Jed, the Poorhouse Boy

"Thank you, sir," said Jed, as he pocketed the pass. "I suppose you are Mr. Mordaunt?"

"John Mordaunt, manager of the Gold King Company. In my humbler days I was known to my friends as Jack Mordaunt."

By this time they had reached Duncan, and drove at once to the hotel.

CHAPTER XI. JED'S FIRST APPEARANCE ON THE STAGE.

Several gentlemen were sitting on the piazza in front of the hotel. Among them was Jed's acquaintance of the night before, Harry Bertram.

When he saw Mr. Mordaunt in the buggy he advanced to greet him.

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Mordaunt," he said. "I wanted to consult you."

"Any hitch, Bertram?" asked the manager.

"Yes. Young Clinton is sick and can't play to-night."

"What's the matter with the boy?"

"He is threatened with fever."

"Couldn't he play to-night? His part is a small one, but it is important."

"The doctor absolutely forbids his appearing on the stage."

"That is awkward. If we were in the city we might get a substitute, but a common country boy would make a mess of the part."

"You have a boy with you. Do you think he would do?"

"You have known him longer than I. I refer the matter to you."

"Why, it's Jed!" exclaimed Bertram, examining our hero closely.

"Didn't you know me, Mr. Bertram?" asked Jed smilingly.

"Who could, with such a change of dress? You must have met some good fairy. And how did you fall in with Mr. Mordaunt?"

"He kindly offered me a ride."

"Then you have left Scranton for good?"

"For good, I hope. If I can help you in any way I will do my best."

"Try him, Bertram," said the manager. "He is very presentable. Take him in hand, and see if you can't get him ready to take Ralph Clinton's place."

"Then no time is to be lost. Come up to my room, Jed, and I will tell you what you are expected to do—that is, if you have had supper."

"I ate my supper on the road before I fell in with Mr. Mordaunt."

"Follow me, then, Jed."

Harry Bertram led the way to a comfortable chamber on the second floor.

"Now sit down, and I'll tell you what you will have to do. First, do you think you have the nerve to stand before an audience and play the part of a telegraph boy?"

"Yes, sir. I am not troubled with bashfulness."

"Have you ever spoken in public?"

"Yes, at school examinations."

"Then I think you'll do. Here is your part."

He handed Jed a small manuscript book containing the lines of his rôle, with the cues.

"You see it isn't long. I may be able to give you a little rehearsal, as you appear only in the first and last acts."

The next half hour was devoted to teaching Jed his part. Bertram was delighted with the aptitude shown by his pupil.

"Have you never attended a theatre?" he asked, almost incredulously.

"Never, Mr. Bertram."

"Then I can only say that you have the dramatic instinct, luckily for us. If you are sure you won't be afraid before the footlights, you'll do."

"Then I shall do," said Jed. "I never should think of being nervous."

"One thing more—nothing will be said of any substitution. To the audience you will be Ralph Clinton, as put down on the bill."

"That will suit me. I am afraid if I were announced as Jed, the Poorhouse Boy, it wouldn't help you," continued Jed with a smile.

"You may have to continue in the part a week or more. As to the pay, I can't speak of that yet. Mr. Mordaunt will arrange with you."

"If I can earn my board I shall be satisfied."

"I can promise you that, and fully as good board as you have been accustomed to."

"I hope it won't be worse," said Jed laughing.

"When you go to the theatre I will see if Ralph Clinton's uniform will fit you. I haven't much doubt on that point, as you seem to be about the same size."

The performance was to commence at eight. Harry Bertram and his protégé went to the hall, which was to be used as a theatre, early, so that Jed might be introduced to his fellow-actors and receive a little instruction as to the business of his part.

He was very quick to comprehend, and forgot nothing, so that Bertram felt quite easy in regard to him, though it was his first appearance on any stage.

Jed was very well received by the other members of the company, all of whom expressed satisfaction at having the gap so quickly filled.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, my boy," said George Osprey, the leading man. "Where have you played?"

"Nowhere, sir. This is my first appearance."

"I hope you won't funk."

"If that means break down, I am sure I won't."

"Good! Your confidence will pull you through."

"Mr. Osprey, introduce me, please," lisped an elderly young lady, of affected manners.

"This is Miss Celesta Raffles, Mr. ——, I don't think I know your name."

"Jed Gilman, but I believe I am to be billed as Ralph Clinton."

"I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Gilman," said Miss Raffles. "I am sure you will be an honor to our noble profession."

"I hope so, Miss Raffles," said Jed smilingly, "but I shall be able to tell better to-morrow."

"I always sympathize with youth—with impulsive, enthusiastic youth," gushed Miss Raffles.

"If they are of the male sex," interpolated Mr. Osprey. "Mr. Gilman, I must warn you that Miss Raffles is a dangerous woman. She will do her best to make an impression on your heart."

"Oh, you wicked slanderer!" said the delighted Celesta. "Mr. Gilman, I am not dangerous at all. I will merely ask you to look upon me as your sister—your elder sister."

"Thank you, Miss Raffles," said Jed, showing a tact and self-possession hardly to be expected of one with his training. "Is Mr. Osprey one of your brothers?"

"Yes, she told me that she would be a sister to me. I have never—never recovered from the blow."

