musingly.  "She forgets that she is my little Mary.  She no longer
loves me."

"My name is Emma," said the little girl.  "Why did you take me away
from Ben?"

Help was at hand, though it came from a stranger.

A knock was heard at the door, and the lady rose and opened it.
The newcomer was a little younger than the lady already
mentioned, but bore such a resemblance to her as to indicate
that she was her sister.  She looked at surprise at Emma.

"Where did you get this child, Clara?" she asked.

"It is my little Mary.  Don't you see that it is?"

"You are mistaken, Clara.  Your little Mary is in heaven."

"She has come back again.  This is she.  Don't you see that it is
she?" asked the lady called Clara earnestly.

"My poor sister," said the younger lady compassionately, "you are
mistaken.  This is not your little Mary.  Where did you find her?
To whom does she belong?"

Emma had listened to this conversation with interest, feeling that
it concerned her.  She answered the question herself.

"I belong to Ben," she said.

"Where is Ben?" asked the younger lady.

"He is at the big stone chimney.  He was going up to the top.  He left
me with her."

"You mean the monument, don't you, my dear child?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is this true, Clara?"

"Yes," the elder sister admitted.

The younger lady looked perplexed.

"You did wrong, Clara, to take the little girl from her brother.  He will
feel very anxious about her.

"She said she would buy me some candy," said Emma.

"Could I see my child, and not claim her?" said Clara.

"I am not your child.  What makes her say I am her child?"

"My dear," said the younger lady gently, "my poor sister lost her little
girl not long since.  She has not been well since.  When she saw you
to-day she thought you were her little Mary."

"I want to go back to Ben.  What will Ben say?"

"Certainly, you must go back to your brother.  Come, my child, we
will try to find him."

Emma went down-stairs with her new friend.  Clara did not attempt
to hinder her, but seated herself with an air of dependency in an
armchair, and buried her face in her hands.

"I am afraid Ben has gone away," said Emma.

"It is very perplexing," said the young lady to herself.  "We will go out
and try to find your brother.  If we cannot, you can tell me where
your home is and I will take you there."

"I don't know exactly where it is," said Emma; "I have never been
there. I came from New York.  I am going to board with Ben's aunt."

"And you don't know where she lives?  You don't know the name of
the town."

Emma shook her head.

"My poor sister has done great mischief," said the young lady gravely.
"I must do my best to remedy it."

They went out into the street together.

Meanwhile, Ben, in great trouble of mind, remained in the
neighborhood of the monument for ten minutes or more.

"Perhaps the lady has taken Emma on a little walk," he thought.
"Perhaps she thought I wouldn't be down so soon."

Ben felt that it was very inconsiderate, but he would not at first
believe that there was anything really wrong.  But when ten
minutes has passed he became alarmed, and began to blame
himself.

"Aunt was right," he thought.  "I wasn't fit to be trusted with the care
of a little girl.  What shall I say to Mr. Manning?  What shall I do?"

He looked about him in despairing bewilderment.  Streets radiated
from the monument in several different directions.  Which should
he take?  If he took any, there was not more than one chance in
four that it would prove the right one.

He was still standing there when the gentleman who had gone up with
him descended.

"Where is the little girl?" he asked.

Ben explained his trouble.

"Don't be alarmed, my boy," said the gentleman, in a tone of
sympathy; "I will help you.  Sooner or later we shall hear of
the child."

"What shall I do?" asked Ben.

"It is possible the child may be brought back.  I will remain here to
receive her if she comes, and you may go and search for her.  Come
back in about half-an-hour."

Ben started on his quest, and with feverish haste he explored street
after street, but in vain.  With sad heart he retraced his steps to the
monument.  What was his joy to find Emma returned, and in charge
of the gentleman he had left behind and another lady.

An explanation was given, to which Ben paid little attention, such was
his joy at the recovery of his young charge.

"What time is it, sir?"  he inquired of his companion.

"Five minutes to five."

"Then we are too late for the train," exclaimed Ben, in dismay.

Chapter XVIII

The Envelope

"What train?" asked the gentleman.

"The five-o'clock train to Milltown."

"Is that the last train?"

"Yes, sir."

"You will have to wait till to-morrow.  Will it make much
difference?"

Ben blushed.

"I shall have to stay at a hotel," he said uncomfortably,
"and I don't think I have money enough.  I did not expect
to have that expense."

"I can relieve you on that score," said the gentleman.  "I
live in Charleston, not far away.  You shall stay at my house
to-night, and go home by the morning train.  There is a
morning train, isn't there?"

"Yes, sir, at half-past ten."

"You will accept my invitation?"

"Yes, sir, and thank you," said Ben gratefully.  "I don't know
what I should have done if you had not invited me."

"I am glad to have the opportunity of doing you a kindness.  I
want to send you away with a good impression of Charleston."

It was a handsome house to which Ben was led by his new
friend.  His wife received the two children with unaffected
kindness, and soon made them feel at home.  During the evening
Mr. Somerby, for this was his name, drew out of Ben the
particulars of his history and present position.  Ben seemed so
frank and manly that he was quite pleased with him.

Mr. Somerby was not in business, unless he may be called a
capitalist.  He was the possessor of a large fortune, and the care
of his property required a considerable share of his time.  When
Ben was ready to go the next morning, Mr. Somerby put an
envelope into his hand.

"Don't open this till you get home," he said.

"No, sir."

"Now, good-by, and good luck to you."

"Thank you, sir."

Meanwhile Mrs. Bradford at home was feeling anxious.  Old Mrs.
Perkins had dropped in to make a call, and her conversation wasn't
reassuring.

"Hasn't Ben got back?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"There's a great risk in sendin' a boy so fur," said the old lady.

"Do you think so?" asked Mrs. Bradford uneasily.

"To be sure I do.  He's too young."

"That's what I thought; but Ben was very sure he could get along."

"Boys is allus confident," said Mrs. Perkins, whose knowledge of
grammar was not very profound; "but I never knew one that you
could rely on."

"Benjamin is a good boy."

"Yes, he's a good boy as boys go; but don't you trust him too fur.
When did you expect him back?"

"I expected him last night."

"And he didn't come?  Just as I thought."

Mrs. Perkins nodded her head vigorously, and looked unutterably wise.

"Maybe the cars is gone off the track," said the old lady.

"Oh, don't say such things, Mrs. Perkins," said Mrs. Bradford uneasily.

"I didn't say they had, but we're havin' a dreffle number of accidents
nowadays."

"Ben is all right," said Tony, thinking he ought to defend his cousin.
"He said when he went away, he'd come home right side up with care."

"Little boys should be seen and not heard," said Mrs. Perkins.

"'Always be prepared for the worst.'  That's my motto."

"And my motto is 'Wait and Hope!'" said a familiar voice outside the
door.

"It's Ben!" exclaimed Tony joyfully.

The door was thrown open and there stood Ben, with little Emma's
hand in his.

"Aunt Jane," he said, "here's little Emma, come to live with you."

"My dear, I am very glad to see you," said Mrs. Bradford.

Emma looked in her gentle face, and liked her at once.

"Will you be my aunt, too?" she asked.

"Yes, my dear."

"Tony, come here and be introduced," said Ben.

Tony was bashful at first, but it was not very long before he and
Emma were merrily playing together.

"So you're railly back, Benjamin?" said old Mrs. Perkins, rather
disappointed.

"Yes, ma'am.  How's James?"

"Loafin' round, as usual," said his affectionate relative.  "Boys are so
shiftless."

"They may be," admitted Ben good-naturedly, "but they get hungry
sometimes.  Aunt Jane, is there anything to eat in the house?"

"I will set the table at once," said his aunt.  "The little girl must be
hungry, too."

"You're undertakin' a great responsibility, Mrs. Bradford," said
Mrs. Perkins.  "The little girl will be a great care to you."

"I don't look upon it in that light," said Mrs. Bradford.  "I am glad
to have her here."

"Humph!  You will talk different a month from now.  But I must be
goin'."

After dinner Ben bethought himself of the envelope which Mr.
Somerby had given him.

He opened it, when a bank-note dropped to the floor.  Picking it
up, he saw, to his amazement, that it was a fifty-dollar bill.  With
sparkling eyes he read the letter, or rather these few lines which
were penciled on a half-sheet of note paper:

"I have been interested in your story, and beg your acceptance
of the enclosed as a slight help and encouragement.  Should you ever
need advice or assistance, I shall be glad to have you call upon me."
                               "Frederic Somerby"

"What do you think of that, Aunt Jane?" said Ben in a tone of
exultation.  "Hasn't my motto worked pretty well, after all?  Isn't
it better to 'Wait and Hope' than to give up and get discouraged?"

"Yes, Ben, I begin to think you are right."

"We are better off than when I was at work in the factory."

"Yes, Ben; we can get along very comfortably."

"I have been thinking, aunt, that while business continues dull I will
go to school.  This money I will put in a savings-bank, and we shall
have it to fall back upon if we need it."

This plan met with Mrs. Bradford's approval, and was carried out
by Ben.  When he returned from the savings-bank, with his book in
his hand, he felt like a capitalist.  In fact, he was so cheerful that his
aunt caught the infection, and looked brighter than she had for years.

"It is pleasant to have money in the bank," she said to old Mrs. Perkins.

"Like as not the bank will break," said the old lady.

"I see an account last week of a savin's-bank that failed.  I wouldn't
trust any of 'em."

"Mrs. Perkins," said Ben, with mock gravity, "I heard last week of
a man who died in his bed.  I'd never go to bed if I were you."

"It aint' well to joke," said the old lady.  "Always be prepared for the
worst."

"That isn't my motto," said Ben.  "As long as I live I mean to 'Wait
and Hope'!"

Chapter XIX

The Prize for Scholarship

The annual examination of the grammar schools in Milltown came
about the middle of June, just before summer vacation.  It the First
Ward School two prizes had been offered by the principal to the
scholars who stood highest on the rank-lists.

Speculation was rife as to the probable result; but the choice was
finally narrowed down to two boys.

One of these was Ben Bradford, now sixteen years of age.  The other
was Samuel Archer, son of the superintendent of the Milton Mills.
There is an old saying, "Like father, like son."  Mr. Archer was
purse-proud and consequential, and felt that he was entitled to
deference on the score of his wealth and prominence.

"Sam," said he, two days before the examination, "what are your
chances of obtaining the prize?"

"I think I ought to have it, father," answered Sam.

"That is, you think you will be entitled to it?"

"Yes sir."

"Then you will get it, as a matter of course."

"I don't know that."

"Don't you think the prize will be adjudged fairly?"

"The principal thinks a great deal of Ben Bradford."

"Is he your chief competitor?"

"He is the only boy I am afraid of."

"Who is he?"

"He is a poor boy--used to work in the mills."

"He is the nephew of the Widow Bradford?"

"Yes; he lives in a small house about the size of a bandbox.  I expect
 they are as poor as poverty.  Ben wears coarse clothes.  I don't
believe he has a new suit a year."

"And you have too many.  I believe your bill for clothes exceeds
mine."

"Oh, father, you want your son to dress well.  People know you are
a rich man and they expect it."

"Humph! it may be carried too far," said Mr. Archer, who had just
paid a large tailor's bill for Sam.

"And you say the principal favors him?"

"Yes, everybody can see it."

