“Bernard,” said Walter Cunningham, as they sat together in a handsome
apartment at the Brevoort House, “I feel that I have not done as well by
you as I should.”
“You have been a kind friend to me, Mr. Cunningham. I have lacked for
nothing since I have been with you. I think you do yourself injustice.”
“That is true, but suppose anything should happen to me, how would you
fare?”
“We won’t think of that, Walter. You are a young man. You are likely to
live for many years.”
“So I hope,” said the young Englishman, smiling. “Life is sweet to me,
and I have something to live for, especially now that I have you. But I
feel that I ought to make a provision for you, to place your future
beyond a contingency.”
Bernard did not reply. He waited for Mr. Cunningham to finish what he
had to say.
“I shall therefore go to my banker’s this morning, and turn over to you
the sum of fifteen thousand dollars. It is not all I intend to do for
you, but it will prevent your experiencing inconvenience in the event of
any sudden accident to me.”
“Fifteen thousand dollars!” repeated Bernard, in astonishment. “Why,
that will make me rich. How can I thank you for your great kindness?”
“I look upon you as a brother, Bernard. With the affection I feel for
you I could not allow you to run the risk of poverty and destitution. To
be sure, you are young and a boy of capacity, but for a time you might
be in trouble.”
That very morning Mr. Cunningham took Bernard to the office of his
banker in Wall Street, and transferred the sum he had mentioned to
Bernard’s account.
“I advise you to keep your money for the present in the hands of my good
friends here, unless you should prefer to deposit it with your old
guardian, Mr. McCracken.”
“I would not trust Mr. McCracken,” said Bernard, “but I should like
before I leave the city to pay him a visit.”
Walking down Broadway in the afternoon Bernard was treated to a
surprise. Marching in front of him with a slow and weary step was a
thick-set man of over fifty, sandwiched between two advertising boards,
bearing in large capitals these words:
“USE SWEETLAND’S PILLS.”
There was something familiar in the figure, but from a rear view Bernard
could not immediately place it. However, the man presently turned partly
round, showing his side face, and Bernard was startled by a sudden
recognition.
It was Professor Puffer!
Yes, the celebrated professor, author (by his own account) of several
large and elaborate works on the antiquities of the old world, had
actually sunk so low as to become a sandwich man, earning the miserable
pittance of fifty cents a day.
Bernard at once in some excitement imparted his astonishing discovery to
his companion.
“What! Is that your Professor Puffer?” asked Cunningham in wonder. “How
have the mighty fallen!”
“He was never so mighty as I supposed,” said Bernard. “I feel quite sure
that he was a humbug and no professor at all.”
“I am inclined to agree with you. I don’t think any real professor would
ever be reduced to such shifts as this. What are you going to do? Shall
you make yourself known to your old companion?”
“I think I would like to do so,” said Bernard thoughtfully. “He may be
able to give me some information, concerning my guardian, for instance
that may be of service to me.”
“Perhaps you are right. At any rate, it will do no harm, unless you are
afraid that the professor will try to get you into his power again.”
Bernard smiled as he regarded with complacency his own well knit
figure—he was three inches taller than when he had been a fellow
passenger of the professor on the ship Vesta.
“If he should try to get me into his power, will you stand by me, Mr.
Cunningham?” he said.
“Yes; but I fancy that you are quite able to fight your own battles.”
Bernard stepped forward until he was in a line with Professor Puffer.
Then in a clear, distinct voice, he said, “Professor Puffer!”
The sandwich man turned quickly, and regarded Bernard with surprise. The
latter had not only grown, but he was much better dressed than when the
professor parted with him.
“Who are you?” he demanded, looking bewildered.
“Don’t you remember your old companion on the Vesta?”
“Bernard Brooks!” ejaculated Professor Puffer in deep amazement.