But he did not reckon for the bootblack. The latter advanced to meet the professor, and managed to stumble in front of him so that Puffer, whose legs were short, fell over him, striking forcibly on his face. Meanwhile Bernard was hurrying away.

Professor Puffer got up in a furious rage.

“What are you running over me for?” he demanded, shaking his fist at the bootblack.

The latter began to rub his knees vigorously.

“What are you runnin’ over me for?” he demanded in an injured tone.

Professor Puffer eyed him suspiciously. He hardly knew whether the encounter was premeditated or not, “Did you see a boy rather taller than you dressed in a dark suit? I think you have been blacking his shoes.”

“Yes, I did, and he run away without payin’ me. Is he your boy?”

“Yes. Where did he go?”

“I dunno. You ran over me so that I couldn’t see. Will you pay for the shine?”

“No; he must pay for it himself. But I’ll give you a sixpence if you’ll find him for me.”

“All right! Give me the money.”

“Not now. I’ll wait till you find him for me.”

“I don’t do business in that way, mister.”

“I believe you’re in league with him,” said the professor suspiciously.

“I dunno what that means,” returned the boy innocently. “Don’t you try your long words on me. If he was your boy, what made him run away from you?”

“Because he is a bad lot. He won’t obey me.”

“Ain’t he bad, though?” said the bootblack virtuously. “And you look like such a kind old man, too. He’d ought to be flogged, that he had.”

“I am not so very old,” said the professor quickly; for, like a good many others, he didn’t care to be considered aged.

“That so! You don’t look more’n sixty.”

“I am not near that,” said Puffer. “But that is of no importance. If you’ll help me you will find it for your advantage.”

“I’ll try. S’pose I do find him, where will I find you?”

The professor took out a card and wrote his address on it.

“I’ll tell you what to do,” he said. “If you find Bernard – ”

“Is that his name?”

“Yes. Bernard Brooks. If you see him, find out where he lives and come and tell me.”

“What will you do to him, if you catch him?” asked the bootblack, with curiosity.

“Never you mind! I will take him back into my charge. I may send him to a boarding-school.”

“I wish some kind gentleman would send me to a boardin’-school,” said the bootblack, with an angelic expression. “Say, mister, won’t you adopt me?”

“I cannot afford it. Besides, I have trouble enough with the boy I have; but I can’t stand waiting here. You are sure you didn’t see where the boy went?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Somehow that boy continually eludes me,” muttered Puffer, as he walked disappointed away. “I begin to hate him.”

Meanwhile Bernard had not gone very far. He had darted into a narrow street, and, himself screened from observation, watched the interview between the professor and the bootblack. Though he could not hear what was said, he judged that his street friend was not betraying him.

“He has an honest face, though a dirty one,” he reflected. “He has earned the money I promised him.”

When Professor Puffer had disappeared from the scene he crossed to where the bootblack was standing.

“Well,” he said, “so he’s gone.”

“Yes.”

“You had quite a talk with him.”

“Yes. I fooled the old man. He’s goin’ to give me sixpence for lettin’ him know where you live.”

Bernard laughed.

“You can tell him any place you like,” he said.

“Then I’ll tell him you’re boardin’ with Queen Victoria at Buckingham Palace.”

“I don’t think he’ll give you sixpence for that.”

“I don’t want any of his money,” said the bootblack contemptuously. “He’s no good.”

“What did he say about me?”

“He says you’re a bad lot.”

“I’ve heard that before. I’d a good deal rather have you for a friend than him.”

“Would you?” asked the bootblack, with an expression of gratification. “What is your name?”

“Dick Sprowl.”

“Then, Dick, there’s my hand.”

“My hand is dirty. You’d better not take it.”

“I don’t care whether your hand is dirty or not. Your heart is all right. There’s the shilling I promised you.”

“You’re a gentleman,” said the bootblack. “Say, you needn’t give me any money as long as you’re my friend.”

“Yes, Dick, take the money, and my friendship, too.”

Bernard returned to the Arundel Hotel in time for dinner.

He met Miss Minerva Smith on the doorstep, waiting for the door to open.

“Well, Bernard,” she said pleasantly, “has anything happened?”

“Yes; I fell in with Professor Puffer.”

“Where?”

“On the Strand.”

“Was the interview a pleasant one?”

Bernard laughed.