"It is rather strange he should favor a penniless boy," said Mr.
Archer, himself a worshiper of wealth.  "The man don't know on
which side his bread is buttered."

"So I think.  He ought to consider that you are a man of
consequence here."

"I rather think I have some influence in Milltown," said Mr. Archer,
with vulgar complacency; "I fancy I could oust Mr. Taylor from
his position if I caught him indulging in favoritism.  But you may be
mistaken, Sam."

Mr. Archer looked thoughtful.

Finally he said:  "I think it will be well to pay some attention to Mr.
Taylor.  It may turn the scale.  When you go to school to-morrow
I will send by you an invitation to Mr. Taylor to dine with us.
We'll give him a good dinner and get him good-natured."

So when Sam went to school in the morning he bore a note from his
father, containing a dinner invitation.

"Say to your father that I will accept his invitation with pleasure,"
said the principal.

It was the first time he had received such a mark of attention from
Mr. Archer, and, being a shrewd man, he understood at once what
it signified.

"He's coming, father," announced Sam, on his return home.

"Did he seem gratified by the invitation?"

"I couldn't tell exactly.  He said he would accept with pleasure."

"No doubt, he feels the attention," said Mr. Archer pompously.
"He knows I am a man of prominence and influence, and the
invitation will give him social status."

Mr. Archer would have been offended if he had been told that the
principal was more highly respected in town than himself, in spite
of his wealth and fine house.

When the principal sat down to Mr. Archer's dinner table, he
partook of a dinner richer and more varied than his modest salary
enabled him to indulge in at home.  Nevertheless, he had more
than once been as well entertained by others, and rather annoyed
Mr. Archer by not appearing to appreciate the superiority of the
dinner.

"Confound the man!  He takes it as coolly as if he were accustomed
to dine as sumptuously every day," thought Archer.

"I hope you are enjoying dinner, Mr. Taylor," he said.

"Very much, thank you."

"I rather plume myself on my cook.  I venture to say that I pay five
dollars a month more than any other person in Milltown.  But I must
have a good dinner.  I am very particular on that score."

"Have you a good cook, Mr. Taylor?" asked Mrs. Archer
condescendingly.

"Why, the fact is, that we keep but one servant."

"I suppose your salary will not permit you to keep more than one
servant."

"You are right, madam."

"Really, Mr. Taylor, I think your salary ought to be increased,"
said Mr. Archer graciously.  "The laborer is worthy of his hire, eh?
I must see if I can't induce the town to vote you an increased
compensation."

"Thank you," said the principal quietly.  "A larger salary would, of
course, be acceptable, but I doubt whether the town will feel like
voting it."

"Rest easy," said Mr. Archer pompously.  "I think I can bring it
about."

"Oh, by the by," continued the rich man, "Samuel tells me that you
have offered two scholarship prizes."

"Yes, sir--to the two scholars who pass the best examination."

"How does my boy stand in the matter?"

"He is one of the most prominent competitors."

"I am very glad to hear it--very glad.  Sam, you must do your best
to-morrow.  It would gratify me very much if you should succeed.
I am ambitious for my son, Mr. Taylor, and I don't mind admitting
it."

"Your ambition is a very natural one," said the principal.  "Sam's
scholarship is excellent and his record is very satisfactory."

"Thank you, Mr. Taylor.  Your assurance is deeply gratifying to
Mrs. Archer and myself.  It will be the happiest day of our lives if
Sam succeeds in the approaching competition."

"He has a very fair chance of success, sir."

"I think I've fixed things," said Mr. Archer complacently, after the
principal had taken his leave.  "The prize is as good as yours, Sam."

Chapter XX

Before the Battle

Ben's term at school had already extended to eight months.  Our
hero was thorough in whatever he did, and, having an excellent
natural capacity, easily took high rank as a scholar.

"Do you expect to win the prize, Ben?" asked his friend, James
Watson.

"I hope to win it," said Ben.

"So does Sam Archer."

"I suppose it lies between us two, unless you step in and carry it off,"
added Ben, smiling, for he knew that James, who was low in rank,
was not at all sensitive on the subject.

"Make yourself easy, Ben; I won't interfere with you.  You are my
friend, you know, and for your sake I will answer a few questions
wrong."

"You always were considerate, James.  You have relieved my mind
of a load of anxiety."

"Don't mention it, Ben.  I shan't feel the sacrifice."

"You are a good fellow, at any rate, James, and that is more than I
can say for Sam Archer."

"He thinks an awful lot of himself."

"He can't forget that his father is superintendent of the mill."

"By the way, Ben, what are you intending to do in vacation."

"I shall try to get employment in the mill again.  I have been idle
nearly a year now."

"Your aunt has been getting along very well."

"Yes; thanks to the seven dollars a week received for Emma's board.
But I don't like to feel that she is supporting the family.  I think it is
high time for me to be at work."

"Ben, I've been thinking of something."

"Out with it, James."

"Sam Archer will be very much disappointed if you take the prize
over him."

"He doesn't love me overmuch now."

"I am afraid he will prejudice his father against you, so as to induce
him to refuse you employment in the mill."

"Do you think he would be as mean as that?"

"Do I think so?  I know it.  Sam Archer is mean enough for anything."

"He has just as good a chance as I have."

"He told one of the boys you were Mr. Taylor's pet.  He will say the
prize was give to you on account of favoritism."

"Will anybody believe it?"

"No one except Sam's special friends.  I think Mr. Taylor does like
you.  That reminds me, where do you think Mr. Taylor is to-night?"

"I don't know, I am sure."

"He is dining at Mr. Archer's."

"That's something new, isn't it?"

"Mr. Archer is trying to curry favor with the principal for Sam."

"Then he doesn't know him very well.  Mr. Taylor will decide
justly, at any rate."

"Do you want very much to go back to the mill, Ben?"

"Yes."

"Then the best thing you can do is to let Sam beat you.  That will
make him good-natured and you will probably get a place."

"I shan't resign the prize.  I shall do my best to obtain it.  If that
loses me employment in the mill, I will go in search of employment
elsewhere."

"I like your pluck, Ben."

"I am willing to wait and I expect to win in the end."

"Well, good luck to you, Ben.  My supper is ready, and I must go
home."

The more Ben thought it over, the more he felt that James was
probably correct in his prediction as to the effect of his success.

"I am determined to beat Sam," he said to himself.  The next
morning he entered the schoolroom cool and confident, while
Sam, though rather nervous, seemed almost equally confident.

"Mr. Taylor won't go back on me," he reflected, "after dining at our
house; especially after father has promised to get him a higher
salary."

The examination lasted all the session.  It was partly oral and partly
written.

"Boys," said the principal, "I shall devote the evening to the
examination of your papers.  To-morrow morning my decision will
be made known."

"I wish it were over," thought Sam.  "I think he'll give me the prize,
but I should like to be sure of it."

Chapter XXI

Ben Wins at School

Every boy was in his seat the next morning at the opening of school.
Though the choice lay between two only, there was a general interest
felt in the result of the competition.  Ben was the favorite, though
Sam had a few followers--generally sycophantic boys who had a
respect for wealth, or had favors to ask of him.

"Boys," said the principal, "I sat up till twelve o'clock last evening,
examining your papers.  I have not only ascertained who are entitled
to the two prizes, but I have made a list of the ten highest scholars,
with their percentages.  I am glad to say that many of you have done
well, and I regret that I have not more prizes to bestow.  I will now
announce the names of the prize boys."

"First prize--Benjamin Bradford."
"Second prize--Sam Archer."

The boys applauded noisily.

"Bradford's percentage," continued the principal, "is ninety-nine and
eight-tenths; Archer's, ninety-seven and nine-tenths.  Both are very
high and I heartily congratulate both young gentlemen upon their
brilliant success.  Bradford, you may come up to the desk."

Mr. Taylor placed in his hands a neat edition of Longfellow's poems.

"Thank you, sir," said Ben.

The boys again applauded.

"Archer, you may come up," said the principal.

Sam rose slowly, and with a discontented look shuffled up to the
desk.  An edition of Tennyson's poems was handed to him.  He
received them without a word of thanks and hurried back to his
seat.

There was no applause in his case.

This was the last day of school, and the session lasted but an hour
and a half.  At half-past ten the boys poured out of the
schoolhouse with noisy demonstrations of joy.

"I congratulate you, old fellow," said James Watson to Ben.  "You've
done splendidly."

"Thank you, James."

"So do I, and I," exclaimed one and another.

Ben received all these congratulations modestly.

"Go and congratulate Sam, boys," he said.

"A good scholar, but a mean boy," said James.  "However, here goes."

"I congratulate you on your prize, Sam," he said offering his hand.

Sam did not appear to see the hand.

"A second prize isn't worth having," he said discontentedly.  "Of
course it was all I had a chance for.  Bradford is the teacher's
favorite."

"Do you mean to say Ben don't deserve the first prize?"

"He was sure to get it, anyhow."

"That's mean in you to speak so, Sam."

"It's what I think, at any rate."

"Well, Sam," said his father, as he entered his presence, "how is it?"

"Just as I expected, father.  Old Taylor gave the first prize to his
favorite, Ben Bradford."

"After all the attention I have paid that man, it is positively
outrageous to defraud you of your rights."

"You won't have his salary increased now, will you, father?"

"I'll do what I can to have the man discharged."

"There's a favor I want to ask of you, father."

"What is it, my son?"

"I hear that Ben Bradford is going to seek employment in the mill,
now that school is over; I hope you'll refuse to take him on."

"I will.  His prize will cost him dear."

"Would you have given him employment if I had beaten him for the prize?"

"Yes; business has revived, and we have decided to take on some
extra hands, giving preference to those who have formerly been in
our employ."

"Then I will be revenged, at any rate," said Sam.

Chapter XXII

Sam's Revenge

Now that vacation had fairly commenced, Ben thought he had better
make application for employment at the mills.  It was generally
understood that business had improved and that new hands were to
be taken on.

On the morning succeeding the award of prizes, Ben presented
himself at the office of the superintendent.

After awhile the great man arrived.  He nodded patronizingly to the
applicants for employment.  He saw Ben in the number and his small
soul was rejoiced, for he meant to humiliate him.

He summoned one and another to a conference, engaging such as
were old hands.

Ben began to look hopeful.  He, too, had experience.

At last Mr. Archer beckoned to him to approach.

"What do you wish?" he demanded.

"I should like employment at the mills," said Ben.

"Have you been in my employ before?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Archer opened a thick folio volume which lay upon the desk,
and appeared to be looking for something, which he found at last.

"I can't employ you," he said coldly.

"Why not, sir?"

"Because your record is not good."

Ben's eyes flashed with proper indignation.

"I don't understand, sir," he said, in a dignified tone.

"It strikes me that my language is plain."

"What complaints were made of me?  I should like to know in what
respect I failed to do my duty."

"Probably you know as well as I can tell you," said the
superintendent.  "At any rate, I have no time to waste in examining
into the matter.  I prefer to take a boy who has nothing against him.
Next."

Ben left the office, smarting not so much at the failure to obtain
employment, as at the unfounded charges trumped up against him.

Just outside the office he met Sam Archer.

"Good morning, Bradford," said Sam, eyeing our hero curiously.
"Are you going to work in the mill?"

"No," said Ben shortly.

"Perhaps old Taylor will give you employment."

