"I suppose he belongs to a rich family, and has plenty of money,"thought Ben. "It must be pleasant to be born with a gold spoon inyour mouth, and know that you are provided for life."
If Ben had been wiser he would have judged differently. To be born towealth removes all the incentives to action, and checks the spirit ofenterprise. A boy or man who finds himself gradually rising in theworld, through his own exertions, experiences a satisfaction unknownto one whose fortune is ready-made. However, in Ben's present straitit is no wonder he regarded with envy the supposed young man offortune.
Our hero was destined to be strangely surprised. His eyes wereunusually keen, and enabled him after a while to observe some ratherremarkable movements on the part of the young man. Though his eyeswere looking elsewhere, Ben could see that his right hand wasstealthily insinuating itself into the pocket of the richly-dressedlady at his side.
"Is it possible that he is a pickpocket?" thought Ben, in amazement."So nicely dressed as he is, too!"
It did not occur to Ben that he dressed well the better to avertsuspicion from his real character. Besides, a man who lives at otherpeople's expense can afford to dress well.
"What shall I do?" thought Ben, disturbed in mind. "Ought I not towarn the lady that she is in danger of losing her money?"
While he was hesitating the deed was accomplished. A pearlportemonnaie was adroitly drawn from the lady's pocket and transferredto that of the young man. It was done with incredible swiftness, butBen's sharp eyes saw it.
The young man yawned, and, turning away from the lady, appeared to belooking out of a window at the head of the coach.
"Why, there is Jack Osborne," he said, half audibly, and, rising,pulled the strap for the driver to stop the stage.
Then was the critical moment for Ben. Was he to allow the thief toescape with the money. Ben hated to get into a disturbance, but hefelt that it would be wrong and cowardly to be silent.
"Before you get out," he said, "hand that lady her pocketbook."
The face of the pickpocket changed and he darted a malignant glance atBen.
"What do you mean, you young scoundrel?" he said.
"You have taken that lady's pocketbook," persisted Ben.
"Do you mean to insult me?"
"I saw you do it."
With a half exclamation of anger, the young man darted to the door.But he was brought to a standstill by the business man, who placedhimself in his way.
"Not so fast, young man," he said resolutely.
"Out of the way!" exclaimed the thief, in a rage. "It's all a baselie. I never was so insulted in my life."
"Do you miss your pocketbook, madam?" asked the gentleman, turning tothe lady who had been robbed.
"Yes," she answered. "It was in the pocket next to this man."
The thief seeing there was no hope of retaining his booty, drew itfrom his pocket and flung it into the lady's lap.
"Now, may I go?" he said.
There was no policeman in sight, and at a nod from the lady, thepickpocket was allowed to leave the stage.
"You ought to have had him arrested. He is a dangerous character,"said the gentleman who had barred his progress.
"It would have been inconvenient for me to appear against him," saidthe lady. "I am willing to let him go."
"Well, there is one comfort--if he keeps on he will be hauled upsooner or later," remarked the gentleman. "Would your loss have beena heavy one?" he inquired.
"I had quite a large sum in my pocketbook, over two hundred dollars.But for my young friend opposite," she said, nodding kindly at Ben, "Ishould have lost it with very small chance of recovery."
"I am glad to have done you a service, madam," said Ben politely.
"I know it is rather imprudent to carry so large sum about with me,"continued the lady, but I have a payment to make to a carpenter whohas done work in my house, and I thought he might not find itconvenient use a check."
"A lady is in more danger than a gentleman," observed the businessman, "as she cannot so well hide away her pocketbook. You will needto be careful as you walk along the street."
"I think it will be best to have a neighbor whom I can trust," saidthe lady. "Would you mind taking this seat at my side?" shecontinued, addressing Ben.
"I will change with pleasure," said our hero, taking the seat recentlyvacated by the pickpocket.
"You have sharp eyes, my young friend," said his new acquaintance.
"My eyes are pretty good," said Ben, with a smile.
"They have done me good service to-day. May I know to whom I amindebted for such timely help?"
"My name is Benjamin Barclay."
"Do you live in the city?"
"No, madam. I live in Pentonville, about thirty miles from New York."
"I have heard of the place. Are you proposing to live here?"
"No madam. I came in to-day on a little business of my own, and alsoto select some goods for a country store in which I am employed."
"You are rather young for such a commission."
"I know the sort of goods Mr. Crawford sells, so it was not verydifficult to make the selection."
"At what time do you go back?"
"By the four o'clock train."
"Have you anything to do meanwhile?"
"No, madam," answered Ben, a little surprised.
"Then I should like to have you accompany me to the place where I amto settle my bill. I feel rather timid after my adventure with ourlate fellow-passenger."
"I shall be very happy to oblige you, madam," said Ben politely.
He had just heard a public clock strike one and he knew, therefore,that he would have plenty of time.
CHAPTER XIIBEN'S LUCK
"We will get out here," said Mrs. Hamilton.
They had reached the corner of Fourth Street and Broadway.
