As the clock at the Old South Church struck one, Herbert ascended
the steps of Parker's Hotel, and walked into the reading room. George
Melville was already there.
“You are on time, Herbert,” he said, with a smile, as our hero made his
appearance.
“Yes, sir; but I began to think I should miss my appointment.”
“Where have you been?”
“To Bunker Hill.”
“Did you ascend the monument?”
“Yes, sir, and had a fight at the summit.”
Mr. Melville looked at Herbert in amazement.
“Had a fight at the top of Bunker Hill Monument?” he ejaculated.
“Yes, sir; let me tell you about it.”
When the story was told, Mr. Melville said: “That was certainly a
remarkable adventure, Herbert. Still, I am not sorry that it occurred.”
It was Herbert's turn to look surprised.
“I will tell you why. It proves to me that you are worthy of my
confidence, and can be trusted with the care of money. It has also
taught you a lesson, to beware of knaves, no matter how plausible they
may be.”
“I haven't got over my surprise yet, sir, at discovering the real
character of the man who went with me. I am sorry I met him. I don't
like to distrust people.”
“Nor I. But it is not necessary to distrust everybody. In your
journey through the world you will make many agreeable and trustworthy
acquaintances in whom it will be safe to confide. It is only necessary
to be cautious and not give your confidence too soon.”
“Oh, I didn't mention that I met somebody from Wayneboro,” said Herbert.
“Was it Eben Graham?”
“Yes.”
“I met him myself on Washington Street. Did you speak to him?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I suppose he goes back to-night?”
“I don't think he will go back at all, Mr. Melville.”
His employer looked at him inquiringly.
“I saw him buy a ticket to Chicago, though he does not know it,”
continued Herbert. “When he spoke with me he didn't admit it, but spoke
of going back by an afternoon train.”
“I am afraid he has appropriated some of his father's funds,” said
Melville. “I doubt if Ebenezer Graham would voluntarily furnish him the
means of going West.”
“That was just what occurred to me,” said Herbert; “but I didn't like to
think that Eben would steal.”
“Perhaps he has not. We shall be likely to hear when we return. But you
must be hungry. We will go in to dinner.”
Herbert followed Mr. Melville into the dining room, where a good dinner
was ordered, and partaken of. Herbert looked over the bill of fare,
but the high prices quite startled him. He was not used to patronizing
hotels, and it seemed to him that the price asked for a single dish
ought to be enough to pay for a whole dinner for two. He knew about what
it cost for a meal at home, and did not dream that it would amount to so
much more at a hotel.
When the check was brought Herbert looked at it.
“Two dollars and a half!” he exclaimed.
“It costs an awful amount to live in Boston.”
“Oh a dinner can be got much cheaper at most places in Boston,” said
George Melville, smiling, “but I am used to Parker's, and generally come
here.”
“I am glad it doesn't cost so much to live in Wayneboro,” said Herbert.
“We couldn't afford even one meal a day.”
“You haven't asked me what the doctor said,” remarked Melville, as they
left the dining room.
“Excuse me, Mr. Melville. It wasn't from any lack of interest.”
“He advises me to go West by the first of October, either to Colorado or
Southern California.”
Herbert's countenance fell. The first of October would soon come, and
his pleasant and profitable engagement with Mr. Melville would close.
“I am sorry,” he said, gravely.
“I am not so sorry as I should have been a few weeks ago,” said
Melville. “Then I should have looked forward to a journey as lonely and
monotonous. Now, with a companion, I think I may have a pleasant time.”
“Who is going with you, Mr. Melville?” asked Herbert, feeling, it must
be confessed, a slight twinge of jealousy.
“I thought perhaps you would be willing to accompany me,” said Melville.
“Would you really take me, Mr. Melville?” cried Herbert, joyfully.
“Yes, if you will go.”
“I should like nothing better. I have always wanted to travel. It quite
takes my breath away to think of going so far away.”
“I should hardly venture to go alone,” continued George Melville. “I
shall need some one to look after the details of the journey, and to
look after me if I fall sick. Do you think you would be willing to do
that?”
“I hope you won't fall sick, Mr. Melville; but if you do, I will take
the best care of you I know how.”
“I am sure you will, Herbert, and I would rather have you about me than
a man. Indeed, I already begin to think of you as a younger brother.”
“Thank you, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, gratefully. “I am glad you do.”
“Do you think your mother will object to your leaving home, Herbert?”
“Not with you. She knows I shall be well provided for with you. Can I
arrange to send money regularly to mother?” asked the boy. “I shouldn't
like to think of her as suffering for want of it.”
“Yes, but to guard against emergencies, we can leave her a sum of money
before you start.”
After dinner Mr. Melville proposed to Herbert to accompany him on a
walk up Washington Street, They walked slowly, Herbert using his eyes
diligently, for to him the display in the shop windows was novel and
attractive.
At length they paused at the door of a large and handsome jewelry
store--one of the two finest in Boston.
“I want to go in here, Herbert,” said his employer.
“Shall I stay outside?”
“No, come in with me. You may like to look about.”
Though Herbert had no idea of the cost of the fine stock with which the
store was provided, he saw that it must be valuable, and wondered where
purchasers enough could be found to justify keeping so large a supply
of watches, chains, rings and the numberless other articles in gold and
silver which he saw around him.
“I would like to look at your watches,” said Melville to the salesman
who came forward to inquire his wishes.
“Gold or silver, sir?”
“Silver.”
“This way, if you please.”
He led the way to a case where through the glass covering Herbert
saw dozens of silver watches of all sizes and grades lying ready for
inspection.
“For what price can I get a fair silver watch?” asked Melville.
“Swiss or Waltham?”
“Waltham. I may as well patronize home manufactures.”
“Here is a watch I will sell you for fifteen dollars,” said the
salesman, drawing out a neat-looking watch, of medium size. “It will
keep excellent time, and give you good satisfaction.”
“Very well; I will buy it on your recommendation. Have you any silver
chains?”
One was selected of pretty pattern, and George Melville paid for both.
“How do you like the watch and chain, Herbert?” said his employer, as
they left the store.
“They are very pretty, sir.”
“I suppose you wonder what I want of two watches,” said Melville.
“Perhaps you don't like to take your gold watch with you when you go out
West, for fear of thieves.”
“No, that is not the reason. If I am so unfortunate as to lose my gold
watch, I will buy another. The fact is, I have bought this silver watch
and chain for you.”
“For me!” exclaimed Herbert, intensely delighted.
“Yes; it will be convenient for you, as well as me, to be provided with
a watch. Every traveler needs one. There; put it in your pocket, and see
how it looks.”
“You are very kind to me, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, gratefully. “You
couldn't have bought me anything which I should value more.”
When Herbert had arranged the watch and chain to suit him, it must be
confessed that it engrossed a large part of his attention, and it was
wonderful how often he had occasion to consult it during the first walk
after it came into his possession.