"No doubt he would if he had occasion to employ any one.  Mr.
Taylor is a gentleman."

"Do you mean to say father isn't a gentleman?"

"You can draw your own conclusions."

Ben was not quite an angel, though he was a manly boy, and he felt
pugnacious.

"I've a great mind to knock you down," said Sam.

"You may have the mind, but you haven't got the strength to do it,"
said Ben.

"I won't dirty my hands with touching you."

"That's prudent, at any rate," retorted Ben.

"You'd better go home and read your prize."

"That's good advice, though it comes from a bad source," returned
Ben.  "It isn't needed, however, for I have been reading it.  I can
quote two lines--

          "'Be not like dumb, driven cattle,
            Be like heroes in the strife.'"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you will find it hard to drive me."

"Perhaps so, but I've done one thing," boasted Sam.

"What's that?"

"I told father not to take you if you applied; and that's why you are
going away with a flea in your ear."

"I am not surprised to hear this," he answered.  "Indeed, I am very
glad to hear it."

"You are glad to hear it?" repeated Sam, puzzled.

"Yes."

"I don't understand why you should be."

"I suppose not.  I am glad you know just why I was refused."

"Well, I hope you are satisfied."

"I am entirely so."

"I wonder what the fellow means," thought Sam.

Chapter XXIII

The Decoy Letter

Sam knew that Ben was anxious to obtain a situation.  It occurred to
him that it would be a splendid joke to write to Ben, in the name of
some Boston firm, offering him a situation.  Ben would go up to the
city, of course, only to find that he had been "sold."

Of course, it would not do for Sam to write the letter himself, since
his writing was well known to  Ben.  Again, the letter must be posted
in Boston.  However, where there is a will there is a way.  Sam was
acquainted with a boy who lived in Boston--Frank Ferguson--and to
him he wrote, enclosing the draft of a letter,  which he requested
Frank to copy and mail to Ben.  "It is only a practical joke," Sam
explained in his letter, "in return for one Ben has played on me."  But
for this explanation, Frank who was an honorable boy, would not have
lent himself to this scheme.  As it was, it struck him only as a piece of
fun, and he followed Sam's instructions.

A few days later, Ben, in going to the post-office, received a letter
directed to himself.  It read thus:

"BENJAMIN BRADFORD:  We are in want of a boy in our store.
You can have the place if you wish.  It will be necessary for you to
report for duty next Monday.

                              "Yours, in haste,
                              "JONES & PORTER"

Ben had heard of Jones & Porter.  They were well-known
booksellers and publishers.  A position with them was certainly
desirable.

"But how could they have heard of me," thought Ben.

He was not vain enough to suppose that his name was well known in
Boston, yet here was an important firm that had offered him
employment.  Again, the manner in which the letter ended struck him
as rather singular.  It didn't occur to Ben to doubt its genuineness.

As he was walking back, he met James Watson.

"What's the news, Ben?" asked James.

"I am offered a place in Boston," answered Ben.

"You don't say so!  What sort of place is it?"

"It is a place in a bookstore.  There is the letter."

James read it.

"How did they happen to write to you."

"I don't know, I am sure."

"Can't you think of any way in which they could have heard of you?"

"There is only one way I can think of.  There was a gentleman in
Charleston who was quite kind to me when I was there last year.
He promised to be of service to me if I ever needed it.  He may
have mentioned my name to Jones & Porter.

"Very likely," said James.  "You are in luck."

"I wish I knew what wages they are willing to pay," said Ben.  "If
it's only five dollars a week, it won't more than pay my board,
and I don't like to call upon Aunt Jane to pay for my clothes."

"You will take the place, won't you, at any rate?"

"Oh, yes.  Perhaps I can get a chance to earn something by extra
work, and so pay for my clothes."

"Well, I wish you good luck, Ben.  If you hear of a place for me,
let me know."

"I will, James.  I should like your company."

Ben went home and showed the letter to his aunt.

"You see, aunt, I am provided for," said Ben.

Old Mrs. Perkins was present and hazarded a cheerful observation.

"I wouldn't trust a boy of mine in the city, Mrs. Bradford," she said;
"it's the ruination of 'em most always.  Like or not, Ben will get
dissipated, and take to drinkin', and have the delirious triangles."

Mrs. Bradford was easily alarmed.

"Do you think you'd better go, Ben?" she asked doubtfully.  "You're
so young."

"I can't afford to wait till I'm an old man, Aunt Jane," he said; "and I
don't mean to have the 'delirous triangles,' if I can help it.  You
wouldn't keep me at home till I'm eighty, like Mrs. Perkins-------"

"I'm only sixty-two," exclaimed the old lady indignantly.  "What do
you mean by calling me eighty?"

"I didn't know you were sensitive about your age."

"I ain't," snarled the old lady; "I own up to sixty-two, but you needn't
call me twenty years older."

Mrs. Perkins was really seventy-two and looked her age; but she
fondly hoped to deceive the public.

"Do you really think you had better go to Boston, Ben?" said his
aunt, after the departure of the visitor.

"Yes, Aunt Jane.  There's no chance for me in Milltown, as you
know very well.  Mr. Archer's prejudiced against me, and
won't take me into the mill."

"I shall miss you very much, Ben."

"I'll write you once every week."

"How much will you get?"

"I don't know.  If it's too little, I will live as closely as I can.  I
shall be learning the business, you know, and, of course, I shall get
my salary raised when I deserve it."

Ben had a strong, positive nature, and he convinced his aunt that he
ought to accept the offer of Jones & Porter.  Mrs. Bradford set
about putting his clothes in order.

Sam Archer awaited with interest the result of his joke.  Seeing Ben
the next day, he stopped him.

"Where are you bound, Ben?" he asked.

"I am going to buy some underclothes," he said.

"Have you got a place?"

"Yes, I expect so."

Sam wanted to laugh, but concealed his emotions.

"Where is it?" he asked.

"It isn't in you father's mill," retorted Ben.

"No, I suppose not.  Is it in town?"

"It is in Boston!" said Ben, in a tone of satisfaction.

Sam laughed involuntarily.

"What are you laughing at?" inquired Ben angrily.

"Excuse me," said Sam.  "I was thinking how green you would be at
first in a city place.  I will call and see you when I go to the city."

"I don't like to be impolite; but as you prevented my getting a place
here, I don't look upon you as a friend, and I only care to receive
calls from my friends."

"How proud we are just because we have got a place in Boston!"
said Sam mockingly, and he laughed again.

"I thought he would be disappointed to hear of my success," thought
Ben.  "He is rather a queer boy."

"Isn't it jolly?" said Sam to himself.  "Won't he be mad when he finds
it all a sell?"

Chapter XXIV

Ben Arrives in Boston

Ben set out for Boston on Monday morning in very good spirits.  His
 aunt shed a few tears at parting.  She was apt to take depressing
views of the future, and said; "I hope you'll prosper, Ben," in a tone
which implied that she did not think there was more than one chance
in ten of his success.  But Ben understood his aunt, and did not allow
her presentiments to weigh with him.  His motto was still, "Wait and
Hope."

Ben found himself seated beside a young man of pleasant
appearance, who was attracted by our hero's frank and manly look.

"I suppose you are going to Boston," he said.

"Yes," answered Ben readily.

"Have you got a place there?"

"I am going to have," said Ben cheerfully.

"Do you mind telling where?"

"Oh, no," said Ben; "I am going to the store of Jones & Porter."

"Indeed!  There are very prominent business men."

"I suppose they are," said Ben.

"Do you know them personally?"

"I don't know them at all.  I think some friend of mine must have
mentioned me to them."

"It's rather singular that I shouldn't know anything about your
engagement," said the young man.

"Why should you?" inquired Ben, in natural surprise.

"The fact is, I am Mr. Porter's nephew, and am a salesman in the
establishment," said the young man.  He drew from his pocket a
business card, bearing the name.

HENRY W. PORTER

With Jones and Porter

Ben was rather disturbed, and he thought: "Can there be anything
wrong?"

He said aloud: "I don't see how there can be any mistake.  I received
a letter from Jones & Porter last week, offering me the place."

Ben took the letter from his pocket and handed it to the young man.

The latter ran his eye over it hastily.  He examined the signature and
the address, and said quietly "I don't think this letter came from our
store."

Ben felt as if the earth had opened before him.

"I don't understand it," he said, his face very red. "If the letter isn't
genuine, who could have written it?"

"It seems written in a schoolboy hand," said young Porter.  "Isn't it
possible that some one may be playing a practical joke on you?"

"It wouldn't be much of a joke to me," said Ben.

"I should call it a mean trick myself," said Porter; "but can't you think
of any one who may have written it?"

"I'll bet it's Sam Archer."

"And who is Sam Archer?"

"He is the meanest boy in Milltown," said Ben.

"Doesn't he like you?  Isn't he one of your friends?"

"No, he does all he can to injure me.  But"--here Ben examined the
letter a second time--"this isn't his handwriting."

"That proves nothing.  He probably sent it to some confederate in
Boston to copy and mail to you."

"Don't you think there is any chance of its being genuine?" asked Ben.

"The chance is very slight; but it is well, of course, to make sure.  I
have been away to pass Sunday, and shall go to the store at once on
my arrival.  You can go with me.  I will introduce you to my uncle."

"If it is a trick," said Ben uncomfortably, "I shall be in an awkward fix."

"Whether it is a trick or not, you can count on my friendship," said
young Porter kindly.

"Thank you," said Ben gratefully.

About an hour later Ben and his new friend entered the large and
handsome bookstore of Jones & Porter.

Young Porter, as he walked through the store, received the greetings
of his fellow clerks.

"Have you adopted a boy?" asked one facetiously.

"Yes," said Porter, smiling.  "Where is my uncle?"

"He is in the back office."

"All right!  Come along, Ben."

Henry Porter kept on his way till he reached the back part of the
store, where a good-sized office was partitioned off.  Mr. Porter
was writing at a desk.

"Good morning, uncle," said Ben's companion.

"Good morning, Henry.  Have a good time?"

"Excellent, uncle.  Let me introduce to your favorite notice Master
Benjamin Bradford, of Milltown."

Mr. Porter did not consider it beneath his dignity to be polite even to
a boy.

"I am glad to see you, my young friend," he said, rising and offering
his hand to Ben.  "Are you on a visit to the city?"

Poor Ben!  His heart sank within him.  Evidently Mr. Porter would
not ask such a question of a boy whom he had engaged to work for
him.

The young man saw his embarrassment and answered for him.

"That's rather an odd question to ask you new clerk, uncle," he said.

"My new clerk, Henry?  I don't understand you."

"Ben, show your letter."

"That is a forgery," said the uncle rather indignantly.

Poor Ben!  Manly as he was, he felt ready to cry.

"I am sorry," he said faltering.

"Have you any idea who wrote it?" asked Mr. Porter.

"Yes," answered Ben.  "It's Sam Archer."

"In fun?"

"No, in spite.  He is always glad to injure me."

"What can be his motive?"

Ben explained his relations with Sam.

"Do you need the position?" asked Mr. Porter.

"Yes, sir, I am poor, and can ill afford the money I have spent in
coming to Boston.  Sam knows this, and it is mean for him, a rich
boy, to fool me so."

Mr. Porter was a kind-hearted man.  More than once he had kept on
a clerk whom he did not need.