Ben pulled the strap, and with his new friend left the stage. Heoffered his hand politely to assist the lady in descending.
"He is a little gentleman," thought Mrs. Hamilton, who was muchpleased with our hero.
They turned from Broadway eastward, and presently crossed the Boweryalso. Not far to the east of the last avenue they came to acarpenter's shop.
Mr. Plank, a middle-aged, honest-looking mechanic, looked up insurprise when Mrs. Hamilton entered the shop.
"You didn't expect a call from me?" said the lady pleasantly.
"No, ma'am. Fashionable ladies don't often find their way over here."
"Then don't look upon me as a fashionable lady. I like to attend tomy business myself, and have brought you the money for your bill."
"Thank you, ma'am. You never made me wait. But I am sorry you hadthe trouble to come to my shop. I would have called at your house ifyou had sent me a postal."
"My time was not so valuable as yours, Mr. Plank. I must tell you,however, that you came near not getting your money this morning.Another person undertook to collect your bill."
"Who was it?" demanded the carpenter indignantly. "If there's anybodyplaying such tricks on me I will have him up before the courts."
"It was no acquaintance of yours. The person in question had no spiteagainst you and you would only have suffered a little delay."
Then Mrs. Hamilton explained how a pickpocket had undertaken torelieve her of her wallet, and would have succeeded but for her youngcompanion.
"Oh they're mighty sharp, ma'am, I can tell you," said the carpenter."I never lost anything, because I don't look as if I had anythingworth stealing; but if one of those rascals made up his mind to robme, ten to one he'd do it."
Mr. Plank receipted his bill and Mrs. Hamilton paid him a hundred andeighty-seven dollars and fifty cents. Ben could not help envying himas he saw the roll of bills transferred to him.
"I hope the work was done satisfactory," said Mr. Plank. (Perfectgrammar could not be expected of a man who, from the age of twelve,had been forced to earn his own living.)
"Quite so, Mr. Plank," said the
lady graciously. "I shall send foryou when I have any more work to be done."
There was no more business to attend to, and Mrs. Hamilton led the wayout, accompanied by Ben.
"I will trouble you to see me as far as Broadway," said the lady. "Iam not used to this neighborhood and prefer to have an escort."
"I didn't think this morning," said Ben to himself, "that a rich ladywould select me as her escort."
On the whole, he liked it. It gave him a feeling of importance, and asense of responsibility which a manly boy always likes.
"I shall be glad to stay with you as long as you like," said Ben.
"Thank you, Benjamin, or shall I say Ben?"
"I wish you would. I hardly know myself when I am called Benjamin."
"As we are walking alone, suppose you tell me something of yourself.I only know your name, and that you live in Pentonville. Whatrelations have you?"
"A mother only--my father is dead."
"And you help take care of your mother, I suppose?"
"Yes; father left us nothing except the house we live in, or, atleast, we could get track of no other property. He died in Chicagosuddenly."
"I hope you are getting along comfortably--you and your mother," saidMrs. Hamilton kindly.
"We have our troubles," answered Ben. "We are in danger of having ourhouse taken from us."
"How is that?"
"A rich man in our village, Squire Davenport, has a mortgage of sevenhundred dollars upon it. He wants the house for a relative of hiswife, and threatens to foreclose at the end of three months."
"The house must be worth a good deal more than the mortgage."
"It is worth twice as much; but if it is put up at auction I doubt ifit will fetch over a thousand dollars."
"This would leave your mother but three hundred?"
"Yes," answered Ben despondingly.
"Have you thought of any way of raising the money?"
"Yes; I came up to the city to-day to see a cousin of mother's, a Mr.Absalom Peters, who lives on Lexington Avenue, and I had just comefrom there when I got into the stage with you."
"Won't he help you?"
"Perhaps he might if he was in the city; though mother has seennothing of him for twenty years; but, unfortunately, he just sailedfor Europe."
"That is indeed a pity. I suppose you haven't much hope now?"
"Unless Mr. Peters comes back. He is the only one we can think of tocall upon."
"What sort of a man is this Squire Davenport?"
"He is a very selfish man, who thinks only of his own interests. Wefelt safe, because we did not suppose he would have any use for asmall house like ours; but night before last he called on mother withthe man he wants it for."
"He cannot foreclose just yet, can he?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.
"No; we have three months to look around."
"Three months is a long time," said the lady cheerfully. "A good dealcan happen in three months. Do the best you can, and keep up hope."
"I shall try to do so."
"You have reason to do so. You may not save your house, but you have,probably, a good many years before you, and plenty of good fortune maybe in store for you."
The cheerful tone in which the lady spoke some how made Ben hopefuland sanguine, at any rate, for the time being.
"In this country, the fact that you are a poor boy will not stand inthe way of your success. The most eminent men of the day, in allbranches of business, and in all professions, were once poor boys. Idare say, looking at me, you don't suppose I ever knew anything ofpoverty."
"No," said Ben.
