BEN MAKES HIMSELF KNOWN.
Ben went out into the street with two bundles under his arm. One
contained the ragged clothes which he had just taken off. The other,
which was much smaller, contained his extra shirts and stockings. The
first he did not care to keep. He therefore lost no time in throwing it
into an alley-way.
"It'll be a lucky chap that finds it," thought Ben.
He next put on his gloves, and considered what he should do next. It was
half-past twelve o'clock already, for he had not been able to get his
money from the bank till ten, and the purchases and bath, as well as the
hair-cutting, had taken up considerable time. He began to feel hungry,
and appetite suggested that he should first of all go to a restaurant
and get some dinner.
On the way thither he met two of his street acquaintances, who passed
him without the slightest mark of recognition. This pleased Ben, for it
assured him that the change which he had effected in his appearance was
a considerable one.
While eating dinner, he deliberated what he should do. It was Saturday,
and it would be almost too late to start for his Pennsylvania home. He
decided to go to his sister's house on Madison Avenue, and make himself
known there first of all. He was influenced to this partly by the desire
he had to meet his cousin, who, as he knew, was making his home, while
attending school, at the house of Mr. Abercrombie. He had more than once
been up to that part of the city in the hope of catching a glimpse of
the cousin for whom he retained his old, boyish love; but he had always
shrunk, even when seeing him, from attracting his observation. He did
not wish to be remembered in his rags, and so denied himself the
pleasure for which he yearned. But now he was satisfied with his
appearance. He felt that he was as well dressed as Charles himself, and
would do no discredit to him if they were seen in the street together.
He got on board an omnibus, and took his seat. A lady soon after
entered, and sat down beside him She drew out some money from her
purse, and, passing it to Ben, said, "Will you have the kindness to pass
up my fare, sir?"
"Certainly," said Ben, politely.
It was a small incident, but he felt, from the young lady's manner of
addressing him, that she looked upon him as her equal socially, and this
afforded him not a little pleasure. He wondered how he could have been
content to drift about the streets so long, clothed in rags. New hopes
and a new ambition had been awakened within him, and he felt that a new
life lay before him, much better worth living than the old life.
These thoughts occupied him as he rode up Broadway.
At length he left the omnibus, and took the shortest route to his
sister's house. When he ascended the steps, and rang the bell, he felt
rather a queer sensation come over him. He remembered very well the last
time he had ascended those same steps, carrying his cousin's valise. His
heart beat quick with excitement, in the midst of which the door was
opened by the servant.
He had already decided to ask for his cousin, preferring to make himself
known to him first.
"Is Charles Marston in?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir," said the servant. "Won't you come in?"
She threw open the door of the parlor, and Ben, entering, seated himself
in an arm-chair, holding his hat in his hand.
"I wonder if she'd asked me in here if I'd come in my rags?" he asked
himself, with a smile.
The servant went upstairs, where she found Charles in his own room,
writing a French exercise.
"Master Charles," she said, "one of your school-mates is in the parlor.
He wants to see you."
"All right. I'll go right down."
The mistake was quite a natural one, as boys who attended the same
private school frequently called for Charles.
Charles went downstairs, and entered the parlor. Ben rose as he entered.
"How are you, Charlie?" said Ben, rising, and offering his hand.
Charles looked in his face with a puzzled expression. It was not one of
his school-mates, as he had supposed; but it must be some one that knew
him intimately, or he would not have addressed him so familiarly.
"I ought to know you," he said, apologetically; "but I can't think who
it is."
"Don't you remember your Cousin Ben, Charlie?" asked our hero.
"Ben!" exclaimed Charles, in the greatest astonishment. He looked
eagerly in our hero's face for a moment, then impulsively threw his arms
around Ben's neck, and kissed him.
"I am so glad to see you, Ben," he said. "Where have you been all the
time?"
"Then you didn't forget me, Charlie?" said Ben, returning the embrace.
"No, Ben. I've thought of you many and many a time. We used to be such
good friends, you know. We will be again,--will we not?"
"I hope so, Charlie. That was one of my reasons for coming back."
"How did you know I was here?"
"I will tell you some time, Charlie; but not now. Is my sister at home?"
"Yes. I will call her. She will be very much surprised. We all thought
you--"
"Dead, I suppose."
"Yes; but I always hoped you would come back again."
"Don't tell Mary who it is. See if she recognizes me."
Summoned by Charles, Mrs. Abercrombie came down to the parlor. She was
merely told that a gentleman desired to see her.
When she entered the parlor, Ben rose from his seat.
She looked at him for a moment, and her face lighted up.
"It's Ben," she said. "O Ben, how could you stay away so long?"
"What, do you remember me, Mary?" asked our hero, in surprise.
"Yes. I knew you by your resemblance to Charles. We always remarked it
when you were young boys together."
As the two boys were standing side by side, the resemblance of which she
spoke was quite striking. Ben was the larger of the two; but their
features were similar, as well as the color of the hair and eyes, and
the similarity of their dress completed the illusion. Mrs. Abercrombie
surveyed her brother with satisfaction. She had been afraid he would be
coarse and vulgar after so many years of neglect, if he should ever
return; but here he was, to all appearance, a young gentleman of whom
she need not feel ashamed.
"Ben must share my room, Cousin Mary," said Charles. "We've got so much
to say to each other."
"I didn't know I was to stay," said Ben, smiling.
"You mustn't leave us again, Ben," said his sister. "Monday you must
start for home. Poor mother has mourned for you so long. She will be
overjoyed to see you again."
When Mr. Abercrombie came home, his new brother-in-law was introduced to
him. He received Ben cordially, and in a way to make him feel at home.
In the course of the morning Mr. Sampson called, and Ben was introduced
to him.
"There's something in your brother's voice that sounds familiar," he
said to Mrs. Abercrombie. "I think I must have met him before."
"He has not been with us for some years," said Mrs. Abercrombie, who did
not care to reveal that Ben was a returned prodigal.
"Probably I am deceived," said Mr. Sampson.
Ben, however, knew that Mr. Sampson had good cause to remember him. He
was afraid the servant who had brought him his breakfast some months
before in the basement might remember him; but there was no danger of
that. She never dreamed of associating the young gentleman, her
mistress's brother, with the ragged and dirty boy who had brought the
valise for Master Charles.