"Go into the store a minute, my boy," he said, "while I speak with my
nephew."

Of course Ben obeyed.

"What do you think of this boy, Henry?"

"I think very favorably of him.  He seems honest and straightforward,
and I think he is smart."

"I like his looks myself; I wish we had a vacancy."

"We shall have very soon."

"To whom do you refer?"

"Frank Robinson is going to leave at the beginning of next month.
His father thinks it will be better for him to go to school a year or
two longer."

"So you would recommend hiring this boy?"

"Yes, sir; I have so good an opinion of him that I am quite willing to
guarantee him.  If you will take him on immediately, I will myself
pay his wages till the end of the month, when Robinson leaves."

"Bravo, Henry!  That shows a kind heart.  I won't accept that, but
will give you leave to help him outside as much as you please."

Chapter XXV

Sam Gives Himself Away

Ben was looking with interest at a row of new books when he was
summoned into the private office.

"My young friend," said Mr. Porter, senior, "we are not responsible
for the letter that brought you here."

"No, sir," said Ben.  "I am sorry to have troubled you.  I'll go home
this afternoon."

He looked sober enough, poor Ben, for it would not be pleasant
facing his aunt and friends in Milltown, and explaining matters.
Even the "licking" which he determined to give Sam Archer, if he
should prove the author of the decoy letter, would be a poor
satisfaction.

"You may as well stay," said Mr. Porter.  "My nephew thinks we
can find a place for you in the store."

"Will you really take me?" asked Ben.

"We will try you.  My nephew thinks you will suit us."

"Thank you, sir," said Ben warmly.

"Your friend, who wrote the letter, will be rather disappointed, eh?"
said young Porter, smiling.

"Yes," said Ben, who could smile now.  "I should like to see him
when he learns that his malicious letter has procured me a
situation.

"What do we pay you Robinson?"

"Six dollars a week."

"Then Benjamin shall have the same.  He has no knowledge of the
business, to be sure----"

"I will have soon," said Ben confidently.

"That's right, my lad.  Make yourself useful to us, and you won't have
cause to regret it."

He was set to work dusting books, and young Porter went to his own
desk; he was chief bookkeeper.

"When the store closes," he said, "come to me.  I shall take you to
my room to-night."

In the evening, at his friend's room, Ben wrote the following letter to
his friend, James Watson:

"Boston, July 18, 19--.

"Dear James:  Though I have been only a few hours in Boston I
have a good deal to tell you.  You remember my showing you the
letter from Jones & Porter, which induced me to come to the city.
Well, it was a hoax.  It didn't come from the firm at all.  Somebody
wanted to play a trick on me, and wrote it.  I have no doubt Sam
Archer was at the bottom of it.  You know what a mean fellow he
is, and that he would like nothing better than to injure me.  But I
am glad to say that he has not succeeded.  By great good luck I
got acquainted with Mr. Porter's nephew on board the train.  I
showed him the letter, which he pronounced probably a forgery.
But he took me to the store--he is head bookkeeper--and
introduced me to his uncle.  It seems that there will be a vacancy
at the beginning of next month, and as I was on the ground, they
engaged me.  So Sam's mean trick has been the means of obtaining
me a position.  He will be provoked enough when he hears it.
Now I will tell you what I want you to do.  Don't say a word about
the letter being a hoax.  Merely tell the boys that I have got the
place I expected.  If Sam wrote the letter he will certainly betray
himself.  Keep mum, and lead him on.  Then let me know what
you find out.  I will write again soon.

"Your affectionate friend,
"Ben Bradford."

"It's a mean trick, and just like Sam," ejaculated James when he
read Ben's letter.  "I'll follow Ben's instructions.  Sam will be
coming round making inquiries pretty soon.  I'll manage him."

James was right in his supposition.  Sam eagerly awaited the
upshot of his trick.  He concluded that Ben would come back
Monday night depressed and humiliated, and he was on the street
near Ben's house when the afternoon train got in, ready to feast
his eyes on his rival's unhappiness.  But he waited in vain.

The next morning, about ten o'clock, he met James Watson on the
street.  James had received the letter from Ben the evening
previous.

"How are you, James?" said Sam.

"I'm all right," said James rather coolly.

"Have you heard from Ben Bradford?"

"I heard last night."

"What does he say?' asked Sam eagerly.

"He hadn't been in his situation long enough to tell how he should
like it," answered James.

"Is he in a situation?" demanded Sam in surprise.

"What do you think he went to Boston for?"

"Where is he working?" asked Sam incredulously.

"He is with Jones & Porter, of course.  Didn't you know they sent
for him?"

"Ha! ha!" laughed Sam.

"I am on the track," thought James.

"I don't know what you mean," said he quietly.  "Jones & Porter sent
for Ben, and he is in their employ."

"I'll bet you a dollar Ben Bradford will be back here within a week,"
said Sam, in a ton of great confidence.  "I don't believe Jones &
Porter ever wrote him a letter."

"I saw the letter."

"Suppose you did; it might have been a hoax."

"Then whoever wrote it did Ben a good turn, for he has got a place
at Jones & Porter's."

"I don't believe it," said Sam uneasily.

"Ben writes me that he is there."

"Will you let me see the letter?"

"No, I won't."

"That convinces me that it's all a humbug."

"You think the letter a hoax?"

"Yes, I do."

"What reason have you for thinking so?"

"I decline to state."

"Who do you think wrote it?"

"How should I know?"

"As you know so much, I don't mind telling you that you are right.
The letter was a hoax."

Sam laughed heartily.

"I thought so," he said.

"And I know who wrote it."

Sam didn't laugh now.

"Who?" he asked uncomfortably.

"You did it."

"What do you mean?" blustered Sam.

"Exactly what I say.  Otherwise you would have had no reason to
suspect the genuineness of it."

"Does Ben Bradford charge me with it?  Just wait till I see him."

"That will be some time unless you go to Boston.  Jones &
Porter happened to have a vacancy, and Ben stepped into it.
Your letter got him a place."

"I don't believe it," said Sam faintly.

"It's true, and it's lucky for you.  If Ben had been obliged to come
home he would have given you the worst licking you ever had."

Chapter XXVI

Ben Finds a Boarding-Place

Henry Porter had a fine suite of rooms in the Back Bay District of
Boston.  Ben spent the night with him.

"You've got a nice home," said our hero.

"Yes," said the bookkeeper.  "My rooms alone cost me fifteen
dollars a week."

"Without board?" ejaculated Ben.

"Yes," said the young man, smiling.

"Why, that is almost eight hundred dollars a year."

"Quite correct.  I see you think me extravagant."

"I was wondering how you could afford it."

"Your surprise is natural.  If I only depended on my salary, I
certainly should not hire such expensive apartments.  But a good
aunt left me twenty thousand dollars, two years since, and this
being well invested yields me about fourteen hundred dollars a
year."

"I wonder you don't go into business."

"I have thought of it, but doubt whether I should manage a
business of my own judiciously.  If not, I should run the risk of
losing all my money.  I like keeping books for my uncle, and
he pays me a good salary.  With this and the income from my
property I can live as well as I wish without incurring any risk
at all."

"I don't know but that is best," said Ben.

"Now let me speak of your own plans, Ben.  Your income is
six dollars a week."

"Yes, sir."

"You must regulate your expenses accordingly."

"I want to do so, Mr. Porter.  How much board shall I have to
pay?" asked Ben anxiously.

"I cannot tell without inquiring.  There is a boarding-house on
Warren Avenue, kept by a worthy lady of my acquaintance.  How
much do you fell able to pay?"

"I should like to have enough over to buy my clothes."

"We will see if we can manage it  Get your hat and we will go to
the boarding-house now."

It was a three-story brick house, such as is common in Boston.  It
was unusually neat for a boarding-house of medium grade, Mrs.
Draper being an excellent housekeeper, with a horror of dirt.

"How do you do, Mr. Porter?" was the landlady's greeting.  Mr.
Porter had once boarded with her.

"Very well, thank you, Mrs. Draper.  How is business?  Pretty
full, eh?"

"Yes, sir; I've only got one small room vacant."

"May we see it?"

"It won't suit you, Mr. Porter."

"It may suit my young friend here."

"A relative of yours?" inquired Mrs. Draper.

"No, but he is a young friend in whom I feel an interest."

"I shall be very glad if the room suits him, then."

Mrs. Draper led the way up-stairs to the vacant room.  It was small,
but neatly carpeted, and provided all that was needful in a chamber.

"How much do you like it, Ben?" asked the bookkeeper.

"Very much," said Ben, in a tone of satisfaction.

Mr. Porter walked to the other end of the room and discussed terms
with Mrs. Draper in a low tone.

"What is your price for this room with board?"

"I have generally got six dollars a week."

"I want you to let my young friend have it for four."

"I really couldn't do it, Mr. Porter.  You have no idea how much I
have to pay at the market for meat and vegetables.  Then my
landlord won't reduce my rent."

"You don't understand me, Mrs. Draper," said the bookkeeper.
"You are to charge him only four dollars; but I propose to make
up the difference."

"That is, of course, satisfactory."

"One thing more.  My young friend is not to know about this
arrangement.  He is to suppose that four dollars a week is payment in
full."

"There is only one objection to that, Mr. Porter.  If my other
boarders suppose that is all he pays, they will make a fuss, and want
their rate of board reduced."

"Then he shall be cautioned to keep the price he pays secret.  Ben!"

Ben walked over to where they were standing.

"Mrs. Draper agrees to take you at the very low price of four dollars
a week for room and board."

Ben looked delighted.

"Then I shall have money enough from my wages to pay all my
expenses without calling on Aunt Jane."

"Yes, if you are economical.  As this price is extremely low, you are
not to mention to any of the other boarders how much you pay."

"I will be sure to remember it," said Ben.

As they were leaving the house Mr. Porter said: "Don't suppose,
Ben, that I am anxious to get rid of you.  I had half a mind to keep
you with me a week or two.  But one thing deterred me.  You are
a poor boy, and have your own way to make in the world.  You
can't for years afford to live as I am doing.  If I accustomed you to
living expensively it would be harder for you to accommodate
yourself to your means."

"I understand you, Mr. Porter, and thank you.  I consider you a true
friend," said Ben earnestly.

"I see you are a sensible boy, Ben.  You are right in looking upon me
as a friend.  I hope you will come and call upon me often."

"Thank you, sir.  I shall consider it a privilege to do so.  And I hope
you will give me any advice that you think will benefit me."

"I will, Ben, and I will begin now.  We have a large public library in
Boston, of which we are very proud.  I advise you to draw books
from it."

"I shall be glad to," said Ben eagerly.

"Come round, and I will show it to you."

Together they entered the handsome building on Copley Square.
Ben, who had never seen a large library, or, indeed, any library
containing over a thousand books, was amazed at what he saw.

"I didn't suppose there was any library in the world so large," he said.

"Here is the newspaper and magazine room.  You can come in here
any evening.  It will be much better than to spend your time where
many boys and young men do--in billiard and drinking saloons."

"I shall enjoy living in Boston very much."

"I think you will.  While a large city has more temptations than a
small town, it also has more opportunities for improvement.  I
hope, Ben, you will start right, and prepare the way for a useful
manhood."

"Thank you, Mr. Porter.  I mean to try."

