Ben was looking with interest at a row of new books when he was summoned into the private office.
"My young friend," said Mr. Porter, senior, "we are not responsible for the letter that brought you here."
"No, sir," said Ben. "I am sorry to have troubled you. I'll go home this afternoon."
He looked sober enough, poor Ben, for it would not be pleasant facing his aunt and friends in Milltown, and explaining matters. Even the "licking" which he determined to give Sam Archer, if he should prove the author of the decoy letter, would be a poor satisfaction.
"You may as well stay," said Mr. Porter. "My nephew thinks we can find a place for you in the store."
"Will you really take me?" asked Ben.
"We will try you. My nephew thinks you will suit us."
"Thank you, sir," said Ben warmly.
"Your friend, who wrote the letter, will be rather disappointed, eh?" said young Porter, smiling.
"Yes," said Ben, who could smile now. "I should like to see him when he learns that his malicious letter has procured me a situation.
"What do we pay you Robinson?"
"Six dollars a week."
"Then Benjamin shall have the same. He has no knowledge of the business, to be sure——"
"I will have soon," said Ben confidently.
"That's right, my lad. Make yourself useful to us, and you won't have cause to regret it."
He was set to work dusting books, and young Porter went to his own desk; he was chief bookkeeper.
"When the store closes," he said, "come to me. I shall take you to my room to-night."
In the evening, at his friend's room, Ben wrote the following letter to his friend, James Watson:
"Boston, July 18, 19—.
"Dear James: Though I have been only a few hours in Boston I have a good deal to tell you. You remember my showing you the letter from Jones & Porter, which induced me to come to the city. Well, it was a hoax. It didn't come from the firm at all. Somebody wanted to play a trick on me, and wrote it. I have no doubt Sam Archer was at the bottom of it. You know what a mean fellow he is, and that he would like nothing better than to injure me. But I am glad to say that he has not succeeded. By great good luck I got acquainted with Mr. Porter's nephew on board the train. I showed him the letter, which he pronounced probably a forgery. But he took me to the store—he is head bookkeeper—and introduced me to his uncle. It seems that there will be a vacancy at the beginning of next month, and as I was on the ground, they engaged me. So Sam's mean trick has been the means of obtaining me a position. He will be provoked enough when he hears it. Now I will tell you what I want you to do. Don't say a word about the letter being a hoax. Merely tell the boys that I have got the place I expected. If Sam wrote the letter he will certainly betray himself. Keep mum, and lead him on. Then let me know what you find out. I will write again soon.
"Your affectionate friend, "Ben Bradford."
"It's a mean trick, and just like Sam," ejaculated James when he read Ben's letter. "I'll follow Ben's instructions. Sam will be coming round making inquiries pretty soon. I'll manage him."
James was right in his supposition. Sam eagerly awaited the upshot of his trick. He concluded that Ben would come back Monday night depressed and humiliated, and he was on the street near Ben's house when the afternoon train got in, ready to feast his eyes on his rival's unhappiness. But he waited in vain.
The next morning, about ten o'clock, he met James Watson on the street. James had received the letter from Ben the evening previous.
"How are you, James?" said Sam.
"I'm all right," said James rather coolly.
"Have you heard from Ben Bradford?"
"I heard last night."
"What does he say?' asked Sam eagerly.
"He hadn't been in his situation long enough to tell how he should like it," answered James.
"Is he in a situation?" demanded Sam in surprise.
"What do you think he went to Boston for?"
"Where is he working?" asked Sam incredulously.
"He is with Jones & Porter, of course. Didn't you know they sent for him?"
"Ha! ha!" laughed Sam.
"I am on the track," thought James.
"I don't know what you mean," said he quietly. "Jones & Porter sent for Ben, and he is in their employ."
"I'll bet you a dollar Ben Bradford will be back here within a week," said Sam, in a ton of great confidence. "I don't believe Jones & Porter ever wrote him a letter."
"I saw the letter."
"Suppose you did; it might have been a hoax."
"Then whoever wrote it did Ben a good turn, for he has got a place at Jones & Porter's."
"I don't believe it," said Sam uneasily.
"Ben writes me that he is there."
"Will you let me see the letter?"
"No, I won't."
"That convinces me that it's all a humbug."
"You think the letter a hoax?"
"Yes, I do."
"What reason have you for thinking so?"
"I decline to state."
