CHAPTER XVII.
BEN FORMS A RESOLUTION.
"Does this car go up Madison Avenue?" asked Charles, after they hadtaken their seats.
"No," said Ben, "it goes up Fourth Avenue; but that's only one blockaway from Madison. We'll get out at Thirtieth Street."
"I'm glad you're with me; I might have a hard time finding the place ifI were alone."
"Are you going to stay in the city long?" asked Ben.
"Yes, I am going to school here. Father is going to move here soon.Until he comes I shall stay with my Cousin Mary."
Ben felt quite sure that this must be his older sister, but did not liketo ask.
"Is she married?"
"Yes, it is the sister of my Cousin Ben. About two years ago she marrieda New York gentleman. He is a broker, and has an office in Wall Street.I suppose he's rich."
"What's his name?" asked Ben. "Maybe I've seen his office."
"It is Abercrombie,--James Abercrombie. Did you ever hear that name?"
"No," answered Ben, "I can't say as I have. He aint the broker that doesmy business."
"Have you much business for a broker?" asked Charles, laughing.
"I do a smashin' business in Erie and New York Central," answered Ben.
"You are in the same business as the railroads," said Charles.
"How is that?"
"You are both baggage-smashers."
"That's so; only I don't charge so much for smashin' baggage as theydo."
They were on Centre Street now, and a stone building with massive stonecolumns came in view on the west side of the street.
"What building is that?" asked Charles.
"That's a hotel, where they lodge people free gratis."
Charles looked at his companion for information.
"It's the Tombs," said Ben. "It aint so popular, though, as the hotelswhere they charge higher."
"No, I suppose not. It looks gloomy enough."
"It aint very cheerful," said Ben. "I never put up there, but that'swhat people say that have enjoyed that privilege."
"Where is the Bowery?"
"We'll soon be in it. We turn off Centre Street a little farther up."
Charles was interested in all that he saw. The broad avenue which isknown as the Bowery, with its long line of shops on either side, and theliberal display of goods on the sidewalk, attracted his attention, andhe had numerous questions to ask, most of which Ben was able to answer.He had not knocked about the streets of New York six years for nothing.His business had carried him to all parts of the city, and he hadacquired a large amount of local information, a part of which heretailed now to his cousin as they rode side by side in the horse-cars.
At length they reached Thirtieth Street, and here they got out. At thedistance of one block they found Madison Avenue. Examining the numbers,they readily found the house of which they were in search. It was ahandsome four-story house, with a brown-stone front.
"This must be Mr. Abercrombie's house," said Charles. "I didn't thinkCousin Mary lived in such a nice place."
Ben surveyed the house with mingled emotions. He could not helpcontrasting his own forlorn, neglected condition with the position ofhis sister. She lived in an elegant home, enjoying, no doubt, all theadvantages which money could procure; while he, her only brother, walkedabout the streets in rags, sleeping in any out-of-the-way corner. But hecould blame no one for it. It had been his own choice, and until thismorning he had been well enough contented with it. But all at once aglimpse had been given him of what might have been his lot had he beenless influenced by pride and waywardness, and by the light of this newprospect he saw how little hope there was of achieving any decentposition in society if he remained in his present occupation. But whatcould he do? Should he declare himself at once to his cousin, and hissister? Pride would not permit him to do it. He was not willing to letthem see him in his ragged and dirty state. He determined to work andsave up money, until he could purchase a suit as handsome as that whichhis cousin wore. Then he would not be ashamed to present himself, so faras his outward appearance went. He knew very well that he was ignorant;but he must trust to the future to remedy that deficiency. It would be awork of time, as he well knew. Meanwhile he had his cousin's assurancethat he would be glad to meet him again, and renew the old, affectionateintimacy which formerly existed between them.
While these thoughts were passing through Ben's mind, as I have said,they reached the house.
"Have you had any breakfast?" asked Charles as they ascended the steps.
"Not yet," answered Ben. "It isn't fashionable to take breakfast early."
"Then you must come in. My cousin will give you some breakfast."
Ben hesitated; but finally decided to accept the invitation. He had tworeasons for this. Partly because it would give him an opportunity to seehis sister; and, secondly, because it would save him the expense ofbuying his breakfast elsewhere, and that was a consideration, now thathe had a special object for saving money.
"Is Mrs. Abercrombie at home?" asked Charles of the servant who answeredhis summons.
"Yes, sir; who shall I say is here?"