The next day Ben took formal possession of his room in the
boarding-house on Warren Avenue.  He found a pleasant class
of boarders there and a good table.  Though not luxurious, it
was better than he had been used to at home, and he felt
himself fortunately placed.

Chapter XXVII

Sam Attempts Strategy

The more Sam Archer thought of the effect of his letter upon Ben's
fortunes the more he felt provoked.

"I wish I hadn't sent him to Jones & Porter," thought he.  "I hope he
won't suit them."

When a fortnight had passed Sam managed to meet James Watson.

"Have you heard from Ben Bradford lately?"

"Yes," said James.

"What does he write?"

"That he likes his place very much.  The bookkeeper is very kind to
him, and assists him with advice.  Then he likes being in a bookstore."

Sam was not overjoyed at the news.

"How kind you are to take such an interest in Ben!"

"I don't take an interest in him," returned Sam.

"Then what makes you ask after him so particularly?"

"I expected he'd be discharged by this time."

"What made you think so?"

"He didn't give satisfaction at the mill.  He was discharged."

"So was I."

"But not for the same reasons," said Sam.  "It was because times
were dull."

"I rather think Ben's work was satisfactory enough, but you
influenced your father against him."

"How much pay does he get?" inquired Sam.

"More than he received at the mill."

"I wonder whether all this is true," considered Sam.  "James Watson
is Ben's friend and he may represent things better than they are."

An excellent plan suggested itself to Sam.  He would ask his father's
permission to go to Boston and pass a day or two with his friend,
Frank Ferguson.  This would allow him to drop into Jones & Porter's
store and judge for himself how Ben was situated.

Sam had no trouble about obtaining permission.

On reaching the city he decided to call at the store before going to
his friend's residence.

Ben was dusting books, when a glance toward the door revealed
the entrance of Sam.  The latter had cherished a faint hope that
James had deceived him, and that Ben was really not employed.

"How shall I receive him?" Ben asked himself.

He decided to treat him coolly, but not to quarrel.

"Good morning, Bradford," said Sam.

"Good morning, Archer," was the return greeting.

Sam didn't quite like this familiarity.

"How do you like working here?"

"Very much," answered Ben.  "Much better than in the mill," he
added significantly.

"I shouldn't think they'd have taken a green country boy," suggested
Sam pleasantly.

"Perhaps they wouldn't if a friend hadn't written for me," said Ben
with a meaning glance at Sam.

"How much pay do you get?"

"I would rather not say."

"Because it is so small," said Sam, with a sneer.

"On the contrary, I look upon it as liberal.  I am doing better than if I
had remained at Milltown."

This was bad news for Sam.

"I am really obliged to the person who wrote the letter which
secured me the position," Ben added.

"It isn't much of a business to dust books."

"I sell books sometimes," said Ben, smiling.  "Can I show you
something this morning."

"No, I don't want anything.  Where do you live?"

"I board on Warren Avenue."

"In a cheap boarding-house?"

"There are some very nice people who board there."

Sam came to a sudden decision.  Would it be possible to induce
Ben to give up his place, and enter the mill again?  He could be
discharged after awhile, and cast adrift.  It was rather foolish to
suppose that Ben would snap at such a bait, but he decided to
try it.

"I think you would be better off in the mill," he said.

"You could board at home, and help your aunt.  You would soon be
promoted, too."

"I thought you didn't want me to enter the mill," exclaimed Ben,
amazed.  "Your father told me that my record was not good;" and
Ben looked indignant.

"Father was feeling out of sorts," said Sam smoothly.

"He will take you on if you'll come back."

"What does the fellow mean?" thought Ben.

It didn't take him long to guess.  If he should return to the mill he
would be once more in Sam's power.

"You really think your father would employ me?"

"Yes, he would if I asked him to."

"I would thank you, Sam Archer, if I thought your offer was a
friendly one."

"What makes you think that it isn't."

"The feeling which I have reason to think you entertain for me, and
your conduct in the past."

"You are too suspicious, Ben."

"If I find I am, I will apologize to you.  It would be foolish for me
to give up so good a position in order to accept a poor one, which
is not all permanent."

"Well, Bradford, I must bid you good morning.  Just write to me if
you decide to accept."

"If I decide to accept I will."

"He's getting very impudent," said Sam to himself, "If I could only
get him into the mill I could fix him.  We'd let him stay two or three
weeks, and then ship him.  But he won't do it.  Stay, I think of a
way."

What the way was may be conjectured from a letter which Ben
received three days later from his Aunt Jane:

"My Dear Nephew:  I am feeling almost heart-broken.  It is reported
by one who saw you lately that you are looking very dissipated.  I
was afraid the temptations of the city were too much for you.  You
are too young to go away from home.  I won't blame you too much,
for I feel that you are weak rather than wicked.  But I shall not feel
comfortable till you are at home again.  Don't hesitate to give up
your place.  I am assured that they will take you on again at the mill,
and it will be much better for you to be at home with us, till you are
older, and better able to resist temptation.

"Your anxious aunt,
"Jane Bradford"

Ben read this letter in amazed indignation.

"Sam is at the bottom of this," he concluded.  "It is he that has
reported that I look dissipated.  He wants to deprive me of my place,
and get me into the mill, where I shall be in his power.  I can't forgive
him for frightening my poor aunt.  If I were at home, I should
certainly punish him as he deserves."

Ben took the letter to his friend, the bookkeeper.

"What do you think of that?" he asked.

"This letter was written at an enemy's instigation."

"You are right, Mr. Porter."

Then Ben told his friend of Sam's call.

"Will you do me a favor, Mr. Porter?" he asked.

"Certainly I will, Ben."

"Then, will you write to my aunt, and assure her that my habits are
good, and that her informant has willfully lied?  It will relieve her
anxiety."

"With pleasure."

The next day Mrs. Bradford received a letter, very enthusiastic in its
tone, which completely exonerated our hero from the charges
brought against him.

"Your nephew," it concluded, "bids fair to become one of our best
clerks.  He is polite, faithful, and continually trying to improve.
You need have no apprehension about him.  It would be very
foolish for him to resign his situation."

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.

Chapter XXXII

The Blow Falls

This is the material portion of Mrs. Bradford's letter to Ben:

"Dear Benjamin:  The blow has fallen at last.  I felt that our
prosperity was not lasting, though I never could make you
believe it.  I have always expected the worst, and it has come.
Benjamin, we are ruined; I shall end my days in the poorhouse after
all.  If you want an explanation, read the letter which I enclose."

The letter enclosed was from Solomon Brief, attorney, of
Montreal, informing Mrs. Bradford that, as executor of the
estate of the late Matthew Baldwin, of Montreal, he begged to
remind her that for five years she had failed to pay the rent on a
tenement owned by the deceased, and which he now found it to
be his duty to demand.  At sixty dollars per year, without interest,
this would now amount to three hundred dollars, which he hoped
Mrs. Bradford would see the propriety of paying at once.

Mrs. Bradford continued:

I don't know whether they will put me in jail or not; but you know
that I cannot pay this money, and couldn't if I had five years to do
it in.  What will become of us all I don't know.  'Man is born to
trouble as the sparks fly upward.'

"Your sorrowful aunt,
"Jane Bradford.

"P.S.--I am sure your Uncle Matthew never intended that I should
pay the rent.  He once wrote me a letter to that effect, but I can't
find it."

Even Ben, hopeful as he was, looked sober after reading this letter.
He went to his friend, the bookkeeper.

"Have you ever seen your uncle, Ben?" he inquired.

"No, sir."

"What was his reputation?"

"He was considered wealthy."

"It is a pity you could not visit Montreal, and make some inquiries,"
said the bookkeeper thoughtfully.

"Of course I can't do that."

"Then, first of all, write to this lawyer, and inquire the particulars
of Mr. Baldwin's death; and next, how his property is left.
Then make him acquainted with the terms on which your aunt
has occupied her house."

This advice seemed reasonable, and Ben adopted it.

As Ben left the store at six o'clock, one evening, he brushed by an
old man with a bent figure and apparently feeble.  He stumbled
and would have fallen had not Ben sprung forward and held him up.

"Thank you, my boy," he said, in a tremulous voice.

"You seem feeble," said Ben compassionately.

"Yes, I am not strong."

"If you wish it I will accompany you to your house; you might fall again."

"What is your name?"

"Benjamin Bradford."

"Where do you board?" asked the old man abruptly.

"At No.---Warren Avenue."

"I want to find a comfortable boarding-house.  Do you think I could
get in there?"

"Yes, sir; I know Mrs. Draper has a vacant room."

"Is she reasonable in her charges?"

"If she were not I could not afford to board there."

"I've a great mind to go there," said the old man.

"I wonder if he has money enough to pay his board regularly,"
thought Ben.

Just then a grandson of Mrs. Draper's, Charlie Hunting, a boy
rather younger than Ben, came up.

"How are you, Ben?" he said.

"All right, Charlie.  Do you know if your grandmother has let
the bedroom on the second floor?"

"Yes, I know she hasn't."

"Would you like to go and see it, sir?" asked Ben.

"Yes," said the old man.  "Is it far?"

"About half a mile; but we can take the cars."

"No, I can walk, if you will walk slow enough for me.  I am
not so young as I was."

"Certainly, sir.  Charlie, if you are going home, just tell your
grandmother that this gentleman is coming to look at her room.
You needn't wait for me."

"All right, Ben."

"You are very kind to an old man; what did you say your name
was?"

"Ben Bradford."

"Have you parents living?"

"No, sir, only an aunt and cousin."

"Are they well off?"

"Not very, sir.  They got along very comfortably till lately, but now
something has happened which makes me feel anxious.  But I won't
trouble you with it, sir."

"Tell me about it; I would like to hear it."

"For five years my aunt has occupied a small house, rent free.  It
belonged to her uncle.  She has just got a letter saying that her uncle
is dead, and demanding payment of rent for the last five years."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I have written to the lawyer, telling him on what terms my aunt
occupied her house--that is, rent free, on condition that she paid the
taxes regularly."

"What was the uncle's name?  I am a little acquainted in Montreal.
Perhaps I may have heard it."

"His name was Matthew Baldwin."

"I have heard of him.  He was a miserly old man."

"I don't know about that," said Ben.

"It seems to me you ought to look after the matter.  Why don't you
go to Montreal?"

"I can't spare the time or money," answered Ben.  "Besides, we
should certainly have heard of it if any property had been
coming to us.  I have written to the lawyer, and expect to hear
something soon."

When they reached the boarding-house on Warren Avenue the old
man appeared pleased with the vacant room.  He haggled a little
about the terms, but finally agreed to take it at the price set by Mrs.
Draper.  He gave his name as Marcus Benton, and too immediate
possession.

Chapter XXXIII

Ben Receives a Commission

In due time a letter came from Montreal.  It was brief and not
overcourteous.  From it Ben learned that Mr. Baldwin had been
dead for three weeks, and that all his property was left to a young
man who claimed to be a distant relative.  The name of the heir was
John Tremlett.  The letter concluded: "I can find nothing in the
papers of the deceased confirming your statement that your aunt
was allowed to occupy her house rent free.  If you hold any proof
of your assertions, you may forward it.  Otherwise Mr. Tremlett
will insist upon his claim."