"Who do you think wrote it?"
"How should I know?"
"As you know so much, I don't mind telling you that you are right. The letter was a hoax."
Sam laughed heartily.
"I thought so," he said.
"And I know who wrote it."
Sam didn't laugh now.
"Who?" he asked uncomfortably.
"You did it."
"What do you mean?" blustered Sam.
"Exactly what I say. Otherwise you would have had no reason to suspect the genuineness of it."
"Does Ben Bradford charge me with it? Just wait till I see him."
"That will be some time unless you go to Boston. Jones & Porter happened to have a vacancy, and Ben stepped into it. Your letter got him a place."
"I don't believe it," said Sam faintly.
"It's true, and it's lucky for you. If Ben had been obliged to come home he would have given you the worst licking you ever had."
Henry Porter had a fine suite of rooms in the Back Bay District of Boston. Ben spent the night with him.
"You've got a nice home," said our hero.
"Yes," said the bookkeeper. "My rooms alone cost me fifteen dollars a week."
"Without board?" ejaculated Ben.
"Yes," said the young man, smiling.
"Why, that is almost eight hundred dollars a year."
"Quite correct. I see you think me extravagant."
"I was wondering how you could afford it."
"Your surprise is natural. If I only depended on my salary, I certainly should not hire such expensive apartments. But a good aunt left me twenty thousand dollars, two years since, and this being well invested yields me about fourteen hundred dollars a year."
"I wonder you don't go into business."
"I have thought of it, but doubt whether I should manage a business of my own judiciously. If not, I should run the risk of losing all my money. I like keeping books for my uncle, and he pays me a good salary. With this and the income from my property I can live as well as I wish without incurring any risk at all."
"I don't know but that is best," said Ben.
"Now let me speak of your own plans, Ben. Your income is six dollars a week."
"Yes, sir."
"You must regulate your expenses accordingly."
"I want to do so, Mr. Porter. How much board shall I have to pay?" asked Ben anxiously.
"I cannot tell without inquiring. There is a boarding-house on Warren Avenue, kept by a worthy lady of my acquaintance. How much do you fell able to pay?"
"I should like to have enough over to buy my clothes."
"We will see if we can manage it Get your hat and we will go to the boarding-house now."
It was a three-story brick house, such as is common in Boston. It was unusually neat for a boarding-house of medium grade, Mrs. Draper being an excellent housekeeper, with a horror of dirt.
"How do you do, Mr. Porter?" was the landlady's greeting. Mr. Porter had once boarded with her.
"Very well, thank you, Mrs. Draper. How is business? Pretty full, eh?"
"Yes, sir; I've only got one small room vacant."
"May we see it?"
"It won't suit you, Mr. Porter."
"It may suit my young friend here."
"A relative of yours?" inquired Mrs. Draper.
"No, but he is a young friend in whom I feel an interest."
"I shall be very glad if the room suits him, then."
Mrs. Draper led the way up-stairs to the vacant room. It was small, but neatly carpeted, and provided all that was needful in a chamber.
"How much do you like it, Ben?" asked the bookkeeper.
"Very much," said Ben, in a tone of satisfaction.
Mr. Porter walked to the other end of the room and discussed terms with Mrs. Draper in a low tone.
"What is your price for this room with board?"
"I have generally got six dollars a week."
"I want you to let my young friend have it for four."
"I really couldn't do it, Mr. Porter. You have no idea how much I have to pay at the market for meat and vegetables. Then my landlord won't reduce my rent."
"You don't understand me, Mrs. Draper," said the bookkeeper. "You are to charge him only four dollars; but I propose to make up the difference."
"That is, of course, satisfactory."
"One thing more. My young friend is not to know about this arrangement. He is to suppose that four dollars a week is payment in full."
"There is only one objection to that, Mr. Porter. If my other boarders suppose that is all he pays, they will make a fuss, and want their rate of board reduced."
"Then he shall be cautioned to keep the price he pays secret. Ben!"
Ben walked over to where they were standing.
"Mrs. Draper agrees to take you at the very low price of four dollars a week for room and board."
Ben looked delighted.
"Then I shall have money enough from my wages to pay all my expenses without calling on Aunt Jane."
"Yes, if you are economical. As this price is extremely low, you are not to mention to any of the other boarders how much you pay."
"I will be sure to remember it," said Ben.
