CHAPTER V. — IN SEARCH OF A PLACE.
Ben took the early train to New York on Tuesday morning, and in due time arrived in the city. He carried with him seventy-five dollars out of his small patrimony. Fifty were to be deposited with Messrs. Fitch & Ferguson, as required, and the balance was to defray his expenses till he began to receive a salary. Ben didn't expect to need much of it, for at the end of a week he would be paid ten dollars for his services, and until then he meant to be very economical.
Ben had only been in New York twice before, but he happened to know his way to Nassau Street, and went there at once, with his carpetbag in his hand.
As he entered Nassau Street from Printing-House
Square, a bootblack accosted him.
"How are you, country?"
"Are you very anxious to know?" asked Ben, stopping short.
"Yes."
"I'm well enough and strong enough to give you a licking."
"Good for you, country! Have you come to stay long?"
Ben laughed. He concluded not to take offense, but to answer seriously.
"That depends on whether I get the place I am after."
"What is that?" asked the bootblack, in a friendly tone.
Now, on the way to the city, Ben had overheard a conversation between two gentlemen, relative to certain swindlers in New York, which, for the first time, had aroused in him a suspicion that possibly there might be something wrong about the firm whose advertisement he had answered. He felt the need of an adviser, and though his choice may be considered rather a strange one, he decided to consult his new acquaintance, the bootblack. He briefly told him of the advertisement, and what it offered.
The bootblack surveyed him with pitying curiosity.
"You don't mean to say you swallow all that?" he said.
"Don't you think it's all right?" asked Ben anxiously.
"Look here," said the street boy, "do you think anybody's going to pay a boy ten dollars a week, when there's hundreds ready to work for three or four? Why, a man in Pearl Street advertised last week for a boy at three dollars, and there was a whole shoal of boys went for it. I was one of 'em."
"Don't you earn more than that by your business?"
"Sometimes I do, but it ain't stiddy, and I'd rather have a place."
"Why do they advertise to give ten dollars, then?" asked our hero.
"They want to get hold of your fifty dollars," said the bootblack. "Them fellers is beats, that's what they are."
"What had I better do?" asked Ben, in perplexity.
"Go and see 'em, and have a talk. If they're not after your fifty dollars, you'll know what it means."
"It may be all right, after all," said Ben, who did not like to give up hope.
"I may be General Grant," retorted the bootblack, "but if I know myself I ain't."
"Well, I'll go round and talk with them. Where can I meet you afterwards?"
"I'll be standin' here, if you ain't gone too long."
"What's your name?"
"Tom Cooper."
"I am Ben Stanton. Thank you for your advice."
"You're a good feller if you do come from the country. Just look out for them fellers. Don't let 'em hook you in."
"All right, Tom."
Ben moved on, watching the numbers as he walked slowly along, till he came to the one mentioned in the advertisement. There was a hallway and a staircase, with a directory of persons occupying offices on the floors above. From this Ben ascertained that Fitch & Ferguson occupied Room 17, on the fourth floor.
"I wonder what business they are in," thought our hero as he mounted the stairs. "They must have considerable or they wouldn't need so many boys-that is, if they are on the square."
Presently he stood in front of a door bearing the number 17.
He knocked for admittance.
CHAPTER VI. — MR. PITCH, THE SENIOR PARTNER.
"Come in," said a loud voice.
Ben opened the door and entered.
He found himself in a square room, almost bare of furniture. In an office chair at a table sat a dark-complexioned man of near forty. He appeared to be reading the morning paper.
"Is this the office of Fitch & Ferguson?" inquired Ben.
A glance at Ben's carpetbag indicated that he had come in answer to the advertisement, and he was received very graciously.
"Come in," said the man in the chair, smiling affably. "This is the office of Fitch & Ferguson. I am Mr. Fitch."
"My name is Stanton-Ben Stanton," said our hero. "I wrote you from Hampton about your advertisement."
