The Erie Train Boy

CHAPTER XIX. — RUTH PATTON CALLS ON MR. FERGUSON.

The next day Ruth Patton confided her story to Mrs. Fenton.

"My mother and I," she said, "in our grief for father's death, never dreamed that it would bring us destitution. Though he never furnished us particulars of his pecuniary condition, he gave us to understand that he would be comfortably provided for. Robert Ferguson we knew to have been a life-long friend, or perhaps I should rather say acquaintance, and we felt that as a trustee he would consider our interests. We were thunderstruck when a letter was received from him last week, stating that, in place of the ten thousand dollars on which we fully counted, a pitiful balance of seventy-five dollars alone remained to us."

"It was shameful!" said Mrs. Fenton indignantly.

"Nearly all of this sum will be swallowed up by small debts due in Port Jervis. You will understand now why I have come to lay our case before Mr. Ferguson, and see if he cannot give us more, or at any rate find me employment, for on me now rests the duty of providing for my poor mother."

"I wish I could encourage you, Miss Patton——"

"Don't call me Miss Patton. I look upon yon as a kind friend, and hope you will call me Ruth."

"So indeed I will, for I feel a strong interest in you, Ruth."

"And I will look to you for advice."

"Then I advise you to call this evening on Mr. Ferguson, and find out the worst."

"Meanwhile perhaps you can direct me to a cheap boarding-house."

"You will stay here till you have had time to form your plans."

"I will gladly do so if you will let me pay you."

"All in good time, Ruth. To-day you can help me if you will, and it will be time to pay board when you are earning something."

It was not till he sat down to an early breakfast that Fred thought of the package handed him by Mr. Lawrence at the Niagara Falls station. He opened it in some curiosity, and to his surprise discovered a roll of bills, accompanied by this note:

To FRED FENTON,

MY YOUNG FRIEND:—Though I have not yet had a chance to communicate with my uncle in Elmira, I feel authorized to act as his representative, and in his name ask you to accept the inclosed sum as an acknowledgment of your valuable assistance in bringing about the recovery of the securities stolen from his house, and incidentally as a recompense for the annoyance you experienced in being yourself suspected. Your conduct has been very creditable, and I feel that to you we are largely indebted for the recovery of the property and the conviction of the burglar. I infer that you are mainly dependent, on your earnings, which are probably limited, and I therefore take pleasure in handing you a substantial reward which I hope will be of service to you.

Fred counted the bills, and alike to his surprise and gratification found that they amounted to two hundred dollars.

"Where did you get so much money, Fred?" asked his mother, entering the room as he completed his count.

"That letter will explain, mother," answered Fred radiant with delight.

"We are indeed rich!" said Mrs. Fenton joyfully. "This removes all anxiety for a long time to come."

"Yes, we can afford to snap our fingers at the landlord."

"I hope you are not going to carry all this money round with you, Fred. You might get robbed."

"I shall deposit it in the Dime Savings Bank this forenoon."

"But you will leave before the bank opens."

"No, I am to take a midday train."

At ten o'clock Fred went to the Union Dime Savings Bank fronting on Thirty-Second Street, and deposited the hundred dollars in gold left him by his mining friend, and one hundred and seventy-five dollars besides from his recent gift. The other twenty-five he handed to his mother.

"Mother," he said, "you need a new dress, and Albert needs a new suit. Take this money, and buy what you think best."

"I can go a little longer without a dress, Fred."

"But I don't want you to. We can spare the money well enough, and there is no better way to spend it."

Mrs. Fenton made no further opposition, but during the day asked Ruth Patton to accompany her to one of the large stores on Sixth Avenue, where the necessary purchases were made.

In the evening Ruth set out for her call upon Mr. Robert Ferguson.

She ascended the steps in a state of nervous agitation, for she felt that the interview was of momentous importance to her, and in a low voice asked the servant who answered the bell if she could see Mr. Ferguson.

"I will ask, miss," said the servant, surveying her plain dress with some disdain.

"A young lady to see me?" said Robert Ferguson in surprise. "Are you sure it is not my daughter she wishes to see?"

"No, sir; she expressly asked to see you."

