Squire Davenport groaned in spirit. It was indeed true! He must payaway over thirteen hundred dollars, and his loss in reputation wouldbe even greater than his loss of money.
"Can't we compromise this thing?" he stammered. "I don't admit thegenuineness of the note, but if such a claim were made, it wouldseriously annoy me. I am willing to give you, say, fifty dollars, ifyou will deliver up the pretended note."
"It won't do, squire. Fifty dollars won't do! I won't take a centless than two hundred, and that is only about half the interest youwould have to pay."
"You speak as if the note were genuine," said the squireuncomfortably.
"You know whether it is or not," said the tramp significantly. "Atany rate, we won't talk about that. You know my terms."
In the end Squire Davenport paid over two hundred dollars, andreceived back the note, which after a hasty examination, he threw intothe fire.
"Now," he said roughly, "get out of my house, you--forger."
"Good-evening, squire," said the tramp, laughing and nodding to thediscomfited squire. "We may meet again, some time."
"If you come here again, I will set the dog on you."
"So much the worse for the dog! Well, good-night! I have enjoyed myinterview--hope you have."
"Impudent scoundrel!" said the squire to himself. "I hope he willswing some day!"
But, as he thought over what had happened, he found comfort in thethought that the secret was at last safe. The note was burned, andcould never reappear in judgment against him. Certainly, he got offcheap.
"Well," thought the tramp as he strode away from the squire's mansion,"this has been a profitable evening. I have two hundred dollars in mypocket, and--I still have a hold on the rascal. If he had onlyexamined the note before burning it, he might have made a discovery!"
CHAPTER IXA PROSPECT OF TROUBLE
When Ben returned home from the Town Hall he discovered, at the firstglance, that his mother was in trouble.
"Are you disturbed because I came home so late?" asked Ben. "I wouldhave been here sooner, but I went home with Rose Gardiner. I ought tohave remembered that you might feel lonely."
Mrs. Barclay smiled faintly.
"I had no occasion to feel lonely," she said. "I had three callers.The last did not go away till after nine o'clock."
"I am glad you were not alone, mother," said Ben, thinking some of hismother's neighbors might have called.
"I should rather have been alone, Ben. They brought bad news--thatis, one of them did."
"Who was it, mother? Who called on you?"
"The first one was the same man who took your money in the woods."
"What, the tramp!" exclaimed Ben hastily. "Did he frighten you?"
"A little, at first, but he did me no harm. He asked for some supper,and I gave it to him."
"What bad news did he bring?"
"None. It was not he. On the other hand, what he hinted would begood news if it were true. He said that your father left property,and that he was the only man that possessed the secret."
"Do you think this can be so?" said Ben, looking at his mother insurprise.
"I don't know what to think. He said he was a barkeeper in the hotelwhere your poor father died, and was about to say more when a knockwas heard at the door, and he hurried away, as if in fear ofencountering somebody."
"And he did not come back?"
"No."
"That is strange," said Ben thoughtfully. "Do you know, mother, I methim on my way home, or rather, he came up behind me and tapped me onthe shoulder."
"What did be say?" asked Mrs. Barclay eagerly.
"He gave me back the bogus dollar he took from me saying, with alaugh, that it would be of no use to him. Then he said he might do mea service sometime, and I would some day hear from him."
"Ben, I think that man took the papers from the pocket of your dyingfather, and has them now in his possession. He promised to sell me asecret for money, but I told him I had none to give."
"I wish we could see him again, but he said he should leave townto-night. But, mother, what was the bad news you spoke of?"
"Ben, I am afraid we are going to lose our home," said the widow, thelook of trouble returning to her face.
"What do you mean, mother?"
"You know that Squire Davenport has a mortgage on the place for sevenhundred dollars; he was here to-night with a man named Kirk, someconnection of his wife. It seems Kirk is coming to Pentonville tolive, and wants this house."
"He will have to want it, mother," said Ben stoutly.
"Not if the squire backs him as he does; he threatens to foreclose themortgage if I don't sell."
Ben comprehended the situation now, and appreciated its gravity.
"What does he offer, Mother?"
"A thousand dollars only--perhaps a little more."
"Why that would be downright robbery."
"Not in the eye of the law. Ben, we are in the power of SquireDavenport, and he is a hard man."
"I would like to give him a piece of my mind, mother. He might be inbetter business than robbing you of your house."
"Do nothing hastily, Ben. There is only one thing that we can do tosave the house, and that is, to induce someone to advance the moneynecessary to take up the mortgage."
"Can you think of anybody who would do it?"
Mrs. Barclay shook her head.
"There is no one in Pentonville who would be willing, and has themoney," she said. "I have a rich cousin in New York, but I have notmet him since I was married; he thought a great deal of me once, but Isuppose he scarcely remembers me now. He lived, when I last heard ofhim, on Lexington Avenue, and his name is Absalom Peters."
"And he is rich?"