"I may change my mind," said Celesta, who admired the handsome leading man. "If you try again, you may meet with better success——"

"No," answered Osprey warily. "I never ask the same favor a second time. I leave you to Mr. Gilman. May you be happy, my children!"

As Celesta Raffles looked to be thirty-five, and Jed was but sixteen, he was a good deal amused, but Miss Raffles was disposed to take the matter in earnest.

"Don't let him prejudice you against me, Mr. Gilman!" she murmured. "We shall soon be better acquainted, I am sure. Do you know, I am to be your mother in the play? It is a little absurd, as I am only twenty-three, but we have to do strange things on the stage."

"She's thirty-six if she's a day," whispered Osprey, "but if you want to keep in her good graces you must believe her own reports of her age."

"Time to dress, Jed!" said Harry Bertram. "It will take you longer than usual, as it is the first time. Your nerve won't fail you, will it?"

Jed shook his head.

"I feel as cool as ever I did," he answered.

Fortunately the telegraph boy's uniform fitted him exactly. He hardly knew himself as he looked at his reflection in the little mirror in his dressing-room.

"I wonder if Mr. and Mrs. Fogson would recognize me if they should see me on the stage?" thought Jed.

Then it occurred to him that Percy Dixon and his mother would be present. He smiled to himself as he thought of Percy's bewilderment when he saw him under such a strange change of circumstances.

It is not necessary to give the plot of the Gold King. It is sufficient to say that Jed, the telegraph boy, had been stolen from his parents in early life, the Gold King being his father. He is obliged to earn his own living as a boy, but in the last act he is restored to his friends and his old station in life.

In the first act Jed appeared in his predecessor's uniform. In the last he wore his own suit, this being quite as well adapted to the character as Ralph Clinton's street costume.

Mrs. Dixon and Percy occupied seats in the third row from the front. They always paid the highest prices, and secured the most eligible seats.

At the end of ten minutes Jed's cue was called and he appeared on the stage. Percy, who was watching the play with the greatest attention, started in amazement when he saw the boy actor.

"Mother," he whispered, "that boy is the perfect image of Jed, the poorhouse boy."

"Is he, indeed? Very singular, on my word!"

"And he has the same voice," continued Percy, still more excited.

"But I suppose it can't be he," said Mrs. Dixon inquiringly.

"No, I think not," answered Percy. "Jed doesn't know anything about acting, and this boy is perfectly at home on the stage."

This was indeed true. Jed was quite self-possessed. Moreover, he never hesitated for a word or stumbled, but was letter-perfect. His scene was with George Osprey, as member of a fashionable club, who had inquired into his history. "Yes," said Jed, repeating his part, "yes, Mr. Glendower, I am a poor boy, but those who look down upon me will one day find their mistake—they may find that the poor telegraph boy whom they once despised is able to look down upon them."

As he uttered these words, Jed, perhaps intentionally, let his glance rest on Percy Dixon, while the latter gazed at him open-mouthed.

"I believe it is Jed, after all, mother!" he ejaculated.

CHAPTER XII. PERCY DIXON IS BEWILDERED.

At the end of the first act Jed and George Osprey were called before the curtain. Jed had been instructed to bow his thanks, and did so. Percy watched his face eagerly, for this brought Jed within a few feet of him.

"Mother," he said, "if that boy isn't Jed, it is his twin brother."

"But, Percy," said his mother, who was a practical woman, "I never heard that the boy had a twin brother."

"Oh, pshaw! I meant that he is exactly like him."

"But this boy is Ralph Clinton. The bill says so."

"I know it," said Percy, with a puzzled expression. "I don't understand it at all."

"The boy you mean is probably in bed at the Scranton poorhouse."

"Perhaps he is. I don't see, for my part, how he could be here, or know how to act."

The play proceeded. It was in five acts, and Jed was not called upon to appear again till the last one. He proved himself up to the requirements of the part, and evidently produced a favorable impression on the audience.

"Mother," said Percy, "I would like to wait at the stage door till the actors come out."

"But, Percy, it is already late. We ought to be starting for home."

"But, mother, you know father is Overseer of the Poor, and if this boy is Jed, he has run away from the Scranton poorhouse, and father will be held responsible."

"Why should he?"

"Because the paupers are under his charge. If one of them runs away he will be blamed."

"Well, if you think we ought to stop," said the lady undecidedly. "But I don't see what you expect to accomplish."

"I want to see that boy face to face. I want to speak to him, and find out for certain who he is."

"Well, don't be any longer than you can help."

"I won't."

Meanwhile Jed and Harry Bertram were conversing in the greenroom.

"You did yourself proud, my boy," said Bertram. "You acted as well as Clinton, and in some respects better."

"I am glad to hear you say so, Mr. Bertram," said Jed, gratified.

"I could hardly believe that this was your first appearance on the stage. Weren't you frightened at all?"

"Not a bit. I enjoyed it."

"Did you see any of your Scranton friends in the audience?"

"I saw none of my Scranton friends," answered Jed, "but I saw two Scranton acquaintances."

"Who were they?"

"Percy Dixon, son of the Overseer of the Poor, and his mother."

"Where were they sitting?"

"In the third row from the stage."

"Do you think they recognized you?"

"I saw Percy watching me very closely I am sure he noticed my resemblance to his old acquaintance Jed, but he couldn't understand how it was possible for me to be the same boy."

"Then you baffled him?"

"I don't know. I shouldn't wonder if he would be waiting outside to get a view of me."