"Yet I was the daughter of a bankrupt farmer, and my husband was clerkin a country store. I am not going to tell you how he came to thecity and prospered, leaving me, at his death, rich beyond my needs.Yet that is his history and mine. Does it encourage you?
"Yes, it does," answered Ben earnestly.
"It is for that reason, perhaps, that I take an interest in countryboys who are placed as my husband once was," continued Mrs. Hamilton."But here we are at Broadway. It only remains to express myacknowledgment of your timely assistance."
"You are quite welcome," said Ben.
"I am sure of that, but I am none the less indebted. Do me the favorto accept this."
She opened her portemonnaie, and taking from it a banknote, handed itto Ben.
In surprise he looked at it, and saw that it was a twenty-dollar bill.
"Did you know this was a twenty-dollar bill?" he asked in amazement.
"Certainly," answered the lady, with a smile. "It is less than tenper cent. of the amount I would have lost but for you. I hope it willbe of service to you."
"I feel rich with it," answered Ben. "How can I thank you, Mrs.Hamilton?"
"Call on me at No. ---- Madison Avenue, and do it in person, when younext come to the city," said the lady, smiling. "Now, if you willkindly call that stage, I will bid you good-by--for the present."
Ben complied with her request, and joyfully resumed his walk downBroadway.
CHAPTER XIIIA STARTLING EVENT
Though Ben had failed in the main object of his expedition, hereturned to Pentonville in excellent spirits. He felt that he hadbeen a favorite of fortune, and with good reason. In one day he hadacquired a sum equal to five weeks' wages. Added to the dollar Mr.Crawford had contributed toward his expenses, he had been paidtwenty-one dollars, while he had spent a little less than two. It isnot every country boy who goes up to the great city who returns withan equal harvest. If Squire Davenport had not threatened to foreclosethe mortgage, he would have felt justified in buying a present for hismother. As it was, he feared they would have need of all the moneythat came in to meet contingencies.
The train reached Pentonville at five o'clock, and about the usualtime Ben opened the gate and walked up to the front door of his modesthome. He looked so bright and cheerful when he entered her presencethat Mrs. Barclay thought be must have found and been kindly receivedby the cousin whom he had gone up to seek.
"Did you see Mr. Peters?" she asked anxiously.
"No, mother; he is in Europe."
A shadow came over the mother's face. It was like taking from her herlast hope.
"I was afraid you would not be repaid for going up to the city," shesaid.
"I made a pretty good day's work of it, nevertheless, mother. What doyou say to this?" and he opened his wallet and showed her a roll ofbills.
"Is that Mr. Crawford's money?" she asked.
"No, mother, it is mine, or rather it is yours, for I give it to you."
"Did you find a pocketbook, Ben? If so, the owner may turn up."
"Mother, the money is mine, fairly mine, for it was given me in returnfor a service I rendered a lady in New York."
"What service could you have possibly rendered, Ben, that merited suchliberal payment?" asked his mother in surprise.
Upon this Ben explained, and Mrs. Barclay listened to his story withwonder.
"So you see, mother, I did well to go to the city," said Ben, inconclusion.
"It has turned out so, and I am thankful for your good fortune. But Ishould have been better pleased if you had seen Mr. Peters and foundhim willing to help us about the mortgage."
"So would I, mother, but this money is worth having. When supper isover I will go to the store to help out Mr. Crawford and report mypurchase of goods. You know the most of our trade is in the evening."
After Ben had gone Mrs. Barclay felt her spirits return as she thoughtof the large addition to their little stock of money.
"One piece of good fortune may be followed by another," she thought."Mr. Peters may return from Europe in time to help us. At any rate,we have nearly three months to look about us, and God may send ushelp."
When the tea dishes were washed and put away Mrs. Barclay sat down tomend a pair of Ben's socks, for in that household it was necessary tomake clothing last as long as possible, when she was aroused from herwork by a ringing at th
e bell.
She opened the door to admit Squire Davenport.
"Good-evening," she said rather coldly, for she could not feelfriendly to a man who was conspiring to deprive her of her modest homeand turn her out upon the sidewalk.
"Good-evening, widow," said the squire.
"Will you walk in?" asked Mrs. Barclay, not over cordially.
"Thank you, I will step in for five minutes. I called to see if youhad thought better of my proposal the other evening."
"Your proposal was to take my house from me," said Mrs. Barclay. "Howcan you suppose I would think better of that?"
"You forget that the house is more mine than yours already, Mrs.Barclay. The sum I have advanced on mortgage is two-thirds of thevalue of the property."
"I dispute that, sir."
"Let it pass," said the squire, with a wave of the hand. "Call itthree-fifths, if you will. Even then the property is more mine thanyours. Women don't understand business, or you would see matters in adifferent light."
"I am a woman, it is true, but I understand very well that you wish totake advantage of me," said the widow, not without excusablebitterness.
"My good lady, you forget that I am ready to cancel the mortgage andpay you three hundred and fifty dollars for the house. Now, threehundred and fifty dollars is a handsome sum--a very handsome sum. Youcould put it in the savings bank and it would yield you quite acomfortable income."