As they were leaving the house Mr. Porter said: "Don't suppose, Ben, that I am anxious to get rid of you. I had half a mind to keep you with me a week or two. But one thing deterred me. You are a poor boy, and have your own way to make in the world. You can't for years afford to live as I am doing. If I accustomed you to living expensively it would be harder for you to accommodate yourself to your means."
"I understand you, Mr. Porter, and thank you. I consider you a true friend," said Ben earnestly.
"I see you are a sensible boy, Ben. You are right in looking upon me as a friend. I hope you will come and call upon me often."
"Thank you, sir. I shall consider it a privilege to do so. And I hope you will give me any advice that you think will benefit me."
"I will, Ben, and I will begin now. We have a large public library in Boston, of which we are very proud. I advise you to draw books from it."
"I shall be glad to," said Ben eagerly.
"Come round, and I will show it to you."
Together they entered the handsome building on Copley Square. Ben, who had never seen a large library, or, indeed, any library containing over a thousand books, was amazed at what he saw.
"I didn't suppose there was any library in the world so large," he said.
"Here is the newspaper and magazine room. You can come in here any evening. It will be much better than to spend your time where many boys and young men do—in billiard and drinking saloons."
"I shall enjoy living in Boston very much."
"I think you will. While a large city has more temptations than a small town, it also has more opportunities for improvement. I hope, Ben, you will start right, and prepare the way for a useful manhood."
"Thank you, Mr. Porter. I mean to try."
The next day Ben took formal possession of his room in the boarding-house on Warren Avenue. He found a pleasant class of boarders there and a good table. Though not luxurious, it was better than he had been used to at home, and he felt himself fortunately placed.
The more Sam Archer thought of the effect of his letter upon Ben's fortunes the more he felt provoked.
"I wish I hadn't sent him to Jones & Porter," thought he. "I hope he won't suit them."
When a fortnight had passed Sam managed to meet James Watson.
"Have you heard from Ben Bradford lately?"
"Yes," said James.
"What does he write?"
"That he likes his place very much. The bookkeeper is very kind to him, and assists him with advice. Then he likes being in a bookstore."
Sam was not overjoyed at the news.
"How kind you are to take such an interest in Ben!"
"I don't take an interest in him," returned Sam.
"Then what makes you ask after him so particularly?"
"I expected he'd be discharged by this time."
"What made you think so?"
"He didn't give satisfaction at the mill. He was discharged."
"So was I."
"But not for the same reasons," said Sam. "It was because times were dull."
"I rather think Ben's work was satisfactory enough, but you influenced your father against him."
"How much pay does he get?" inquired Sam.
"More than he received at the mill."
"I wonder whether all this is true," considered Sam. "James Watson is Ben's friend and he may represent things better than they are."
An excellent plan suggested itself to Sam. He would ask his father's permission to go to Boston and pass a day or two with his friend, Frank Ferguson. This would allow him to drop into Jones & Porter's store and judge for himself how Ben was situated.
Sam had no trouble about obtaining permission.
On reaching the city he decided to call at the store before going to his friend's residence.
Ben was dusting books, when a glance toward the door revealed the entrance of Sam. The latter had cherished a faint hope that James had deceived him, and that Ben was really not employed.
"How shall I receive him?" Ben asked himself.
He decided to treat him coolly, but not to quarrel.
"Good morning, Bradford," said Sam.
"Good morning, Archer," was the return greeting.
Sam didn't quite like this familiarity.
"How do you like working here?"
"Very much," answered Ben. "Much better than in the mill," he added significantly.
"I shouldn't think they'd have taken a green country boy," suggested Sam pleasantly.
"Perhaps they wouldn't if a friend hadn't written for me," said Ben with a meaning glance at Sam.
"How much pay do you get?"
"I would rather not say."
"Because it is so small," said Sam, with a sneer.
"On the contrary, I look upon it as liberal. I am doing better than if I had remained at Milltown."
This was bad news for Sam.
"I am really obliged to the person who wrote the letter which secured me the position," Ben added.
"It isn't much of a business to dust books."
"I sell books sometimes," said Ben, smiling. "Can I show you something this morning."
"No, I don't want anything. Where do you live?"
"I board on Warren Avenue."
"In a cheap boarding-house?"
"There are some very nice people who board there."
