The Decoy Letter
Sam knew that Ben was anxious to obtain a situation. It occurred to
him that it would be a splendid joke to write to Ben, in the name of
some Boston firm, offering him a situation. Ben would go up to the
city, of course, only to find that he had been "sold."
Of course, it would not do for Sam to write the letter himself, since
his writing was well known to Ben. Again, the letter must be posted
in Boston. However, where there is a will there is a way. Sam was
acquainted with a boy who lived in Boston--Frank Ferguson--and to
him he wrote, enclosing the draft of a letter, which he requested
Frank to copy and mail to Ben. "It is only a practical joke," Sam
explained in his letter, "in return for one Ben has played on me." But
for this explanation, Frank who was an honorable boy, would not have
lent himself to this scheme. As it was, it struck him only as a piece of
fun, and he followed Sam's instructions.
A few days later, Ben, in going to the post-office, received a letter
directed to himself. It read thus:
"BENJAMIN BRADFORD: We are in want of a boy in our store.
You can have the place if you wish. It will be necessary for you to
report for duty next Monday.
"Yours, in haste,
"JONES & PORTER"
Ben had heard of Jones & Porter. They were well-known
booksellers and publishers. A position with them was certainly
desirable.
"But how could they have heard of me," thought Ben.
He was not vain enough to suppose that his name was well known in
Boston, yet here was an important firm that had offered him
employment. Again, the manner in which the letter ended struck him
as rather singular. It didn't occur to Ben to doubt its genuineness.
As he was walking back, he met James Watson.
"What's the news, Ben?" asked James.
"I am offered a place in Boston," answered Ben.
"You don't say so! What sort of place is it?"
"It is a place in a bookstore. There is the letter."
James read it.
"How did they happen to write to you."
"I don't know, I am sure."
"Can't you think of any way in which they could have heard of you?"
"There is only one way I can think of. There was a gentleman in
Charleston who was quite kind to me when I was there last year.
He promised to be of service to me if I ever needed it. He may
have mentioned my name to Jones & Porter.
"Very likely," said James. "You are in luck."
"I wish I knew what wages they are willing to pay," said Ben. "If
it's only five dollars a week, it won't more than pay my board,
and I don't like to call upon Aunt Jane to pay for my clothes."
"You will take the place, won't you, at any rate?"
"Oh, yes. Perhaps I can get a chance to earn something by extra
work, and so pay for my clothes."
"Well, I wish you good luck, Ben. If you hear of a place for me,
let me know."
"I will, James. I should like your company."
Ben went home and showed the letter to his aunt.
"You see, aunt, I am provided for," said Ben.
Old Mrs. Perkins was present and hazarded a cheerful observation.
"I wouldn't trust a boy of mine in the city, Mrs. Bradford," she said;
"it's the ruination of 'em most always. Like or not, Ben will get
dissipated, and take to drinkin', and have the delirious triangles."
Mrs. Bradford was easily alarmed.
"Do you think you'd better go, Ben?" she asked doubtfully. "You're
so young."
"I can't afford to wait till I'm an old man, Aunt Jane," he said; "and I
don't mean to have the 'delirous triangles,' if I can help it. You
wouldn't keep me at home till I'm eighty, like Mrs. Perkins-------"
"I'm only sixty-two," exclaimed the old lady indignantly. "What do
you mean by calling me eighty?"
"I didn't know you were sensitive about your age."
"I ain't," snarled the old lady; "I own up to sixty-two, but you needn't
call me twenty years older."
Mrs. Perkins was really seventy-two and looked her age; but she
fondly hoped to deceive the public.
"Do you really think you had better go to Boston, Ben?" said his
aunt, after the departure of the visitor.
"Yes, Aunt Jane. There's no chance for me in Milltown, as you
know very well. Mr. Archer's prejudiced against me, and
won't take me into the mill."
"I shall miss you very much, Ben."
"I'll write you once every week."
"How much will you get?"
"I don't know. If it's too little, I will live as closely as I can. I
shall be learning the business, you know, and, of course, I shall get
my salary raised when I deserve it."
Ben had a strong, positive nature, and he convinced his aunt that he
ought to accept the offer of Jones & Porter. Mrs. Bradford set
about putting his clothes in order.
Sam Archer awaited with interest the result of his joke. Seeing Ben
the next day, he stopped him.
"Where are you bound, Ben?" he asked.
"I am going to buy some underclothes," he said.
"Have you got a place?"
"Yes, I expect so."
Sam wanted to laugh, but concealed his emotions.
"Where is it?" he asked.
"It isn't in you father's mill," retorted Ben.
"No, I suppose not. Is it in town?"
"It is in Boston!" said Ben, in a tone of satisfaction.
Sam laughed involuntarily.
"What are you laughing at?" inquired Ben angrily.
"Excuse me," said Sam. "I was thinking how green you would be at
first in a city place. I will call and see you when I go to the city."
"I don't like to be impolite; but as you prevented my getting a place
here, I don't look upon you as a friend, and I only care to receive
calls from my friends."
"How proud we are just because we have got a place in Boston!"
said Sam mockingly, and he laughed again.
"I thought he would be disappointed to hear of my success," thought
Ben. "He is rather a queer boy."
"Isn't it jolly?" said Sam to himself. "Won't he be mad when he finds
it all a sell?"