Mr. Ferguson was a widower, and rather vain of his personal attractions. Perhaps the young lady might have been struck by his appearance.

"You can show her up," he said amiably, and turned to catch a further glance in a mirror just opposite. He straightened his necktie, and passed his hand softly over his hair to make sure that it was smooth, and then turned to the door to catch the first glimpse of his visitor.

Nothing thus far has been said of the outward appearance of Ruth Patton. Notwithstanding her anxious face she was unusually pretty, and her manners were refined and ladylike.

"Mr. Ferguson?" she said inquiringly, pausing at the door.

"Come in, my dear young lady!" said Robert Ferguson graciously. "I am pleased to see you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Pray sit down."

"He is much kinder than I supposed," thought Ruth. "I must have misjudged him."

"I wrote to you a few days since," she began.

"Indeed! I don't think I can have received your letter."

"But you answered it, sir."

"I answered a letter from you? What then is your name?"

"Ruth Patton."

"Oh!" returned Ferguson, his face darkening. He no longer felt inclined to be gracious, for he had a premonition that the interview would not be agreeable to him.

"My mother and I were quite overwhelmed by the news you sent us. We had no idea that my father left so little, and she wished me to come on and ask for some particulars."

"I have very little to tell you beyond what I wrote," said Mr. Ferguson coldly.

"My father led us to think that we should be comfortably provided for."

"Many men have very vague ideas of how they stand. Your father did wrong in not insuring his life."

"He did not think it would be necessary. He thought we should be sufficiently provided for without that."

"He had no right to think so," said Ferguson irritably. "You see how things have turned out."

"But what can have become of all the money?"

"I hope, Miss Patton, you don't think I have spirited it away?"

"No, sir. Don't be offended, but it seems so strange," faltered Ruth.

"The money was unwisely invested. A large part of it was in wild-cat mining stocks, which were not worth the paper they were written on."

"Father never spoke to us about any such investments."

"I presume not. Most men keep such matters to themselves. Well, the upshot is that but seventy-five dollars are left. I presume your mother received my check for this amount."

"Yes, sir."

"Then that is all I can do for you. I will in time forward a bill of particulars. A present I am busy."

At this moment Luella Ferguson entered the room. She recognized Ruth at once.

"You here?" she said in haughty surprise.

"Yes, I came on business."

"We do not want any servants. Papa, this girl was very insolent to me on the train yesterday. I hope you will send her away."

"I am going, Miss Ferguson," said Ruth with spirit. "Your father was the trustee of my poor father's property, and it was to ask about it that I came here. Good evening."

She left the house with faltering steps, for her last hope had been destroyed, and she felt keenly the cruel slight of Luella Ferguson. As she set foot on the sidewalk her brain reeled, and she would have fallen had not a young man who was about to ascend the steps sprung forward and supported her.

CHAPTER XX. — A FRIEND IN NEED.

Ruth Patton recovered herself by a great effort. "I won't trouble you any longer, sir," she faltered. "I think I can do without further assistance."

"Excuse me for doubting it. You look very weak. Take my arm. There is a drug store not far away where I can procure you a strengthening draught."

"I am sorry to trouble you so much," she murmured apologetically.

"It is no trouble, I assure you. I count myself fortunate in being on hand so opportunely."

Ruth for the first time, encouraged by his kind words, stole a glance at the stranger. He was a well made and unusually handsome young man of perhaps twenty-seven. His careful dress and something in his manner seemed to indicate high social position. The indication corresponded with the fact. Alfred Lindsay belonged to an old and distinguished New York family. Though his means were ample he was not content to be an idler, but after careful preparation at Columbia College and Law School, he had opened a law office in the Mills Building, and was already beginning to be known as a young man with a future.

His wealth and high social standing led him to be considered a "catch," in the matrimonial market. It is safe to say that at least half a dozen young ladies had set their caps for him. Among these was Luella Ferguson, and there were those who considered her chance of landing the prize the best. At any rate Mr. Lindsay, who had been employed by the elder Ferguson in some legal matter, became a frequent caller, to the great satisfaction of Luella Ferguson. It may not be considered a mark of taste on the part of the young man to have fallen a victim to the young lady's arts, but in his presence she was all that was amiable. She was not without a certain attractiveness of face, which, had it been joined to an equally agreeable disposition, might have proved a good excuse to any young man for succumbing to her fascinations. Never for a moment had he cause to suspect that she was otherwise than she seemed. Kind and sympathetic himself, the absence of these qualities, if known to him, would have rendered her repulsive to him.