Sam came to a sudden decision. Would it be possible to induce Ben to give up his place, and enter the mill again? He could be discharged after awhile, and cast adrift. It was rather foolish to suppose that Ben would snap at such a bait, but he decided to try it.
"I think you would be better off in the mill," he said.
"You could board at home, and help your aunt. You would soon be promoted, too."
"I thought you didn't want me to enter the mill," exclaimed Ben, amazed. "Your father told me that my record was not good;" and Ben looked indignant.
"Father was feeling out of sorts," said Sam smoothly.
"He will take you on if you'll come back."
"What does the fellow mean?" thought Ben.
It didn't take him long to guess. If he should return to the mill he would be once more in Sam's power.
"You really think your father would employ me?"
"Yes, he would if I asked him to."
"I would thank you, Sam Archer, if I thought your offer was a friendly one."
"What makes you think that it isn't."
"The feeling which I have reason to think you entertain for me, and your conduct in the past."
"You are too suspicious, Ben."
"If I find I am, I will apologize to you. It would be foolish for me to give up so good a position in order to accept a poor one, which is not all permanent."
"Well, Bradford, I must bid you good morning. Just write to me if you decide to accept."
"If I decide to accept I will."
"He's getting very impudent," said Sam to himself, "If I could only get him into the mill I could fix him. We'd let him stay two or three weeks, and then ship him. But he won't do it. Stay, I think of a way."
What the way was may be conjectured from a letter which Ben received three days later from his Aunt Jane:
"My Dear Nephew: I am feeling almost heart-broken. It is reported by one who saw you lately that you are looking very dissipated. I was afraid the temptations of the city were too much for you. You are too young to go away from home. I won't blame you too much, for I feel that you are weak rather than wicked. But I shall not feel comfortable till you are at home again. Don't hesitate to give up your place. I am assured that they will take you on again at the mill, and it will be much better for you to be at home with us, till you are older, and better able to resist temptation.
"Your anxious aunt, "Jane Bradford"
Ben read this letter in amazed indignation.
"Sam is at the bottom of this," he concluded. "It is he that has reported that I look dissipated. He wants to deprive me of my place, and get me into the mill, where I shall be in his power. I can't forgive him for frightening my poor aunt. If I were at home, I should certainly punish him as he deserves."
Ben took the letter to his friend, the bookkeeper.
"What do you think of that?" he asked.
"This letter was written at an enemy's instigation."
"You are right, Mr. Porter."
Then Ben told his friend of Sam's call.
"Will you do me a favor, Mr. Porter?" he asked.
"Certainly I will, Ben."
"Then, will you write to my aunt, and assure her that my habits are good, and that her informant has willfully lied? It will relieve her anxiety."
"With pleasure."
The next day Mrs. Bradford received a letter, very enthusiastic in its tone, which completely exonerated our hero from the charges brought against him.
"Your nephew," it concluded, "bids fair to become one of our best clerks. He is polite, faithful, and continually trying to improve. You need have no apprehension about him. It would be very foolish for him to resign his situation."
The same mail that carried the bookkeeper's letter to Mrs. Bradford also carried a letter from Ben to Sam Archer. It ran thus:
"Sam Archer: You might be in better business than telling lies about me to my aunt. If you think I look dissipated your eyes deceive you, and I advise you to wear glasses the next time you come to Boston. If you choose to come to the store, it is none of my business; but you need not take the trouble in order to see me.
I quite understand your anxiety to get me back into the mill. There was a time when I should have been glad of a place there; but now I have a place that suits me better, and don't care to change. "Benjamin Bradford"
When Sam received this letter, he looked and felt provoked. Somehow or other Ben was always getting the better of him. He wanted to injure him, but there seemed no way. Suddenly it occurred to Sam that he might prejudice Jones & Porter against our hero.
He sat down at once and wrote them an anonymous letter, of which this is a copy:
"Messrs. Jones & Porter: I hear that you have taken into your employment a boy named Benjamin Bradford from this town. You probably are not aware that he has a very bad reputation here. He was employed in the mill for a time, but was discharged because he was idle and lazy. He keeps bad company, and none of the respectable boys here cared to associate with him. I don't like to see an honorable firm imposed upon, and that is why I warn you of the character of your new clerk, though I have no personal interest in the matter.
"A Friend"
The next day Ben was summoned to the countingroom.
"Ben," said Mr. Porter, "have you any enemy in Milltown?"
