BEN AND HIS MOTHER
Ben Barclay, after taking leave of the tramp, lost no time in driving
to the grocery store where he was employed. It was a large country
store, devoted not to groceries alone, but supplies of dry-goods,
boots and shoes, and the leading articles required in the community.
There were two other clerks besides Ben, one the son, another the
nephew, of Simon Crawford, the proprietor.
"Did you collect any money, Ben?" asked Simon, who chanced to be
standing at the door when our hero drove up.
"Yes, sir; I collected twenty-five dollars, but came near losing it on
the way home."
"How was that? I hope you were not careless."
"No, except in taking a stranger as a passenger. When we got to that
piece of woods a mile back, he asked me for all the money I had."
"A highwayman, and so near Pentonville!" ejaculated Simon Crawford.
"What was he like?"
"A regular tramp."
"Yet you say you have the money. How did you manage to keep it from
him?"
Ben detailed the stratagem of which he made use.
"You did well," said the storekeeper approvingly. "I must give you a
dollar for the one you sacrificed."
"But sir, it was bad money. I couldn't have passed it."
"That does not matter. You are entitled to some reward for the
courage and quick wit you displayed. Here is a dollar, and--let me
see, there is an entertainment at the Town Hall this evening, isn't
there?"
"Yes, sir. Prof. Harrington, the magician, gives an entertainment,"
said Ben eagerly.
"At what time does it commence?"
"At eight o'clock."
"You may leave the store at half-past seven. That will give you
enough time to get there."
"Thank you, sir. I wanted to go to the entertainment, but did not
like to ask for the evening."
"You have earned it. Here is the dollar," and Mr. Crawford handed the
money to his young clerk, who received it gratefully.
A magical entertainment may be a very common affair to my young
readers in the city, but in a country village it is an event.
Pentonville was too small to have any regular place of amusement, and
its citizens were obliged to depend upon traveling performers, who,
from time to time, engaged the Town Hall. Some time had elapsed since
there had been any such entertainment, and Prof. Harrington was the
more likely to be well patronized. Ben, who had the love of amusement
common to boys of his age, had been regretting the necessity of
remaining in the store till nine o'clock, and therefore losing his
share of amusement when, as we have seen, an opportunity suddenly
offered.
"I am glad I met the tramp, after all," he said to himself. "He has
brought me luck."
At supper he told is mother what had befallen him, but she tool a more
serious view of it than he did.
"He might have murdered you, Ben," she said with a shudder.
"Oh, no; he wouldn't do that. He might have stolen Mr. Crawford's
money; that was the most that was likely to happen."
"I didn't think there were highwaymen about here. Now I shall be
worrying about you."
"Don't do that mother; I don't feel in any danger. Still, if you
think it best, I will carry a pistol."
"No, no, Ben! it might go off and kill you. I would rather run the
risk of a highwayman. I wonder if the man is prowling about in the
neighborhood yet?"
"I don't think my bogus dollar will carry him very far. By the way,
mother, I must tell yon one strange thing. He asked me if I was John
Barclay's son."
"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Barclay, in a tone of great surprise. "Did he
know your name was Barclay?"
"Not till I told him. Then it was he asked if I was the son of John
Barclay."
"Did he say he knew your father?"
"I asked him, but he answered evasively."
"He might have seen some resemblance--that is, if he had ever met your
father. Ah! it was a sad day for us all when your poor father died.
We should have been in a very different position," the widow sighed.
"Yes, mother," said Ben; "but when I get older I will try to supply my
father's place, and relieve you from care and trouble."
"You are doing that in a measure now, my dear boy," said Mrs. Barclay
affectionately. "You are a great comfort to me."
Ben's answer was to go up to his mother and kiss her. Some boys of
his age are ashamed to show their love for the mother who is devoted
to them, but it a false shame, that does them no credit.
"Still, mother, you work too hard," said Ben. "Wait till I am a man,
and you shall not need to work at all."
Mrs. Barclay had been a widow for five years. Her husband had been a
commercial traveler, but had contracted a fever at Chicago, and died
after a brief illness, without his wife having the satisfaction of
ministering to him in his last days. A small sum due him from his
employers was paid over to his family, but no property was discovered,
though his wife had been under the impression that her husband
possessed some. He had never been in the habit of confiding his
business affairs to her, and so, if he had investments of any kind,
she could not learn anything about them. She found herself,
therefore, with no property except a small cottage, worth, with its
quarter acre of land, perhaps fifteen hundred dollars. As Ben was too
small to earn anything, she had been compelled to raise about seven
hundred dollars on mortgage, which by this time had been expended for
living. Now, Ben was earning four dollars a week, and, with her own
earnings, she was able to make both ends meet without further
encroachments upon her scanty property; but the mortgage was a source
of anxiety to her, especially as it was held by Squire Davenport, a
lawyer of considerable means, who was not overscrupulous about the
methods by which he strove to increase his hoards. Should he at any
time take it into his head to foreclose, there was no one to whom Mrs.
Barclay could apply to assume the mortgage, and she was likely to be
compelled to sacrifice her home. He had more than once hinted that he
might need the money but as yet had gone no further.
Mrs. Barclay had one comfort, however, and a great one. This was a
good son. Ben was always kind to his mother--a bright, popular,
promising boy--and though at present he was unable to earn much, in a
few years he would be able to earn a good income, and then his mother
knew that she would be well provided for. So she did not allow
herself to borrow trouble but looked forward hopefully, thanking God
for what He had given her.
"Won't you go up to the Town Hall with me, mother?" asked Ben. I am
sure you would enjoy it."
"Thank you, Ben, for wishing me to have a share in your amusements,"
his mother replied, "but I have a little headache this evening, and I
shall be better off at home."
"It isn't on account of the expense you decline, mother, is it? You
know Mr. Crawford gave me a dollar, and the tickets are but
twenty-five cents."
"No, it isn't that, Ben. If it were a concert I might be tempted to
go in spite of my headache, but a magical entertainment would not
amuse me as much as it will you."
"Just as you think best, mother; but I should like to have you go.
You won't feel lonely, will you?"
"I am used to being alone till nine o'clock, when you are at the
store."
This conversation took place at the supper table. Ben went directly
from the store to the Town Hall, where he enjoyed himself as much as
he anticipated. If he could have foreseen how his mother was to pass
that evening, it would have destroyed all is enjoyment.