“To tell the truth, I didn’t wait to see him.”

Then he told of the professor’s approach, and of his escape by the help of the bootblack.

“You seem to have been fortunate. Have you heard of any position?”

“No,” answered Bernard, shaking his head. “I am not so lucky as that. I am beginning to feel a little anxious. I am not sure but I ought to find a cheaper boarding place.”

“I don’t think you could – that is, a satisfactory one. Perhaps it may not be necessary. In looking over a morning paper I saw an advertisement which might possibly prove of advantage to you.”

“Let me see it!” said Bernard eagerly.

“I will show it to you after dinner.”

“That may be too late.”

“No; the applicant was to call between three and four this afternoon.”

After dinner Miss Smith produced the paper, and called Bernard’s attention to this advertisement.

WANTED – By a young man about to make a voyage for his health, a pleasant traveling companion. Apply, between three and four o’clock this afternoon at Morley’s Hotel, Trafalgar Square.

Walter Cunningham.

“How would that suit you, Bernard?” asked Miss Smith.

“Very well indeed.”

“Then you are not afraid of seasickness?”

“No; in my voyage across the Atlantic I had no trouble in that way. Do you think I shall have any chance of success?”

“I think your appearance would recommend you. The chief obstacle would be your youth. If you were as old as I am – ” and she smiled and paused.

“Can’t you lend me a few years, Miss Smith,” asked Bernard.

“I should be only too glad to do so,” replied the schoolmistress; “but I am afraid that is not practicable.”

“Perhaps I should be expected to bear my own expenses,” suggested Bernard. “Of course, that would be out of the question.”

“That is hardly likely. At any rate, you will soon learn all the particulars.”

“Where is Trafalgar Square?”

“Not much over a mile distant. You might take a hansom.”

“I think I will. Otherwise I might fall in with Professor Puffer again, and even if I escaped from him, the delay might prove fatal.”

“Very true. Fortunately, the expense will be trifling.”

Bernard went up to his room and put on a clean collar. He brushed his hair carefully also. His shoes were all right, thanks to his young street friend, Dick Sprowl.

Then he went to the Strand and hailed a hansom.

“I want to go to Morley’s Hotel, Trafalgar Square,” he said. “Do you know where it is?”

“Yes, sir,” answered cabby, with a pitying smile. “I’ll have you there in a jiffy.”

In about fifteen minutes the cab drew up in front of a plain hotel, and the driver assisted Bernard to descend.

Bernard satisfied himself that this was Morley’s Hotel, and dismissing the cab driver he advanced to the entrance. The result of his application would be so important to him that he could not help feeling nervous.

CHAPTER XXIII. AN APARTMENT AT MORLEY’S HOTEL

Bernard was shown up-stairs to an apartment on the second floor. He was ushered into an anteroom, where four persons were already sitting. These Bernard inferred were applicants for the post of traveling companion.

When he entered, the others regarded him with interest, and, as it seemed, with amusement. His youth made it seem ridiculous in their eyes for him to aspire to the position advertised.

Bernard, too, was interested in taking stock of his competitors.

One was a tall young man, of about thirty-five, dressed in a tightly fitting suit, the coat buttoned up to the throat. Whatever his qualifications might be, he looked stiff and uncompanionable.

His next neighbor was considerably shorter, quite smartly dressed, and his face wore a self-satisfied smirk, as if he had a remarkably good opinion of himself. Another was a man of at least forty, with a middle-aged look, and an air of discouragement about him.

The fourth was an awkward looking young man, not over twenty-one, who seemed bashful and ill at ease. He was just from the university, where he had not quite completed the full course, and, whatever his scholarship might be, looked inexperienced and unpractical.

A man servant appeared, and looking about him doubtfully, signaled to the first mentioned applicant to follow him. While he was closeted with the advertiser, the others were expectant and ill at ease. They feared that choice would be made of the first applicant.

At the end of ten minutes he reappeared in the anteroom. All eyes were turned upon him.

“Are you engaged?” asked applicant No. 2.

The tall young man answered complacently, “Not yet, but I probably shall be. Mr. Cunningham will communicate with me.”

He left the room, and No. 2 followed the servant into the advertiser’s presence. He reappeared at the end of five minutes.

“Well?” asked the man of middle age anxiously.

