BESSIE BENTON.
Tom called the next day at the hospital, and left ten dollars, finding
this to be the right amount for Jacob's coffin. He took a last look at
the old man, so long his companion, and then, feeling that he could do
no more, went on his way. He next went to a railroad office, on
Broadway, and bought a through-ticket to Cincinnati. This was the city
where, according to Jacob's story, his father had been in business, and
he himself had been born. His inquiries for the uncle who had defrauded
him must commence here.
Having taken his seat in the cars, he was led to make an examination of
his pocket-book. He found it, by no means, well filled. A hundred
dollars had seemed to him a good deal of money, but he had expended
half of it for clothes. His railway ticket, and the money he left at
the hospital, consumed thirty dollars more, and he had, therefore, but
twenty dollars left.
"That ain't much to set up as a gentleman on," said Tom to himself. "I
didn't know it cost so much to get along; I'll have to go to work afore
long."
Tom was not in the least daunted, however; he had always been
accustomed to earn his living, and didn't doubt that he could do it
now.
He had little money, but he had his wits and two strong arms, and he
thought he could keep out of the poor-house. No anxious fears for the
future marred the pleasure which the journey afforded him. With an eye
of interest he regarded the rich and productive country through which
the train was speeding at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour.
There is more than one route from New York to Cincinnati, a fact of
which Tom knew nothing, and it was only by accident that he had
selected that which led through Buffalo. He stopped over a night at
this enterprising city, and at an early hour entered the cars to go on
to the chief city in Ohio. The passengers were nearly all seated. In
fact, every seat was occupied, except that beside Tom, when a stout,
elderly gentleman entered the car, followed by an attractive young girl
of fourteen.
"There don't seem to be any seats, Bessie," he said.
"Here's one, uncle," said the young lady, indicating the seat of which
our hero occupied half.
"Is this seat engaged, young man?" asked the old gentleman.
Tom looked up, and, seeing that a pretty girl was to sit beside him,
answered, with alacrity:
"No, sir."
"Then, Bessie, you may as well sit down here. I am very sorry you must
take this long journey alone. I thought, till the last moment, that Mr.
Armstrong was going."
"Oh! never mind, uncle; I can get along well enough."
"But it don't seem right; I am afraid your father will blame me."
"Perhaps," said Bessie, with a little coquettish glance at Tom, whom
she privately thought a very good-looking boy; "perhaps this young
gentleman will look after me."
The old gentleman looked dubious, and would have preferred a person of
more maturity. Still, there was no choice, and he said:
"Young man, are you going to Cincinnati?"
"Yes, sir," said Tom.
"Then, if it won't be too much trouble, I will ask you to look after my
niece a little. I am unable to go with her myself."
"All right, sir; I'll do it," said Tom, in a confident tone.
"There goes the bell, uncle," said Bessie. "You'd better go, or you
will be carried along with us."
The old gentleman bent over and kissed his niece. Our hero thought he
should have been willing to relieve him of the duty. The young girl
beside him looked so fresh and pretty that, though he was too young to
fall in love, he certainly did feel considerable pleasure in the
thought that she was to be his companion in a journey of several
hundred miles. It gave him a feeling of importance, being placed in
charge of her, and he couldn't help wondering whether he would have got
the chance if he had been dressed in his old street suit.
"There's a good deal in clo's," thought Tom, philosophically. "It makes
all the difference between a young gentleman and a bootblack."
"Would you like to sit by the window?" he asked, by way of being
sociable and polite.
"Oh, no! I can see very well from here," said the young lady. "Do you
come from Buffalo?"
"No; I am from New York."
"I never was there; I should like to go very much. I have heard that
Central Park is a beautiful place."
"Yes, it's a bully place," said Tom.
Bessie laughed.
"That's a regular boy's word," she said. "Miss Wiggins, our teacher,
was always horrified when she heard any of us girls use it. I remember
one day I let it out without thinking, and she heard it. 'Miss Benton,'
said she, 'never again let me hear you employ that _inelegant_
expression. That a young lady _under my charge_ should, _even once_,
have been guilty of such a breach of propriety, mortifies me
extremely.'"
Bessie pursed up her pretty lips, and imitated the manner of the prim
schoolmistress, to the great amusement of our hero.
"Is that the way she talked?" he asked.
"Yes; and she glared at me through her spectacles. She looked like a
beauty, with her tall bony figure, and thin face. Did you ever go to
boarding-school?"
"No," said Tom; "nor to any other," he might almost have added.
"You wouldn't like it, though boys' boarding-schools may be better than
girls'. I have been two years at Miss Wiggins' boarding-school, in
Buffalo. Now I'm going home, on a vacation, and I really hope papa
won't send me there again."
"Do you live in Cincinnati?"
"Yes--that is, papa does. Are you going to stay there long?"
"I think I shall live there," said Tom, who fancied it would be
agreeable to live in the same city with Bessie Benton.
"Oh, I hope you will! Then you could come and see us."
"That would be bully," Tom was about to say, but it occurred to him
that it would be in better taste to say: "I should like to very much."
"Have you finished your education?" asked Bessie.
"There wasn't much to finish," thought Tom, but he said, aloud:
"Maybe I'll study a little more."
"Where did you study?" asked the persevering Bessie.
"I've been to Columbia College," said Tom, after a little pause.
So he had been up to the college grounds, but I am afraid he intended
Bessie to believe something else.
"Then you must know a great deal," said Bessie. "Do you like Latin and
Greek very much?"
"Not _very_ much," said Tom.
"I never went farther than the Latin verbs. They're tiresome, ain't
they?"
"I'll bet they are," said Tom, who wouldn't have known a Latin verb
from a Greek noun.
"I suppose they come easier to boys. Were you long in college?"
"Not long."
"I suppose you were a Freshman?"
"Yes," said Tom, hazarding a guess.
"Don't the Sophomores play all sorts of tricks on the Freshmen?"
"Awful," said Tom, who found it safest to chime in with the remarks of
the young lady.
"I had a cousin at Yale College," continued Bessie. "When he was a
Freshman, the Sophomores broke into his room one night, blindfolded
him, and carried him off somewhere. Then they made him smoke a pipe,
which made him awful sick, and poured a pail of water over his head.
Did they ever do such things to you?"
"No, they wouldn't dare to," said our hero.
"You couldn't help yourself."
"Yes, I could; I'd put a head on them."
"I don't know what Miss Wiggins would say if she should hear you talk.
She'd have a fit."
"What did I say?" he asked, innocently.
"You said you'd _put a head_ on them."
"So I would."
"Only it is a very inelegant expression, as Miss Wiggins says."
"If you don't like it, I won't say it any more."
"Oh! I don't care," said Bessie, laughing. "You needn't be afraid I'll
have a fit. I ain't such a model of propriety as that. Perhaps I shall
be some time, when I get to be a stiff old maid like Priscilla
Wiggins."
"You won't be that."
"How do you know?" said Bessie, saucily.
"You don't look like it."
"Don't I? Perhaps nobody will marry me," she said, demurely.
"If nobody else will, send for me!" said Tom, blushing immediately at
his unexpected boldness.
"Am I to regard that as a proposal?" asked Bessie, her eyes sparkling
with fun.
"Yes, if you want to," said Tom, manfully.
"I'm sure I'm very much obliged," said the young lady. "I won't forget
it, and, if _nobody else_ will have me, I'll send for you."
"She's a trump," he thought, but fortunately didn't make use of a word
which would have been highly objectionable to Miss Wiggins.