CHAPTER XI THE MADISON AVENUE STAGE
Ben was naturally hopeful, but he had counted more than he was aware on the chance of obtaining assistance from Absalom Peters toward paying off his mother's mortgage. As Mr. Peters was in Europe nothing could be done, and them seemed absolutely no one else to apply to. They had friends, of course, and warm ones, in Pentonville, but none that were able to help them.
"I suppose we must make up our minds to lose the house," thought Ben. "Squire Davenport is selfish and grasping, and there is little chance of turning him."
He walked westward till he reached Madison Avenue. A stage approached, being bound downtown, and, feeling tired, he got in. The fare was but five cents, and he was willing to pay it.
Some half dozen other passengers beside himself were in the stage. Opposite Ben sat a handsomely dressed, somewhat portly lady, of middle age, with a kindly expression. Next her sat a young man, attired fashionably, who had the appearance of belonging to a family of position. There were, besides, an elderly man, of clerical appearance; a nurse with a small child, a business man, intent upon the financial column of a leading paper, and a schoolboy.
Ben regarded his fellow-passengers with interest. In Pentonville he seldom saw a new face. Here all were new. Our young hero was, though be did not know it, an embryo student of human nature. He liked to observe men and women of different classes and speculate upon their probable position and traits. It so happened that his special attention was attracted to the fashionably-attired young man.
"I suppose he belongs to a rich family, and has plenty of money," thought Ben. "It must be pleasant to be born with a gold spoon in your mouth, and know that you are provided for life."
If Ben had been wiser he would have judged differently. To be born to wealth removes all the incentives to action, and checks the spirit of enterprise. A boy or man who finds himself gradually rising in the world, through his own exertions, experiences a satisfaction unknown to one whose fortune is ready-made. However, in Ben's present strait it is no wonder he regarded with envy the supposed young man of fortune.
Our hero was destined to be strangely surprised. His eyes were unusually keen, and enabled him after a while to observe some rather remarkable movements on the part of the young man. Though his eyes were looking elsewhere, Ben could see that his right hand was stealthily insinuating itself into the pocket of the richly-dressed lady at his side.
"Is it possible that he is a pickpocket?" thought Ben, in amazement.
"So nicely dressed as he is, too!"
It did not occur to Ben that he dressed well the better to avert suspicion from his real character. Besides, a man who lives at other people's expense can afford to dress well.
"What shall I do?" thought Ben, disturbed in mind. "Ought I not to warn the lady that she is in danger of losing her money?"
While he was hesitating the deed was accomplished. A pearl portemonnaie was adroitly drawn from the lady's pocket and transferred to that of the young man. It was done with incredible swiftness, but Ben's sharp eyes saw it.
The young man yawned, and, turning away from the lady, appeared to be looking out of a window at the head of the coach.
"Why, there is Jack Osborne," he said, half audibly, and, rising, pulled the strap for the driver to stop the stage.
Then was the critical moment for Ben. Was he to allow the thief to escape with the money. Ben hated to get into a disturbance, but he felt that it would be wrong and cowardly to be silent.
"Before you get out," he said, "hand that lady her pocketbook."
The face of the pickpocket changed and he darted a malignant glance at Ben.
"What do you mean, you young scoundrel?" he said.
"You have taken that lady's pocketbook," persisted Ben.
"Do you mean to insult me?"
"I saw you do it."
With a half exclamation of anger, the young man darted to the door. But he was brought to a standstill by the business man, who placed himself in his way.
"Not so fast, young man," he said resolutely.
"Out of the way!" exclaimed the thief, in a rage. "It's all a base lie. I never was so insulted in my life."
"Do you miss your pocketbook, madam?" asked the gentleman, turning to the lady who had been robbed.
"Yes," she answered. "It was in the pocket next to this man."
The thief seeing there was no hope of retaining his booty, drew it from his pocket and flung it into the lady's lap.
"Now, may I go?" he said.
There was no policeman in sight, and at a nod from the lady, the pickpocket was allowed to leave the stage.
"You ought to have had him arrested. He is a dangerous character," said the gentleman who had barred his progress.
"It would have been inconvenient for me to appear against him," said the lady. "I am willing to let him go."
"Well, there is one comfort—if he keeps on he will be hauled up sooner or later," remarked the gentleman. "Would your loss have been a heavy one?" he inquired.
"I had quite a large sum in my pocketbook, over two hundred dollars. But for my young friend opposite," she said, nodding kindly at Ben, "I should have lost it with very small chance of recovery."
"I am glad to have done you a service, madam," said Ben politely.
"I know it is rather imprudent to carry so large sum about with me," continued the lady, but I have a payment to make to a carpenter who has done work in my house, and I thought he might not find it convenient use a check."