"For a boy at ten dollars a week?" suggested the dark man, with a pleasant smile.
"Yes, sir."
"We agreed to take you, did we not?" asked Mr. Fitch.
"Yes, sir."
"Have you had any business experience?" inquired Pitch.
"No, sir."
"I am sorry for that," said Mr. Fitch gravely. "Experience is important. I am not sure whether we ought to pay you ten dollars a week."
Ben did not reply. He was not so much concerned about the amount of his compensation as about the reliable character of Fitch & Ferguson.
"Still," mused Mr. Fitch, "you look like a boy who would learn fast. What do you think about it yourself?"
"I think I could," answered Ben. "I should try to serve you faithfully."
"That is well. We want to be served faithfully," said Mr. Fitch.
"What kind of a business is it?" Ben ventured to ask, surveying the empty office with a puzzled look, which Mr. Fitch observed and interpreted aright.
"We do a commission business," he said. "Of course, we keep no stock of goods here. Business is not done in the city, my young friend, as it is in the country."
"No, I suppose not," returned our hero.
"Without entering into details as to the character of our business," said Mr. Fitch, "I may say that you would be chiefly employed in making collections. It is because considerable sums of money would pass through your hands that we require a deposit in order to protect ourselves. By the way, have you the fifty dollars with you?"
Ben admitted that he had.
Mr. Fitch's face brightened up, for he had not felt quite sure of that.
"I am glad to hear of it," he said. "It shows that you mean business. You may hand it to me, and I will give you a receipt for it."
"I would like to ask you one or two questions first," said Ben, making no movement toward his pocket.
Mr. Fitch frowned.
"Really, I fail to catch your meaning," he said, in a changed tone. "Do you wish to enter my employ, or do you not?"
"I should like to earn ten dollars a week."
"Precisely. Then all you have to do is to hand me the fifty dollars and go to work."
"You might keep me only a week," suggested Ben.
"We shall keep you if you suit us, and you can if you try. If you are discharged, we give you back your money, and pay you for the time you work for us. That is fair, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then we may as well settle the matter at once," and he waited for Ben to draw forth his money. Our hero would, undoubtedly, have done so, if he had not been cautioned by Tom Cooper. As it was, he could not help feeling suspicious.
"I should like to propose something to you, sir," he said.
"What is it?" asked Fitch impatiently.
"Suppose you keep five dollars a week out of my wages for ten weeks-that'll make fifty dollars-and only pay it to me when I leave you."
"Young man," said Mr. Fitch sternly, "this is trifling, and my time is too valuable for such discussion. Have you, or have you not, brought fifty dollars with you?"
"I have."
"Then you can secure the place-a place such as few New York boys are fortunate enough to fill. You must decide for yourself."
He threw himself back in his chair and looked at Ben.
"He seems very anxious about the money," thought our hero, "and I don't see any signs of any business. I'd better back out."
"There are plenty of boys who want the place," continued Fitch, trying to look indifferent.
"I guess you can give it to one of them," said Ben coolly.
Mr. Fitch could not conceal his disappointment. The fifty dollars had a great attraction for him. He saw that Ben was in earnest, for he was already opening the door to go out. He must make an effort to detain him.
"Wait a moment, my young friend. I like your appearance, and we may be disposed to take you on a little easier terms. Fifty dollars is probably a large sum to you."
Ben admitted that it was.
"Probably your means are limited?"
"Yes, sir; I am a poor boy."
"Just so. I will then relax our rules a little in your case. Of course, you won't mention it to our other boys, as it might create dissatisfaction."
"No, sir."
"We will take you on a deposit of forty dollars, then."
Ben shook his head, and moved as if to depart.
"In fact," said Mr. Fitch hastily, "I believe I will say thirty dollars, Though I am afraid my partner will blame me."
Ben was not versed in city ways, but now he distrusted Mr. Fitch more than ever.