"Yes, sir."
"We have just received a letter warning us against you, as unworthy of our confidence."
Mr. Porter smiled, or Ben might have felt uncomfortable.
"May I see the letter?" he asked.
The letter was placed in his hands.
"It is Sam Archer's handwriting," he said, looking up. "I hope, sir, you won't let it prejudice you against me."
"I would not allow myself to be influenced by an anonymous letter. It is a stab in the dark."
"I want to show you how inconsistent Sam is," said Ben. "He was here a few days ago, and urged me to give up my place here, and take one in the mill."
"That is rather strange, if he is your enemy."
"No, sir; he don't like it because I have a good place here. If I should go into the mill I should probably be discharged in a week or two, and cast adrift."
"Are any boys as malicious as that?"
"Not many, sir, I hope; but Sam is an exception."
"I sympathize with you in your persecution, Ben; but I can assure you that no anonymous letters will change my opinion of you. If this enemy sends another letter, I shall feel tempted to increase your wages."
"Then I hope he'll write again," said Ben, laughing.
"If we continue satisfied with you, we shall probably advance you on the first of January."
"Thank you, sir," said Ben warmly. "May I answer this letter, sir?"
"You may say that we have shown it to you, and that we despise such malicious attempts to injure."
The next day Sam received a letter from Ben, which concluded:
"If you write another similar letter to my employers, you will be doing me quite a service. It will probably cause them to raise my salary. As I owe my place to you, you now have it in your power to increase the obligation. How bad you must feel, Sam, at your inability to do me harm! I can't say I exactly sympathize with you, but I certainly pity you for harboring such malice in your heart. I don't know how to express my gratitude for all of your kindness. If ever you want a situation in Boston let me know. There is a peanut woman on the Common who wants a smart, active salesman.
"Ben Bradford"
Sam was stung by the cool indifference and contempt which appeared in this letter. Ben did not take the trouble to be angry. He evidently despised his enmity, and defied him. Sam felt that he hated Ben worse.
"What's that letter you are scowling over, Sam?" asked James Watson.
"It's a letter from a miserable puppy," hissed Sam.
"Is it? Do you correspond with miserable puppies?"
"I can't help their writing to me. If you want to know who it is, it's your friend, Ben Bradford."
"How long have you corresponded?" asked James.
"I wouldn't lower myself by writing to him," said Sam wrathfully. "I'll show you what I think of his letter."
As he spoke, he tore the letter to pieces.
"You're a strange boy, Sam," said James.
"Why am I?"
"Haven't you been working hard to get Ben back to Milltown?"
"I wish he'd come back."
"And yet you can't bear the sight of him."
"I hate him worse than any fellow I know."
"Come, now, Sam, just listen to a little advice. If you had always treated Ben right you would like him as well as I do. Why should you cherish malice against him? He has good qualities, and so have you, if you'd only give 'em a chance to show themselves."
"That's all gammon," said Sam impatiently.
"What, about your having good qualities?"
"About my ever liking Ben Bradford. Before I'd make a friend of him, I would go without friends."
"You may think differently some time."
On the first of January Ben wrote to his aunt:
"My Dear Aunt: Congratulate me on my good luck. Mr. Porter, this morning, called me into the countingroom, and informed me that henceforth my wages would be eight dollars a week—two dollars more that I have been receiving. I owe this partly to my good luck. I am a favorite of the bookkeeper, who is Mr. Porter's nephew; otherwise, if I had been advanced at all, it would have been only one dollar a week. Don't you think it would have been rather foolish if I had come back and gone into the mill, as you wished me to?"
"After all, I think Ben did right to stay," said Aunt Jane, when she read the letter.
"I wish he'd come home," said Tony. "Then he could play with me."
Early one morning a gentleman came into Jones & Porter's bookstore, and selected some books, which he paid for. There were eighteen in all.
"Where shall we send them, sir?"
"Can you send them to the Cunard steamer at East Boston? I sail for Europe today."
"Certainly, sir. When does the steamer start?"
"At twelve o'clock. Don't fail to have them there on time, as I shall be greatly disappointed to miss them."
When the gentleman had left the store, Ben was summoned.
"Ben, do you know the Cunard Wharf in East Boston?" asked the bookkeeper.
"I can easily find it."
"Here is a package of books to be carried there."
"All right, sir," said Ben.