"A lady is in more danger than a gentleman," observed the business man, "as she cannot so well hide away her pocketbook. You will need to be careful as you walk along the street."
"I think it will be best to have a neighbor whom I can trust," said the lady. "Would you mind taking this seat at my side?" she continued, addressing Ben.
"I will change with pleasure," said our hero, taking the seat recently vacated by the pickpocket.
"You have sharp eyes, my young friend," said his new acquaintance.
"My eyes are pretty good," said Ben, with a smile.
"They have done me good service to-day. May I know to whom I am indebted for such timely help?"
"My name is Benjamin Barclay."
"Do you live in the city?"
"No, madam. I live in Pentonville, about thirty miles from New York."
"I have heard of the place. Are you proposing to live here?"
"No madam. I came in to-day on a little business of my own, and also to select some goods for a country store in which I am employed."
"You are rather young for such a commission."
"I know the sort of goods Mr. Crawford sells, so it was not very difficult to make the selection."
"At what time do you go back?"
"By the four o'clock train."
"Have you anything to do meanwhile?"
"No, madam," answered Ben, a little surprised.
"Then I should like to have you accompany me to the place where I am to settle my bill. I feel rather timid after my adventure with our late fellow-passenger."
"I shall be very happy to oblige you, madam," said Ben politely.
He had just heard a public clock strike one and he knew, therefore, that he would have plenty of time.
CHAPTER XII BEN'S LUCK
"We will get out here," said Mrs. Hamilton.
They had reached the corner of Fourth Street and Broadway.
Ben pulled the strap, and with his new friend left the stage. He offered his hand politely to assist the lady in descending.
"He is a little gentleman," thought Mrs. Hamilton, who was much pleased with our hero.
They turned from Broadway eastward, and presently crossed the Bowery also. Not far to the east of the last avenue they came to a carpenter's shop.
Mr. Plank, a middle-aged, honest-looking mechanic, looked up in surprise when Mrs. Hamilton entered the shop.
"You didn't expect a call from me?" said the lady pleasantly.
"No, ma'am. Fashionable ladies don't often find their way over here."
"Then don't look upon me as a fashionable lady. I like to attend to my business myself, and have brought you the money for your bill."
"Thank you, ma'am. You never made me wait. But I am sorry you had the trouble to come to my shop. I would have called at your house if you had sent me a postal."
"My time was not so valuable as yours, Mr. Plank. I must tell you, however, that you came near not getting your money this morning. Another person undertook to collect your bill."
"Who was it?" demanded the carpenter indignantly. "If there's anybody playing such tricks on me I will have him up before the courts."
"It was no acquaintance of yours. The person in question had no spite against you and you would only have suffered a little delay."
Then Mrs. Hamilton explained how a pickpocket had undertaken to relieve her of her wallet, and would have succeeded but for her young companion.
"Oh they're mighty sharp, ma'am, I can tell you," said the carpenter. "I never lost anything, because I don't look as if I had anything worth stealing; but if one of those rascals made up his mind to rob me, ten to one he'd do it."
Mr. Plank receipted his bill and Mrs. Hamilton paid him a hundred and eighty-seven dollars and fifty cents. Ben could not help envying him as he saw the roll of bills transferred to him.
"I hope the work was done satisfactory," said Mr. Plank. (Perfect grammar could not be expected of a man who, from the age of twelve, had been forced to earn his own living.)
"Quite so, Mr. Plank," said the lady graciously. "I shall send for you when I have any more work to be done."
There was no more business to attend to, and Mrs. Hamilton led the way out, accompanied by Ben.
"I will trouble you to see me as far as Broadway," said the lady. "I am not used to this neighborhood and prefer to have an escort."
"I didn't think this morning," said Ben to himself, "that a rich lady would select me as her escort."
On the whole, he liked it. It gave him a feeling of importance, and a sense of responsibility which a manly boy always likes.
"I shall be glad to stay with you as long as you like," said Ben.
"Thank you, Benjamin, or shall I say Ben?"
"I wish you would. I hardly know myself when I am called Benjamin."
"As we are walking alone, suppose you tell me something of yourself. I only know your name, and that you live in Pentonville. What relations have you?"
"A mother only—my father is dead."
"And you help take care of your mother, I suppose?"
"Yes; father left us nothing except the house we live in, or, at least, we could get track of no other property. He died in Chicago suddenly."
"I hope you are getting along comfortably—you and your mother," said Mrs. Hamilton kindly.
"We have our troubles," answered Ben. "We are in danger of having our house taken from us."
"How is that?"
"A rich man in our village, Squire Davenport, has a mortgage of seven hundred dollars upon it. He wants the house for a relative of his wife, and threatens to foreclose at the end of three months."