"I would rather take a situation where no deposit is required," he said.
"But you can't get any unless you agree to accept three or four dollars a week."
"Can you afford to pay me ten dollars a week on account of my deposit?" asked Ben shrewdly.
Mr. Fitch flushed, for Ben's question was a home thrust.
"We don't want cheap boys," he said pompously. "We want boys who are worth high wages, and no others."
"And you think I am worth high wages?" asked Ben.
"I think so, but I may be mistaken."
Ben was not required to answer, for the door opened hastily, and a man entered in visible excitement.
"What is your business, sir?" asked Mr. Fitch, rather nervously.
"Are you Fitch or Ferguson?" demanded the intruder.
"I am Mr. Fitch."
"Two days ago my son, James Cameron, entered your service."
"Yes, sir."
"Where is he now?"
"We have sent him to Brooklyn to collect a bill."
"He paid you a deposit of fifty dollars?"
"Certainly. We require it as a guarantee of honesty and fidelity."
"Well, I want you to pay it back."
"I don't understand you, sir," said Mr. Fitch, looking very much disturbed. "It will be given up when your son leaves our employment."
"Well, he's going to leave it to-day," said the other.
"Can you get him another place as good? Ten dollars a week are not often paid to boys."
"No, sir; it's that that makes me suspicious. Give me back the fifty dollars, and James shall leave your employment."
"That is entirely irregular, sir," said Fitch. "Your son has been only two days in the office. At the end of the week he can leave us, and receive back his money."
"That won't do," said the angry father.
"It will have to do," said Fitch. "You are doing a very foolish thing, Mr. Cameron."
"I'll risk that."
"When your son returns from Brooklyn we will consider what can be done."
"When will that be?"
"In a couple of hours."
"I will come in then."
Cameron went out, and Ben followed him, the discomfited Fitch making no effort to detain the lad.
"I was thinking of engaging myself to Mr. Fitch," said Ben to his companion. "Do you know anything against him?"
"I hear that he's a swindler," said Cameron. "I was a fool to fall into his snare. Keep your money and you'll be better off."
"Thank you, sir."
Fifteen minutes afterward Mr. Fitch left his office, and when Mr. Cameron came back, the door was locked. He found his son waiting in the entry.
"Did you collect any money in Brooklyn?" asked his father.
"No; I guess Mr. Fitch gave me the wrong number. There was no such man living at the house he sent me to."
"We've been fooled!" said the father bitterly. "Come home, James. I doubt we've seen the last of our money. If I ever set eyes on that man Pitch again I'll give him in charge for swindling."
The senior partner of Pitch & Ferguson was at that moment on his way to Philadelphia with the remains of the fifty dollars in his pocket. But for Ben's caution he would have had another fifty dollars in his possession.
CHAPTER VII. — BEN'S DINNER-GUEST.
Ben slowly retraced his steps to where he had left his friend, Tom Cooper.
"Well," said the bootblack, "did you see Fitch and Ferguson?"
"Yes," answered Ben soberly; "that is, I saw one of them."
"Did you take the place?"
"No; I found he was too anxious for my fifty dollars, though he offered after a while to take me for thirty."
Tom Cooper laughed derisively.
"I'll do better nor that," he said. "If you'll give me twenty dollars, I'll make you my private secretary, payin' you ten dollars a week."
"How long will you keep me?" asked Ben, smiling.
"Six days," answered Tom. "Then I'll have to sack you without pay, 'cause you don't understand your business."
"Is that the way they manage?" asked Ben.
The bootblack nodded.
Ben looked grave. The disappointment was a serious one, and he felt now how much he had relied upon the promises of Fitch & Ferguson. He had formed no other plans, and it seemed likely that he must return to the country to resume his old life. Yet that seemed impracticable. There was no opening there unless he accepted one of the two offers already made him. But he was neither inclined to enter the employ of Deacon Pitkin, nor to become the valet and servant of Sam Sturgis. He was not quite sure whether he would not prefer to become a bootblack, like his new acquaintance.
