sitting beside her.”
Carl was glad to take the reins, for he liked driving.
“Now for a race!” said Gilbert, who was mounted on his bicycle.
“All right!” replied Carl. “Look out for us!” ”

“ Two miles farther on Carl overtook a boy of about his own age trudging along the road with a rake over his shoulder. He wore overalls, and was evidently a farmer’s boy.
“Good-day!” said Carl, pleasantly, noticing that the boy regarded him with interest.
“Good-day!” returned the country lad, rather bashfully.
“Can you tell me if there is any place near where I can buy some dinner?”
“There ain’t no tavern, if that’s what you mean. I’m goin’ home to dinner myself.”
“Where do you live?”
“Over yonder.”
He pointed to a farmhouse about a dozen rods away. ”

“ I know he doesn’t like him.”
This set Carl to thinking, but something occurred soon afterwards that impressed him still more.
Occasionally a customer of the house visited Milford, wishing to give a special order for some particular line of goods. About this time a Mr. Thorndike, from Chicago, came to Milford on this errand, and put up at the hotel. He had called at the factory during the day, and had some conversation with Mr. Jennings. After supper a doubt entered the mind of the manufacturer in regard to one point, and he said to Carl: “Carl, are you engaged this evening?” ”

“ As to his ideas, Crawford appears to have had few that were unusual, and at least he suspected such ideas as the substance of fiction, about the aims and uses of which he is very explicit in The Novel: What It Is (1893) . Novelists he called “public amusers,” who must always write largely about love and in Anglo-Saxon countries must write under the eyes of the ubiquitous young girl. ”

“ Jennings, eying Carl attentively. “How will it suit you to become a working boy?”
“I shall like it,” answered Carl, promptly.
“Don’t be too sure! You can tell better after a week in the factory. Those in my employ work ten hours a day. Leonard Craig doesn’t like it.”
“All I ask, Mr. Jennings, is that you give me a trial.”
“That is fair,” responded the little man, looking pleased. “I will tell you now that, not knowing of any vacancy in the factory, I had intended to give you the place in the office which Mr. Gibbon has asked for his nephew. It would have been a good deal easier work.” ”

“ He wanted to have his own way, and, of course, ma couldn’t stand that.”
“I see,” returned the stranger, and he eyed Peter curiously. “What did his father say to his leaving home?” he asked.
“Oh, he always does as ma wishes.”
“Was Carl willing to leave home?”
“Yes; he said he would rather go than obey ma.”
“I suppose he receives an allowance from his father?”
“No; he wanted one, but ma put her foot down and said he shouldn’t have one.”
“Your mother seems to be a woman of considerable firmness.”
“You bet, she’s firm. She don’t allow no boy to boss her.” ”