"Yes, very rich, I believe."
"I have a great mind to ask for a day's vacation from Mr. Crawford,and go to New York to see him."
"I am afraid it would do no good."
"It would do no harm, except that it would cost something fortraveling expenses. But I would go as economically as possible. HaveI your permission, mother?"
"You can do as you like, Ben; I won't forbid you, though I have littlehope of its doing any good."
"Then I will try and get away Monday. To-morrow is Saturday, and Ican't be spared at the store; there is always more doing, you know, onSaturday than any other day."
"I don't feel like giving any advice, Ben. Do as you please."
The next day, on his way home to dinner, Ben met his young rival ofthe evening previous, Tom Davenport.
"How are you, Tom?" said Ben, nodding.
"I want to speak to you, Ben Barclay," said the young aristocrat,pausing in his walk.
"Go ahead! I'm listening," said Ben.
Tom was rather annoyed at the want of respect which, in his opinion,Ben showed him, but hardly knew how to express his objections, so hecame at once to the business in hand.
"You'd better not hang around Rose Gardiner so much," he saidsuperciliously.
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Ben quickly.
"You forced your attentions on her last evening at the Town Hall."
"Who told you so?"
"I saw it for myself."
"I thought Rose didn't tell you so."
"It must be disagreeable to her family to have a common grocer's boyseen with her."
"It seems to me you take a great deal of interest in the matter, TomDavenport. You talk as if you were the guardian of the young lady. Ibelieve you wanted to go home with her yourself."
"It would have been far more suitable, but you had made her promise togo with you."
"I would have released her from her promise at once, if she hadexpressed a wish to that effect. Now, I want to give you a piece ofadvice."
"I don't want any of your advice," said Tom loftily. "I don't wantany advice from a store boy."
"I'll give it to you all the same. You can make money by minding yourown business."
"You are
impudent!" said Tom, flushing with anger. "I've gotsomething more to tell you. You'll be out on the sidewalk beforethree months are over. Father is going to foreclose the mortgage onyour house."
"That remains to be seen!" said Ben, but his heart sank within him ashe realized that the words would probably prove true.
CHAPTER XBEN GOES TO NEW YORK
Pentonville was thirty-five miles distant from New York, and the farewas a dollar, but an excursion ticket, carrying a passenger both ways,was only a dollar and a half. Ben calculated that his extra expenses,including dinner, might amount to fifty cents, thus making the cost ofthe trip two dollars. This sum, small as it was, appeared large bothto Ben and his mother. Some doubts about the expediency of thejourney suggested themselves to Mrs. Barclay.
"Do you think you had better go, Ben?" she said doubtfully. "Twodollars would buy you some new stockings and handkerchiefs."
"I will do without them, mother. Something has got to be done, or weshall be turned into the street when three months are up. SquireDavenport is a very selfish man, and he will care nothing for ourcomfort or convenience."
"That is true," said the widow, with a sigh. "If I thought your goingto New York would do any good, I would not grudge you the money--"
"Something will turn up, or I will turn up something," said Benconfidently.
When he asked Mr. Crawford for a day off, the latter responded: "Yes,Ben, I think I can spare you, as Monday is not a very busy day. Wouldyou be willing to do an errand for me?"
"Certainly Mr. Crawford, with pleasure."
"I need a new supply of prints. Go to Stackpole & Rogers, No. ----White Street, and select me some attractive patterns. I shall relyupon your taste."
"Thank you, sir," said Ben, gratified by the compliment.
He received instructions as to price and quantity, which he carefullynoted down.
"As it will save me a journey, not to speak of my time, I am willingto pay your fare one way."
"Thank you, sir; you are very kind."
Mr. Crawford took from the money drawer a dollar, and handed it toBen.
"But I buy an excursion ticket, so that my fare each way will be butseventy-five cents."
"Never mind, the balance will go toward your dinner."
"There, mother, what do you say now?" said Ben, on Saturday night."Mr. Crawford is going to pay half my expenses, and I am going to buysome goods for him."
"I am glad he reposes so much confidence in you, Ben. I hope youwon't lose his money."
"Oh, I don't carry any. He buys on thirty days. All I have to do isto select the goods."
"Perhaps it is for the best that you go, after all," said Mrs.Barclay. "At any rate, I hope so."
At half-past seven o'clock on Monday morning Ben stood on the platformof the Pentonville station, awaiting the arrival of the train.
"Where are you going?" said a voice.
Ben, turning, saw that it was Tom Davenport who had spoken.
"I am going to New York," he answered briefly.
"Has Crawford discharged you?"
"Why do you ask? Would you like to apply for the position?" asked Bencoolly.
"Do you think I would condescend to be a grocer's boy?" returned Tomdisdainfully.
"I don't know."
"If I go into business it will be as a merchant."
"I am glad to hear it."
"You didn't say what you were going to New York for?"
"I have no objection to tell you, as you are anxious to know; I amgoing to the city to buy goods."