"And if he does?"

"He will do all he can to get me back to the poorhouse."

"Then I'll tell you what to do. Go out of the stage door arm in arm with me, and I will address you as Ralph. If he speaks, appear not to know him."

"That will be a capital joke," said Jed taking in the humor of the situation.

"Between us, I think we can bluff him off."

Jed had appeared in the last act in his street costume, and had no preparations to make, but Bertram had to exchange his stage for his ordinary dress. When they were ready they emerged from the stage door arm in arm. A glance showed Jed that Percy was waiting to intercept him. He did not appear to notice Percy, but passed on.

Percy hastened forward, and touched him on the arm.

"Look here, I want to speak to you," he said.

"Speak on, my boy," said Jed, assuming the style of his new profession.

"How did you come here?" demanded Percy bluntly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you are Jed Gilman."

"My dear Ralph, what does this person mean?" said Bertram.

"He evidently mistakes me for some one he knows," said Jed coolly. "May I ask your name, young man?"

"You know me well enough," said Percy angrily, for Jed had not tried to change his voice. "I am Percy Dixon."

"Percy Dixon?" repeated Jed. "Where have I met you?"

"Where have you met me?" retorted Percy. "At the Scranton poorhouse."

"Do you reside there?" asked Jed with admirable composure.

"Do I live at the poorhouse?" repeated Percy, exasperated. "Of course I don't."

Mrs. Dixon had heard this colloquy, as she was sitting in the carriage only six feet away.

"Percy," she said, "I told you you had made a mistake."

"I don't believe I have," said Percy in a sulky tone.

"For whom do you take me, Mr. Dixon?" asked Jed.

"For Jed Gilman, a poorhouse boy."

"I feel very much complimented," said Jed smoothly. "I hope Jed is a nice boy."

"No, he isn't. He is an impudent young rascal."

"Then how dare you compare my friend Ralph to a boy like that?" demanded Bertram savagely. "You must be crazy, or do you mean to deliberately insult him?"

Poor Percy was overwhelmed. He wasn't half so certain now that he was right. True, there was a wonderful resemblance between the young actor and Jed, but then it seemed impossible that Jed should have left the poorhouse suddenly (and Percy remembered seeing him that very afternoon at his own home) and developed into a member of a dramatic company.

"I may have made a mistake," he said doubtfully.

"I am glad you realize this possibility," said Bertram. "Did you witness the play this evening?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you think your friend Jed——"

"He is not my friend."

"Well, do you think that Jed, whatever he is, could act like my friend Ralph?"

"No, I don't think he could," Percy admitted.

"Probably this Jed is a very ordinary boy?"

"I should say so. Ordinary is no name for it. He is stupid."

"Then you will see for yourself that it is not very likely that he should become an accomplished actor all at once. If it were you it might be different. You are evidently a young man of social position, while this Jed is a poor boy, and I presume without education."

"Yes, he is very ignorant," answered Percy, falling into the trap. "Is it—hard to learn to act?" he added.

"Not if you have talent and education. Do you think of trying the stage?"

"I might some time," said Percy, flattered by the question.

"If you do, I hope you will succeed. Now, Mr. Dixon, I must bid you good night, as my friend Ralph and myself are fatigued with our acting and must get to bed."

"Good evening!" said Jed, raising his hat gravely.

"Good evening!" returned Percy, more puzzled than ever.

He jumped into the carriage and started to drive home.

"Then it wasn't Jed?" said his mother.

"I suppose not," answered Percy, "but I never in all my life saw such a resemblance."

"Very likely," replied Mrs. Dixon placidly. "There was a woman in Trenton who looked just like me, so that no one could tell us apart."

"Yes," admitted Percy; "I must be mistaken. This boy had a very nice suit on, while Jed was dressed in rags."

When they reached home Squire Dixon was abed and asleep. Percy came down late to breakfast.

"By the way, Percy," said his father, as he helped him to breakfast, "Fogson has just been over to report that the boy Jed has mysteriously disappeared. He never went back after bringing me the message yesterday afternoon."

Percy dropped his knife and fork and stared at his father in open-eyed amazement.

"Then it was Jed, after all!" he exclaimed.

CHAPTER XIII. FOGSON IN PURSUIT.

"What do you mean, Percy?" asked Squire Dixon, referring to his son's exclamation at the close of the preceding chapter. "Do you know anything of Jed?"

"Yes; I saw him last evening at Duncan."

"But what took him there? What was he doing?"

"He was on the stage. He was playing in 'The Gold King.'"

"What do you mean by this absurd statement?" demanded his father angrily.

"It is true. Ask mother if it isn't."

"I think Percy is right," said Mrs. Dixon. "The young actor bears a wonderful resemblance to the boy Jed."

"But Jed doesn't know anything about acting."

"That is why I thought I was mistaken. But if Jed has run away it must be he."

"Why didn't you manage to speak to him after the play?"

"I did, and he denied that he was Jed. He calls himself Ralph Clinton."

"Really, this is a most surprising circumstance," said the squire. "The boy is a hardened young villain. His running away from those who are lawfully set over him in authority is a most audacious and highhanded outrage."

"That's what I think," chimed in Percy. "What shall you do about it? Shan't you go after him?"

"I think it my duty to do so. As soon as breakfast is over, ask Mr. Fogson to come round here. Tell him I have news of the fugitive."