"What are you goin' to do?" asked Tom.
"I wish I knew," said Ben earnestly. "What can I do?"
"You might go into my business," suggested Tom.
Ben shook his head.
"I don't think I should like that."
"No more would I if I'd got fifty dollars in my pocket. If I was you I'd go into business."
"What kind of business?"
"Well," said Tom reflectively, "you might buy out an apple or a peanut-stand, and have lots of money left."
"Is there much money to be made that way?" inquired Ben.
"Well, I never knowed anybody get rich in that line. I guess you'd make a livin'."
"That wouldn't satisfy me, Tom. What I want most of all is to go to California."
The bootblack whistled.
"That's off ever so far, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's a long way."
"How do you go?"
"There are three ways," answered Ben, who had made himself familiar with the subject. "The first is to go by land-across the plains. Then there is a line of steamers by way of Panama. The longest way is by a sailing-vessel round Cape Horn."
"What would you do when you got to California?" asked Tom.
"Go to work. I suppose I would go to the mines and dig gold."
"I wish it wasn't so far off. I'd like to go myself. Do you think a feller could work his passage?"
"By blacking boots?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe he could. Sailors don't care much about having their boots blacked."
"How much does it cost to go?"
"I don't know."
"Why don't you go to the office and find out?"
"So I will," said Ben, brightening up at the thought. "Do you know where it is?"
"Yes."
"Will you show me?"
"I would if I'd make enough to buy me some dinner. I only had a five-cent breakfast, and I feel kinder holler."
"I feel hungry myself," said Ben. "If you'll go with me I'll buy you some dinner to pay you for your trouble."
"'Nough said!" remarked Tom briefly, as he shouldered his box. "I'm your man. Come along! Where shall we go first?"
"To an eating-house. We might have to wait at the office."
Tom conducted Ben to a cheap restaurant, not far away, where the two for a moderate sum obtained a plentiful meal. Had either been fastidious, some exception might have been taken to the style in which the dishes were served, but neither was critical. A dapper young clerk, however, who sat opposite Tom, seemed quite disturbed by the presence of the bootblack. As his eye rested on Tom he sniffed contemptuously, and frowned. In truth, our friend Tom might be useful, but in his present apparel he was not fitted to grace a drawing-room. He had no coat, his vest was ragged, and his shirt soiled with spots of blacking. There were spots also upon his freckled face, of which Tom was blissfully unconscious. It didn't trouble him any to have a dirty face. "Dirt is only matter in the wrong place," as a philosopher once remarked. Tom was a philosopher in his own way.
The young clerk pulled out a scented handkerchief, and applied it to his nose, looking at Tom meanwhile.
"What's the matter of yer?" inquired Tom, suspecting the cause of the dandy's discomfort. "Be you sick?"
"It's enough to make one sick to sit at the table with you," answered the clerk.
"Why?"
"You are absolutely filthy. Don't you know any better than to come in where there are gentlemen?"
"I don't see any except him," said Tom, indicating Ben with his glance.
"This is really too much. Here, waiter!"
A waiter answered the summons.
"What is it, sir?"
"Just remove my plate to another table, will you?"
"Is anything the matter, sir?"
"I am not accustomed to associate with bootblacks," said the clerk loftily.
"All right, sir."
"I am really surprised that you admit any of that low class."
"As long as they pay their bills we are willing to receive them."
"I don't believe that boy has got enough to pay for his dinner."
The waiter, at this suggestion, looked at Tom rather suspiciously. After removing the plate of the sensitive customer, he came back to the table where the two boys were seated.
"Have you given your order?" he asked.
"Yes."
"If you haven't got money enough to pay your check you'll be bounced."
"Don't you trouble yourself, old woolly head," said Tom coolly. "My friend pays the bills. He's a banker down in Wall Street, and he's rich enough to buy out your whole place."