He conducted Ruth to a drug store, and the druggist administered restoratives that soon brought back her strength and color, but not her cheerfulness.

"I am strong enough now to go on my way," she said rising. "How can I thank you, sir, for your kindness?"

"By allowing me to see you to your own door," and this he insisted on despite Ruth's protest.

"Would it be indiscreet," he asked, when they had set out on their way, "to ask if you can account for your sudden illness?"

"I had a shock," she answered.

"Of what sort? Are you willing to make me your confidant? I do not ask out of curiosity, but because it may be in my power to serve you."

"I have so few friends that I will not decline your kind offer."

"You were coming from the house of Mr. Robert Ferguson?"

"Yes, sir; do you know him?"

"Quite well. I was myself going there."

"Is he considered—an honorable man?"

"Why, surely. What can lead you to doubt it?"

In answer Ruth told her story. The young lawyer listened in pained surprise. Strictly honorable himself, he found it hard to believe that a man whom he knew so well could be guilty of the meanness of defrauding two women whose interests had been confided to him. Yet the story seemed probable. Moreover, even had matters been as Mr. Ferguson represented, his want of feeling seemed almost as bad as absolute dishonesty. He asked Ruth several questions in order that he might become fully possessed of all particulars.

"This, then, was the cause of your agitation?" he said at length.

"Not wholly. It was the treatment I received from Miss Ferguson that affected me most."

"Miss Ferguson! Do you know Miss Ferguson?" Lindsay asked quickly.

"I met her for the first time yesterday afternoon."

"Where—may I ask?"

"In the Erie train. I entered the cars at Port Jervis. She was already on board, but I do not know from what point she had come."

"I think I know. She had been visiting a school friend at Binghamton."

"You know her, then?"

"Yes. I met her at a party about a year since."

"If she is a friend of yours I will not say anything to her disadvantage."

"But I want you to tell me all there is to tell. I have a special reason for learning all I can about her. You say she treated you ill?"

"She treated me cruelly. She took offense in the cars because the conductor removed her dog from a seat in order to make room for me."

"Was there no other seat in the car?"

"None, or I would not have disturbed her. I did not like to stand all the way from Port Jervis to New York."

"Of course not. Please favor me with the particulars."

The young man listened attentively while Ruth in simple language—not exaggerating in any respect—told her story. Young Lindsay's brow contracted, for he felt indignant at the cold selfishness shown by the young lady who had hitherto attracted him. He felt that, if it were all true, he could never again look upon her even with ordinary friendship.

"She feigned to look upon me as a servant," Ruth concluded, "and sharply rebuked me for thrusting myself upon her. I would gladly have taken another seat had any been unoccupied, but the car was full. I heard from the train boy that it was on account of an excursion to Shohola Glen."

"I confess, Miss Patton" (Ruth had told her name), "I am surprised and pained by what you have told me. I never knew that Luella—Miss Ferguson—had such unlovely traits. To me she has always seemed kind and considerate."

Looking in the young man's expressive face, Ruth Patton felt that she understood better than he why Miss Ferguson had assumed to be what she was not. She was not surprised that Luella should desire to make a favorable impression upon one who seemed to her the most attractive young man she had ever met. But of course she could not give utterance to the thought that was in her mind, and remained silent.

"To change the subject," said Lindsay, after a pause, "may I ask what are your plans if you have any?"

"I must try to earn some money. If—if you would advise me."

"With pleasure. Let me ask, first, what you can do."

"I used to do some copying for a lawyer at Port Jervis."

"You are used, then, to copying legal documents?"

"I have done considerable of it."

"You do not use the typewriter?"

"No, I have never learned."

Alfred Lindsay paused, and his expressive face showed that he was busy thinking.

"I am a lawyer," he said at length, "and I have copying to do, of course. Would you mind calling upon me at my office to-morrow morning?"

"I shall be very glad to do so," answered Ruth, her eyes lighting up with new-born hopes.

