LUCK AND ILL LUCK.
"That will do very well for a beginning," thought Ben, as he surveyed,
with satisfaction, the two half dollars which he had received for his
morning's services. He determined to save one of them towards the fund
which he hoped to accumulate for the object which he had in view. How
much he would need he could not decide; but thought that it would be
safe to set the amount at fifty dollars. This would doubtless require a
considerable time to obtain. He could not expect to be so fortunate
every day as he had been this morning. Some days, no doubt, he would
barely earn enough to pay expenses. Still he had made a beginning, and
this was something gained. It was still more encouraging that he had
determined to save money, and had an inducement to do so.
As Ben rode down town in the horse-cars, he thought of the six years
which he had spent as a New York street boy; and he could not help
feeling that the time had been wasted, so far as any progress or
improvement was concerned. Of books he knew less than when he first came
to the city. He knew more of life, indeed, but not the best side of
life. He had formed some bad habits, from which he would probably have
been saved if he had remained at home. Ben realized all at once how much
he had lost by his hasty action in leaving home. He regarded his street
life with different eyes, and felt ready to give it up, as soon as he
could present himself to his parents without too great a sacrifice of
his pride.
At the end of half an hour, Ben found himself at the termination of the
car route, opposite the lower end of the City Hall Park.
As the letter which he had to deliver was to be carried to Wall Street,
he kept on down Broadway till he reached Trinity Church, and then turned
into the street opposite. He quickly found the number indicated, and
entered Mr. Abercrombie's office. It was a handsome office on the lower
floor. Two or three clerks were at work at their desks.
"So this is my brother-in-law's office," thought Ben. "It's rather
better than mine."
"Well, young man, what can I do for you to-day?" inquired a clerk, in a
tone which indicated that he thought Ben had got into the wrong shop.
"You can tell me whether your name is Sampson," answered Ben, coolly.
"No, it isn't."
"That's what I thought."
"Suppose I am not; what then?"
"Then the letter I've got isn't for you, that's all."
"So you've got a letter, have you?"
"That's what I said."
"It seems to me you're mighty independent," sneered the clerk, who felt
aggrieved that Ben did not show him the respect which he conceived to be
his due.
"Thank you for the compliment," said Ben, bowing.
"You can hand me the letter."
"I thought your name wasn't Sampson."
"I'll hand it to Mr. Sampson. He's gone out a moment. He'll be in
directly."
"Much obliged," said Ben; "but I'd rather hand it to Mr. Sampson myself.
Business aint particularly pressin' this mornin', so, if you'll hand me
the mornin' paper, I'll read till he comes."
"Well, you've got cheek," ejaculated the clerk.
"I've got two of 'em if I counted right when I got up," said Ben.
Here there was a laugh from the other two clerks.
"He's too smart for you, Granby," said one.
"He's impudent enough," muttered the first, as he withdrew discomfited
to his desk.
The enemy having retreated, Ben sat down in an arm-chair, and, picking
up a paper, began to read.
He had not long to wait. Five minutes had scarcely passed when a man of
middle age entered the office. His manner showed that he belonged there.
"If you're Mr. Sampson," said Ben, approaching him, "here is a letter
for you."
"That is my name," said the gentleman, opening the note at once.
"You come from Mrs. Abercrombie," he said, glancing at Ben, as he
finished reading it.
"Yes, sir," said Ben.
"How did she happen to select you as her messenger?"
"I went up there this morning to carry a valise."
"I have a great mind to send you back to her with an answer; but I
hesitate on one account."
"What is that?" asked Ben.
"I don't know whether you can be trusted."
"Nor I," said Ben; "but I'm willin' to run the risk."
"No doubt," said Mr. Sampson, smiling; "but it seems to me that I should
run a greater risk than you."
"I don't know about that," answered Ben. "If it's money, and I keep it,
you can send the copps after me, and I'll be sent to the Island. That
would be worse than losing money."
