SAM FINDS A ROOMMATE.
Looking up, Sam's glance rested on a young man, of rustic dress and
manners, which made him seem quite out of place in a fashionable
hotel.
"No," answered Sam. "I am a stranger in Boston. I came from New
York."
"You don't say! It's an all-fired big city, isn't it?" said the
countryman.
"It is very large," said Sam, patronizingly.
"I live in the country," said the other--quite needlessly, so Sam
thought--"up in New Hampshire. I've come down here to get a job."
"So have I," responded Sam, with new interest in his companion.
"Are you boardin' here?" asked the countryman.
"No; I am going to try to find a boarding-place. The prices are too
steep here."
"Let me go with you," said the young man, eagerly.
Sam thought, on the whole, it would be pleasanter to have company, and
accepted this proposal.
They bought a copy of the Boston _Herald_ and picked out a list of
boarding-houses which appeared to come within their means. Among these
were two on Harrison Avenue. One of these was the very house which had
already been mentioned to Sam by his boy acquaintance of the morning.
"Do you know your way round the city?" asked Sam of his companion.
"A little," said the other.
"Do you know how to go to Harrison Avenue?"
"Yes, I know that."
"Is it far?"
"Not very far. We can walk easy enough."
"That's all right, then. Let us go."
The two set out on their expedition, walking up Washington Street as
far as Essex, and, turning there, soon entered Harrison Avenue. They
beguiled the time on the way by conversation.
"What, was you calc'latin' to find to do?" asked the countryman.
"I was clerk in a store in New York," said Sam; "I'd like to get into
a store here."
"So should I."
Sam privately thought him too countrified in appearance for the
position he desired, but did not say so.
"Have you had any experience?" he asked, curiously.
"Oh, yes; I used to drive the wagon for a grocery store, to hum."
Sam privately doubted whether this experience would be of any
particular value to his new acquaintance. However, he had not much
faith in his own qualifications, and this concerned him more.
"What's your name?" inquired Sam.
"Abner Blodgett," was the reply. "What's yours?"
"Sam Barker."
"You don't say! There's a doctor in our town by the name of Barker;
any relation?"
"I guess not. I never heard of a doctor in our family."
Presently they reached the number indicated. Sam rang the bell.
"You are looking for a boarding-place," he explained. "We saw your
advertisement in the _Herald._"
"Walk in," said the servant. "I'll tell Mrs. Campbell."
Mrs. Campbell presently appeared; a shrewd-looking Scotch lady, but
kindly in expression.
"You are looking for a boarding place, gentlemen?" she inquired.
"Yes, ma'am."
"I have one single room and one double one. For the single room I have
eight dollars a week; for the double one fourteen, that is, seven
dollars for each gentleman. Do you two gentlemen wish to room
together?"
"Yes," answered Blodgett, immediately; "if you are willing," he added
aside, to Sam.
"Let us look at the rooms," said Sam, "and then we can tell better."
"Walk up this way, gentlemen," said Mrs. Campbell.
She led the way first to the double room. It was a square room, the
second floor back, and looked quite neat and comfortable. Sam liked
the appearance of it, and so apparently did Abner Blodgett.
"Ain't it scrumptious, though?" he said, admiringly. "We ain't got
many rooms like that to hum."
"I suppose you are from the country, sir?" said Mrs. Campbell, with a
good-natured smile.
"Yes," said Blodgett, "I'm from New Hampshire; away up near Mount
Washington."
"Let me see the single room," requested Sam.
The single room was shown; but it was, of course, much smaller, and
the furniture was inferior.
"We'd better take the big room together," said Abner.
Sam hesitated a moment. He was not very particular, but he did not
altogether fancy the appearance of Mr. Blodgett.
"How much do you charge for the large room for a single person?" he
asked.
"I couldn't take less than eleven dollars," said the landlady.
It was, of course, impossible for Sam to pay any such sum, and he
reluctantly agreed to occupy the room jointly with Mr. Blodgett.
"When will you move in?" asked Mrs. Campbell.
"To-day," said Sam.
"I must ask you to pay something in advance, to secure the room,
gentlemen."
Sam had no luggage beyond a small bundle, and he answered at once,
"I'll pay a week in advance."
"Thank you, sir."
Sam handed the landlady ten dollars and received in return three.
"I'll pay you to-morrow," said Blodgett. "I've got to get the money
from my cousin."
"I'll wait till to-morrow to oblige you," said the landlady, "but no
longer."
"Oh, I'll have the money then," said Abner, confidently.
"Will you be here to dinner, gentlemen?"
"When do you have dinner?"
"At six o'clock. We used to have it in the middle of the day, but it
was inconvenient to some of our boarders, and we changed it."
"We have dinner to hum, where I live, at noon," said Abner.
"We have lunch at half-past twelve, if you choose to come."
"I guess we will," said Abner. "We'll go out and take a walk, Mr.
Barker, and come back in time."
"Just as you say," answered Sam.
After a walk they returned to lunch. Sam was usually possessed of a
good appetite, but he stared in astonishment when he saw Blodgett eat.
That young man appeared to have fasted for a week, and ate
accordingly.
"What's the matter with you, Mr. Barker? You don't eat nothin'," he
said.
"I had a late breakfast," said Sam. "I guess you'll get your money's
worth."
"I mean to. Seven dollars is an awful lot to pay for board. Up to hum
they don't charge but three."
"Then I wish they'd open a branch boarding-house here."
"Suppose we go over to Bunker Hill?" said Sam, after lunch. "I want to
see the monument."
"Just as you say," said Abner.
"We can ask the way."
"There's some cars go over that way, I've heerd," said Abner.
As they were walking down Washington Street a young man, rather
flashily attired, stopped Blodgett, whom he appeared to recognize.
"What's in the wind now?" he asked. "Who have you got in tow?"
"It's my friend, Mr. Barker."
"How do you do, Mr. Barker?" said the young man, who appeared very
much amused about something.
"How's your father, the deacon?" he inquired of Blodgett, and laughed
again.
"Pretty smart," said Blodgett.
"Just give him my respects when you write, will you?"
"I won't forget,"
The new acquaintance winked, and went his way. Sam was rather
surprised at his manner, and also at the fact of his countrified
companion being apparently on intimate terms with a person so
different in appearance.
"Who is that?" he asked.
"That's a young man from our town," said Mr. Blodgett. "He's been
living in Boston for five or six years. He's got a good place in Milk
Street."
"What sort of a fellow is he?"
"You don't say nothin' about it," said Abner, looking about him as if
fearing to be overheard; "but I'm afraid he's a fast young man."
"Shouldn't wonder," said Sam.
"I've heard that he plays cards!" added Abner, in a horrified
whisper.
"Very likely," said Sam, amused.
He had had some suspicions of his companion, occasioned by the
apparent good understanding between him and the young man they had
met, but this remark dissipated them. He felt amused by the verdancy
of Abner Blodgett, and anticipated a good deal of entertainment from
his remarks.
They took the horse cars to Bunker Hill; Sam paid the fare both ways,
as his companion did not expect to have any money till tomorrow. He
did not relish lending, his own stock of money being so scanty; but
Abner was so confident of being in funds the next day that he did not
refuse. He was interested in the view from the summit of the monument,
and spent an additional hour in exploring Charlestown. When the two
got back to Boston they found the afternoon well advanced and the
dinner hour near.