Three-quarters of an hour later Simeon Fogson was admitted into the august presence of the Overseer of the Poor.

"I hear you have news of Jed Gilman," he said. "That is what your son Percy tells me."

"It is true, Mr. Fogson. The young scapegrace has joined a company of actors. What is he coming to?"

"To the gallows, I think," answered Fogson. "But how did you learn this?"

"Percy saw him on the stage last evening."

"And he actually played a part?"

"Yes."

"In his ragged suit?"

"No," answered Percy. "He had a telegraph boy's suit first, and afterwards a nice brown suit—as nice as mine."

"Where did he get 'em?" asked Fogson.

"That's the question!" returned the squire solemnly. "There is a strange mystery about the boy's goings on. Have you observed anything queer in his conduct of late?"

"I have noticed that he has been unusually impudent. Ha, I have it!" said Fogson, suddenly, slapping his thigh.

"What have you?" asked Percy.

"There was an actor stayed at the poorhouse night before last—an actor named Bertram. It is he that has lured Jed astray."

"There was an actor by that name in the play last evening."

"Then that settles it. Squire Dixon, what shall I do?"

"I think, Mr. Fogson, you had better go at once to Duncan—I will lend you my buggy—and secure the boy, tying him hand and foot, if necessary, and take him back to the poorhouse."

Simeon Fogson smiled grimly. It was an errand that suited him.

"I will do so," he said, "and I will lose no time."

"Don't ask for Jed Gilman," suggested Percy. "Ask for Ralph Clinton. That's the name he goes by now."

Mr. Fogson drew out a stub of a lead-pencil and put down this name. In twenty minutes he was on his way, and an hour later he drew up in front of the hotel in Duncan.

He left the buggy and entered the public room of the inn.

"Is there such a boy as Ralph Clinton here?" he asked the clerk.

"Yes; do you want to see him?"

"I should like very much to see him," answered Fogson grimly.

"He is in No. 12. Jim, show the gentleman up. He is sick."

Fogson nodded.

"I dare say," he added significantly. "I guess his acting made him sick."

"Yes, that's what I heard. Is he your son?"

"No, but I am his guardian."

Fogson was quite elated at so easily getting on the track of the fugitive.

"Sick!" he repeated to himself, as he ascended the staircase. "I guess he'll be sick before he gets through with me."

The servant knocked at No. 12, and a boy's voice was heard to say "Come in!"

The door was opened, and Fogson, rushing in, grasped the arm of a boy sitting in a rocking-chair.

"I've got you, you young rascal!" he exclaimed.

"What do you mean, you lunatic?" demanded the boy in a clear voice, higher pitched than was Jed's.

Then for the first time Fogson, who was shortsighted, found out that the boy was not Jed, but a youth of lighter complexion and slighter physique.

He fell back in confusion.

"I was told you were Ralph Clinton," he explained, looking rather foolish.

"I am Ralph Clinton."

"But I want Jed Gilman."

"Then why don't you look for Jed Gilman? What have I got to do with him?"

"Do you act with the Gold King Company?"

"Yes, when I am well."

"Did you act last evening?"

"No; there was another boy that took my place."

"That's the one I want. He ran away from me."

"Are you his father?"

"No, I'm his guardian."

"I don't like your looks," said Ralph, who was a very free-spoken young man. "I don't blame him for running away from you."

Fogson scowled.

"I believe you're as bad as he," he growled. "There's one thing sure—I'm going to get the boy back. Where is he?"

"On the road, I expect. He will take my place till I get well."

"Not much, he won't. Have the rest of the actors left Duncan?"

"You'd better ask down stairs. I'm not going to help you get the boy back."

Fogson had nothing to do but to go down again to the public room. The clerk told him that the company were to play that evening at Bolton, twelve miles away, and were probably there now, having taken the morning train.

"Twelve miles away!" thought Fogson in dismay. "I can't drive so far as that. Squire Dixon wouldn't like to have me drive his horse so many miles. What shall I do?"

This was a question easier asked than answered. If he had not been burdened with the horse and buggy he would have taken the next train for Bolton. As it was, he didn't feel at liberty to do this.

He wished Squire Dixon were at hand, so that he might ask his advice, for he felt quite unable to decide for himself what was best to be done. As he stood beside his team in a state of indecision he heard the sound of approaching wheels, and looking up, recognized Dr. Redmond's carriage.

"What brings you to Duncan, Mr. Fogson?" asked the doctor with a peculiar smile.

"I've come after that rascal Jed."

"Is he here?" asked the doctor innocently.

"He has run away from the poorhouse and joined some strolling players. He played in the theatre last evening."

"Did he, indeed?" asked the doctor, really surprised. "He must be a smart boy to take up acting so suddenly."

"He is a very impudent boy."

"Is he? Then I should think you would be glad to get rid of him."

"I don't mean to let him off so easily. I'm going to bring him back to the poorhouse, and when I get hold of him I'll——"

Mr. Fogson nodded his head significantly. It was clear that he intended that the way of the transgressor should be hard.

"It strikes me, Mr. Fogson, that you are acting in a very foolish manner," said the doctor.

"Why am I?"

"I will tell you. Jed has got tired of being supported by the town, and he has taken the matter into his own hands. In other words, he proposes to relieve the town of the expense of his maintenance. The town will doubtless be glad to have one dependent less on its hands. You appear to want to get him back, and make the town once more responsible for his support. Is it not so?"