"I think I can promise you something to do."

"Oh, sir, you don't know how your words cheer me. This is where I live. Thank you very much for your kind escort."

"Don't mention it. I will expect you to-morrow," and the young man took off his hat as respectfully as if Ruth, instead of being a poor girl in search of work, were a lady in his own set.

CHAPTER XXI. — LUELLA'S PAINFUL DISCOVERY.

"What business had that girl with you, papa?" asked Luella Ferguson, when, stung by her insolence, Ruth had left the house.

"She told you," answered the father evasively.

"Is it true that you were trustee of any property belonging to her?"

"Well, there is some truth in it. Her father was an old schoolmate of mine, though we were never intimate, and when he died, considerably to my surprise, he asked me to settle his estate."

"How much did it amount to?"

"After paying all bills, including funeral expenses, there was seventy-five dollars left."

"A fine estate, upon my word!" said Luella with a scornful laugh. "Really, the girl is a great heiress."

"She thought she ought to have been. What do you think she and her mother expected?"

"Something amusing, no doubt."

"They thought that they would realize ten thousand dollars, and be completely provided for."

"They must be fools!"

"We won't use so harsh an expression. Women know very little about business."

"Some women, papa. You will please make an exception in my case."

"Well, I admit, Luella," said her father complacently, "you do seem to have a sharp eye to your own interests."

"Why shouldn't I? I come honestly by it, papa, don't I?"

"Well, perhaps——"

"You have been pretty sharp yourself, eh, papa? I fancy you have a pretty good sum of money salted down—that's the term, isn't it?"

"Well, I have something, but I don't care to make a boast of it. There would be plenty who would want a share—for instance, Mrs. Fenton."

"That reminds me; her son is a train-boy on the Erie road."

"Did you see him?"

"Yes, he made himself very obnoxious by his impertinent intermeddling. He insisted upon my removing my poor Fido, in order to give that girl a seat."

"What concern was it of his?"

"None at all, but he made such a fuss that I had to do it."

"You need not have done so. The train boy has no authority in such matters."

"He called the conductor, and he took my poor darling into the baggage car. Papa, can't you get him discharged?"

"I have no influence with the Erie officials, my dear. Besides, if I deprive him of his chance to make a living, he and his mother will be importuning me for money. Better leave well enough alone!"

This was the sort of argument that weighed with Luella Ferguson. She was meanness personified, and would rather save money than be revenged upon Fred.

"Do you think you will have any more trouble with this girl who called to-night?"

"I should not be surprised if she called again to ask me to help her to employment."

"If she does, advise her to go out to service. She could get a position as chambermaid without difficulty."

"Remember, Luella, that in her own town she has held a good social position. She may have too much pride."

"Then let her starve!" said Luella, harshly. "It is preposterous for a pauper to be proud."

"She is not exactly a pauper," said Mr. Ferguson, who was not quite so venomous in his hatred as his daughter.

"I forgot—she has a fortune of seventy-five dollars. Will you do me a favor?"

"What is it?"

"If the girl comes again, turn her over to me."

"Very well, my dear. I shall be glad to do so. It will relieve me from embarrassment."

"I shall feel no embarrassment. I shall rather enjoy it."

"By the way, Luella, how are you getting on with young Lindsay?"

Luella flushed a little, and a softer light shone in her eyes. She had very little heart, but such as she had was given to Alfred Lindsay. At first attracted by his wealth and social position—for on his mother's side he belonged to one of the Knickerbocker families—she had ended by really falling in love with him. In his company she appeared at her best. Her amiable and attractive manners were not wholly assumed, for the potent spell of love softened her and transformed her from a hard, cynical, selfish girl to a woman seeking to charm one who had touched her heart.

"He comes to see me very often, papa," she answered, coyly.

"And he seems impressed?"

"I think so," said Luella, lowering her eyes, while a gratified smile lighted up her face.

"He has never actually proposed?" asked Ferguson eagerly.

"Well, not exactly, but from his manner I think he will soon."

"I hope so, Luella. There is no one whom I would more prefer for a son-in-law."

"I shall not say him nay, papa."

"Of course not. He is rich and of distinguished family. He will make a very suitable mate for you."

