BEN MAKES SOME TITLED FRIENDS.
Ben’s astonishment on discovering that he was starting for Europe was
extreme. His pleasure was as great.
He had at times fancied that he should like to cross the Atlantic,
and visit the countries and cities of which he had heard so much,
but it had never entered his imagination as likely to happen. He was
surprised that Mrs. Harcourt had said nothing of her intention, but he
was ready to accept things as they were, and his spirits rose in glad
anticipation of the delightful experiences that awaited him.
“You look surprised,” said his patroness, after communicating the
startling news.
“Yes, mother, I am indeed surprised.”
“Are you sorry?”
“No; I think it will be delightful,” said Ben enthusiastically.
Mrs. Harcourt looked pleased. It was important that Ben should be
satisfied with the arrangements that were made for him.
“Are we going to stay long in Europe?” asked Ben.
“You ask me a question which I cannot answer. My plans I make as I go
along.”
“Excuse my asking. Of course I am satisfied.”
On a large steamer like the Etruria it is expensive to occupy a whole
room. Ben found that he had a roommate in the person of a young
Englishman about nineteen years old. He had a pleasant, good-humored
face, that invited confidence.
“So we are to be together,” he said. “Well, I am glad of it.”
“Thank you.”
“I feared some disagreeable person would be put with me. I would much
rather have a boy. If you don’t mind let me know your name.”
Ben was about to give his real name, but thought in time.
“Edwin Harcourt.”
“And are you alone?”
“No; my mother is on board.
“You have not told me your name,” suggested Ben.
“True; there is my card.”
Ben looked at the card, on which he read the name--
HON. CYRIL AUGUSTUS BENTLEY.
“Honorable!” he repeated, puzzled.
Young Bentley smiled.
“You are an American, and you don’t understand,” he said. “I am the
younger son of the Earl of Bentley, and I have a title, but while in
America I don’t want to have it known. It seemed to set up a barrier
between me and young fellows of my age. Besides, you Americans don’t
believe in titles.”
“Is your father on board?” asked Ben.
“Yes, my father and mother both. That is why I require a separate
stateroom.”
“I suppose you are Lord Cyril,” said Ben, who had read some English
novels.
“No, indeed. Call me Cyril and I will call you Edwin.”
As he spoke his face was lighted up by such a pleasant smile that Ben
was very much drawn towards him.
“I shall be glad to feel on such friendly terms,” said Ben.
“Then let us be sworn friends. Have you engaged your place at the
table?”
“No. This is my first voyage, and I don’t know the customs of the
ship.”
“Then let me engage seats for us both. I want you next to me. Will your
mother mind?”
“I don’t think so, but I will speak to her.”
“Do go, and at once, for there is no time to be lost.”
Ben went to Mrs. Harcourt’s stateroom.
“My roommate wants me to sit beside him at the table,” he said. “Do you
mind?”
“Who is your roommate?”
“There is his card. He is a younger son of the Earl of Bentley.”
Mrs. Harcourt was agreeably surprised.
“Is it possible?” she asked. “I heard when I engaged passage that the
Earl and Countess of Bentley would be on the list of passengers. How
old is this son?”
“Nineteen. He seems to have taken a liking to me.”
“By all means, sit beside him if he desires it,” said Mrs. Harcourt
graciously. “I am glad you have so desirable a roommate. You must
introduce me some time to-day.”
“I will; I am sure you will like him.”
Mrs. Harcourt was one of that numerous class of Americans who
are impressed by a title, and she congratulated herself that her
newly-found protégé was likely to bring her into acquaintance with the
privileged classes.
“My mother is quite willing,” said Ben on his return. “She wishes me to
introduce you to her.”
“I shall be delighted, I am sure. She is awfully kind to give you up to
me.”
“I am very glad she has, Cyril.”
“We will take care of each other if we are seasick.”
During the day Ben led up his new friend to Mrs. Harcourt.
“Mother,” he said, “let me introduce my roommate, Cyril Bentley.”
“My dear Edwin, you forget his title.”
“At my request, Mrs. Harcourt. I am ever so much obliged to you for
letting Edwin sit by me.”
“I am delighted, my lord----”
“No, don’t call me that.”
“Shall I call you Cyril, too?” smiled the delighted Mrs. Harcourt.
“Yes, if you will. Will you excuse me now, as Edwin and I are going to
play shuffleboard?”
“Certainly, but I hope to see you again.”
“Oh, we shall meet often.”
Later on Cyril introduced Ben to the Earl and Countess. The earl
was rather roughly dressed, as he had been on a visit to the Rocky
Mountain region. Both he and the countess were pleased with Ben’s
appearance, and greeted him with kindly cordiality.
“You don’t often meet handsomer boys than Cyril and his young American
friend,” he said to the Countess. “I am very well pleased that Cyril
has found such a pleasant companion.”
The next day, much to her gratification, Mrs. Harcourt was introduced
by Cyril to his father and mother. In rather a fulsome way she
expressed her pleasure at the intimacy of Cyril with Edwin.
“You have reason to be proud of your son, Mrs. Harcourt,” said the Earl
politely. “He is a fine-looking boy.”
“Thank you, my lord. You are indeed very kind.”
“Shall you remain in England any length of time?” asked the Countess.
“I may spend a month in London, Lady Bentley.”
“Then,” said the Earl, “let me ask on behalf of Cyril that you will
allow your son to spend a week at Bentley Hall.”
Mrs. Harcourt would have enjoyed being herself invited, but the
invitation to Ben was the next thing to it, as he was supposed to be
her son.
“Thank you for the invitation, my lord,” she said. “I am sure Edwin
will enjoy visiting you.”
Ben’s evident intimacy with Cyril (for the two were quite inseparable)
made him an object of attention among the other passengers, who paid
court to him as a stepping-stone to acquaintance with the earl and his
son.
One day a passenger, a New York merchant, said carelessly to Ben, “Do
you know there is a striking resemblance between you and a boy who
played last season in the People’s Theater on the Bowery?”
“Indeed!” said Ben. “What was his name?”
“I don’t remember. Mrs. Vincent, do you remember the name of that young
actor?”
“It was Ben Bruce,” answered his wife.
“I shall hope to see him act some time,” said Ben, smiling.
“And I too,” added Cyril Bentley.
“Wouldn’t you like just as well to see me act, Cyril?” asked Ben.
“Yes, if you can act.”
“I can try.”
“You may have a chance to do so. We shall have some theatricals at the
Hall while you are there.”
“I am afraid I am something of a humbug,” thought Ben. “I wonder if
Cyril would think any the less of me if he knew that I had been a
newsboy on the Bowery.”