"The dinner will be paid for," said Ben, smiling.
"All right, gentlemen," said the waiter, more respectfully. "We'll be glad to see you any time."
"Tom," said Ben, "I'm afraid you don't always tell the truth."
"Why not?"
"You told the waiter I was a Wall Street banker, and rich."
"Oh, what's the odds? You're rich enough to pay for the dinners, and that's all he wants."
"You came near spoiling the appitite of that young man over at the opposite table."
"I'd like to spoil his beauty. He feels too big. I don't like to see a feller put on so many airs. What's the matter of me, I'd like to know?"
"Why, you see, Tom, your face isn't very clean. There are spots of blacking on it."
"A feller can't be always washin' his face. I'll wash it to-morrow mornin' at the lodge. Does it take away your appetite, too?"
"Not a bit," said Ben, laughing. "Nothing but a good dinner will take away that."
"You're the kind of feller I like," said Tom emphatically. "You don't put on no airs."
"I can't afford to," said Ben. "I'm a poor boy myself."
"I wouldn't feel poor if I had fifty dollars," returned Tom.
"I hope you'll have it sometime, and a good deal more."
"So do I. When I'm a rich man, I'll wash my face oftener."
"And put blacking on your boots instead of your face," added Ben.
"It might look better," Tom admitted.
When dinner was over the two boys directed their steps to the California steamship office, on one of the North River piers.
CHAPTER VIII. — A STRANGE ACQUAINTANCE.
Tom Cooper was too familiar with the streets of New York to pay any attention to the moving panorama of which he and Ben formed a part. But everything was new and interesting to Ben, who had passed his life in a quiet country town.
"I should think it was the Fourth of July," he said.
"Why?" asked the bootblack.
"Because there's such a lot of people and wagons in the streets."
"There's always as many as this, except Sundays," said Tom.
"Where do they all come from?" said Beu wonderingly.
"You've got me there," answered Tom. "I never thought about that. Look out!" he exclaimed suddenly, dragging Ben from in front of a team coming up the street. "Do you want to get run over?"
"I was looking the other way," said Ben, rather confused.
"You've got to look all ways to once here," said Tom.
"I guess you're right. Don't people often get run over?"
"Once in a while. There's a friend of mine—Patsy Burke—a newsboy, was run over last year and had his leg broke. They took him to Bellevue Hospital, and cut it off."
"Is he alive now?"
"Oh, yes, he's alive and to work, the same as ever. He's got a wooden leg."
"Poor boy!" said Ben compassionately.
"Oh, he don't mind it, Patsy don't. He's always jolly."
By this time they reached the office of the California Steamship Company. There was a large sign up, so that there was no difficulty in finding it.
The two boys entered. The room was not a large one. There was a counter, behind which were two young men writing, and there was besides a man of middle age, who was talking to two gentlemen who appeared to be engaging passage. Seated in a chair, apparently awaiting her turn, was a young lady, whose face was half-concealed by a thick, green veil.
When the two gentlemen were disposed of, the agent spoke to the young lady.
"What can I do for you, miss?" he asked.
"I am in no hurry, sir," she answered, in a low voice. "I will wait for those boys."
"What's your business, boys?" demanded the agent, shrugging his shoulders.
"When does the next steamer start, sir?" inquired Ben.
"In three days."
"What is the price of passage?"
"First-class?"
"No, sir, the cheapest."
"One hundred dollars. Do you wish to secure passage?"
"Not this morning, sir."
The agent shrugged his shoulders again, as if to say "I thought so," and turned again to the young lady.
"Now, miss," he said.
"I beg your pardon, sir," she said hurriedly. "I will call again."
As she spoke, she left the office, following the two boys so quickly that they almost went out together.
Ben had not taken particular notice of the young lady, and was much surprised when he felt a hand laid on his arm, and, turning, his eyes fell npon her face.
