CHESTER TAKES A LESSON IN BOXING.
“That is my poor, little cousin,” explained Arthur.
“Is he sick or in pain?” asked Chester, in quick sympathy.
“He had a fever when he was three years old that left his mind a wreck.
He is now eight. The most eminent physicians have seen him, but there
seems little hope of his improvement or recovery.”
“Does he suffer pain?”
“You ask on account of the shriek you heard. As far as we can tell, he
does not. The shriek comes, so the doctor tells us, from a nervous
spasm. He would have been a bright boy if he had kept his health. Would
you like to see him?”
Chester shrank back.
“I am afraid I should excite him,” he said.
He had, besides, an idea that a boy so afflicted would be repulsive in
appearance.
“No,” said Arthur, “it may relieve him to see you by diverting his
thoughts.”
Without further words, he opened the door of a room at the head of the
staircase and entered, followed reluctantly by Chester.
“Ernest,” said Arthur, in a soothing tone, “I have brought you a
friend. His name is Chester.”
Chester was amazed at the sight of the boy. He was wonderfully
handsome, especially when at Arthur’s words the look of pain left his
face and it brightened into radiant beauty. He seemed to fall in love
with Chester at first sight. He ran up to him, seized his hand, kissed
it, and said:
“I love you.”
Arthur, too, looked amazed.
“He never took to anyone so before,” he said. “You have fascinated
him.”
“Sit down. Let me sit in your lap,” pleaded Ernest.
All feeling of repugnance, all thoughts of the boy’s malady were
forgotten. Chester sat in a low rocking-chair and Ernest seated himself
in his lap, touching his face and hair softly with a caressing hand.
“What a charming boy he is!” thought Chester.
“Did you come to see me?” asked Ernest, softly.
“Yes, I came with Arthur.”
“Will you stay with me a little while?”
“A little while, but I must soon go. Why did you scream so loud a
little while ago?”
“I—don’t know.”
“Were you in pain?”
“N—no,” answered Ernest, softly.
“Do you like to cry out in that manner?”
“No, but—I have to do it. I can’t help it.”
“I think he gives the right explanation,” said Arthur. “It is a nervous
impulse, and has nothing to do with pain.”
“Does he ever sit in your lap, like this?”
“No; I think he likes me in a way, for I am always kind to him, but you
seem to draw him to you irresistibly.”
At that moment the professor came in. When he saw Ernest sitting in
Chester’s lap, he stopped short in astonishment.
“This is strange,” he said.
“Isn’t it, uncle? Chester seems to fascinate my little cousin. No
sooner did he enter the room than Ernest ran up to him, kissed his
hand, and caressed him.”
“I can’t explain it,” said the professor, “but Chester seems to have a
wonderful influence over my poor boy. I never saw him look so happy or
contented before.”
All this while Ernest continued to stroke Chester’s cheek and his hair,
and regarded him with looks of fond affection.
“I am afraid Ernest annoys you,” said the professor.
“No; I am glad he likes me. I never had a little brother. I think I
should enjoy having one.”
“If he could only be always like this,” said the professor,
regretfully.
Just then Margaret entered. She was the nurse, who had constant charge
of Ernest. She paused on the threshold, and her looks showed her
surprise.
“Ernest has found a friend, Margaret,” said the professor.
“I never saw the like, sir. Come here, Ernest.”
The boy shook his head.
“No, I want to stay with him,” indicating Chester.
“Did Ernest ever see him before, sir?”
“No; it seems to be a case of love at first sight.”
“He has cut me out,” said Arthur, smiling. “Ernest, which do you like
best, me or him?”
“Him,” answered Ernest, touching Chester’s cheek.
“I must tell Dr. Gridley of this new manifestation on the part of my
poor boy,” said the professor. “Perhaps he can interpret it.”
For twenty minutes Chester retained Ernest on his lap. Then Arthur
said:
“Chester must go now, Ernest.”