Tom looked not only amazed, but incredulous.
"That's a likely story," said he, after a pause.
"It is a true story."
"Do you mean to say Crawford trusts you buy goods for him?"
"So it seems."
"He must be getting weak-headed."
"Suppose you call and give him that gratifying piece of information."
Just then the train came thundering up, and Ben jumped aboard. TomDavenport looked after him with a puzzled glance.
"I wonder whether that boy tells the truth," he said to himself. "Hethinks too much of himself, considering what he is."
It never occurred to Tom that the remark would apply even better tohim than the boy he was criticising. As a rule we are the last torecognize our own faults, however quick we may be to see the faults ofothers.
Two hours later Ben stood in front of the large dry-goods jobbinghouse of Stackpole & Rogers, in White Street.
He ascended the staircase to the second floor, which was very spaciousand filled with goods in great variety.
"Where is the department of prints?" he inquired of a young man nearthe door.
He was speedily directed and went over at once. He showed thesalesman in charge a letter from Mr. Crawford, authorizing him toselect a certain amount of goods.
"You are rather a young buyer," said the salesman, smiling.
"It is the first time I have served in that way," said Ben modestly;"but I know pretty well what Mr. Crawford wants."
Half an hour was consumed in making his selections.
"You have good taste," said the salesman, "judging from yourselections."
"Thank you."
"If you ever come to the city to look for work, come here, and I willintroduce you to the firm."
"Thank you. How soon can you ship the goods?"
"I am afraid not to-day, as we are very busy. Early next week we willsend them."
His business concluded, Ben left the store and walked up to Broadway.The crowded thoroughfare had much to interest him. He was looking ata window when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
It was a young man foppishly attired, who was smiling graciously uponhim.
"Why, Gus Andre," he said, "when did you come to town, and how did youleave all the folks in Bridgeport?"
"You have made a mistake," said Ben.
"Isn't your name Gus Andre?"
"No, it is Ben Barclay, from Pentonville."
"I really beg your pardon. You look surprisingly like my friendGussie."
Five minutes later there was another tap on our hero's shoulder, as hewas looking into another window, and another nicely dressed young mansaid heartily: "Why, Ben, my boy, when did you come to town?"
"This morning," answered Ben. "You seem to know me, but I can'tremember you."
"Are you not Ben Barclay, of Pentonville."
"Yes, but----"
"Don't you remember Jim Fisher, who passed part of the summer, twoyears since, in your village?"
"Where were you staying?" asked Ben.
It was the other's turn to looked confused.
"At--the Smiths'," he answered, at random.
"At Mrs. Roxana Smith's?" suggested Ben.
"Yes, yes," said the other eagerly, "she is my aunt."
"Is she?" asked Ben, with a smile of amusement, for he had by thistime made up his mind as to the character of his new friend. "Shemust be proud of her stylish nephew. Mrs. Smith is a poor widow, andtakes in washing."
"It's some other Smith," said the young man, discomfited.
"She is the only one by that name in Pentonville."
Jim Fisher, as he called himself, turned upon his heel and left Benwithout a word. It was clear that nothing could be made out of him.
Ben walked all the way up Broadway, as far as Twenty-first Street,into which he turned, and walked eastward until he reached GramercyPark, opposite which Lexington Avenue starts. In due time he reachedthe house of Mr. Absalom Peters, and, ascending the steps, he rang thebell.
"Is Mr. Peters in?" he asked of the servant who answered the bell.
"No."
"Will he be in soon?"
"I guess not. He sailed for Europe last week."
Ben's heart sank within him. He had hoped much from Mr. Peters,before whom he meant to lay all the facts of his mother's situation.Now that hope was crushed.
He turned and slowly descended the steps.
&n
bsp; "There goes our last chance of saving the house," he said to himselfsadly.
CHAPTER XITHE MADISON AVENUE STAGE
Ben was naturally hopeful, but he had counted more than he was awareon the chance of obtaining assistance from Absalom Peters towardpaying off his mother's mortgage. As Mr. Peters was in Europe nothingcould be done, and them seemed absolutely no one else to apply to.They had friends, of course, and warm ones, in Pentonville, but nonethat 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 chanceof turning him."
He walked westward till he reached Madison Avenue. A stageapproached, being bound downtown, and, feeling tired, he got in. Thefare 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 middleage, with a kindly expression. Next her sat a young man, attiredfashionably, who had the appearance of belonging to a family ofposition. There were, besides, an elderly man, of clericalappearance; a nurse with a small child, a business man, intent uponthe financial column of a leading paper, and a schoolboy.
Ben regarded his fellow-passengers with interest. In Pentonville heseldom saw a new face. Here all were new. Our young hero was, thoughbe did not know it, an embryo student of human nature. He liked toobserve men and women of different classes and speculate upon theirprobable position and traits. It so happened that his specialattention was attracted to the fashionably-attired young man.
The Store Boy Page 4