"They are for Mr. James Parker. If you don't find him leave them with the steward."
So Ben took the package, and made his way toward the East Boston Ferry.
On board the boat he look around him, thinking it possible that he might recognize some one of his fellow passengers. Considerably to his surprise he noticed Mr. Archer, superintendent of the factory at Milltown, whom he had not seen since the latter declined to take him on again at the mill.
"I wonder what brings Mr. Archer here?"
His surprise, however, was only momentary. There was nothing strange in the superintendent's having business at East Boston. Ben noticed, however, that Mr. Archer wore a traveling-suit, and carried a knapsack.
Ben would have liked to inquire if Squire Archer had seen his aunt lately, if they had been on friendly terms; but he was very doubtful how his advance would be received, and remained where he was.
The boat touched the pier and the passengers disembarked. Ben was two or three rods behind the squire. Our hero inquired the way to the steamer, and had no difficulty about obtaining the necessary information. To his additional surprise Squire Archer crossed the gangway only a little in advance of Ben.
"What can be the squire's business here?" thought Ben, in surprise.
Ben halted on deck, and looked around for some officer to whom he could entrust the package. At this moment Squire Archer turned and saw Ben for the first time. He started and changed color, as Ben could see. For an instant he looked irresolute. Then he approached Ben, and said roughly: "What brings you here?"
"I am here on business," answered Ben.
"On business! What business?"
"I have a package of books for one of the passengers."
"Oh, I see," said the mill superintendent, seeming to be relieved. "You are working in a bookstore."
"Yes, sir."
"What firm is it?"
"Jones & Porter."
"Oh, yes, I know. I have often been in their store. How do you like your place?"
Squire Archer's tone was quite genial and friendly, though there was an uneasy expression on his face.
"Very well, sir."
"If you ever get out of a place, come to me."
"I thought you said my record was not good."
"So I did," said the superintendent; "but I was mistaken. I was thinking of another boy at the time."
"I am glad to hear it, sir," he answered. "I felt disturbed about it at the time."
"Of course. I believe you and Sam had a little difference."
"Yes, sir; but I don't think I was to blame."
"I don't care to inquire into that. You and Sam will laugh over it when you become a little older."
Squire Archer had never seemed so kind and pleasant. Ben began to think he had misjudged him.
"I would like to be friends with Sam," he said. "I shall be ready to meet him half-way."
"I will tell him so to-night," said the superintendent.
"By the way, I suppose you are rather surprised to see me here. You didn't think I was going to Europe?"
"No, sir, I didn't think that. I suppose you couldn't be spared at the mill."
"Quite true, my boy. I can't be spared for so long. I wish I could. I have long wanted to make a European tour; but I am tied down at home by business. However, that doesn't explain why I am here."
"Don't tell me, sir, unless you like. It is none of my business."
"To be sure. In fact, there is a little secret about it; but I don't mind telling you."
Ben felt more and more surprised. Was this the proud Squire Archer, who carried his head so high?
"If there is a secret about it, perhaps you had better not tell me," said Ben.
"Oh, I am quite willing to tell you; but you must not say anything about it till after the steamer has sailed. The fact is, a man, who owes the mill a large sum of money, it is suspected has taken passage on board this steamer, with the intention of going to Europe and evading the payment of his debt. I can't tell you his name, as that might interfere with my plans. I am here to intercept him, and prevent his departure."
"I hope you will succeed, Squire Archer," said Ben.
"Thank you, Ben. You see, therefore, that it is essential for me to keep my presence here secret till the steamer sails. I will go down-stairs now and watch."
Ben delivered his parcel, left the steamer, and did not mention that he had met any one whom he knew. He felt bound to respect Squire Archer's secret.
In the afternoon he was walking up Washington Street with the bookkeeper, when the latter bought the Evening Transcript. He glanced at the first page and then turned to Ben.
"Do you know Archer living in Milltown?"
"Certainly; he is the superintendent of the mill there."
"Well, here is a paragraph about him. It seems he has left the town, with fifty thousand dollars belonging to the corporation. His flight has made a great sensation. The police are on his track, and it is thought that he will be arrested and brought back."
"I saw Squire Archer this morning, on the Cunard steamer. He told me not to mention having seen him till after the steamer had started."
"Is it possible?" exclaimed young Porter.