“I think it will be me,” was the reply. “Mr. Cunningham was very social and agreeable. Between ourselves, there isn’t the slightest chance of the other man being taken. He flattered himself too much.”

“Is he going to write to you?”

“Yes. I told him that the first man fully expected the appointment, but he only laughed. I understood what that meant.”

So No. 2 departed and No. 3 was invited into the advertiser’s presence.

He, too, came back at the end of from five to ten minutes, but he did not look as confident as the two who preceded him.

“Are you chosen?” asked the university man eagerly.

“No, and I don’t think I shall be. Mr. Cunningham evidently regarded me as too old. He is himself a young man. I don’t think he is over twenty-three or twenty-four.”

The college man brightened up. This seemed favorable to his chances. As he argued, Cunningham would naturally prefer a person somewhere near his own age.

At a signal, from the servant he entered the presence of Walter Cunningham, his face flushing with nervous embarrassment.

Soon he, too, came out, and there was but one applicant left – Bernard – to greet him. He, too, had been of opinion that the college man would be accepted.

“Am I to congratulate you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” answered the university man.

“Mr. Cunningham was very kind and friendly. He has reserved his decision, and tells me that if I am selected I will hear from him in two days.”

“Follow me, young man,” said the servant, signaling to Bernard.

Bernard found himself almost immediately in the presence of Walter Cunningham. The advertiser was a pleasant looking young man, whose appearance attracted Bernard. He looked rather surprised at Bernard’s youth.

“Have you come in answer to my advertisement?” he asked.

“I have,” replied Bernard. “I can see that you think me very young.”

“Well, certainly you are not very old,” returned Cunningham, smiling pleasantly. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“And I am twenty-three.”

“It is rather presumptuous in me to answer your advertisement, but there was no limitation of age.”

“True. You were quite justified in applying. You are not English?”

“No; I am an American.”

“So I judged. I know something of America. Two years since I spent six months in the States. I have seen most of your large cities, from New York to San Francisco.”

“I am sorry to say that my traveling has been very limited.”

“And you really have no special qualifications for the position of a traveling companion?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you acquainted with any of the modern languages?”

“I can read French pretty easily.”

Mr. Cunningham looked pleased.

“That will be a help,” he said. “Do you speak it at all?”

“Just a little. I wrote French exercises, and had a few lessons in French conversation. Of course, I have very small claim to the place, but it is quite important for me to find employment, and an American lady – a teacher – suggested to me to apply.”

“Then your means are limited? Have you parents?”

“No, sir; I am quite alone in the world.”

“How did you chance to come to England?”

“It might take me some time to answer that question.”

“Never mind! I have plenty of time at my command.”

Thus invited, Bernard made a full statement of his position, and the circumstances which led to his leaving America. He also explained why he had left Professor Puffer.

“I am very much interested in your narrative,” said Cunningham. “You are certainly placed in a difficult position. You have reason to think that your guardian is no friend of yours?”

“I am certain of that, sir.”

“This Professor Puffer, though it is doubtful if he has any rightful claim to the title, appears to be a bad lot.”

“That’s what he calls me,” said Bernard, laughing. He already felt on very cordial terms with Mr. Cunningham.

“I may be foolish,” went on Cunningham, after a pause. “I don’t know what my friends will say, but I feel very much inclined to engage you.”

“I hope you will. It is not only that I need employment. I am sure I should enjoy being with you.”

“That settles it,” said Cunningham. “I already like you, and if you like me I am sure it will be pleasant for us to be associated. To be sure, you don’t know much about traveling. I do, and can supply your deficiencies. Now I will tell you why I seek a companion. Partly because it is agreeable, but partly also because I am not robust and am likely – that is, there is a chance of being sick – and in that case I should need a friend with me. I think I want a friend more than a companion. That was one reason why I didn’t feel favorably inclined to the other applicants.”

“No doubt they were better qualified than I am.”

“Yes, they were. The first one has considerable experience in traveling and speaks two or three of the Continental languages, but I never could make a friend of him.”

“He seemed very stiff and unsocial.”

“That was my judgment of him. As to the second, he was entirely too well satisfied with himself. I have no doubt he would try to make himself agreeable, and he has traveled some.”

“He seemed to think there was every chance of his obtaining the position. No one thought I had any chance.”

“You wouldn’t have with most persons, but I happen to like you,” said Walter Cunningham frankly.

