Bernard was shown up-stairs to an apartment on the second floor. He was
ushered into an anteroom, where four persons were already sitting. These
Bernard inferred were applicants for the post of traveling companion.
When he entered, the others regarded him with interest, and, as it
seemed, with amusement. His youth made it seem ridiculous in their eyes
for him to aspire to the position advertised.
Bernard, too, was interested in taking stock of his competitors.
One was a tall young man, of about thirty-five, dressed in a tightly
fitting suit, the coat buttoned up to the throat. Whatever his
qualifications might be, he looked stiff and uncompanionable.
His next neighbor was considerably shorter, quite smartly dressed, and
his face wore a self-satisfied smirk, as if he had a remarkably good
opinion of himself. Another was a man of at least forty, with a
middle-aged look, and an air of discouragement about him.
The fourth was an awkward looking young man, not over twenty-one, who
seemed bashful and ill at ease. He was just from the university, where
he had not quite completed the full course, and, whatever his
scholarship might be, looked inexperienced and unpractical.
A man servant appeared, and looking about him doubtfully, signaled to
the first mentioned applicant to follow him. While he was closeted with
the advertiser, the others were expectant and ill at ease. They feared
that choice would be made of the first applicant.
At the end of ten minutes he reappeared in the anteroom. All eyes were
turned upon him.
“Are you engaged?” asked applicant No. 2.
The tall young man answered complacently, “Not yet, but I probably shall
be. Mr. Cunningham will communicate with me.”
He left the room, and No. 2 followed the servant into the advertiser’s
presence. He reappeared at the end of five minutes.
“Well?” asked the man of middle age anxiously.
“I think it will be me,” was the reply. “Mr. Cunningham was very social
and agreeable. Between ourselves, there isn’t the slightest chance of
the other man being taken. He flattered himself too much.”
“Is he going to write to you?”
“Yes. I told him that the first man fully expected the appointment, but
he only laughed. I understood what that meant.”
So No. 2 departed and No. 3 was invited into the advertiser’s presence.
He, too, came back at the end of from five to ten minutes, but he did
not look as confident as the two who preceded him.
“Are you chosen?” asked the university man eagerly.
“No, and I don’t think I shall be. Mr. Cunningham evidently regarded me
as too old. He is himself a young man. I don’t think he is over
twenty-three or twenty-four.”
The college man brightened up. This seemed favorable to his chances. As
he argued, Cunningham would naturally prefer a person somewhere near his
own age.
At a signal, from the servant he entered the presence of Walter
Cunningham, his face flushing with nervous embarrassment.
Soon he, too, came out, and there was but one applicant left—Bernard—to
greet him. He, too, had been of opinion that the college man would be
accepted.
“Am I to congratulate you?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” answered the university man.
“Mr. Cunningham was very kind and friendly. He has reserved his
decision, and tells me that if I am selected I will hear from him in two
days.”
“Follow me, young man,” said the servant, signaling to Bernard.
Bernard found himself almost immediately in the presence of Walter
Cunningham. The advertiser was a pleasant looking young man, whose
appearance attracted Bernard. He looked rather surprised at Bernard’s
youth.
“Have you come in answer to my advertisement?” he asked.
“I have,” replied Bernard. “I can see that you think me very young.”
“Well, certainly you are not very old,” returned Cunningham, smiling
pleasantly. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“And I am twenty-three.”
“It is rather presumptuous in me to answer your advertisement, but there
was no limitation of age.”
“True. You were quite justified in applying. You are not English?”
“No; I am an American.”
“So I judged. I know something of America. Two years since I spent six
months in the States. I have seen most of your large cities, from New
York to San Francisco.”
“I am sorry to say that my traveling has been very limited.”
“And you really have no special qualifications for the position of a
traveling companion?”
“No, sir.”
“Are you acquainted with any of the modern languages?”
“I can read French pretty easily.”
Mr. Cunningham looked pleased.
“That will be a help,” he said. “Do you speak it at all?”
“Just a little. I wrote French exercises, and had a few lessons in
French conversation. Of course, I have very small claim to the place,
but it is quite important for me to find employment, and an American
lady—a teacher—suggested to me to apply.”
“Then your means are limited? Have you parents?”
“No, sir; I am quite alone in the world.”
“How did you chance to come to England?”
“It might take me some time to answer that question.”
“Never mind! I have plenty of time at my command.”
Thus invited, Bernard made a full statement of his position, and the
circumstances which led to his leaving America. He also explained why he
had left Professor Puffer.
“I am very much interested in your narrative,” said Cunningham. “You
are certainly placed in a difficult position. You have reason to think
that your guardian is no friend of yours?”
“I am certain of that, sir.”
“This Professor Puffer, though it is doubtful if he has any rightful
claim to the title, appears to be a bad lot.”
“That’s what he calls me,” said Bernard, laughing. He already felt on
very cordial terms with Mr. Cunningham.
“I may be foolish,” went on Cunningham, after a pause. “I don’t know
what my friends will say, but I feel very much inclined to engage you.”
“I hope you will. It is not only that I need employment. I am sure I
should enjoy being with you.”
“That settles it,” said Cunningham. “I already like you, and if you like
me I am sure it will be pleasant for us to be associated. To be sure,
you don’t know much about traveling. I do, and can supply your
deficiencies. Now I will tell you why I seek a companion. Partly because
it is agreeable, but partly also because I am not robust and am
likely—that is, there is a chance of being sick—and in that case I
should need a friend with me. I think I want a friend more than a
companion. That was one reason why I didn’t feel favorably inclined to
the other applicants.”
“No doubt they were better qualified than I am.”
“Yes, they were. The first one has considerable experience in traveling
and speaks two or three of the Continental languages, but I never could
make a friend of him.”
“He seemed very stiff and unsocial.”
“That was my judgment of him. As to the second, he was entirely too well
satisfied with himself. I have no doubt he would try to make himself
agreeable, and he has traveled some.”
“He seemed to think there was every chance of his obtaining the
position. No one thought I had any chance.”
“You wouldn’t have with most persons, but I happen to like you,” said
Walter Cunningham frankly.
“I am glad of that. I thought the young man who went in last might be
successful. The middle-aged man didn’t have strong hopes.”
“No, he is too old, and seems to have had such a rough time in life that
he would be far from a cheerful companion. He seems very hard up. When I
write him my refusal I shall send him a five pound note to relieve his
feeling of disappointment.”
“That will be very kind in you. I would do the same in your place.”
“I think we are alike in being considerate of others. As to the young
man, he doesn’t seem to be practical. I am afraid that I should be a
companion to him rather than he to me.”
“It may be so with me, but I shall try to make myself useful.”
“You look bright, and would, I think, learn rapidly to do all I expect
of you.”
At this moment the man servant came in and handed a card to Mr.
Cunningham, who uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“Whose card do you think this is?” he asked.
“I couldn’t guess.”
“It bears the name of Professor Ezra Puffer, your friend.”
“Don’t call him my friend! What can bring him here?”
“He wants to be my traveling companion.”