Fogson looked blank. The matter had never presented itself to him in that light before.

"You certainly won't make yourself very popular by this action," proceeded Dr. Redmond. "As a good citizen you ought to be glad that the town's expenses are lessened."

"Would you have me let the boy go?" Fogson ejaculated.

"Certainly, I would. Jed is able to support himself, and there is no earthly reason for keeping him in the poorhouse. I advise you to represent the matter to Squire Dixon, and see what he thinks about it."

Mr. Fogson drove home slowly. He found it hard to have Jed escape from his clutches, but Squire Dixon, upon consultation, reluctantly decided that perhaps it was best to drop the matter then and there. No one was more disappointed over this decision than Percy Dixon.

CHAPTER XIV. JED'S LUCK.

Jed continued to act in the part assigned to him. He knew that he was liable to be superseded at any time by Ralph Clinton, but he did not care to borrow trouble.

As a matter of fact, however, he was allowed to play till the end of the season, but this was not very far off. Warm weather had set in, and audiences became small.

One day Harry Bertram called Jed aside.

"Well, Jed," he said, "I am afraid we must part."

"Why, Mr. Bertram?"

"The weather has become so warm that we are no longer paying expenses. Mr. Mordaunt has decided to close the season on Saturday night."

Jed looked blank. He didn't know what would come next.

"I thought we might hold out another week, and we might if the weather had remained comfortable, but people won't come to see 'The Gold King' or any other play when the thermometer stands at eighty degrees."

"What shall you do, Mr. Bertram?"

"Fall back on my trade, if possible."

"What is that?"

"I am a telegraph operator, and I may be able to fill in the summer in some Western Union office. I have to work at summer prices, but as long as I make my board and lodging I shall be content."

"I wish I had a trade," said Jed thoughtfully.

"You don't feel like going back to your old home?"

"In the Scranton poorhouse? Not much!" answered Jed energetically. "I'll starve first. Have you got any place engaged?"

"No, but I have worked two summers at Sea Spray, an Atlantic coast summer resort. I shall go there and see if there is an opening."

"Is it far away?"

"About fifty miles. I'll tell you what, Jed, you had better come with me. Something may turn up for you."

"What is the fare, Mr. Bertram?"

"About a dollar and a half. You will have some money coming to you. You haven't been paid anything yet, have you?"

"No; I didn't suppose I was entitled to any."

"You will get something. I will speak to the treasurer and arrange matters for you."

Accordingly on Saturday evening, after the last performance, Jed was made happy by receiving twelve dollars, or at the rate of four dollars per week for the time he had been employed.

"Mr. Mordaunt directs me to say that he would pay you more if the business would permit," said the treasurer.

"Tell him this is more than I expected," said Jed elated.

"That isn't professional," remarked Bertram smiling. "Actors generally claim to be worth a good deal more than they are paid."

"I haven't been on the stage long enough to be professional," said Jed.

Early on Monday morning Jed and his friend Bertram took the cars for Sea Spray. As they neared the coast, the ocean breeze entered cool and refreshing through the open windows. Presently the cars stopped, only two hundred feet from the bluff, and Jed for the first time gazed with delight at the Atlantic billows rolling in on the beach.

"This is beautiful!" he exclaimed. "I hope I can stay here all summer."

"Have you never seen the sea before?"

"No; I have never travelled before. All my life has been spent at Scranton."

"Take a walk with me along Ocean Avenue, and I will see what chance there is of my obtaining employment."

Harry Bertram made his way to the principal hotel, where he knew there was a Western Union office. He told Jed to sit down in the reading-room while he sought for information.

In ten minutes he came back with a smile of satisfaction on his face.

"I am in great luck," he said. "The operator here has just been summoned home by the serious illness of his father in Chicago. He was considering whom he could get to take his place when I presented myself. The result is that I am engaged to take charge of the telegraph office at twelve dollars a week and my board."

"Then you are provided for."

"Yes. I can get through the summer very well."

"I should think so. You will have the twelve dollars a week clear."

"No; I must get a room outside. However, my predecessor has recommended his—in a private house about a quarter of a mile from the shore—at only four dollars a week."

"Then I suppose we must part," said Jed with a tinge of sadness.

"No, Jed. You shall room with me, and your room will cost you nothing. As to meals, I can see you through till you secure some work."

"But I don't want to be a burden upon you, Mr. Bertram."

"I don't mean that you shall be, any longer than is necessary. It will go hard if a boy like you can't find something to do that will buy his meals at a crowded watering-place."

"Thank you, Mr. Bertram. I have money enough left to buy my meals for two weeks at least."

"If we were at a regular office I could employ you as messenger, but most of the messages will come to guests in the hotel."

"I don't know exactly what I can do, but I am ready to do anything."

"Except black boots," said Bertram with a smile.

"I don't think I should like to do that if there is anything else to be found."

"I couldn't think of allowing a member of our honorable profession to undertake such menial employment."

Harry Bertram went to work that evening. Jed kept him company in the office a part of the time, and during the three succeeding days went from one hotel to another to see if he could obtain anything to do.

But every position had been filled for the season. Jed began to fear that there was no work for him at Sea Spray.

On the fourth morning, as he was sitting with Bertram, a gentleman whom he had several times seen—a guest of the house—approached them.