"May I speak a few words with you?" she said.
"Certainly," answered Ben politely, though he could not conceal his astonishment.
The young lady looked uneasily at Tom, and hesitated.
"Won't you move away a few steps, Tom?" said Ben, understanding the look.
"Thank you," said the young lady, in a low voice. "Are you intending to sail for California by the next steamer?"
"I should like to, miss, but I am poor, and I don't know whether I can afford the expense of a ticket."
"Would you go if your ticket were paid-by a friend?"
"You bet I would-I mean I certainly would," answered Ben, correcting his phraseology, as he remembered that he was addressing a young lady, and not one of his boy friends.
"Would you be willing to take care of me—that is, to look after me?"
Ben was certainly surprised; but he answered promptly and with native politeness: "It would be a pleasure to me."
"You were going alone-you had no friends with you?"
"None at all, miss."
"That is well," she said. "What is your name?"
"Ben Stanton."
"Do you live in the city?"
"No, miss. I came from the small town of Hampton."
"Where are you staying?"
"Nowhere. I only arrived in the city this morning."
"Will you be able to go by the next steamer?"
Ben hesitated. It almost took away his breath—it seemed so sudden-but he reflected that there really was no reason why he should not, and he answered in the affirmative.
"Then go back with me, and I will engage passage for us both."
The young lady and Ben reentered the office, Tom Cooper looking on with astonishment. She approached the counter, this time with confidence, and the agent came forward.
"I have concluded to engage passage for myself and this lad," she said.
The agent regarded her with surprise.
"Both first-class?" he asked.
"Certainly, sir. I should like the lad to occupy a stateroom near mine."
"Very well. I will show you on the plan those that are unengaged. I cannot give either of you a stateroom to yourselves. I can give you a room with a very agreeable lady, a Mrs. Dunbar, and the boy can occupy part of the adjoining room."
"Very well, sir."
"What name?" continued the agent.
"Ida Sinclair," answered the young lady, with visible hesitation.
"And the boy's name?"
Miss Sinclair had forgotten; but Ben promptly answered for himself.
The young lady drew out her pocketbook, and produced several large bills, out of which she paid the passage money. Then, turning to Ben, she said: "Now we will go."
Ben followed her out of the office, feeling completely bewildered. Well he might. The young lady had paid two hundred and fifty dollars for his passage, and for this large outlay only required him to take care of her. No wonder he thought it strange.
"You say you are not staying at any hotel?" said the young lady, as they emerged into the street.
"No, Miss Sinclair."
"I am staying at the Astor House, and it is important that you should be with me, as I may have some errands on which to employ you."
"Is it an expensive hotel?" asked Ben.
"That will not matter to you, as I shall pay the bill."
"Thank you, Miss Sinclair; but you are spending a great deal of money for me."
"I have an object in doing so. Besides, I have no lack of money."
"Shall I go with you to the hotel now?"
"Yes."
"May I speak a moment to the boy who was with me?"
"Certainly."
"May I tell him where I am going?"
"Yes, but ask him to keep it to himself."
"I will, Miss Sinclair," and Ben was about to walk away.
"On the whole, call the boy here," said Miss Sinclair. "Tom!" Tom Cooper answered the summons.
"I am going to California with this lady," said Ben. "She has paid my passage."
"You're in luck!" exclaimed Tom. "Say, miss, you don't want a boy to go along to black your boots, do you?"
Miss Sinclair smiled faintly.
"I think not," she answered.
"Tom," continued Ben, "you won't say a word about my going, will you?"
"Not if you don't want me to. Besides, there ain't nobody to tell."
Miss Sinclair looked relieved. She drew out her pocketbook, and took from it a ten-dollar bill.
"What is your name?" she asked.
"Tom Cooper, ma'am."
"Then, Tom, allow me to offer you a small present."
"Is it all for me?" exclaimed Tom, in amazement.
"Yes."
