AN IMPORTANT COMMISSION.
A WEEK later Mark received the follow letter:
"Mark Mason: Please call at my office as soon as convenient.
"D. GILBERT."
"This letter is from Maud Gilbert's father," said Mark, addressing his
mother. "I wonder what he wants."
"Nothing disagreeable, I am sure. Of course you will go."
"I will call to-morrow morning."
Mr. Gilbert was a commission merchant, with an office in the lower part
of the city, west of Broadway. Mark obtained leave of absence for an
hour agreeing to pay the price usually charged to customers.
He had seen Mr. Gilbert, a stout, portly man of fifty, during his call
at the house in Forty-Fifth Street. Therefore when he was admitted to
Mr. Gilbert's office, he addressed him not as a stranger but as an old
acquaintance.
"I received your note, Mr. Gilbert, and have called according to your
request."
"That is right, Mark. Sit down till I have finished looking over my
letters. You will find the morning _Herald_ on the table near you."
In ten minutes the merchant had finished with his letters, and whirled
round in his chair.
"I believe you are a telegraph boy," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"What pay do you receive?"
"I don't average over six dollars a week."
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"My daughter thinks you are unusually bright and intelligent."
"I am very much obliged to Miss Maud for her good opinion," said Mark,
his face flushing with gratification.
"How can you get along on six dollars a week? You have a mother
partially dependent upon you, I believe."
"I have lately had a present of a thousand dollars from Mr. Luther
Rockwell, the banker. I was in his office when a dynamite crank
threatened to blow us all up."
"I heartily congratulate you, Mark. You deserved the gift for your
coolness and courage, but it isn't every rich man who would make so
generous an acknowledgment for your services."
"That's true, sir. Mr. Rockwell has been very kind."
"How do you like the position of telegraph boy?"
"I would like to give it up. It doesn't lead to anything. But I don't
want to throw myself out of work. Six dollars a week is a small income,
but it is better than nothing."
"I approve your prudence, but I think other and better employment can be
obtained for you. Maud tells me that you were sent not long since to
Cleveland with some valuable jewelry."
"Yes, sir."
"You succeeded in your mission?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you meet with any adventures while you were gone?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell me briefly what they were."
Mark did so.
"Don't think I am influenced by curiosity," said Mr. Gilbert. "The fact
is, I have a still longer journey for you if you don't object, and I
wished to assure myself that you were adequate to undertake it. It may
take six weeks, or it may take two months. I should advise you to give
up your position as messenger, and I will guarantee you an equally good
place when you return."
"Thank you, sir. In that case I won't hesitate to give it up."
"Your week closes to-morrow, I suppose."
"Yes, sir."
"Then give notice at once."
"Where are you going to send me, sir?" asked Mark, with pardonable
curiosity.
"To California."
Mark looked amazed. He knew that California was even further away than
Liverpool, and having the love of travel and adventure natural to boys
of his age he felt that he should thoroughly enjoy the trip.
"I should like very much to go," he said promptly.
"Now I must tell you why I send you. A cousin of mine has just died in
California, leaving a young son of ten years of age. He wrote me a
letter from his death-bed commending the boy to my care. I will gladly
undertake the charge of the boy, as I had a strong regard for his
father, who, by the way had died poor.
"But a difficulty presented itself. The boy could not come East by
himself, and there seemed no one to bring him. Of course I can't leave
my business, and there is no one else in my family who can be sent.
Under these circumstances Maud has recommended me to send you."
"I shall be glad to go, sir."
"You are a rather young guardian for a young boy, but I think you
possess the necessary qualification. Your experience as a telegraph boy
has made you sharp and self-reliant, and altogether I think you will
acquit yourself to my satisfaction."
"I will try to, sir."
"I need no assurance of that."
"How am I to go?"
"By the Union and Central Pacific Road from Omaha. I will supply you
with a through ticket."
"Shall you wish me to return immediately?"
"No; you can stay in California two or three weeks and get acquainted
with the boy. I have never seen him, but I think you won't find him
troublesome. Are you fond of children?"
"Very, sir."
"The poor boy will need a kind friend, having lost his father so
recently. And now, there is one thing more to be spoken of--your
compensation."
"I shall be satisfied with whatever you think right."
"Then we will fix that after your return. But you will need to leave
some money with your mother to pay expenses while you are away."
"I can draw from Mr. Rockwell."
"No; if you have money in his hands let it remain. I will advance you a
hundred dollars to leave with your mother. I may as well do that now. On
Saturday evening, when you are released from your present position, call
at the house and receive your ticket and final instructions."
"Thank you, sir."
Mr. Gilbert rang a little bell, and a boy appeared.
"Go to the bank and get this check cashed," said the merchant.
In a few minutes he returned with a roll of bills.
"Count them over and see if they are right, Mark."
"Yes, sir; they are correct."
"Very good! Remember that they are for your mother. Tell her also that
if you remain longer than I anticipate, and she gets short of money, she
can call at my office and I will supply her with more."
Mark left the office in a state of joyful excitement.
He was to make a long journey across the continent. He would see many
states and cities, and become acquainted with places which he now knew
only by hearsay. And after he returned his prospects would be brighter,
for Mr. Gilbert had promised to find him a position at least equal to
the one he resigned.
In the afternoon as Mark was returning from an errand in West Fiftieth
Street, he saw Edgar Talbot in the neighborhood of Bryant Park.
"Hallo!" said Edgar condescendingly. "Are you on an errand?"
"Yes."
"Ho, ho! how you will look in a telegraph boy's uniform when you are a
young man of twenty-five."
"What makes you think I am going to be a telegraph boy so long?"
"Because you are not fit for any other business."
Mark smiled.
"I am sorry for that," he said, "for as it happens I have tendered my
resignation."
"You don't mean that you are going to leave the messenger service?"
"Yes."
"But how are you going to live? It won't be any use to ask father for
money."
"I presume not."
"Perhaps," suggested Edgar hopefully, "you have been discharged."
"I discharged myself."
"Have you got another position?"
"I am going to travel for a while."
Edgar Talbot was more and more perplexed. In fact he had always found
Mark a perplexing problem.
"How can you travel without money?"
"Give it up. I don't propose to."
"Have you got any money?"
Mark happened to have with him the roll of bills given him for his
mother. He drew it out.
"Do you mean to say that is yours? How much is there?"
"A hundred dollars."
"I don't believe it is yours."
"It isn't. It belongs to my mother."
"But father said she was very poor."
"At any rate this money belongs to her."
"Where are you going to travel?"
"Out West."
This was all the information Mark would give. Edgar reported the
conversation to his father, who was also perplexed.
"Mark Mason is a strange boy," he said. "I don't understand him."