"Is this boy your brother?" he asked of Bertram.

"No, but he is my valued friend. In fact, I may call myself his guardian for the time being."

"Yes," assented Jed with a smile.

"He does not assist you?"

"No, he knows nothing of telegraphy."

"Would you like employment?" asked the gentleman, turning to Jed.

"I am very anxious to get work," said Jed quickly.

"Then I think I may be able to meet your wishes. How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"You may have seen a boy of ten walking about with me?"

"Yes, sir."

"He is my son. He and I are here alone, but until yesterday I had a nurse in my employ whose sole business was to look after Chester. I felt entire confidence in her, but discovered last evening that she had purloined some jewelry belonging to me. Of course I discharged her instantly, and in consequence am obliged to find some one in her place.

"Chester objects to another nurse. It hurts his boyish pride to have a woman accompanying him everywhere. It appears to me that a boy old enough to look after him will suit him much better. But perhaps you would not like being encumbered with a small boy?"

"I should like it very much, sir," said Jed. "I like young boys, and I am sure I should like your son."

"Come up stairs, then. I will see how he likes you."

Jed followed his new acquaintance up to a suite of two rooms on the second floor. A young boy was at the window. He looked inquiringly at his father and Jed.

"Come here, Chester," said the former. "Are you quite sure you don't want another nurse?"

"Yes," answered the boy. "Some of the boys in the hotel call me 'sissy' because I have a girl always with me."

"Would you prefer this boy?"

Chester took a long, close look at Jed, who met his glance with a smile.

"Yes," said the little boy confidently. "I shall like him much better than a girl."

"That settles it," said Mr. Holbrook in a tone of satisfaction. "What is your name?"

"Jed Gilman."

"What was your last employment?"

"I took the boy's part in 'The Gold King.'"

"Are you an actor?" asked Chester, much interested.

"Not much of one."

"You must have some talent," remarked Mr. Holbrook, "or Mr. Mordaunt, who is a manager of reputation, would not have employed you. Is your season over?"

"Yes, sir."

"I think you will suit me. I am obliged to be in New York every day on business, and this leaves Chester alone. I wish you to act as his companion, to go with him on the beach and in bathing, and to look after him while I am away. Are you boarding here?"

"No, sir; I could not afford it."

"I shall arrange to have you take meals here with Chester, but after eight o'clock in the evenings you will be your own master. Now as to the matter of compensation. Will ten dollars a week satisfy you?"

"Ten dollars a week and my meals?"

"Yes."

"I didn't expect so much."

"I like to pay liberally, and expect to be well served."

"When shall I commence, sir?"

"At once. I want to take the next train for the city. As I go down stairs I will tell them that you are to take your meals here. Now, Chester, I will leave you with your new friend, as I have barely time to reach the next train for New York."

CHAPTER XV. TWO ODD ACQUAINTANCES.

"Ten dollars a week!" repeated Harry Bertram, to who Jed communicated his good luck. "Why, that is famous!"

"Ten dollars a week and my meals!"

"Better still. That is better than acting."

"I don't know how I shall suit Mr. Holbrook."

"You will suit him if you suit the boy."

By this time Chester made his appearance.

"I want to walk on the beach," he said. "Come, Jed."

And the boy put his hand confidingly in that of Jed.

They descended the steps that led from the bluff to the beach, and walked leisurely up and down on the sand. Presently Chester expressed a wish to sit down, and before long was engaged with a small wooden spade in making a sand fortification.

Relieved from duty, since his young charge could come to no harm, Jed had leisure to watch the crowds passing him in both directions.

Presently a thin, dark-complexioned man, of perhaps thirty-five, after walking up and down the beach, came to a stop, and, apparently without motive, seated himself on the sand beside Chester and his youthful guardian.

"A pleasant day," he remarked, looking at Jed.

"Yes," answered Jed politely.

He was not favorably impressed by the stranger's appearance, but recognized the claims of courtesy.

"Is this little boy your brother?"

"No," answered Jed.

"I thought perhaps you brought him down to the beach."

"I did."

"I have seen him about before—with a girl."

"That was Clara, my old nurse," said Chester, who caught the drift of the conversation. "I haven't got any nurse now," he added proudly. "I saw you talking to Clara one day," he added, after a closer examination of the stranger's features.

"Oh, no, my little boy!" said the man, seeming annoyed. "I don't know Clara, as you call her."

"Then you look just like the man that was talking with her."

The stranger opened his mouth and smiled unpleasantly.

"I dare say there are people that look like me," he said, "though I can't say I ever met one. What is your name, my little friend?"

"I am not your friend," said Chester, who did not appear favorably impressed by his new acquaintance.

"My little enemy, then."

"My name is Chester Holbrook."

"And how old are you?"

"Ten years old. How old are you?"

Again the man's lips opened in an unpleasant smile.

"You have an inquiring mind, Chester," he said. "I am—thirty years old."

"You look older than that."

"I am afraid that is not polite, Chester," said Jed gently.

"Why isn't it?" asked Chester innocently.

"People don't like to be thought older than they are."

"Oh, never mind," said the dark man. "A child is licensed to say what he pleases. So he is your charge?"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't think I have seen you here before. Have you known Mr. Holbrook long?"

"No." Then upon the impulse of the moment Jed inquired, "Do you know him?"