This letter reached Ben on a Friday.  It naturally caused him anxiety.
He obtained permission to go to Milltown Saturday afternoon and
spend Sunday.  He desired himself to institute a search for the letter
of which his aunt had spoken.

His aunt received him in tearful despondency.

"Oh, what shall we do, Benjamin?" said the widow.

"First, we must search for that letter of Uncle Matthew's."

"I know I'm to blame, Benjamin.  I have brought ruin upon you and
my poor, innocent Tony."

"You haven't ruined me, so you need not trouble yourself about that.
Even if the letter cannot be found, I guess we shall live through it."

They hunted high and low; but the letter was not to be found.  Ben
was a good deal disappointed, but did not venture to say so, not
wishing to increase his aunt's despondency.  On Monday morning
he went back to Boston, and told the bookkeeper.

"It seems quite desirable that you should go to Montreal, Ben," said
young Porter.

"Of course that is out of the question, Mr. Porter."

"No; I think it can be managed."

Ben looked, as he felt, not a little surprised.

"It is some time," explained the bookkeeper, "since we sent an agent
to Montreal.  We have been thinking of sending some one up there,
stopping at the principal towns on the way.  You are rather young,
but if I recommend you I presume my uncle will let you go."

Of course Mr. Porter, senior, had to be consulted.  Though not a
little doubtful about the expediency of sending so young a
representative of the house, he finally gave his consent, which was
communicated to Ben.

Ben was summoned to the countingroom, and received his
instructions, with a sum of money for expenses.  At three o'clock
in the afternoon he was dismissed, though he was not to start till
the next morning.

Old Mr. Benton's door was open when Ben returned.

"What brings you home so soon?" he inquired.

"I am going to Montreal," said Ben.

"Come in and tell me about it."

The old man, clad in a ragged dressing-gown, was sitting in a
rocking-chair by the fire.  The day was not cold, but his blood
was thin, and he felt the need of some artificial heat.  He was
smoking a common clay pipe.

"Isn't this sudden--your going to Montreal?" asked Mr. Benton.

"Yes, sir; I think young Mr. Porter has made business there in order
to give a chance to go?"

"What do you mean to do?"

"I shall attend first to the business of the firm, and then call on this
lawyer, Mr. Brief."

"It is well thought of, and, Benjamin, try to get a chance to see the
new heir, Mr. Tremlett, and find out what use he is making of his
property."

"Yes, sir, I will."

"Have you money enough to pay your expenses, Benjamin?" asked
the old man, rather hesitatingly.

"Oh, yes, sir; the firm provides for that."

"To be sure.  Of course they ought to do it," said Mr. Benton,
appearing to feel relieved.

"How long do you expect to be gone, Benjamin?"

"I don't know, sir; I am to stop in Burlington and one or two other
places.  I may be gone ten days."

"I shall feel lonely without you, Benjamin."

"I am glad you value my society so much."

"I am a lonely man, Benjamin; I have never had many friends, and I
have outlived nearly all of those."

"You ought to have married, Mr. Benton; then you would have
children and grandchildren to comfort you in your old age."

"I wish I had, Benjamin; but it is too late now."

"It is never too late to mend, Mr. Benton," said Ben.  "Men older
than you have married."

"Then they were fools," said Mr. Benton bluntly.

"Suppose you should be sick, sir?"

"I would hire a nurse.  I am not rich, but I have enough to provide
for the few years I have remaining."

"I must ask you to excuse me now, sir," said Ben.  "I must buy a few
things which I shall need."

Ben wrote briefly to his aunt, to let her know that he was about to
start for Montreal.  Mrs. Bradford was not a little discomposed.

"It's tempting Providence to send a child like Benjamin to a foreign
country," she remarked to Mrs. Perkins, who had dropped in for a
neighborly chat.

"Do you know how far it is, Mrs. Perkins?"

"About a thousand miles," answered her visitor, whose ideas about
geography were rather misty.

"Suppose Ben should lose his way."

"Like as not he will," observed Mrs. Perkins.

"I shan't sleep a wink till Ben gets back.  They ought to have sent
somebody with him."

"Ben can get along," said Tony, who had implicit confidence in his
big cousin.  "He won't get lost."

"What does a child like you know about it?" said Mrs. Perkins
rebukingly.  "You shouldn't put in your oar when your mother and
me are talking."

Chapter XXXIV

Solomon Brief

On his arrival in Montreal, Ben ascertained where Mr. Brief's office
was, but deferred going to see him.  He felt very properly that he
ought to attend to the business of his employers first, and then, when
he could do so without detriment to their interests look after his
own.  He was very anxious to succeed.  He knew very well that
Jones & Porter had serious doubts about the expediency of
sending so young a representative to Montreal.

In calling upon different booksellers he exerted himself to the
utmost.  Though but sixteen, his address was pleasing, his manner
self-possessed and he was courteous and gentlemanly, so that he
won favorable regards of those with whom he had business
relations.  The result was that he received quite a number of orders,
which he at once sent forward by mail.

Thus three days were spent.  On the morning of the fourth, he called
at the office of Solomon Brief.

"What do you want, boy?" asked a clerk.

"I want to see Mr. Brief."

"His time is too valuable to be taken up by boys."

"If I had a clerk like you I would soon get rid of him."

"You would, hey?" blustered the young man, advancing threateningly.

Ben didn't budge and the clerk stopped short.

"Did you say you came on business?" he inquired.

"That I will tell Mr. Brief," said Ben firmly.

"You are from the States, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"That accounts for your impudence."

"I should know you were not from the States."

"Why?"

"Because you are so uncivil."

"Look here, young fellow, you'd better clear out, if you don't want
to get kicked out."

"Who is to do the kicking?"

"I am."

"I wouldn't advise you to try it."

"Why not?"

"It wouldn't be prudent."

"Ho! ho!" laughed the clerk sarcastically.

"Once more," said Ben.  "I request you to announce me to Mr. Brief.
He is executor of Mr. Baldwin's estate, I believe."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me that was your business?"

"I couldn't see that it mattered to you."

At this moment the inner door opened, and a tall man, with reddish
hair and mutton-chop whiskers of the same hue, made his appearance.

"What's this Frederic?  Who is this boy?"

"I wish to see you on business connected with Mr. Baldwin's estate
sir," said Ben; "but this young man appears to have an objection to
the interview."

"Why don't you bring him in?"

"I didn't suppose he had any business with you."

"Who constituted you a judge of that, sir?  Hereafter leave me to
decide.  Boy, come in."

Mr. Brief threw himself into an office chair.

"Well, who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Benjamin Bradford."

"Well?"

"You wrote a letter to my aunt, Mrs. Jane Bradford, of Milltown,
Massachusetts, not long since."

"Exactly.  Do you represent her?"

"I do."

"Very well.  Did you bring the three hundred dollars which she owes
to the estate of my client?"

"No, sir."

"What then?"

"I came to repeat what I have written you, that my aunt was
authorized to occupy the house rent-free."

"It was hardly worth while to come so far to say that," said Mr. Brief,
with a sneer.

"I am here in Montreal on other business, and have taken the
opportunity to see you about my own."

"Indeed!  Then you are a business man?"

"I represent the firm of Jones & Porter, publishers."

"Humph!  Can't they get any one but a boy to represent them?"

"That, sir, is their business," he answered emphatically.  "I have not
chosen to inquire whether my uncle could not have found a better
lawyer to act as executor."

"You are impudent, young man!" exclaimed Solomon Brief, his face
being as red for the moment as his hair.

"We have neither of us been overcivil," said Ben.  "Suppose we come
back to business."

"Come now, you're a cool one."

"Perhaps I am.  I have always understood that coolness is desirable
in business.  May I inquire of what disease my uncle died?"

"It would serve you right if I declined to answer your questions after
your impudence to me.  However, I will overlook it this time.  Your
uncle committed suicide."

"Good gracious!" ejaculated Ben, who was quite unprepared for this
announcement.  "How did he do it?"

"He drowned himself."

"What could possibly have driven him to it?"

"Of that we are ignorant.  He left a letter at his lodgings, directing
me to open and carry out the provisions of his will, which he had
deposited with me."

"May I ask what were the provisions of his will?"

"You seem to be curious."

"I have a right to be.  My aunt and myself are among his nearest
relations, if not the nearest.  We had a right to suppose that we
might be remembered in his will."

"You were not."

"You can understand that we wish, at all events, to know the contents
of the will.  We should have been apprised of his death sooner."

As a lawyer Mr. Brief understood that Ben was in the right, and he
produced a copy of the will.

The will was brief.  The entire estate of the deceased was left to John
Tremlett with this provision, that for the first year only the income
should be paid to him; afterward he was to come into full possession.

"It seems regular," said Ben.

"Of course it is regular.  I helped him make the will."

"Who is Mr. Tremlett?  I never heard of him."

"A second or third cousin.  He was a sort of adopted son of Mr. Baldwin."

Just here the inner door opened by the clerk, who announced, "Mr.
Tremlett, sir."

Chapter XXXV

John Tremlett

John Tremlett was a dark-complexioned young man, rather above
the middle height.  He was by no means handsome; but plain faces
are often attractive, and this young man's was not.  His eyes were
bloodshot, and even Ben's inexperienced glance could detect the
marks of dissipation.  He was expensively dressed and looked like
one who made a business of spending money.

"How are you, Brief?" he said carelessly, throwing himself into a chair.

"In better condition than you are, I judge from your looks, Mr.
Tremlett," responded the lawyer.

"I hope so.  I feel awfully seedy," said Tremlett.

"Your own fault.  You shouldn't keep such late hours."

"Oh, bother that, Brief!  I must have a good time."

"You don't look as if you were enjoying your mode of life."

"Oh, I shall be all right when I get over my headache.  Is this a client
of yours?" glancing at Ben.

"He's a relation of yours, according to his own account," said Mr. Brief.

"Is he?" inquired Tremlett languidly.  "Can't say I ever saw him before."

"Mr. Baldwin was my great-uncle," said Ben.  "That is, he was an
uncle of my aunt, Mrs. Jane Bradford."

"Indeed!  Were you expecting a share of the property?" asked
Tremlett suspiciously.

"I thought Mr. Baldwin might remember his niece."

"He hasn't, though."

"So I find by the will."

"Sorry for you; but, of course, Mr. Baldwin had a right to dispose of
his property as he saw fit."

"I don't deny his right."

"Then you are not intending to dispute the will," said Tremlett, relieved.

"I never dreamed of doing it.  I came about a house which my aunt
has been occupying rent-free."

"What is it, Brief?  Do I know about it?"

"It's a small house in Milltown, Massachusetts, which belongs to
your uncle's estate.  I found that Mrs. Bradford has paid no rent for
it during the last five years, and accordingly sent her an invitation to
pay up arrears."

"Has she done it?"

"No, sir," said Ben.  "Mr. Baldwin permitted her to occupy the house
rent-free."

"That is your assertion," said the lawyer.

"It is true," returned Ben quickly.

"Show it to me in writing, and that will end all dispute."

"I hope yet to do it, but thus far we have been unable to find Uncle
Matthew's letter."

"That's all fair," said Tremlett.  If the letter can't be found, the money
must be paid.

"My aunt is utterly unable to pay it.  She is poor."

"That is no excuse in law, my young friend," said Mr. Brief.  "She
must borrow the money then."