“I am glad of that. I thought the young man who went in last might be successful. The middle-aged man didn’t have strong hopes.”

“No, he is too old, and seems to have had such a rough time in life that he would be far from a cheerful companion. He seems very hard up. When I write him my refusal I shall send him a five pound note to relieve his feeling of disappointment.”

“That will be very kind in you. I would do the same in your place.”

“I think we are alike in being considerate of others. As to the young man, he doesn’t seem to be practical. I am afraid that I should be a companion to him rather than he to me.”

“It may be so with me, but I shall try to make myself useful.”

“You look bright, and would, I think, learn rapidly to do all I expect of you.”

At this moment the man servant came in and handed a card to Mr. Cunningham, who uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“Whose card do you think this is?” he asked.

“I couldn’t guess.”

“It bears the name of Professor Ezra Puffer, your friend.”

“Don’t call him my friend! What can bring him here?”

“He wants to be my traveling companion.”

CHAPTER XXIV. PROFESSOR PUFFER FROM HIS OWN POINT OF VIEW

Shall you see him, Mr. Cunningham?” asked Bernard.

“Yes; I have engaged you, to be sure, but after what you have told me of the professor, I am curious to interview him.”

“I shouldn’t like to have him see me. He might try to get me into his power.”

“Wouldn’t you like to be present and hear what he has to say?”

“Yes, if I could do so unobserved.”

“You can. There is an alcove curtained off from the main room. Go in there, and you can hear every word that passes between us.”

“Thank you, I shall like it very much.”

“You may tell the gentleman to come in,” said Walter Cunningham, addressing his servant.

The latter reappeared, followed by Professor Puffer, who bowed low to the young man from whom he sought a position.

“Professor Puffer?” said Cunningham inquiringly.

“I have that honor,” said Puffer. “I called about your advertisement for a traveling companion.”

“Do you know of any one whom you can recommend?”

“I would be glad to accept the position myself. What salary do you propose to give?”

“That will be a matter of negotiation after I have made my selection.”

“I only wanted to make sure that it would be worth my while to accept. As you may infer from my card I am a man of reputation,” and Professor Puffer swelled out his chest and assumed a look of dignity.

“I am glad to hear it. I consider it a compliment that a man of your standing should be willing to be my companion.”

“To tell the truth, Mr. Cunningham,” went on Puffer, “I was not sure till I saw you whether I should be willing, but now that I have seen you I have a strong desire to accompany you.”

“Appearances are deceitful, you know, professor.”

“I am willing to take the risk. How soon do you propose to start?”

“My dear sir, it seems to me you are going too fast. I have not yet selected you. I should like to ask you a few questions.”

“I shall have pleasure in answering, sir. Professor Puffer is always open and aboveboard.”

“That is well. May I ask where you have held the position of professor?”

“At the American University of Harvard. Doubtless you have heard of it.”

“Certainly.”

“I have also lectured at Cornell University.”

“On what subject?”

“Ahem! On antiquities.”

“Then that is your specialty?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Doubtless I should find your companionship very instructive.”

“You are kind to say so.”

“I don’t say so. I only say that from your account of yourself I should presume so. Of course I know of you only from your own statements. So you were a professor at Harvard University?”

“Yes, sir.”

“During what years?”

“I left there a year since, after serving for a term of five years.”

“That was a long period. Why did you leave, may I ask?”

“On account of my health. I labored so assiduously that it became seriously affected. My physician prescribed traveling for a year or more. My means are not large, partly because I have spent so much money on books and scientific research, and our salaries as professors were not munificent.”

“You have a large library?”

“About four hundred volumes,” answered Puffer promptly. “I think those books – many of them rare – must have cost over ten thousand dollars.”

“Where are they now?”

“I have stored them. I could not make up my mind to sell them.”

“What an old humbug!” thought Bernard, as he heard the professor’s statements in the security of the alcove.

“May I ask your age, Professor Puffer?”

Puffer hesitated, and finally answered, “I am forty-five.”

Walter Cunningham would have been surprised if he had put any confidence in the professor’s statements, as he looked at least ten years older.

“I asked because I am a young man, and though you are doubtless a man from whom I should gain instruction, I am in doubt as to whether your age would not be too great to make you a congenial companion.”

