NEW FRIENDS.
Rufus slept so soundly, that his slumber was only ended by the sound of
the warning bell, at seven in the morning.
"Where am I?" he thought in bewilderment, as, opening his eyes, his
first glance took in the appointments of the bedchamber.
Recollections quickly came to his aid, and, springing out of bed, he
began to dress.
His feelings were rather mixed. He wished that he could glide softly
downstairs, and out of the house, without stopping to breakfast. But
this would not do, since Mr. Turner had expressly requested him to stay.
But he dreaded meeting the rest of the family at the breakfast-table. He
was afraid that he wouldn't know how to act in such unwonted
circumstances, for, though bold enough, and ready enough in the company
of boys and out in the street, he felt bashful in his present position.
He dressed himself slowly, and, finding a clothes-brush, brushed his
clothes carefully. He arranged his hair neatly at the glass, which,
though the news boy was not vain enough to suspect it, reflected the
face and figure of a very attractive and handsome boy.
When his preparations were all completed, he sat down in some
perplexity. Should he go downstairs? He decided not to do so, for he did
not know his way to the room where the family ate breakfast.
"I will wait till I hear the bell," he thought.
He had to wait ten or fifteen minutes, feeling somewhat nervous the
while.
At length the bell rang, and Rufus knew that it was time to go
downstairs. He looked upon it as rather a trying ordeal, considering
that he knew only the head of the family. Just as he was preparing to
leave the room, the door was thrown open, and a boy of ten entered
impetuously.
"Breakfast's ready," he said; "Pa-pa sent me up to show you the way."
"Thank you," said Rufus.
"What's your name?"
"Rufus."
"There's a boy in my class at school named Rufus, but he don't look much
like you. Where's the bat you knocked the robber down with?"
"Here," said the newsboy, smiling.
"I guess you gave him a crack, didn't you? I wouldn't like to get hit
with it. Do you play base-ball?"
"Not much."
"What do you want a bat for, then?"
"To knock robbers down," said Rufus, smiling.
"I belong to a base-ball club at school. We call it the "Sea-Birds." We
go up to the Park once a week and play."
By this time they had reached the breakfast-room. Mr. Turner, who was
already down, advanced to meet our hero, and took him by the hand.
"Did you sleep well, Rufus?" he said.
"Yes, sir. I only waked up when the bell rang."
"It was late when we retired. Louisa, my dear, this is the young lad who
bravely came to my rescue when I was assaulted by two robbers."
Mrs. Turner, who was a pleasant-looking lady, took his hand cordially.
"I am very glad my husband brought you home," she said. "I shudder to
think what would have happened, if you had not come up. I shouldn't have
minded the money; but he might have been killed. I don't see how you
could have had the courage to attack them."
"I had a stout club," said Rufus; "if it hadn't been for that, I
couldn't have done any good."
"Nor would the club have done any good, if it hadn't been in the hands
of a brave boy," said Mr. Turner. "But the breakfast is getting cold.
Let us sit down."
Rufus took his seat in a chair indicated to him. He was glad to find
that he was seated next to the boy, who had shown him the way
downstairs, for with a boy he felt more at home than with an older
person.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Walter," was the reply. "I'm named after my Uncle Walter. He's
travelling in Europe. Are you in a store?"
"No."
"Do you go to school?"
"No, I sell papers. I'm a newsboy."
"Do you make much money?"
"About eight dollars a week."
"That's a good deal. I only get fifty cents a week for spending money."
"Which is twice as much as you ought to have," said his father. "I'm
afraid you spend most of it for candy."
"I didn't know newsboys made so much money," said Walter.
"Rufus has a sister to support," said Mr. Turner. "You wouldn't think
eight dollars much, if you had to pay all your expenses out of it, and
support a sister besides."
"What is your sister's name?" asked Mrs. Turner.
"Rose."
"A very pretty name. How old is she?"
"Seven years old."
"That's just as old as my sister Carrie," said Walter; "here she comes.
She's so lazy she always gets up late in the morning."
"No, I don't either," said the young lady referred to; "I'm not so lazy
as you are, Master Walter."
"Well, then, why didn't you come down earlier?"