"Yes, papa, I appreciate that, but you too are rich and of high social position."

"Well, daughter, I stand fairly, but as to family, I can't boast much. My father—your grandfather—was a village blacksmith. I have never told you that before."

"Horrors, papa!" exclaimed Luella. "You cannot mean this?"

"It is a sober fact. I have never told you, for I knew it would shock you."

"Does any one know it in our circle?"

"No. Indeed, the only one who is likely to have any knowledge of it is Mrs. Fenton and her son."

"The train boy!"

"Yes."

"If it should get out I should die of mortification."

"Neither you nor I are likely to mention it. I only referred to it to show the advantages of marrying a man of high lineage like Alfred Lindsay. I have money, but I have never been able to get into the inner circle to which the Lindsays belong. Money will buy much, but it won't buy that. I hope yon will do your best to bring the young mail to the point."

"I will manage it, papa," said Luella complacently. "Do you know I have made up my mind to go to Europe on a wedding trip?"

"If Lindsay consents."

"He will do whatever I wish. I expect him to call this evening."

"Do you?"

"Yes, and—papa, something might happen," added Luella playfully.

"I hope so sincerely, my dear."

"Mind, if he comes to you, not a word about the blacksmith! I wish you hadn't told me."

"Forget it then, Luella. We will keep it a profound secret."

Luella left her father's presence with a smile upon her face. It was already eight o'clock. Half an hour passed, and she became anxious. Fifteen minutes more clipped by, and still the welcome ring at the bell was not heard. She was ready to cry with vexation, for she had made up her mind to lead the young man to a declaration that very evening if it were a possible thing.

She summoned a servant.

"Jane," she said, "Mr. Lindsay has not called this evening, has he?"

"No miss. If he had of course I would tell you."

"I thought perhaps there might have been some mistake. If he should come—and it isn't very late yet—let me know at once."

"Surely I will, Miss Luella."

"She's dead gone on that man," said Jane to herself. "Well, I don't wonder, for he is awfully handsome, that's a fact. But my! if he could only see her in some of her tantrums, he'd open his eyes. He thinks she's an angel, but I know her better."

Several days passed and still Alfred Lindsay did not call. Luella became alarmed. Was she losing her hold upon him? She was considering whether it would be proper to write a letter to the young lawyer at his office, when she chanced to make a very painful discovery.

About five o'clock on Saturday afternoon she was coming out of Lord & Taylor's up-town store when in a plainly dressed girl who was just passing she recognized Ruth Patton. Curiosity led her to address Ruth.

"So you are still in the city?" she said abruptly.

"Yes, Miss Ferguson," answered Ruth calmly.

"Of course you are very poor. I think I can get you a place as chambermaid in the family of one of my friends."

"Thank you, but I have a position I like better."

"What sort of a position?"

"I am in a lawyer's office, copying legal papers."

"Indeed! I suppose you are poorly paid."

"I receive ten dollars a week."

"That is ridiculously high pay. Of course you don't earn it."

"Mr. Lindsay fixed the salary—I did not."

"Lindsay!" gasped Luella, "what Lindsay?"

"Alfred Lindsay. He has his office in the Mills Building."

Ruth Patton passed on, having unconsciously given poignant anguish to the haughty Miss Ferguson.

"Where could she have met Alfred?" Luella asked herself with contracted brow. "I must get him to discharge her. I had no idea she was such an artful minx."

CHAPTER XXII. — MISS FERGUSON WRITES A NOTE.

It was indeed true that Ruth Patton had found employment at ten dollars a week. Her services were scarcely worth that sum to her employer, but Alfred Lindsay was not only rich but generous, and was glad to believe Ruth's anxiety by insuring her a comfortable income. She was still at Mrs. Fenton's rooms, being now able to contribute her share of the expense incurred. The widow was willing to accept only three dollars per week, so that Ruth had the satisfaction of sending a weekly remittance to her mother. She was very grateful for the change in her circumstances, and, notwithstanding the disappointment about her father's estate, felt that there was reason to hope.

Two days later Alfred Lindsay found a letter upon his desk addressed in a delicate female hand which he did not recognize.

"A lady client!" he thought. "What does she want—a divorce?"