"Where?" asked Ben.

"That is not our lookout.  As you are in business, perhaps you will
advance the necessary sum."

"If I were able, and were satisfied of the justice of the claim, I would
do so," answered Ben.  "But I don't believe that Uncle Matthew
intended that my aunt should be distressed by such a demand.  Why
should he have let the rent run on for five years if he expected her to
pay it?"

"Can't say, I'm sure."

"How much is due?" asked Tremlett.

"Three hundred dollars," said Brief.

"Look here, young fellow," said Tremett, "Perhaps you and I can
settle it.  If you will pay me two hundred dollars cash down I will
give you a receipt for the whole."

"Mr. Tremlett," said Mr. Brief stiffly, "you appear to forget that I am
settling this estate.  You have no authority to make such an offer."

"Wasn't the property left to me, I should like to know?" demanded
Tremlett, blustering.

"Yes."

"Then why am I not authorized to make the offer, tell me that?"

"According to Mr. Baldwin's will you can only receive the income for
the first twelve months."

"That's deuced hard on a fellow," said Tremlett.

"On the other hand, I think it is a prudent precaution."

"The old man was a tight-fisted old curmudgeon.  He only wanted to
annoy me."

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders, and Ben broke out indignantly,
"I wouldn't speak in that way of a man who had left me all his
fortune."

"Mind your own business, boy," retorted John Tremlett sharply.  "Do
you think I am going to stand your impudence?"

"I think it is just as well you have waited till after Uncle Matthew's
death before speaking of him in that way."

"Don't let up on the boy!  Make him pay every cent of the debt,
Brief!" exclaimed John Tremlett angrily.

"Of course we shall follow up the matter, Mr. Tremlett."

"Have him arrested if he doesn't pay, Brief."

Ben smiled.

"You seem to forget, Mr. Tremlett, that I am not your debtor.  The
claim is against my aunt."

"Is that so, Brief?"

"The boy is right."

"I am sorry for it.  I should like to hold him responsible."

"No doubt, Mr. Tremlett," said Ben; "but we can't always have our
wishes granted."

"Leave the matter in my hands," said the lawyer.  "I will do what is
best."

"By the way, Brief," said John Tremlett, "I mustn't forget my errand.
I want some money."

"Some money?  I gave you two hundred dollars last week."

"Well, it's gone, and I want some more."

"Mr. Tremlett," said the lawyer gravely, "are you aware how much
money you have spent during the last four weeks?"

"No, I have kept no account."

"Well I have.  You have drawn eight hundred dollars."

"It costs something to see life."

"Perhaps so!  but I cannot permit you to exceed your
income--during the first year, at least.  Thus far you have spent
twice as much as you were entitled to draw."

Ben listened attentively.  He had no idea of the extent of his uncle's
property.  If it yielded four hundred dollars a month, as he inferred,
it must amount to nearly, if not quite, a hundred thousand dollars.
And this young man was not content with that.  Our hero could not
help wondering at his unreasonableness.

"I don't see how I can economize," muttered Tremlett.

"What was your income before Mr. Baldwin's death, Mr. Tremlett?"
inquired Mr. Brief.

"I starved on eight hundred dollars a year."

"Then it seems to me you aught to live comfortably now on five
thousand."

"My circumstances are changed."

"At this rate you'll run through the property in ten years."

"Oh, I'll pull up after awhile," said the heir carelessly.  "So just give
me a couple of hundreds, old fellow!"

"I will hand you a hundred," said Mr. Brief reluctantly.  "Hereafter
you must keep within your allowance."

"You're getting to be as miserly as the old man," said Tremlett.
"What's your name, boy?"

"My name is Benjamin Bradford."

"I suppose we are cousins, or something of that sort.  Come out and
take a drink."

"No, thank you.  I never drink."

"You don't?  What a prig you must be!  Good-bye, Brief."

The heir left the office, and Mr. Brief turned to Ben.

"What do you think of your uncle's heir?" he inquired.

"I think he is going to ruin rapidly," answered Ben.

"You are right.  The grub has become a butterfly, and the sober clerk
has developed into a gay spendthrift.  He was your uncle's clerk and
distant relative.  It would make the old man turn in his coffin if he
knew how quickly his money is likely to melt away."

"Can't you check him?" asked Ben.

"For twelve months I can.  After that I am powerless.  I wish he were
more like you."

"Thank you," said Ben, surprised at the compliment.

"My bark is worse that my bite," said the lawyer.  "About this claim
against your aunt I will do what I can for you, but try to find the letter
you refer to.  The sum is a small one."

"It is large to us."

"Just so; but my client would squander it in a week.  Let me hear
from you after you have returned and instituted a further search."

"Thank you, sir, I will write."

Ben left  the office, judging Mr. Brief more favorably than at first.
With John Tremlett, he was disgusted.

Chapter XXXVI

A Surprising Discovery

"I suppose I have done all I can," said Ben to himself.  "There will
be no object in remaining in Montreal any longer."

He immediately purchased a ticket, and took the next train
homeward.  He arrived in Boston at mid-day.

He went at once to the store, and was cordially welcomed by the
bookkeeper.

"I am glad to see you, Ben," said the young man.  "My uncle is
well pleased with the orders you have sent home."

"Then he is satisfied with me?"

"I leave him to tell you that.  You can go at once into the
countingroom."

Ben reported himself as directed.

"Welcome back, Ben," said the old gentleman.  "Have you just
arrived?"

"I reached the station twenty minuets ago, sir."

"And came directly to the store; I like that.  How do you like
drumming?"

"It requires patience, sir; but I like it.  I hope you are satisfied
with me."

"You have exceeded my anticipations.  To be candid with you,
I doubted the expedience of sending so young a representative."

"I know that, sir, and it made me work harder."

"I should have no hesitation in sending you again.  In fact, I shall
probably send you next month to New York and Philadelphia."

"I should like that very much, sir," said Ben, his eyes sparkling.
"I shall try to satisfy you."

"I think you will," said his employer kindly.  "I never doubted your
fidelity.  Now I feel assured of your capacity and tact.  Have you
any orders not yet reported?"

"Two or three small ones, sir."

"Give them to me."

This done, Mr. Porter dismissed Ben for the day.  "You need
not report for work till to-morrow morning."

Ben was glad to go to his boarding-house.  On arriving there
he received another cordial greeting, this time from Mr.
Benton.  The old gentleman seemed really delighted to see him,
and eager to learn what he had accomplished.  Ben began to
speak of the orders he had received; but Mr. Benton interrupted
him.

"I don't mean that," he said.  "I want to hear about your own
affairs.  Did you see Mr. Brief the lawyer?"

"Yes, sir."

"How did you like him?"

"Not at all, at first, but better before we parted."

"How was that?" asked Mr. Benton, showing some curiosity.

At first he insisted strongly on the claim the estate has against
my aunt; but after awhile he said he should not press the matter
at present, and recommended us to look for Uncle Matthew's
letter.

"You have searched for it, have you not?" asked Mr. Benton.

"Yes, sir; but so far without success.  Still I haven't given up all
hope of finding it.  My motto is, 'Wait and Hope.'"

"I think it will all come out right," said the old man.  "Did you
see John Tremlett?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me about him," said the old man eagerly.  "Ho does he look?"

"He looks like a fast young man," answered Ben.  "I did not like
him at all."

"Do you think he is spending money fast?"

"I know he is.  How much money do you think he has drawn in a
month?"

"Two hundred dollars?" suggested Mr. Benton.

"He had drawn eight hundred and spent it all, for he came into the
office to ask for more."

"The young scoundrel!" exclaimed Marcus Benton, with an
excitement which Ben could not understand.  "Why he is making
ducks and drakes of my old friend's fortune."

"Did you know Uncle Matthew?" asked Ben quickly.

"Yes," answered the old man.  "I told you so, didn't I?"

"No, sir, you never told me that.  Do you know John Tremlett?"

"Yes, I have seen him.  He was a sober, steady young man
apparently, who ingratiated himself with Mr. Baldwin, whom he
deceived as to his real character."

"What relation was he to Uncle Matthew?"

"Very distant, but he seemed near, having been in his employ for
several years.  He collected rents and attended to other necessary
matters."

"If he was ever sober and steady, he has changed a good deal."

"Did Mr. Brief give him the money he asked for?"

"Not all he wanted.  He gave him one hundred dollars, and reminded
him that he was only at liberty to pay over to him the income of the
estate--that is, for the first twelve months."

"Quite right!" murmured Mr. Benton.

"He lectured him upon his extravagance and fast life, and warned him
that he must check himself."

"He did right."

"What I dislike most about this John Tremlett was the way in which
he spoke of Uncle Matthew," said Ben.

"How did he speak of him?" demanded Marcus Benton quickly.

"As a tight-fisted old curmudgeon."

"He did--the young viper!" exclaimed the old man indignantly.
"Spoke so of the man who left him his fortune!"

"Yes, sir.  I couldn't help telling him I thought it not very becoming to
speak in that way of his benefactor; and he told me to mind my own
business."

"I wouldn't have believed John Tremlett would act so," said Mr.
Benton slowly; "I trusted him so, and always treated him kindly."

"You trusted him!" repeated Ben, astonished.

"My boy," said Mr. Benton, "the time has come for me to throw off
the mask.  I am not Marcus Benton, as you suppose.  I am Matthew
Baldwin."

"But I thought Mr. Baldwin was dead--committed suicide,"
exclaimed Ben, in wild amazement.

"The world thinks so; but the world is mistaken.  I will tell you the
whole story.  I found myself getting old.  In all probability I had
but a few years to live.  By industry and economy I had
accumulated a fortune, which I must leave behind me.  I was
anxious that it should not be squandered.  I selected John Tremlett
as my heir.  So far as I knew he was devoted to my interests, and
he seemed steady in his habits.  But it occurred to me to try him.
Accordingly I sent a letter to my lawyer, Solomon Brief, who had
my will in his possession, announcing my intention to commit
suicide, and directing him to open the will and carry out the
provisions.  Then I left Montreal secretly, staying a short time in
northern Vermont.  Later I came on to Boston and managed to
throw myself in your way.  Not knowing me, you treated me with
kindness and consideration.  I became interested in you, and
regretted that I had made no provision for you and your aunt.
Through you I have learned how unwisely I disposed of my fortune.
Thank Heaven it is not too late to remedy that.

"This seems like a romance, Mr. Benton--I mean, Uncle Matthew."

"Yes; call me uncle.  I like to feel that I have somebody to live for."

"Come out to Milltown with me, Uncle Matthew.  Aunt Jane will be
delighted to see you," said Ben.

"I have work to do first," said the old man firmly.  "I must go to
Montreal, and you must go with me."

"I am not sure that Jones & Porter will allow me."

"Then throw up your situation.  You shall lose nothing by it."

"When do you wish to start?"

"To-night," said Mr. Baldwin resolutely.

"Then I must go to the store, at once, and give notice of my absence."

Ben lost no time in going to the store.  He explained matters fully,
and obtained a week's leave of absence.  Then he bought tickets
for his uncle and himself, and they set out on their long journey.

Chapter XXXVII

The Dead Alive

Mr. Brief was considerably surprised when Ben entered his office.

"I thought you had gone back to Boston," he said.

"I have been back to Boston, Mr. Brief, and returned to Montreal
on business."