"Yes; he said he was looking out for a man who owed money to the mill, whom he suspected of taking secret passage for Europe."
Mr. Archer's flight made a great commotion in Milltown. No one entertained a suspicion of his integrity. He had been appropriating the funds of the corporation to his own use, being treasurer as well as superintendent. When exposure was inevitable he fled.
To Sam and his mother, it was a great blow, not only on account of the disgrace, but also because it involved poverty and a narrow style of living. To persons of their pretensions this was heavy to bear. They were not altogether penniless. Mrs. Archer had property of her own, to the amount of four thousand dollars, which was unimpaired. But, even at a liberal rate of interest, this would not support them. Sam remained in the house, dispirited and resentful against the father who had brought this upon him, till he got tired of confinement and walked out. He hoped to meet no one whom he knew, but at the corner of the street he fell in with James Watson.
"He is one of Ben Bradford's friends. He will rejoice at what has happened," thought Sam. But James stopped him, and said in a friendly tone: "Are you out for a walk, Sam? Let us walk together?"
"I didn't know as you'd care to walk with me."
"You don't think I rejoice over your misfortune?"
"I didn't know but you might. You are a friend of Ben Bradford."
"He will be very sorry. He won't think of any little difference there has been between you."
"I don't believe that," said Sam, shaking his head.
"You will, as soon as you see him. You mustn't lose courage, Sam. I know it's bad for you, but——"
"I don't know what's going to become of us," said Sam despondently. "We shall be poor."
"That isn't the worst thing that can happen to you."
"Father has treated us very badly."
"He has done wrong; but he is your father. Remember, Sam, I am your friend, and if I can do anything for you I will."
"Thank you, James," he said. "You are a good fellow—much better than I thought. I supposed you would be glad I was down in the world."
Same was to be still more surprised. The next day he received the following letter from Ben Bradford:
"Dear Sam: I am very sorry to hear of your misfortune. Of course, no one can blame you or your mother. I believe I was the last acquaintance to see your father before he left Boston. I had occasion to go on board the Cunard steamer which sailed on Wednesday. On the dock I met your father, and had a little conversation with him. He did not tell me that he was going to Europe; but he was in a traveling-dress and, no doubt, he was.
"What has happened will, no doubt, make some difference in your plans. If you wish to get a situation in Boston, I may be able to help you to one. At the beginning of next month there will be an opening for a boy in an establishment on Milk Street. The wages will not exceed five dollars a week; but it would be difficult for a beginner to do better. If you wish, I will try to get this place for you. At any rate, I hope you will regard me as a friend who wishes you well. The little quarrel there has been between us is not worth remembering.
"Your sincere friend, "Benjamin Bradford."
To say that Sam was surprised to receive this cordial letter from a boy whom he had so persistently tried to injure will hardly express his feelings. He was overwhelmed with astonishment, mingled with shame.
"Ben is a great deal better than I am," he was forced to admit. "I don't deserve such a kindness from him."
He showed Ben's letter to his mother.
"I think I had better ask Ben to get me the place. We must not be too proud."
"We have no right to be proud now. We shall have scarcely enough to support us in the humblest manner."
"My wages will help. I shall get five dollars a week. That will be two hundred and sixty dollars a year."
Even Mrs. Archer was surprised at the change in Sam.
"Do you think you will be willing to work?"
"Of course I shall; that is, if I can work in Boston. I don't want to stay here."
"Nor I," said Mrs. Archer.
"Suppose we both go to Boston, then."
"I am afraid our income won't be sufficient."
"For two or three years you can spend some of your principal, mother. By that time I shall be getting higher wages, and it may not be necessary."
"I didn't expect that you would take it so, Sam."
Ben received the following answer to his letter.
"Dear Ben: I thank you for your kind letter. I feel very much ashamed of the way I have treated you in the past. I didn't know what a good fellow you were. I am afraid I shouldn't have behaved as well in your place. As to your offer, I accept it thankfully. I shall be very glad to get the place you speak of. Mother and I intend to move to Boston, as it is no longer agreeable to stay here. Do you know of any boarding-house where the prices are reasonable, for we cannot afford to pay high rates? If you do, please find out on what terms we can be accommodated, and let me know."
Ben was pleased.
"Sam has improved," he thought.
By the first of the month Sam and his mother were established in a boarding-house on Warren Avenue and Sam had entered upon his duties in Milk Street.