When he opened the envelope he read the following note, written on a highly perfumed sheet:

MY DEAR MR. LINDSAY: Pray don't be shocked at my boldness in writing you, but it is so long since you have called that papa suggests sickness as a possible cause. I do hope that this is not what has kept you away. I confess that I have missed you very much. I have so enjoyed our conversations. You are not like the fashionable butterflies of whom we meet so many in society. One must tolerate them, of course but it is a comfort to meet a man who can talk intelligently about books and art. Apropos, I have a new collection of etchings that I want to show you. Won't you name an evening when you will call, as I want to be certain to be at home when you really do come. I should be desolated, as the French say, to be absent.

Now don't fail to answer this screed. Otherwise I shall certainly manage to have some law business that will give me an excuse for calling at your office.

Alfred Lindsay read this note slowly, and there was a smile upon his face, for he fully appreciated Luella's motive in writing it. A fortnight since he would have been charmed, but his feelings with respect to Miss Ferguson had undergone a change. The revelation of her real character had shocked him, and served effectually to kill his growing attachment. Beauty of face could not make up for deformity of character. On the other hand, he was beginning to be attracted by Ruth. She lacked Luella's regular features and cold, classic beauty, but her sweet face revealed a disposition warm, kindly, and sympathetic; and when her deep, serious eyes rested upon him, he felt that she was far more attractive than her showy rival.

"What shall I do?" he asked himself as his eyes fell upon the note. He must of course answer it, but should he accept the invitation? Upon the whole he decided to do so. There was no reason which he could allege for declining, and, though it would be to sacrifice an evening, he would go armed against Luella's fascinations by the knowledge he had acquired. He drew out a sheet of paper from a drawer in his desk, and wrote as follows:

MY DEAR MISS FERGUSON: As I am writing in my office, you will understand and excuse the unfashionable business paper which I am using. I am flattered to find that you miss me, and still more at the reason you assign for preferring my company to that of the gilded young men who worship at your shrine. I am but "a plain, blunt man," as Shakspeare has it, and cannot vie with them in compliment. I shall no doubt find pleasure in examining the etchings which you hold out as an inducement to call. I will name Thursday evening, but should you have a previous engagement, don't scruple to notify me, as I can easily postpone my visit to another date.

Luella Ferguson read this note with mingled pleasure and disappointment.

"It is very cold," she murmured, "almost as if I were an ordinary acquaintance. I suppose men feel hampered when they try to express themselves upon paper. I will not believe that he is less friendly, or admires me less than he used to do. At any rate he is coming, and I must make myself as fascinating as possible. I have a chance to win him, and I mean to do it."

"Papa," said Luella on Thursday morning, "Mr. Lindsay will call here this evening."

"I am glad to hear it, Luella. I hope he is coming—on business."

"I don't know," she answered demurely.

"You know my wishes on the subject?"

"They accord with mine, papa."

When Alfred Lindsay was announced, he found Luella resplendent in a new dress, and bedecked with jewels. She intentionally made herself as attractive as possible.

"Really. Miss Ferguson, you are radiant tonight," he said.

"Do you think so?" she asked.

"There is no doubt of it. Are you expecting other company?"

"Only yourself."

"Then I am to consider it a special compliment to me."

"If you like."

"Then I must express my acknowledgments."

Yet as he spoke, his thoughts reverted to Ruth Patton, with her lack of ornament and severe simplicity, and he felt that her image was to him the more attractive of the two. It was fortunate for Miss Ferguson's peace of mind that she could not read his thoughts.

"Now, you bad boy," she said playfully, "you must tell me why you have stayed away so long."

"Perhaps to see if you would miss me."

"I have missed you so much."

"That is certainly a compliment to me as a conversationalist, As you wrote in your note you appreciate my sensible conversation I am afraid you overestimate me. I have a friend who is really brilliant, and can converse eloquently upon any subject. May I bring him with me?"

"Who is he?" asked Luella hesitatingly.

"Professor Grimes."

"What, the lecturer?"

"Yes."

"Why. he is grotesque in appearance. I heard him lecture once, and thought he wore a mask, so ugly was his face."

"You admit his eloquence, however?"