"Because I had to have my hair braided," said Carrie.
"Didn't I have to brush my hair?" said Walter.
"Your hair doesn't look as if you had spent much time on it," said his
father.
"Pa-pa," said Walter, as he helped himself to a second piece of toast,
"I wish you'd let me stop going to school, and sell papers."
"Do you think that would be a good plan?" asked his father, smiling.
"Yes, I could earn money, you know."
"Not much, I think. I suppose, if I agree to that arrangement, you will
promise to pay all your expenses out of your earnings."
"Yes, I guess I could," said Walter, hesitating, "I can learn the
business of Rufus."
"I don't think you'd like it very well," said our hero, amused.
"Don't you like it?"
"I don't think I should like to sell papers all my life."
"What are you going to do when you are a man?"
"I can't tell yet."
"By the way, Rufus, I should be glad to have you call at my
counting-room, No. —— Wall Street, this morning."
"Thank you, sir," said Rufus; "but I should prefer to call to-morrow.
This morning, I am going over to Brooklyn to see if I can recover my
sister."
"To-morrow will answer just as well. Don't fail to come, however, I wish
to have a talk with you about your prospects."
"I will not fail to come," answered the newsboy.
Rufus did not find it so embarrassing as he anticipated at the breakfast
table. His young neighbor, Walter, plied him with questions, many of
which amused him, and occasionally his sister Carrie, on the opposite
side of the table, joined in. Mrs. Turner asked him questions about his
little sister, and sympathized with him when he described the plot by
which she had been taken from him.
"Do you know Latin?" inquired Walter.
"No," said Rufus.
"I don't see what's the use of studying it, for my part. I never expect
to talk Latin."
"I don't think you ever will," said his father; "judging from your
school report, your success has not been very brilliant in that study,
so far."
"I know one Latin sentence, anyway," said Walter, complacently.
"What is it?"
"_Sum stultus._"
"I regret to hear it," said his father, in a tone of amusement.
"Why?" asked Walter, surprised.
"Do you understand the meaning of the words you have just used?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, what is it?"
"They mean, 'I am good.'"
"Indeed,—I had an idea that their meaning was quite different. Suppose
you look out _stultus_ in your dictionary."
"I am sure I am right," said Walter, confidently. "I will prove it to
you."
He got his dictionary, and looked for the word. He looked a little
abashed when he found it.
"Well," said his father, "what does it mean?"
"I am a fool," returned Walter.
At this there was a laugh at Walter's expense. Breakfast was now over,
and they rose from the table.
"I hope you will come and see us again," said Mrs. Turner.
"Thank you," said our hero.
"Come again, Rufus," said Walter; "I'm making a boat, and perhaps you
can help me. I'd show it to you, only I've got to get ready to go to
school. I'm going to sail it in the bath-tub."
"I shall expect to see you at my office, to-morrow," said Mr. Turner, as
Rufus took his leave. "Don't forget the number, —— Wall Street."
The door closed behind him, and Rufus descended the steps. On the whole,
he was glad now that he had remained to breakfast. It had not proved so
trying an ordeal as he anticipated, and he felt that he had acquitted
himself pretty well under the circumstances. It occurred to him that it
would be very pleasant to live in the same way if he could afford it;
not that he cared so much for himself, but he would like it if Rose
could have the same advantages, and live in as pleasant a home as Carrie
Turner.
This recalled to his mind that Rose was still in the power of his
stepfather, and if he wished to secure her it would be well to lose no
time. He jumped on a horse-car, and rode down-town. As he got out, Ben
Gibson, who had just finished a job, caught sight of him.
"Why wasn't you at the Lodge last night?" he asked.
"A gentleman invited me to stop at his house up-town."
"Oh, yes, of course," said Ben, incredulously.
"It's true. But I want you to go over to Brooklyn with me, and show me
just where Mr. Martin lives. You shan't lose anything by it. I'll tell
you about my adventure last night, as we are walking along."
"All right," said Ben; "my health's getting delicate, and a trip to
Brooklyn will be good for it."
Ben shouldered his box, and the two boys bent their steps towards Fulton
Ferry.