The boy left Chester’s lap obediently.
“Will you come and see me again?” he pleaded.
“Yes, I will come,” said Chester, and, stooping over, he kissed the
boy’s cheek. Ernest’s face lighted up with a loving smile, and again he
kissed Chester’s hand.
“Now, Chester, you can come to my den.” Arthur opened the door of a
large room, furnished with every comfort.
It was easy to see that it was a boy’s apartment. On a table were
boxing gloves. Over a desk in a corner was hung the photograph of a
football team, of which Arthur was the captain. There was another
photograph representing him with gloves on, about to have a set-to with
a boy friend.
“Do you box, Chester?” he asked.
“No; I never saw a pair of boxing gloves before.”
“I will give you a lesson. Here, put on this pair.”
Chester smiled.
“I shall be at your mercy,” he said. “I am, perhaps, as strong as you,
but I have no science.”
“It won’t take you long to learn.”
So the two boys faced each other. Before he knew what was going to
happen, Chester received a light tap on the nose from his new friend.
“I must tell you how to guard yourself. I will be the professor and you
the pupil.”
Chester soon became interested, and at the end of half an hour his
teacher declared that he had improved wonderfully.
“We will have a lesson every time you come to see uncle,” he said.
“Then I shall come to see two professors.”
“Yes, an old one and young one. Between uncle, Ernest and myself, you
will find your time pretty well occupied when you come here.”
“I think it a great privilege to come here,” said Chester, gratefully.
“And I am glad to have you. I shall have some one to box with, at any
rate. Now,” he added, with a comical look, “I can’t induce my uncle to
have a bout with me. Indeed, I should be afraid to, for he is so
shortsighted he would need to wear spectacles, and I would inevitably
break them.”
Chester could not forbear laughing at the idea of the learned professor
having a boxing match with his lively, young nephew.
“If you will make me as good a boxer as yourself, I shall feel very
much indebted.”
“That will come in time. I am quite flattered at the opportunity of
posing as a teacher. Have you a taste for jewelry? Just look in this
drawer.”
Arthur opened one of the small drawers in his bureau, and displayed a
varied collection of studs, sleeve buttons, collar buttons, scarf pins,
etc.
“You might set up a jeweler’s store,” suggested Chester. “Where did you
get them all?”
“I had an uncle who was in the business, and he and other relatives
have given me plenty.”
“I haven’t even a watch.”
“No, really? Why, how can you get along without one?”
“I have to.”
“Wait a minute.”
Arthur opened another drawer, revealing two silver watches, one an open
face, the other a hunting watch.
“Take your choice,” he said.
“Do you really mean it?”
“Certainly.”
“But would your uncle approve of your giving me such a valuable
present?”
“My uncle doesn’t bother himself about such trifles. I don’t use either
of these watches. I have a gold one, given me last Christmas.”
“Since you are so kind, I think I prefer the hunting watch.”
“All right! There it is. Let me set it for you. The chain goes with it,
of course.”
Chester felt delighted with his present. He had hoped sometime—when he
was eighteen, perhaps—to own a watch, but had no expectation of
getting one so soon.
“You are a generous friend, Arthur,” he said.
“Don’t make too much of such a trifle, Chester!” returned the other,
lightly.
When Chester said he must go home, Arthur put on his hat and proposed
to walk with him part of the way, an offer which Chester gratefully
accepted.
They walked over to Broadway, chatting as they went.
All at once, Chester, who had not expected to see anyone he knew,
touched Arthur on the arm.
“Do you see that man in front of us?” he asked, pointing to a figure
about six feet ahead.
“Yes. What of him?”
“It is our bookkeeper, David Mullins.”
“Is it, indeed? Do you know whom he is walking with?”
Chester glanced at a rather flashily dressed individual who was walking
arm in arm with the bookkeeper.
“No,” he answered.
“It is Dick Ralston,” answered Arthur, “one of the most notorious
gamblers in the city.”