The man's face changed, and he looked a shade embarrassed.

"Why do you think I know him?" he asked.

"I don't think it, but as you seemed interested in the boy, I asked you the question."

"Oh, that's it. I have seen Mr. Holbrook, and I may have spoken to him. I can't be sure on the subject, as I meet a good many people. Are you going in bathing?"

"Do you want to bathe, Chester?" asked Jed.

"No; papa told me not to go to-day, as I have a cold."

"I thought perhaps I would have had your company in the surf. Well, I must be going or I shall be late for the bath."

The stranger got up slowly and sauntered away.

"I don't like that man. Do you, Jed?" asked Chester.

"Not very much. I never saw him before."

"I have seen him. I saw him one day last week."

"Did you see him on the beach?"

"Yes; he came up and talked with Clara."

"But he said you were mistaken about that."

"I was not mistaken," said Chester positively. "I remember him very well."

"Do you remember what he was talking about?" asked Jed, struck by what the boy said.

"Yes; he was asking questions about me."

"He seems a good deal interested in you. Perhaps he is especially fond of small boys."

Chester shook his head.

"I don't think he is," he answered.

When the bathing hour was over they ascended the steps and took seats in a summer house on the bluff.

Ten minutes later a tall woman, with piercing black eyes and a swarthy complexion, entered the arbor and sat down beside them.

"Do you want your fortune told?" she asked of Jed.

He shook his head.

"I don't believe in fortune-tellers," he said.

"Don't you? Let me convince you of my power. Give me your hand."

There seemed a fascination about the woman, and almost involuntarily he suffered her to take his hand.

"You look prosperous," she began abruptly, "but your life has been full of poverty and privation. Is this true?"

"Yes," answered Jed, impressed in spite of himself by the woman's words.

"Shall I tell you where your early years were passed?"

"No," answered Jed, with a quick look at Chester. He did not care to have the boy hear that his life had been passed in the Scranton poorhouse.

"You are right. The knowledge could do no good and might embarrass you. You admit that I have told the truth?"

"Yes."

"Then shall I tell you of the future?"

Jed did not answer, but the woman took his assent for granted and went on. "You will be rich—some day."

"Shall I? I am glad to hear that. But I don't know where the wealth is to come from."

"It is not necessary for you to know. It will be enough if it comes."

"I agree with you there," said Jed, smiling. "Will it be soon?"

"That is a question which I might answer, but I will not."

"I don't care to know, as long as I am to be prosperous some day. Shall I ever go back to—to the place where my earlier years were passed?"

"You may, but not to live. That part of your life is over."

"I am glad of that at any rate. One question more. Shall I meet my—any one belonging to me—any one to whom I am related?"

Jed fixed his eyes anxiously upon the fortune-teller, for skeptical as he was at first, he was beginning to have some confidence in her claims to knowledge.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Don't seek to know more. Let me look at this boy's hand. Do you want me to tell your fortune, my pretty?"

Chester laughed.

"Yes," he said. "Perhaps you can tell me if I will ever be a soldier. I would like to be a General."

"No; you will never be a soldier, but you will have a fight before you."

"A fight? What kind of a fight?"

The fortune-teller turned to Jed and said rapidly, "This boy is threatened with a serious danger. He has an enemy."

"How can a young boy have an enemy?"

"There are few who do not have enemies," said the woman sententiously.

"Can you describe the enemy?"

"He is a dark man, not tall, but taller than you. He is thin."

"I met such a man on the beach," said Jed, surprised. "I met him only this morning. Is he the one you mean?"

"When you meet such a man beware of him!" said the woman, and without waiting for a reply she rose from her seat and walked away rapidly.

"What a funny old woman!" said Chester. "I am hungry. Let us go up to the hotel. It is time for lunch."

Jed's face became thoughtful. What he had heard left a deep impression upon his mind.

CHAPTER XVI. MISS HOLBROOK, SPINSTER.

It was at first on Jed's mind to tell Mr. Holbrook of his encounter with the young man upon the beach and his subsequent conversation with the fortune-teller and her predictions in regard to Chester. But he was afraid of being laughed at.

Moreover, as the days passed the impression made upon his mind became weaker, and was only recalled when from time to time he saw the young man on the sands or walking on the bluff.

He got on very well with Chester. The boy became strongly attached to him, much to the satisfaction of his father.

"So you like Jed, do you?" said Mr. Holbrook one evening, on his return from the city.

"Yes, papa, I like him ever so much."

"Do you like him as much as Clara?"

"Why, I don't like her at all."

Time wore on till the middle of August. Jed enjoyed his generous meals and the sea bathing which he shared in company with his young charge. He still lodged with Harry Bertram, but he shared the expense of the room.

But a change was coming, and an unwelcome one.

"Chester," said his father one evening, "I am going away for a week or ten days."

"Take me with you, papa!"

"No, I cannot. I am called to Chicago on business, and you will be much better off here at the beach."

"Jed will stay with me?"

"Yes, and I have sent for your Aunt Maria to come and look after you while I am gone."

"But I don't like Aunt Maria," objected the little boy. "She's always scolding me. She doesn't like boys."

"Perhaps not," said Mr. Holbrook with a smile. "If Maria had married it might have been different, but I believe few maiden ladies are fond of children."

"Then why do you have her come here, papa? Jed can take care of me."

