CHAPTER X.
TOM ARRIVES IN CINCINNATI.
"You haven't told me your name yet," said Bessie, after a while.
"Gilbert Grey," said Tom.
The name sounded strange to himself, for he had always been called Tom;but his street-life was over. He had entered upon a new career, and itwas fitting that he should resume the name to which he had a rightfulclaim.
"That's a good name," said Bessie, approvingly. "Would you like to knowmine?"
"I know it already--it's Bessie Benton."
"Oh, you heard me use it. Do you like it?"
"Tip-top."
"That's another of your boy-words."
"Isn't it good?"
"I like it well enough. I'm not Miss Wiggins."
I am not going to inflict on the reader a full account of all that wassaid on the journey by Bessie and her young protector. They chattedupon a variety of topics, Tom taking care not to be too communicativetouching his street experiences. He wanted to stand well with Bessie,and was afraid that she would not be quite so pleased and social withhim if she should learn that he had been a knight of theblacking-brush.
It was early evening when the train reached Cincinnati.
"I think papa will be here to meet me," said Bessie, looking out of thecar window, as they entered the depot. "Uncle telegraphed him fromBuffalo that I would arrive by this train."
Our hero was sorry they were already at their journey's end. He hadenjoyed Bessie's company, and he knew that he might never meet heragain. Though he knew nothing of etiquette, he did what was proper onthe occasion, and assisted Bessie to ascend the steps upon theplatform.
Bessie looked around to find a familiar face.
"Oh, there's Cousin Maurice!" she said. "Here, Maurice, here I am."
A boy, somewhat taller than our hero, who no doubt considered himself ayoung man, came forward, and was about to kiss Bessie, but the latterdrew back slightly and frustrated his design by giving him her handinstead.
Maurice colored a little, and looked vexed.
"Where is papa? Didn't he come?" she asked, quickly.
"He was busy, and sent me. Won't I do as well?"
"Of course I am glad to see you, but I hoped papa would be here."
"The carriage is outside; let us hurry," said Maurice, taking her arm.
"Wait a minute," said Bessie, releasing her arm. She walked up to Tom,and, taking his hand cordially, said: "Good-by, Gilbert. I'm ever somuch obliged to you for taking care of me. We live at 116 B---- street.I hope you will call in a day or two. Papa will be glad to see you, andhe will thank you, too."
Tom's face flushed with pleasure.
"Thank you, Miss Bessie," he said. "I'd like to do it all over again."
"You'll be sure to come?"
"Yes, I'll come."
Maurice listened to this conversation with impatient annoyance. Heliked his pretty cousin enough to be jealous of any one to whom sheseemed attentive, and he thought her altogether too cordial with thisstrange boy.
"Who's that fellow?" he asked, as they were passing out of the depot.
"I don't know whom you mean."
"The boy you spoke to."
"The _young gentleman_ I spoke to," remarked Bessie, with emphasis,"was Gilbert Grey."
"And who is Gilbert Grey, and how did you become acquainted with him?"
"Uncle Henry put me in his charge," said Bessie. "I've traveled withhim all the way from Buffalo."
"A great protector he is!" sneered Maurice. "He isn't old enough totake charge of a kitten."
"A kitten would be more trouble than I was," said Bessie. "She mightscratch. I never do that, you know, Cousin Maurice."
"I should think Uncle Henry might have found some older person to putyou in charge of."
"I am glad he didn't. Gilbert was real nice."
"You shouldn't call him by his first name; it isn't proper."
"Pray don't talk about what's proper. I heard enough of that from MissWiggins. Besides, he's only a boy, you know, though, to be sure, helooks almost as old as you."
"Don't be so provoking, Bessie. I am much larger than he."
"Are you? I didn't see it."
"I am sorry you invited him to the house, Bessie. He only traveled withyou a few hours. There is no need of becoming intimate with him on thataccount."
"I want to become intimate with him," said Bessie, with provokingfrankness. "He's very nice."
"He seemed to me rather a low, common fellow," said Maurice, irritated.
"You needn't like him, if you don't want to," said Bessie. "Let us talkabout something else," and she began to make inquiries about homeaffairs.
We return to Tom, whom we left standing on the platform in the depot.
"Have a carriage, sir?" asked a hackman.
"Where to?"
"Anywhere you like--Burnett House."
"If you know of any nice hotel where they'll board me for the pleasureof my company, you can take me right along."
"They don't do business that way, here."
"Never mind, then. I guess my private carriage is outside."
Tom, of course, knew nothing of Cincinnati; but, picking out a man witha carpet-bag, whose dress indicated limited means, he followed him.
"He won't stop at any of the tip-top hotels," thought our hero. "Ican't afford to go first-class any more; my pocket-book ain't so fullas it was."
He followed his unconscious guide nearly a mile. The latter finallystopped before a small, third-class hotel, which bore the name OhioHouse. After a slight pause he entered, and Tom followed him. After theman had registered his name, Tom went up to the desk.
"What do you charge?" he asked.
"Two dollars a day."
"Is that the lowest price?"
"Where a party stays a week, it's ten dollars," was the reply.
"All right," said our hero.
"Will you register your name?"
Tom took the pen, and would have put down "Gilbert Grey," but, as weknow, his education had been neglected, and he was not at all sure asto the proper way of spelling Gilbert. After a little reflection, heput down:
G. GREY, New York.
The clerk wrote the number of a room opposite, and asked our hero if hewould go to his room before supper.
Tom decided that he would, and was shown into a stuffy little bedroom,which would never have been mistaken, even by the most inexperienced,for a room in a first-class hotel. However, our hero was not veryparticular--he had never been accustomed to luxurious accommodations,and he was perfectly satisfied with No. 12.
"You can go," said he to the servant, "I'll be down in a jiffy."
He washed his face and hands--for even in the days of his street-lifehe had paid more regard to neatness than most of his class--opened hiscarpet-bag and took out a clean paper collar, which he substituted forthe one he wore, and, after brushing his hair, went down stairs. He didnot have long to wait for his supper, nor was he wanting in appetite.Though the establishment could boast of no French cook, the table wasspread with substantial dishes, which Tom attacked vigorously.
"There's nothing like a good square meal, when a fellow's hungry," hesaid to himself. "It's more than old Jacob and I often got. I wonderwhat the old man would say if he knew I was payin' two dollars a dayout of his money? I can't foller it up long, that's one sure thing. Butit's no use worrying before it's time. I guess I'll find something todo in a big place like this."
Our hero knew little or nothing about geography, or the comparativesize of places. He fancied that Cincinnati was nearly as large as NewYork. At any rate, it was large enough to afford a living for a youngman of pluck and industry. He was no doubt correct in this. Pluck andindustry are pretty sure to make their way in any place, whatever itssize, and these qualities Tom certainly possessed.
He took up a copy of a Cincinnati daily, and looked over its columns tosee if there was any vacant position which he could fill.
WANTED--A gentleman of expe
rience and ability, as Principal of the ---- Grammar School. Salary, $2,500 the first year.
"The pay would suit me pretty well," said Tom, "and I guess I couldlick some of the bad boys; but I could teach 'em all I know in half aday. Here's a coachman wanted. That won't do, either. 'Wanted.--A manwith a small capital, to enter upon a light, genteel business.' I'vegot the small capital, and it's gettin' smaller every day. Perhaps Iwouldn't be genteel enough."
After awhile Tom, having exhausted the advertisements, and foundnothing to suit him, felt himself growing sleepy, and went up to bed.