"Didn't you finish up your business here?"

"I thought so, sir; but I was mistaken."

"I am afraid you are not a very good manager.  It looks to me like
waste of time.  What can I do for you?"

"A gentleman came with me, who thinks he would like to have you
attend to a little business for him."

"Certainly," responded the lawyer bruskly.  "I shall be happy to wait
on him.  Where is he staying?"

"At the Windsor."

"And you recommended me?  I am much obliged to you.  What is
the gentleman's name?"

"Marcus Benton."

"Can't say I ever heard of him  Is he from Boston?"

"He comes from Boston," answered Ben evasively.

In the hope of securing a profitable client, Mr. Brief lost no time in
seeking the hotel.

"Remain here a moment," said Ben, as they entered the office, "and
I will let Mr. Benton know you are here."

"Certainly,"  said the lawyer complacently.

In five minutes Ben reappeared.

"Follow me, if you please, Mr. Brief," he said.  "By the way, Mr.
Benton says he knows you."

"Mr. Benton knows me!  It is strange I can't recall him," said Mr.
Brief, trying to recollect.

"I think you will remember when you see him."

"Possibly; but I have no recollection on any gentleman of that name."

Ben and his uncle--to give him a name not strictly warranted by
facts--occupied two rooms adjoining.

Ben ushered the lawyer into his own room, saying, "Mr. Brief,
you must prepare for a surprise."

When, however, the so-called Marcus Benton entered the room,
Mr. Brief sprang to his feet in great amazement.

"Can I believe my eyes?" he ejaculated.

"I think you can, Mr. Brief," said the old gentleman quietly,

"You are Matthew Baldwin."

"Precisely."

"And you are not dead?"

"Do I look as if I were?" asked Mr. Baldwin, smiling.

"What does it all mean?" asked Mr. Brief, bewildered.

"It means that I wished to try John Tremlett.  I wished to ascertain
whether he were worthy to inherit my fortune.  What is your
opinion?"

"My opinion," said the lawyer, "is that he would run through the
property in five years.  I am disgusted with him."

"How does he spend his money?" inquired Mr. Baldwin.

"In every kind of extravagance and every form of dissipation.  At
the rate he is going on, it is a question, in my mind, whether he or
the property would last longer."

"I got that idea from my young friend here, who, by the way, knew
of me only as Marcus Benton when he came first to see you."

"Of course you will resume possession of the property, Mr.
Baldwin?"

"Such is my intention."

"I can give it back into your hands entire, with the exception of
nine hundred dollars drawn by Tremlett, and your funeral
expenses."

"My funeral expense!" exclaimed Mr. Baldwin, in surprise.

"Yes; a body was found in the St. Lawrence, which was supposed
to be yours.  It was buried with proper ceremony."

The old man smiled, but there was a certain sadness in the smile.

"It is, perhaps, only anticipating things a little," he said.  "The
expenses shall be allowed."

"Of course you wish Mr. Tremlett to be informed without delay."

"Yes."

"He is to come to my office in an hour."

"Can you let me witness the interview?"

"Yes, sir.  You can conceal yourself in the inner room, and I will
see him in the outer office, with the door ajar."

An hour later John Tremlett swaggered into Mr. Brief's office.

"Brief," said he, "I must have some money."

"Have you used up the hundred dollars I gave you four days since?"

"Every cent."

"I am afraid you squandered it."

"That is my business, Brief."

"You remember the warning I gave you at that time?"

"Come, Brief, you can't expect to keep me in leading-strings.  I am
seeing life, and of course I must pay for it."

"A pretty round sum, too."

"Oh, well, I am making up for lost time.  Old Baldwin kept me so
close that I had to live like a hermit for years.  He starved me on
eight hundred dollars a year--the stingy old file!"

"Apparently you want to live at the rate of ten thousand dollars a
year now, Mr. Tremlett."

"Well, I can afford it for a year or two."

"You seem to forget that your income for the first year is not quite
five thousand."

"Then my creditors must wait, I am going to have my fling."

"It would make Mr. Baldwin turn in his coffin if he were to know
how you are wasting his substance."

"Very likely it would," said Tremlett, laughing heartily; "but there's
one comfort, he can't come back to trouble us."

"Don't be too sure of that, John Tremlett," said a voice which struck
terror to Tremlett's heart, and Mathew Baldwin walked out of the
inner office.

The young man's face turned as pale as ashes, and his knees knocked
together in his fright.

"Is it--you--Mr. Baldwin?" he ejaculated.

"Yes, it is I--your benefactor, the stingy old file, as you so gratefully
call me," answered the old man sternly.

"Then--you--are--not dead!"

"Not at present.  How long I may live I cannot say, but long enough,
I hope, to do an act of justice."

"I am very sorry," stammered Tremlett.  "Forgive me, sir."

"I may forgive you, because nothing has happened that cannot be
remedied; but I shall never again trust you."

"Won't you take me back into your service, sir?" entreated John
Tremlett desperately.

"Never!" said Mr. Baldwin emphatically.

"What will become of me?" ejaculated the miserable young man,
shedding maudlin tears.  "I am penniless."

"I will not wholly cast you off.  I will authorize Mr. Brief to pay
you eight hundred dollars during the next year, in monthly
installments.  I hope you will turn over a new leaf."

"I will, sir; I will indeed," said Tremlett; but Mr. Baldwin, knowing
his past hypocrisy, did not put much faith in his penitence.

"I hope so, for your own sake," he said briefly.  "You can go now,
sir.  At the end of a month you can come back, and Mr. Brief
will pay you your monthly allowance."

"How can I live till then?" asked Tremlett.  "Can't he pay it sooner?
I have but a dollar left."

"Sell some of your jewelry, that diamond ring, for instance.  It will
maintain you till the money is payable."

John Tremlett left the office crestfallen, and cursing his foolish
prodigality, which had lost him a fine fortune.

"What are your plans, Mr. Baldwin?" asked the lawyer.  "Shall
you remain in Montreal?"

"No, Mr. Brief; there is nothing to keep me here now.  I shall make
my home in the States.  This boy I have tested and found to be
true gold.  He will not deceive me as John Tremlett has.  With him
and his aunt I propose to make my home for the little time I have left."

"A very fine boy!" said Mr. Brief, regarding Ben in quite a different
light now that he was indirectly acknowledged to be a rich man's
heir.

"I shall leave you to manage my property here, Mr. Brief, for the
present at least.  You will transmit the income to me as it accrues."

"You shall not repent your confidence, sir," said the lawyer.  "How
soon do you leave the city?"

"To-morrow.  Will that suit you, Ben?"

"Oh, yes, Uncle Matthew."

"He is a lucky boy," thought Mr. Brief, as the two went out.  "His
future is provided for."

Chapter XXXVIII

Conclusion

"Ben," said Mr. Baldwin, "let us talk over your plans.  Do you wish
 to remain at the store, or would you like to get a better education?"

"I would get a better education if I could afford it, sir."

"You can afford it on an income of a thousand dollars a year."

"A thousand dollars a year!" exclaimed Ben.

"That is the income I shall allow you.  Out of this you will be expected
to pay all of your expenses."

"How can I thank you, sir?  Would you object to my giving Aunt
Jane a part of the money?"

"Yes, I shall object."

Ben's countenance fell.

"But, Uncle Matthew," he said, "I don't like to live in luxury, while
Aunt Jane is straitened."

"Your feelings do you credit, my boy; but I mean to take care of
your Aunt Jane myself.  She is my niece, and you--I am not sure
whether you are related to me at all, but I want you to call me
Uncle Matthew all the same."

"I shall like to, sir.  No uncle could be kinder."

"That is well," said the old gentleman.  "You know, Ben, I have
no one else to care for.  Now, do you think your Aunt Jane will
be willing to move to Boston?"

"I am sure she will like it."

"Then I shall hire or buy a comfortable house, install her as
mistress, require you to live with me while you are attending
school, and tyrannize over you all."

There was a bright smile on the old man's face.  He was looking
forward to the new life with anticipations of a happiness and comfort
which had long been strangers to him.

"How happy we shall all be, Uncle Matthew!  Even Aunt Jane will
forget to look on the dark side."

"I hope so, Ben.  I think we can be happy together."

"There is one thing I forgot to tell you," he said later.  "I shall
expect you to pay your board out of your income, you know.  If
you fail to make regular payments, we shall have to bundle you
out."

"I will remember," said Ben, smiling.

By arrangement Ben went up to Milltown alone to tell his aunt
the news.  He entered the little house with a sober face.

"I see you bring bad news, Benjamin," said Mrs. Bradford
mournfully.

"You will have to leave the house, Aunt Jane."

"And go to the poorhouse!  I knew it would turn out that way," and
Mrs. Bradford put her handkerchief to her eyes.

"What's the matter?" asked Tony.

"My poor child," said his mother, "we are going to the poorhouse."

"Is that so, Ben?" asked Tony soberly.

Ben shouted with laughter.  He could not hold back the truth.

"Aunt Jane," he said, "you always will anticipate the worst.  Why
don't you wait and hope?"

"What is the use, Benjamin?"

"Because it makes us happier, and often brings good fortune.  Aunt
Jane, you see before you a rich man."

"You're only a boy," said Tony.  "You ain't a man at all."

"My income is a thousand dollars a year!"

"Is it possible, Benjamin?" ejaculated Mrs. Bradford, in amazement.

"It is more than that; it's true.  You are coming to Boston to live, and
I am going to board with you."

"The boy's crazy!" exclaimed Mrs. Bradford.

"Then there is a method in my madness, Aunt Jane.  But I won't keep
you in suspense any longer.  Uncle Matthew isn't dead at all.  He's
taken a fancy to me, and is going to allow me an income of a
thousand dollars a year.  He will take care of you and Tony, too.  He
is going to hire or buy a house in Boston, and we are all going to live
together.  What do you say to that?  Will you go, or do you prefer to
go to the poorhouse?"

Mrs. Bradford made up her mind at once to go to Boston.  No one
had ever seen her so cheerful as she was for the remainder of the
day.

Not to dwell upon details, in less than a month the little family was
installed in a comfortable house in Boston.  Tony had commenced
attending school near-by, and Ben had been admitted to the Latin
School, where he began to prepare for college in earnest.  Porter &
Jones were sorry to lose him, but agreed that he had chosen wisely in
abandoning business for a school.

Ben is now an undergraduate at Harvard College, with a high rank
for scholarship.  He has not decided upon his future course; but it
is possible that his uncle may purchase an interest for him, at
graduation, in the firm where he served as a boy.

I cannot close without recording, with satisfaction, the great
improvement that has taken place in Sam Archer.  Always a bright
and smart boy, in adversity he has gotten rid of his disagreeable
traits and developed a business capacity which promises well for
his future success.  Ben has done him many favors, and the two
are excellent friends.  Of Mr. Archer nothing has been heard.  It
is rumored that he is living in an obscure town in France, on the
proceeds of his defalcation.  Sam promises to redeem the name
which his father has sullied.

Uncle Matthew is several years older than when we first met him, but
happiness has had the effect of making him look younger.  He
probably has several years of life yet before him.  He is attached to
his niece and Tony, who is now a bright schoolboy of twelve; but
his chief attachment is to Ben, whose college career he follows with
pride and satisfaction.

THE END