"I have great confidence in Jed, Chester, but you will need some one to look after your clothes and oversee you in other ways."

"Isn't there any one else you can send for, papa? I don't like old maids."

"Don't trouble me with your objections, Chester. It will only be for a little while, remember. I am sure you can get along with your aunt for ten days."

"I will try to," answered the boy with a look of resignation.

The next day Miss Maria Holbrook came to Sea Spray with her brother. She was a tall, slender lady of middle age, with a thin face, and looked as if she were dissatisfied with a large proportion of her fellow-creatures.

Chester looked at her, but did not show any disposition to welcome her to the beach.

"You may kiss me, Chester," said the lady with an acid smile.

"Thank you, Aunt Maria, but I am not particular about it."

"Well, upon my word!" ejaculated the spinster. "My own brother's child, too!"

"Kiss your aunt, Chester," said his father.

"No, it is not necessary," put in Miss Holbrook sharply. "I don't want any hypocritical caresses. Robert, I am afraid you are spoiling that boy."

"Oh, no, Maria, not quite so bad as that. Chester is a middling good boy."

Miss Maria Holbrook sniffed incredulously.

"I am afraid you judge him too leniently," she said.

"Well, you can tell better after you have had time to observe him. It is two years now since you have seen Chester."

"Let us hope that my first impressions may be modified," said the spinster in a tone that indicated great doubt whether such would be the case.

"Jed, you may go. Chester will not need you any more this evening," said Mr. Holbrook.

"Thank you, sir," said Jed, and walked away.

"Who is that boy?" asked the spinster abruptly, looking at him through her eyeglasses.

"He is in charge of Chester while I am in the city."

"Why, he is only a boy!"

"Is that against him?"

"I thought Chester had a nurse."

"So he did, but she proved dishonest."

"Then why didn't you engage another?"

"Because Chester felt sensitive about having a girl following him. The other boys in the hotel laughed at him."

"Let them laugh!" said Miss Holbrook severely. "Are you to have your plans changed by a set of graceless boys?"

"As to that, Maria, I find this boy more satisfactory, both to Chester and myself."

"Humph! What is his name?"

"Jed."

"A very plebeian name."

"It isn't exactly fashionable, but names are not important."

"I beg your pardon. I think names are important."

"Perhaps that is the reason you have never changed yours, Maria. You might have been Mrs. Boggs if you had been less particular."

"I would rather remain unmarried all my life. But where did you pick up this boy?"

"I met him in the hotel."

"Was he boarding here?"

"No; I think he was boarding somewhere in the village."

"Do you know anything of his family?"

"No."

"Do you know anything of his antecedents?" continued Miss Holbrook.

"Yes; he played a part last season in the 'Gold King.'"

"Heavens and earth!" ejaculated the spinster, holding up her hands in horror. "Do you mean to tell me that you have placed your son in the charge of a young play actor?"

Mr. Holbrook laughed.

"Why not?"

"I am surprised that you should ask. You know as well as I do the character of actors."

"I know that some of them are very estimable gentlemen. As to Jed, he has not been long on the stage, I believe."

"Do you know anything of his family? Is he respectably connected?"

"I didn't think it important to inquire. It seems to me that the boy's own character is much more to the point. I have found Jed faithful and reliable, without bad habits, and I feel that Chester is safe in his hands."

"Oh you men, you men!" exclaimed Miss Holbrook. "You don't seem to have any judgment."

"I suppose," said Mr. Holbrook with good-natured sarcasm, "that all the good judgment is monopolized by the old maids. What a pity they have no children to bring up."

"Brother!" said Miss Holbrook in a freezing tone.

"I beg your pardon, Maria, but please credit me with a little good sense."

Miss Holbrook went up to the room assigned her with an offended expression, and had nothing further to say about Jed that evening.

The next morning Jed reported for duty just as Mr. Holbrook was leaving for his journey.

"Look after Chester while I am gone, Jed," said Mr. Holbrook pleasantly. "This is my sister, Miss Maria Holbrook, who will take my place here while I am gone."

Jed took off his hat politely, and Miss Holbrook honored him with a slight inclination of her head and a forbidding look.

"Good-by, Maria! I will telegraph you on my arrival in Chicago."

"Good-by, brother! You need have no apprehensions about Chester while I am here."

"I shall rest quite easy. Between you and Jed I am sure he will come to no harm."

Miss Holbrook pursed up her mouth at the conjunction of her name with Jed's, but said nothing.

"Shall I go and take a walk with Jed?" asked Chester.

"Yes, in a moment. I wish to speak to the young man first."

"What young man?"

"Jedediah."

"Jedediah!" echoed Chester with a merry laugh. "How funny that sounds!"

"I apprehend that Jedediah is your right name," said Miss Holbrook severely.

"I suppose so," answered Jed.

"You suppose so?"

"I mean that I have always been called Jed. I don't remember ever having been called by the full name."

"Don't your parents call you so?"

"My parents are not living."

"When did they die?"

Jed looked troubled.

"When I was a baby," he answered gravely.

"Indeed! Then who brought you up?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Avery."

"Were they any relations of yours?"

"No, but they were very kind to me."

"Come along, Jed! There's the steamboat just leaving the pier!" called Chester impatiently.

Without waiting to be further questioned Jed answered the call of his young charge. He was glad to get away, for he felt that the spinster might ask him some questions which he would find it difficult to answer.