"Her cousin, Charles Montrose."
"Will you walk into the parlor?" said the servant, opening a door at theside of the hall. She looked doubtfully at Ben, who had also entered thehouse.
"Sit down here, Ben," said Charles, indicating a chair on one side ofthe hat-stand. "I'll stop here till Mrs. Abercrombie comes down," hesaid.
Soon a light step was heard on the stairs, and Mrs. Abercrombiedescended the staircase. She is the same that we last saw in the modesthouse in the Pennsylvania village; but the lapse of time has softenedher manners, and the influence of a husband and a home have improvedher. But otherwise she has not greatly changed in her looks.
Ben, who examined her face eagerly, recognized her at once. Yes, it washis sister Mary that stood before him. He would have known her anywhere.But there was a special mark by which he remembered her. There was adent in her cheek just below the temple, the existence of which he couldaccount for. In a fit of boyish passion, occasioned by her teasing him,he had flung a stick of wood at her head, and this had led to the mark.
"Where did you come from, Charles?" she said, giving her hand cordiallyto her young cousin.
"From Boston, Cousin Mary."
"Have you just arrived, and where is your father? You did not come onalone, did you?"
"No, father is with me, or rather he came on with me, but he had someerrands down town, and stopped to attend to them. He will be here soon."
"How did you find the way alone?"
"I was not alone. There is my guide. By the way, I told him to stay, andyou would give him some breakfast."
"Certainly, he can go down in the basement, and the servants will givehim something."
Mrs. Abercrombie looked at Ben as she spoke; but on her part there wasno sign of recognition. This was not strange. A boy changes greatlybetween ten and sixteen years of age, and when to this natural change isadded the great change in Ben's dress, it will not be wondered at thathis sister saw in him only an ordinary street boy.
Ben was relieved to find that he was not known. He had felt afraid thatsomething in his looks might remind his sister of her lost brother; butthe indifferent look which she turned upon him proved that he had noground for this fear.
"You have not breakfasted, I suppose, Charles." said his cousin.
"You wouldn't think so, if you knew what an appetite I have," heanswered, laughing.
"We will do our best to spoil it," said Mrs. Abercrombie.
She rang the bell, and ordered breakfast to be served.
"We are a little late this morning," she said.
"Mr. Abercrombie is in Philadelphia on business; so you won't see himtill to-morrow."
When the servant appeared, Mrs. Abercrombie directed her to take Bendownstairs, and give him something to eat.
"Don't go away till I see you, Ben," said Charles, lingering a little.
He followed the servant down the stairs leading to the basement. On theway, he had a glimpse through the half-open door of the breakfast-table,at which his sister and his cousin were shortly to sit down.
"Some time, perhaps, I shall be invited in there," he said to himself.
But at present he had no such wish. He knew that in his ragged garb hewould be out of place in the handsome breakfast-room, and he preferredto wait until his appearance was improved. He had no fault to find withthe servants, who brought him a bountiful supply of beefsteak and breadand butter, and a cup of excellent coffee. Ben had been up long enoughto have quite an appetite. Besides, the quality of the breakfast wasconsiderably superior to those which he was accustomed to take in thecheap restaurants which he frequented, and he did full justice to thefood that was spread before him.
When he had satisfied his appetite, he had a few minutes to wait beforeCharles came down to speak to him.
"Well, Ben, I hope you had a good breakfast," he said.
"Tip-top," answered Ben.
"And I hope also that you had an appetite equal to mine."
"My appetite don't often give out," said Ben; "but it aint so good nowas it was when I came in."
"Now we have a little business to attend to. How much shall I pay youfor smashing my baggage?" Charles asked, with a laugh.
"Whatever you like."
"Well, here's fifty cents for your services, and six cents for yourcar-fare back."
"Thank you," said Ben.
"Besides this, Mrs. Abercrombie has a note, which she wants carried downtown to her husband's office in Wall Street. She will give you fiftycents more, if you will agree to deliver it there at once, as it is ofimportance."
"All right," said Ben. "I'll do it."
"Here is the note. I suppose you had better start with it at once.Good-morning."
"Good-morning," said Ben, as he held his cousin's proffered hand amoment in his own. "Maybe I'll see you again some time."
"I hope so," said Charles, kindly.
A minute later Ben was on his way to take a Fourth Avenue car downtown.
Ben, the Luggage Boy; Or, Among the Wharves Page 17