Tom thrust it into his vest pocket, and immediately executed a somersault, rather to Miss Sinclair's alarm.
"Excuse me, ma'am," said Tom, assuming his natural posture; "I couldn't help it, I felt so excited. I never was so rich before."
"May I tell Tom where we are going to stop?" asked Ben.
"Certainly, if he will keep it to himself."
"I shall be at the Astor House, Tom. Come round and see me."
Tom watched the two as they preceded him on their way to Broadway.
"I wonder if I'm dreaming," he said to himself. "If I am, I hope I won't wake up till I've spent this ten dollars. I guess I'll go to the Old Bowery to-night."
CHAPTER IX. — AT THE ASTOR HOUSE.
As they walked up to the hotel together, Miss Sinclair said: "You are probably surprised at what has taken place, but I have strong reasons for acting as I have done."
"I don't doubt it, Miss Sinclair," returned Ben.
"It is desirable that I should tell you-"
"Don't tell me anything unless you like, Miss Sinclair. I am not troubled with curiosity."
"Thank you, but in the confidential relations which we are to hold toward each other, it is necessary that you should understand my position. I will reserve my explanation, however, till we reach the hotel."
"We are to stop at the Astor House?"
"Yes, and I wish you to put down my name and your own on the register, and obtain two rooms as near together as convenient."
"Very well, Miss Sinclair."
"You may put me down as from-well, from Philadelphia."
"All right. Shall I put myself down from Philadelphia, too?"
"Not unless you choose. Your native village will answer. By the way, you are to pass for my cousin, and it will be better, therefore, that you should call me by my first name-Ida."
"I wouldn't take the liberty but for your wishing it."
"I do wish it-otherwise it would be difficult to pass you off as my cousin."
"All right, Miss Sinclair-I mean Ida."
"That is better. I shall call you Ben."
"You couldn't very well call me Mr. Stanton," said our hero, smiling.
"Not very well. But here we are at the hotel. We will go in together. I will go to the ladies' parlor, and you can join me there after securing rooms at the office."
"Very well-Ida."
Of course Ben was not used to city hotels, and he was a little afraid that he should not go to work properly, but he experienced no difficulty. He stepped up to the desk, and said to the clerk:
"I should like to engage rooms for my cousin and myself."
The clerk pushed the register toward him.
Ben inscribed the names. At first he could not remember his companion's last name, and it made him feel awkward. Fortunately it came to him in time.
"We can give you rooms on the third floor. Will that do?"
"Yes, sir, I think so. We would like to be near together."
"Very well. I can give you two rooms directly opposite to each other."
"That will do, sir."
The clerk touched a bell, and a porter presented himself:
"Here are the keys of sixty-six and sixty-eight," said the hotel clerk. "Take this young gentleman's luggage to sixty-six, and show the lady with him to number sixty-eight."
Ben followed the porter, pausing at the door of the ladies' parlor, where his companion awaited him.
"Come, Ida," he said, feeling a little awkward at addressing Miss Sinclair so familiarly. "The servant is ready to show us our rooms."
"Very well, Ben," said Miss Sinclair, smiling. She did not seem so nervous now.
As the clerk had said, the rooms were directly opposite each other. They were large and very comfortable in appearance. As Miss Sinclair entered her room she said:
"Join me in the ladies' parlor in fifteen minutes, Ben. I have something to say to you."
Ben looked around him with considerable satisfaction. He had only left home that morning; he had met with a severe disappointment, and yet he was now fortunate beyond his most sanguine hopes. He had heard a great deal of the Astor House, which in Hampton and throughout the country was regarded at that time as the most aristocratic hotel in New York, and now he was actually a guest in it. Moreover, he was booked for a first-class passage to California.
"It's like the Arabian Nights," thought Ben, "and Miss Sinclair must be a fairy."
He took out his scanty wardrobe from the carpetbag, and put it away in one of the drawers of the bureau.