“My dear Mr. Cunningham,” said the professor with a genial smile, “I am not surprised to hear you say so. Forty-five no doubt seems very old to you, but I assure you I have a young heart and my company is prized by a great many young people. Why, only recently I was engaged as companion for a boy of sixteen.”

“Indeed! What was his name?”

“Bernard Brooks.”

“Did he seem happy in your company?”

“Yes, indeed! We were like brothers. He loved me dearly.”

Walter Cunningham had hard work to suppress a smile, and Bernard felt like choking with laughter.

“Old Puffer is a worse humbug than I supposed,” he said to himself. “How I should like to burst upon him after that big falsehood! Wouldn’t he look disconcerted!”

“Where is the boy now? I should like to see him.”

“He has left England with some friends of the family.”

“Was he sorry to part with you?”

“I don’t like to boast, but, big boy as he is, he shed tears at leaving me.”

“How was it that you gained such an ascendency over him?”

“I really can’t say. I am naturally fond of young people, and they take to me.”

“You think, then, that I should find you an agreeable companion?”

“My dear Mr. Cunningham, may I say Walter, give me a week and we should be like Damon and Pythias.”

“I suppose this boy Bernard was an attractive boy?”

“Very much so. Of course he had his faults – most boys have – but as long as he gave me his affection I was willing to overlook them.”

“That was very kind in you. I am afraid I have faults, too.”

“Very few, I am sure, Walter – excuse me, Mr. Cunningham.”

“Can you give me an idea of what you would regard as a satisfactory salary in case I engaged you?”

The professor brightened up. This looked encouraging.

“At Harvard I was paid three thousand dollars a year,” he said, “but then my duties were arduous. I instructed a large junior class, and gave lectures weekly to the seniors.”

“I hope you wouldn’t feel inclined to lecture me, professor.”

“Ha, ha! very good!” said Puffer, laughing heartily. “You will have your joke. However, I only mentioned this to explain why my salary was so large. Of course I shouldn’t expect nearly as much with you. If you paid my traveling expenses and a hundred dollars a month it would satisfy me. I am not expecting to save much in this my year of recreation.”

“I will consider your proposal. By the way, can you show me a catalogue of Harvard University with your name enrolled as professor?”

“I am really sorry, but I don’t happen to have a catalogue with me.”

“One of Cornell, where I understand you gave a course of lectures, will do.”

“I regret to say that I haven’t that either.”

“Of course I don’t doubt you, but it would be pleasant to have some confirmation of your statements.”

“My dear Mr. Cunningham, I hope you don’t doubt my word.”

“You know I have never met you before this morning. Perhaps you have some of the books you have published which you can show me.”

“I haven’t at present, but I may be able to pick one up in the London book stores.”

“Do so, and send it to me by messenger. I shall be too busy to see you for a week to come.”

“Do I understand,” asked the professor insinuatingly, “that you engage me as a traveling companion?”

“Don’t understand anything of the kind just now. Give me your address, and I will communicate with you.”.

“I am staying at the Brown Hotel, in Norfolk Street.”

“Very well, I will note it down.”

“I shall be glad to hear from you as soon as possible, as I have another position in view.”

“Very well, Professor Puffer. I won’t keep you waiting unduly.”

Professor Puffer bowed gracefully and retired. Then Bernard was called from his nook by Mr. Cunningham. He came out all smiles.

“It was as good as a play, Mr. Cunningham,” he said. “I am very glad the professor speaks so well of me. It is quite unexpected.”

“It seems you shed tears at leaving him.”

“If I did they were tears of joy.”

“I don’t know but I had better reconsider my decision and engage Professor Puffer instead of you.”

“If you really think you would like him better, Mr. Cunningham, you had better do so.”

“You are not very much afraid of it. Well, Bernard, I will tell you what I did not care to tell him. I mean to start away inside of a week, and I think you had better join me at this hotel, so that we may make preparations together.”

“I should like nothing better.”

“As to the salary – you have not inquired how much I am to pay you.”

“I am content to leave that to you.”

“Very well. The professor settled that matter. I will pay your traveling expenses and give you a hundred dollars a month.”

“But that is much more than I can earn,” said Bernard, in astonishment.

“Very probably. I give you a large salary out of friendship.”

Miss Smith, the schoolmistress, was delighted to hear of Bernard’s success. The next day he removed to Morley’s Hotel.