He went up to his room, which was small and plainly furnished, but looked comfortable. Going down again to the office, he looked into the Albany directory to see if he could find the name of Rachel Norris.
There was a Rebecca Norris, who was put down as a dressmaker, but that was as near as he came to Rachel Norris.
Then he set himself to looking over the other members of the Norris family. Finally he picked out Norris & Wade, furnishing goods, and decided to call at the store and inquire if they knew any lady named Rachel Norris. The prospect of gaining information in this way did not seem very promising, but no other course presented itself, and Carl determined to follow up the clew, slight as it was.
Though unacquainted with Albany streets, he had little difficulty in finding the store of Norris & Wade. It was an establishment of good size, well supplied with attractive goods. A clerk came forward to wait upon Carl.
“What can I show you?” he asked.
“You may show me Mr. Norris, if you please,” responded Carl, with a smile.
“He is in the office,” said the clerk, with an answering smile.
Carl entered the office and saw Mr. Norris, a man of middle age, partially bald, with a genial, business-like manner.
“Well, young man?” he said, looking at Carl inquiringly.
“You must excuse me for troubling you, sir,” said Carl, who was afraid Mr. Norris would laugh at him, “but I thought you might direct me to Rachel Norris.”
Mr. Norris looked surprised.
“What do you want of Rachel Norris?” he asked, abruptly.
“I have a little business with her,” answered Carl.
“Of what nature?”
“Excuse me, but I don’t care to mention it at present.”
“Humph! you are very cautious for a young man, or rather boy.”
“Isn’t that a good trait, sir?”
“Good, but unusual. Are you a schoolboy?”
“No, sir; I am a drummer.”
Mr. Norris put on a pair of glasses and scrutinized Carl more closely.
“I should like to see–just out of curiosity –the man that you travel for,” he said.
“I will ask him to call whenever he visits Albany. There is his card.”
Mr. Norris took it.
“Why, bless my soul!” he exclaimed. “It is Henry Jennings, an old schoolmate of mine.”
“And a good business man, even if he has sent out such a young drummer.”
“I should say so. There must be something in you, or he wouldn’t have trusted you. How is Jennings?”
“He is well, sir–well and prosperous.”
“That is good news. Are you in his employ?”
“Yes, sir. This is the first time I have traveled for him.”
“How far are you going?”
“As far as Chicago.”
“I don’t see what you can have to do with Rachel Norris. However, I don’t mind telling you that she is my aunt, and–well, upon my soul! Here she is now.”
And he ran hastily to greet a tall, thin lady, wearing a black shawl, who at that moment entered the office.