"I might just as well enjoy all the privileges of the hotel," he said to himself.
He took out his brush and comb, and brushed his hair. Then he locked the door of No. 66 and went down-stairs to the ladies' parlor.
He did not have to wait long. In five minutes Miss Sinclair made her appearance.
"Ben," she said, "here is the check for my trunk. You may take it down to the office and ask them to send for it. Then come back and I will acquaint you with some things I wish you to know."
Ben speedily reappeared, and at Miss Sinclair's request sat down beside her on a sofa.
"You must know, Ben," she commenced, "that I am flying from my guardian."
"I hope it's all right," said Ben, rather frightened. He was not sure but he was making himself liable to arrest for aiding and abetting Miss Sinclair's flight.
"You have no cause for alarm. He has no legal control over me, though by the terms of my father's will he retains charge of my property till I attain my twenty-fifth year. Before this, fourteen months must elapse. Meanwhile he is exerting all his influence to induce me to marry his son, so that the large property of which I am possessed may accrue to the benefit of his family."
"He couldn't force you to marry his son, could he?" asked Ben.
"No, but he has made it very disagreeable to me to oppose him, and has even gone so far as to threaten me with imprisonment in a madhouse if I do not yield to his persuasions."
"He must be a rascal!" said our hero indignantly.
"He is," said Miss Sinclair quietly.
"I don't see how he can do such things in a free country."
"He has only to buy over two unscrupulous physicians, and in a large city that can easily be done. On their certificate of my insanity I might any day be dragged to a private asylum and confined there."
"I don't wonder you ran away, Ida."
"I feel perfectly justified in doing so. Liberty and the control of my own person are dear to me, and I mean to struggle for them."
"What makes you think of going to California? is it because it is so far off?"
"Partly; but there is another reason," said Miss Sinclair. "I will not conceal from you that there is a person there whom I wish to meet."
"Is it a young man?" asked Ben shrewdly.
"You have guessed it. Richard Dewey is the son of a former bookkeeper of my father. He is poor, but he is a gentleman, and there is a mutual attachment between us. Indeed, he asked my guardian's consent to his suit, but he was repelled with insult, and charged with being a fortune-hunter. That name would better apply to my guardian and his precious son."
"Is Mr. Dewey in California?"
"Yes; he went out there some months since. He promised to write me regularly, but I have not heard a word from him. I know very well that he has written, and that my guardian has suppressed his letters."
"That is shameful!" said Ben warmly.
"It is indeed; but with your help I think I can circumvent Mr. Campbell yet."
"Mr. Campbell is your guardian, I suppose, Ida?"
"Yes."
"You may reply upon me to help you in every way possible, Miss Sinclair."
"Ida," corrected the young lady.
"I mean Ida."
"That's right, Cousin Ben."
Now that Miss Sinclair's veil was removed, our hero could see that she was very pretty, and perhaps he felt all the more proud of being selected as her escort. But on one point he was in the dark.
"May I ask you a question, Ida?" he said. "How is it that you have chosen me-a stranger, and so young-as your escort? I am only a green country boy."
"Partly because I like your looks; you look honest and trustworthy."
"Thank you, but I am only a boy."
"That's all the better for me. It would not do for me to accept the escort of a man, and it would be awkward for me to propose it even if it would do."
"At any rate, I am lucky to be selected. I hope you will be satisfied with me."
"I feel sure of it."
"You are spending a great deal of money for me."
"You may feel surprised that I have so much money to spend independent of my guardian, but he has control only of the property left by my father. My mother left me thirty thousand dollars, of which I am sole mistress."
"That is lucky for you."
"Under present circumstances-yes."
Here two ladies entered the parlor, and the conversation was suspended.
"I believe I will go in to dinner now," said Miss Sinclair. "Will you come, Ben?"
"I ate dinner an hour ago."
"Then you can go where you please. Meet me here at six o'clock."
"All right, Ida."