"The house must be worth a good deal more than the mortgage."
"It is worth twice as much; but if it is put up at auction I doubt if it will fetch over a thousand dollars."
"This would leave your mother but three hundred?"
"Yes," answered Ben despondingly.
"Have you thought of any way of raising the money?"
"Yes; I came up to the city to-day to see a cousin of mother's, a Mr. Absalom Peters, who lives on Lexington Avenue, and I had just come from there when I got into the stage with you."
"Won't he help you?"
"Perhaps he might if he was in the city; though mother has seen nothing of him for twenty years; but, unfortunately, he just sailed for Europe."
"That is indeed a pity. I suppose you haven't much hope now?"
"Unless Mr. Peters comes back. He is the only one we can think of to call upon."
"What sort of a man is this Squire Davenport?"
"He is a very selfish man, who thinks only of his own interests. We felt safe, because we did not suppose he would have any use for a small house like ours; but night before last he called on mother with the man he wants it for."
"He cannot foreclose just yet, can he?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.
"No; we have three months to look around."
"Three months is a long time," said the lady cheerfully. "A good deal can happen in three months. Do the best you can, and keep up hope."
"I shall try to do so."
"You have reason to do so. You may not save your house, but you have, probably, a good many years before you, and plenty of good fortune may be in store for you."
The cheerful tone in which the lady spoke some how made Ben hopeful and sanguine, at any rate, for the time being.
"In this country, the fact that you are a poor boy will not stand in the way of your success. The most eminent men of the day, in all branches of business, and in all professions, were once poor boys. I dare say, looking at me, you don't suppose I ever knew anything of poverty."
"No," said Ben.
"Yet I was the daughter of a bankrupt farmer, and my husband was clerk in a country store. I am not going to tell you how he came to the city and prospered, leaving me, at his death, rich beyond my needs. Yet that is his history and mine. Does it encourage you?
"Yes, it does," answered Ben earnestly.
"It is for that reason, perhaps, that I take an interest in country boys who are placed as my husband once was," continued Mrs. Hamilton. "But here we are at Broadway. It only remains to express my acknowledgment of your timely assistance."
"You are quite welcome," said Ben.
"I am sure of that, but I am none the less indebted. Do me the favor to accept this."
She opened her portemonnaie, and taking from it a banknote, handed it to Ben.
In surprise he looked at it, and saw that it was a twenty-dollar bill.
"Did you know this was a twenty-dollar bill?" he asked in amazement.
"Certainly," answered the lady, with a smile. "It is less than ten per cent. of the amount I would have lost but for you. I hope it will be of service to you."
"I feel rich with it," answered Ben. "How can I thank you, Mrs.
Hamilton?"
"Call on me at No. – Madison Avenue, and do it in person, when you next come to the city," said the lady, smiling. "Now, if you will kindly call that stage, I will bid you good-by—for the present."
Ben complied with her request, and joyfully resumed his walk down Broadway.
CHAPTER XIII A STARTLING EVENT
Though Ben had failed in the main object of his expedition, he returned to Pentonville in excellent spirits. He felt that he had been a favorite of fortune, and with good reason. In one day he had acquired a sum equal to five weeks' wages. Added to the dollar Mr. Crawford had contributed toward his expenses, he had been paid twenty-one dollars, while he had spent a little less than two. It is not every country boy who goes up to the great city who returns with an equal harvest. If Squire Davenport had not threatened to foreclose the mortgage, he would have felt justified in buying a present for his mother. As it was, he feared they would have need of all the money that came in to meet contingencies.
The train reached Pentonville at five o'clock, and about the usual time Ben opened the gate and walked up to the front door of his modest home. He looked so bright and cheerful when he entered her presence that Mrs. Barclay thought be must have found and been kindly received by the cousin whom he had gone up to seek.
"Did you see Mr. Peters?" she asked anxiously.
"No, mother; he is in Europe."
A shadow came over the mother's face. It was like taking from her her last hope.
"I was afraid you would not be repaid for going up to the city," she said.
"I made a pretty good day's work of it, nevertheless, mother. What do you say to this?" and he opened his wallet and showed her a roll of bills.
"Is that Mr. Crawford's money?" she asked.
"No, mother, it is mine, or rather it is yours, for I give it to you."
"Did you find a pocketbook, Ben? If so, the owner may turn up."
"Mother, the money is mine, fairly mine, for it was given me in return for a service I rendered a lady in New York."
"What service could you have possibly rendered, Ben, that merited such liberal payment?" asked his mother in surprise.
Upon this Ben explained, and Mrs. Barclay listened to his story with wonder.
"So you see, mother, I did well to go to the city," said Ben, in conclusion.
