Alger Horatio Jr.
Wait and Hope: or, A Plucky Boy's Luck

Chapter XXVIII

Sam Praises Ben

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."

Chapter XXIX

The Cunard Steamer

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."

Chapter XXX

Sam Is Improved By Adversity

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.

Chapter XXXI

Clouds in the Sky

Ben felt that he and his aunt were fortunately situated. From the time when his salary was raised he had laid aside two dollars a week, which he deposited in the savings-bank on School Street. His aunt, having no rent to pay, easily got along on her income from work and from the liberal board paid for little Emma.

"I am getting on," thought Ben, complacently regarding his bank book, at the end of three months. "I am worth twenty-six dollars already."

Little Emma, his aunt's boarder, was a child of pleasant disposition, and had given little trouble to Mrs. Bradford. Her health, too, had been excellent, until all at once she became pale and thin. Mrs. Bradford felt it her duty to report this to Mr. Manning, the child's guardian. By his direction, a skillful physician was consulted, who gave it as his opinion that the best thing for the child would be a sea voyage. This was communicated to Mr. Manning.

"Fortunately," he responded, "my sister starts in a fortnight for Europe. She will be absent six months. I have prevailed upon her to take charge of Emma."

Mrs. Bradford was glad that the little girl would have a chance to recover her former health and bloom; but she felt her loss doubly, on account of her society, and on account of the loss of income which her absence would involve. It was not until after Emma had actually gone that she felt the full force of the last consideration. So the poor woman wrote a doleful letter to Ben, in which she predicted that Tony and herself must soon go to the poorhouse.

When this letter reached Ben his duty was set plainly before him. From his regular income he could spare two dollars a week, and, taking two dollars weekly from his reserve fund, he would be enabled to allow his aunt four dollars a week, which, added to her own earnings, would maintain her and Tony in comfort.

"My dear aunt," he wrote, "don't talk of going to the poorhouse just yet. You forget that you have a rich nephew in Boston, who is unwilling that any of his relations should live at public expense unless they get into public office. I don't suppose there is any chance of your getting elected member of Congress. As it is, I shall send you every week four, dollars, which I hope will provide you with your usual comfort. I can keep up this allowance for twenty weeks, and that will carry you nearly to the time when Emma will return to you; then all will be right again."

Ben began to save a dollar more. He wanted to prepare for the time when his little fund would be exhausted. If by that time he had twelve dollars more, he would be able to continue to his aunt her regular allowance, till the six months were at an end. The thought that he had arranged matters so satisfactory made Ben quite cheerful. He realized the advantage of the habit of saving. He was encouraged also by some help which he received from the bookkeeper.

"Ben," said he, "do you spend all your salary?"

"Yes, Mr. Porter, I am obliged to."

"I should think you could save something out of eight dollars a week, as only four goes for board."

"So I could, but I have to help my aunt."

"I thought she was provided for," said Mr. Porter.

"Doesn't she get seven dollars a week for boarding a little girl?"

"She did; but the little girl is now in Europe."

"I suppose you cannot send much to your aunt."

"I send her four dollars a week."

"Four dollars a week!" exclaimed the young man, in surprise. "Why, that allows you nothing after paying your board."

The Ben told his friend about his savings.

"Doesn't it seem hard to have your earnings used up in this way?" asked the bookkeeper.

"No," answered Ben cheerfully.

"You are an excellent boy, Ben. You have done just the right thing.

I am glad you are so unselfish."

"I am afraid I am selfish as the majority of boys; but I am not mean enough to let my aunt and little cousin suffer."

"I believe you consider me a friend of yours, Ben."

"I consider you one of the best friends I have, Mr. Porter," said Ben warmly.

"Then you must allow me a friend's privilege."

As he said this he drew from his pocketbook a twenty-dollar bill, and put it into Ben's hands.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Porter; but ought I to accept so much?"

"Certainly. Remember that my means are considerable, and that I have no one dependent upon me."

Ben felt that his companion derived pleasure from his gift, and he did not see why he should make any further objections. He added the twenty dollars to his savings-book fund, and said to himself: "There will be no trouble now in tiding over the six months."

But it is said misfortunes never come singly. The very next day his aunt received a lawyer's letter, which plunged her into the deepest despondency.