"That's true; but some of you boys don't mind that. However, I am
inclined to trust you. Mrs. Abercrombie asks for a sum of money, and
wishes me to send it up by one of the clerks. That I cannot very well
do, as we are particularly busy this morning. I will put the money in an
envelope, and give it to you to deliver. I will tell you beforehand that
it is fifty dollars."
"Very good," said Ben; "I'll give it to her."
"Wait a moment."
Mr. Sampson went behind the desk, and reappeared almost directly.
"Mrs. Abercrombie will give you a line to me, stating that she has
received the money. When you return with this, I will pay you for your
trouble."
"All right," said Ben.
As he left the office the young clerk first mentioned said, "I am
afraid, Mr. Sampson, Mrs. Abercrombie will never see that money."
"Why not?"
"The boy will keep it."
"What makes you think so?"
"He's one of the most impudent young rascals I ever saw."
"I didn't form that opinion. He was respectful enough to me."
"He wasn't to me."
Mr. Sampson smiled a little. He had observed young Granby's assumption
of importance, and partly guessed how matters stood.
"It's too late to recall him," he said. "I must run the risk. My own
opinion is that he will prove faithful."
Ben had accepted the commission gladly, not alone because he would get
extra pay for the additional errand, but because he saw that there was
some hesitation in the mind of Mr. Sampson about trusting him, and he
meant to show himself worthy of confidence. There were fifty dollars in
the envelope. He had never before been trusted with that amount of
money, and now it was rather because no other messenger could be
conveniently sent that he found himself so trusted. Not a thought of
appropriating the money came to Ben. True, it occurred to him that this
was precisely the sum which he needed to fit him out respectably. But
there would be greater cause for shame if he appeared well dressed on
stolen money, than if he should present himself in rags to his sister.
However, it is only just to Ben to say that had the party to whom he
was sent been different, he would have discharged his commission
honorably. Not that he was a model boy, but his pride, which was in some
respects a fault with him, here served him in good stead, as it made him
ashamed to do a dishonest act.
Ben rightly judged that the money would be needed as soon as possible,
and, as the distance was great, he resolved to ride, trusting to Mr.
Sampson's liberality to pay him for the expense which he would thus
incur in addition to the compensation allowed for his services.
He once more made his way to the station of the Fourth Avenue cars, and
jumped aboard one just ready to start.
The car gradually filled, and they commenced their progress up town.
Ben took a seat in the corner next to the door. Next to him was a man
with black hair and black whiskers. He wore a tall felt hat with a bell
crown, and a long cloak. Ben took no particular notice of him, being too
much in the habit of seeing strange faces to observe them minutely. The
letter he put in the side pocket of his coat, on the side nearest the
stranger. He took it out once to look at it. It was addressed to Mrs.
Abercrombie, at her residence, and in one corner Mr. Sampson had written
"Money enclosed."
Now it chanced, though Ben did not suspect it, that the man at his side
was a member of the swell mob, and his main business was picking
pockets. He observed the two words, already quoted, on the envelope when
Ben took it in his hand, and he made up his mind to get possession of
it. This was comparatively easy, for Ben's pocket was on the side
towards him. Our hero was rather careless, it must be owned, but it
happened that the inside pocket of his coat had been torn away, which
left him no other receptacle for the letter. Besides, Ben had never been
in a situation to have much fear of pick pockets, and under ordinary
circumstances he would hardly have been selected as worth plundering.
But the discovery that the letter contained money altered the case.
While Ben was looking out from the opposite window across the street,
the stranger dexterously inserted his hand in his pocket, and withdrew
the letter. They were at that moment just opposite the Tombs.
Having gained possession of the letter, of course it was his interest to
get out of the car as soon as possible, since Ben was liable at any
moment to discover his loss.
He touched the conductor, who was just returning from the other end of
the car, after collecting the fares.
"I'll get out here," he said.
The conductor accordingly pulled the strap, and the car stopped.
The stranger gathered his cloak about him, and, stepping out on the
platform, jumped from the car. Just at that moment Ben put his hand into
his pocket, and instantly discovered the loss of the letter. He
immediately connected it with the departure of his fellow-passenger,
and, with a hasty ejaculation, sprang from the car, and started in
pursuit of him.