"It has turned out so, and I am thankful for your good fortune. But I should have been better pleased if you had seen Mr. Peters and found him willing to help us about the mortgage."
"So would I, mother, but this money is worth having. When supper is over I will go to the store to help out Mr. Crawford and report my purchase of goods. You know the most of our trade is in the evening."
After Ben had gone Mrs. Barclay felt her spirits return as she thought of the large addition to their little stock of money.
"One piece of good fortune may be followed by another," she thought. "Mr. Peters may return from Europe in time to help us. At any rate, we have nearly three months to look about us, and God may send us help."
When the tea dishes were washed and put away Mrs. Barclay sat down to mend a pair of Ben's socks, for in that household it was necessary to make clothing last as long as possible, when she was aroused from her work by a ringing at the bell.
She opened the door to admit Squire Davenport.
"Good-evening," she said rather coldly, for she could not feel friendly to a man who was conspiring to deprive her of her modest home and turn her out upon the sidewalk.
"Good-evening, widow," said the squire.
"Will you walk in?" asked Mrs. Barclay, not over cordially.
"Thank you, I will step in for five minutes. I called to see if you had thought better of my proposal the other evening."
"Your proposal was to take my house from me," said Mrs. Barclay. "How can you suppose I would think better of that?"
"You forget that the house is more mine than yours already, Mrs. Barclay. The sum I have advanced on mortgage is two-thirds of the value of the property."
"I dispute that, sir."
"Let it pass," said the squire, with a wave of the hand. "Call it three-fifths, if you will. Even then the property is more mine than yours. Women don't understand business, or you would see matters in a different light."
"I am a woman, it is true, but I understand very well that you wish to take advantage of me," said the widow, not without excusable bitterness.
"My good lady, you forget that I am ready to cancel the mortgage and pay you three hundred and fifty dollars for the house. Now, three hundred and fifty dollars is a handsome sum—a very handsome sum. You could put it in the savings bank and it would yield you quite a comfortable income."
"Twenty dollars, more or less," said Mrs. Barclay. "Is that what you call a comfortable income? How long do you think it would keep us alive?"
"Added, of course, to your son's wages. Ben is now able to earn good wages."
"He earns four dollars a week, and that is our main dependence."
"I congratulate you. I didn't suppose Mr. Crawford paid such high wages."
"Ben earns every cent of it."
"Very possibly. By the way, what is this that Tom was telling me about Ben being sent to New York to buy goods for the store?"
"It is true, if that is what you mean."
"Bless my soul! It is very strange of Crawford, and I may add, not very judicious."
"I suppose Mr. Crawford is the best judge of that, sir."
"Even if the boy were competent, which is not for a moment to be thought of, it is calculated to foster his self-conceit."
"Ben is not self-conceited," said Mrs. Barclay, ready to resent any slur upon her boy. "He has excellent business capacity, and if he were older I should not need to ask favors of anyone."
"You are a mother, and naturally set an exaggerated estimate upon your son's ability, which, I presume, is respectable, but probably not more. However, let that pass. I did not call to discuss Ben but to inquire whether you had not thought better of the matter we discussed the other evening."
"I never shall, Squire Davenport. When the time comes you can foreclose, if you like, but it will never be done with my consent."
"Ahem! Your consent will not be required."
"And let me tell you, Squire Davenport, if you do this wicked thing, it won't benefit you in the end."
Squire Davenport shrugged his shoulders.
"I am not at all surprised to find you so unreasonable, Mrs. Barclay," he said. "It's the way with women. I should be glad if you would come to look upon the matter in a different light; but I cannot sacrifice my own interests in any event. The law is on my side."
"The law may be on your side, but the law upholds a great deal that is oppressive and cruel."
"A curious set of laws we should have if women made them," said the squire.
"They would not bear so heavily upon the poor as they do now."
"Well, I won't stop to discuss the matter. If you come to entertain different views about the house, send word by Ben, and we will arrange the details without delay. Mr. Kirk is anxious to move his family as soon as possible, and would like to secure the house at once."
"He will have to wait three months at least," said Mrs. Barclay coldly. "For that time, I believe the law protects me."
"You are right there; but at the end of that tine you cannot expect as liberal terms as we are now prepared to offer you."
"Liberal!" repeated the widow, in a meaning tone.
"So I regard it," said the squire stiffly. "Good-evening."
An hour later Mrs. Barclay's reflections were broken in upon by the ominous clang of the engine bell. This is a sound which always excites alarm in a country village.
"Where's the fire?" she asked anxiously, of a boy who was running by the house.
"It's Crawford's store!" was the startling reply. "It's blazin' up like anything. Guess it'll have to go."
"I hope Ben'll keep out of danger," thought Mrs. Barclay, as she hurriedly took her shawl and bonnet and started for the scene of excitement.