"Yes; but from such a mouth even pearls cease to attract. Pray don't bring him! He positively makes me shudder, I assure you."

Luella did not like the turn the conversation had taken. There seemed no chance for sentiment, and she wanted to bring all her fascinations to bear.

"You have some etchings to show me; Miss Ferguson?" said Lindsay, after a pause.

"Yes; but I want to show them to you myself. You will have to come and sit beside me."

"Willingly," answered Alfred, but his tone was conventional, and lacked the warmth it had formerly shown.

Together they looked over the collection. Luella saw, however, to her mortification, that Lindsay was calm and cold. It seemed clear that she had lost her power over him. What could be the reason?

"Can it be that girl, Ruth Patton?" she asked herself. "Is it she who is drawing Alfred Lindsay away from me? I must warn him against her."

"By the way, haven't you a copyist in your office named Ruth Patton?"

"How did you know?" asked Lindsay.

"I met her the other day on Broadway. Perhaps you don't know, but she is an humble protegee of my father's."

"A protegee?"

"Yes; papa has been very kind to the family. He took charge of their affairs on the death of her father, and, though there was not enough property to pay the debts, he paid them all, and sent a check to Mrs. Patton besides."

"That was certainly considerate!" said Lindsay; but from his tone it could not be discovered if he were speaking in earnest or ironically.

"As you say, it was considerate, but this Ruth is very ungrateful. She was actually ridiculous enough to think they ought to have had a fortune, and I believe blames papa for the way things have come out."

Alfred Lindsay listened politely, but did not express an opinion.

"She is a very good copyist," he said.

"I am glad she is earning a living, though I think it would have been better for her to remain in the country, don't you?"

"Really, I can't judge for others, not knowing all the circumstances."

"The girl is ill bred, I am sorry to say. She treated me rudely in the cars."

"She gives me no cause of complaint," said Lindsay shortly. He understood and despised Luella's attempts to prejudice him against the copyist.

When he rose to go, Luella was disappointed. She felt that she had brought him no nearer, and had not strengthened her hold upon him.

As the young lawyer descended the steps he met a man coming up whom he recognized as a dealer in worthless mining stock, who was looked upon by reputable business men with doubt and suspicion.

"What business can Orlando Jenkins have with Mr. Ferguson?" he asked himself.

CHAPTER XXIII. — ANOTHER RAILROAD ADVENTURE.

Six months have passed and brought with them some changes. At the end of two months Ruth Patton sent for her mother, who was feeling very lonely at Port Jervis, and engaged a suite of three rooms over those occupied by Mrs. Fenton and Fred. Though she was away during the day, the two ladies, living so near together, were company for each other. Ruth had now become advanced to twelve dollars a week, not out of charity, but because Alfred Lindsay's business had considerably increased and gave his copyist more to do.

Fred was still on the Erie road, but it was now winter, and the travel had so much diminished that where he had formerly earned seven or eight dollars a week he now averaged no more than four. He began to be dissatisfied, for his income now was inadequate to meet his expenses, and he had been obliged to spend twenty dollars out of the two hundred which he had received from Mr. Lawrence at Niagara Falls. He was now seventeen, and he felt that it was high time he had entered upon some business in which he could advance by successive steps. On the road, if he remained till he was thirty years of age, he could earn no more than at present. He answered several advertisements, but secured nothing likely to be an improvement upon his present place.

One evening toward the end of December he was about to leave the cars, when his attention was drawn to an old gentleman with hair nearly white, who did not rise with the rest of the passengers, but remained in his seat with his head leaned back and his eyes closed.

The train boy, concluding that he had fallen asleep, went up to him and touched him gently.

"We have reached Jersey City," he said.

The old man opened his eyes slightly and gazed at him bewildered.

"I—I don't know where I am," he murmured vaguely.

"You are in Jersey City, sir."

"I want to go to New York."

"You have only to cross the ferry."

"Excuse me; I am a stranger here. I am from Ohio. Where is the ferry?"

"Let me lead you to the boat, sir."

The old man rose feebly and put his hand to his head.

"I don't know what is the matter with me," he said. "I feel sick."

"Perhaps you are upset by your journey. Come with me, and I will take care of you."

"You are a very good boy, and I will accept your offer."

He rose and left the car, leaning heavily on Fred's arm.

"How long have you felt unwell?" asked the train boy sympathetically.

"Ever since we left Elmira. My head troubles me."

"It is the motion of the cars, no doubt. Here we are!"

They were just in time to reach the boat. They entered the ladies' cabin, as Fred thought the tobacco smoke which always pervaded the cabin devoted to men would increase the old gentleman's head trouble.

"Where do you wish to go when we have reached the New York side?" asked Fred, when they were nearly across the river.

"I have a nephew living on Madison Avenue. Do you know that street?"

"Oh, yes, sir, very well. I will go up with you if you will let me know your nephew's name."

The name was mentioned, and to Fred's surprise was that of a wealthy and influential Wall Street broker. It was clear that the old gentleman, though plainly dressed, would not need to economize.

"I think, sir," said Fred, noticing that the old man seemed to be getting more and more feeble, "that it will be well for you to take a cab, in order to avoid any walking. You seem very much fatigued."

"You are right. Will you call one? I don't feel able."

"With pleasure, sir."

Fred passed through the gate and beckoned a hackman, who drove up with alacrity.

"Where to, sir?" he asked.

Fred gave the number on Madison Avenue.

"Mr. John Wainwrignt lives there," said the hackman. "I sometimes drive him up from Wall Street."

"That is the place. This is his uncle."

The hackman touched his hat respectfully to the old gentleman, whom he had at first mentally styled a rusty old codger. His relationship to the wealthy broker gave him dignity in the eyes of the driver.

"Won't you get in too?" asked the old gentleman who had come to rely upon Fred as his guardian.

"Certainly, sir."

"I shall feel safer. I am a perfect stranger to the city."

He leaned back in the seat and partially closed his eyes.

The hack rattled through the streets and in due time reached its destination.

The hackman opened the door of the cab and Fred assisted the old gentleman to alight.

"Take my pocketbook and pay him," said the old man.

The hackman did not venture to ask more than his rightful fare, as it would have come to the knowledge of the broker, whom he did not care to offend.

The driver paid, Fred ascended the steps and rang the bell.

A man servant opened the door.

"Is Mr. Wainwright at home?" asked Fred.

The servant, seeing an old man in rather a rusty dress, was inclined to think that he was an applicant for charity, and answered rather superciliously:

"Yes, he's at 'ome, but I ain't sure as he'll see you."

"Tell him," said Fred sharply, "that his uncle has arrived."

"His uncle!" repeated the astounded flunkey. "O yes, sir, certainly, sir. I think he is at 'ome. Won't you step in, sir?"

Fred would have gone away, but the old gentleman still seemed to require his assistance, and he stepped in with him and led him into the drawing-room.

The servant promptly reported the arrival to Mr. Wainwright, who descended the staircase quickly and greeted his uncle.

"You are heartily welcome, Uncle Silas," he said. "I did not expect you till to-morrow, or I would have sent the carriage for you."

"I changed my mind, John, and decided to push through."

"Who is this young man with you?"

"He is a kind friend, John. I was taken sick—the effect of the journey, I think—and I shouldn't have been able to get up here but for him."

The broker smiled pleasantly and held out his hand to Fred.

"You are the train boy, are you not?" he asked, glancing at Fred's cap.

"Yes, sir."

"I hope you find it pays you well."

"Not at this season, sir."

"How long have you been in service?"

"Over a year."

"Thank you for your kindness to my uncle. He seems ill and requires my attention now. Can you make it convenient to call here to-morrow evening at eight o'clock?"

"Yes, sir. I will call with pleasure."

"Good night, then, and don't forget to call."

The broker shook hands with Fred again, and the train-boy left the house quite won by the pleasant and affable manner of the great broker.

"I never expected to know such a man as that," thought Fred. "I wish he would give me a position in his office. That would be much better worth having than my present place."

"Why are you so late, Fred?" asked his mother, when he reached home.

"I had to make a call on Mr. Wainwright, the broker," answered Fred.

"I guess you are only funning," said Albert.

"No, I am not. I am invited to call again to-morrow evening."

"What for?"

"Perhaps he's going to take me into partnership," said Fred in joke.