TONY HIRES OUT AS A COOK AND HOUSEKEEPER.
Tony was not slow in going to sleep. Neither his hard bed nor his
strange bed-chamber troubled him. He could sleep anywhere. That was one
of the advantages of his checkered life.
Generally he slept all night without awaking, but to-night, for some
unknown reason, he awoke about two o'clock. It was unusually light for
that hour, and so he was enabled to see what at first startled him. The
old man was out of bed, and on his knees in the center of the room. He
had raised a plank, forming a part of the flooring, and had raised from
beneath it a canvass bag full of gold pieces. He was taking them out
and counting them, apparently quite unconscious of Tony's presence.
Tony raised himself on his elbow, and looked at him. It occurred to him
that for a man so suspicious it was strange that he should expose his
hoard before a stranger. Something, however, in the old man's look led
him to think that he was in a sleepwalking fit.
"Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven," Tony heard him count; "that
makes nine hundred and seventy dollars, all gold, good, beautiful gold.
Nobody knows the old man is so rich. There's another bag, too. There
are one hundred pieces in that. Three more, and this will be full, too.
Nobody must know, nobody must know."
He put back the pieces, replaced the bag in its hiding-place, and then
putting back the plank, laid down once more on his heap of rags.
"How uneasy he would be," thought Tony, "if he knew I had seen his
treasures. But I wouldn't rob him for the world, although the money
would do me good, and he makes no use of it except to look at it."
If Tony was honest, it was an instinctive feeling. It could not have
been expected of one reared as he had been. But, singular as it may
seem, beyond a vague longing, he felt no temptation to deprive old Ben
of his money.
"Let him get what satisfaction he can from it," he said to himself. "I
hope he'll keep it till he dies. I am only afraid that some night some
one will see him counting the gold who will want to take it."
Tony went to bed again, and slept till six. Then he was awakened by a
piteous groaning, which he soon found proceeded from the other bed.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Who's there?" demanded Ben, terrified.
"It's only I. Don't you remember you let me sleep here last night?"
"O, yes; I remember now. I'm sick; very sick."
"How do you feel?"
"I'm aching and trembling all over. Do you think I am going to die?"
he asked, with a startled look.
"Oh, no, I guess not," said Tony, reassuringly. "Everybody is sick now
and then."
"I never felt so before," groaned Ben. "I'm an old man. Don't you
think--don't you really think I shall die?"
He looked appealingly at Tony, as if the fiat of life and death lay
with him.
Tony, of course, knew nothing of medicine or of diseases, but he had
the sense to understand that the old man would be more likely to
recover if his terror could be allayed, and he said, lightly:
"Oh, it's only a trifle. You've taken cold, very likely. A cup of hot
tea would be good for you."
"I haven't any tea," groaned Ben. "It costs a great deal, and I'm very
poor. I can't afford to buy it."
Tony smiled to himself, remembering the hoard of gold under the floor,
but he would not refer to it, at least not at present.
"Are you sure you haven't got a little money?" he asked. "If you want
to get well, you must be made comfortable."
"It's hard to be poor," whined Ben.
"I guess you've got some money," said Tony. "You'd better let me go to
the store, and buy some tea and a fresh roll for you."
"How much will it cost?" asked Ben.
"I can get some bread, and tea, and sugar for thirty or forty cents,"
answered Tony.
"Forty cents! It's frightful!" exclaimed Ben. "I--I guess I'll do
without it."
"Oh, well, if you prefer to lie there and die its none of my business,"
said Tony, rather provoked at the old man's perverse folly.
"But I don't want to die," whined Ben.
"Then do as I tell you."
Tony jumped out of bed, unrolled his coat, and put it on.
"Now," said he, "I'm ready to go for you, if you'll give me the money."
"But you may take it, and not come back," said the old man,
suspiciously.
"If you think you can't trust me, you needn't," said Tony. "I've
offered to do you a favor."
"I think I'll go myself," said Ben.
He tried to raise himself, but a twinge of pain compelled him to lie
down again.
"No, I can't," he said.
"Well, do you want me to go for you?"
"Yes," answered Ben, reluctantly.
"Then give me the money."
Still more reluctantly Ben produced twenty-five cents from his pocket.
"Isn't that enough?" he asked.
"Better give me more," said Tony.
He produced ten cents more, and vowed it was all the money he had in
the world.
Tony decided not to contradict his assertion, but to make this go as
far as it would. He put on his hat and started out. He meant also to
call at the doctor's, and asked him to call round, for he thought it
possible that the old man might be seriously sick.
First, however, he went to the grocery store, which had only just been
opened, and obtained the articles which he had mentioned to Ben as
likely to do him good.
Next he called at the house of the village doctor, obtaining the
direction from the storekeeper. In a few words he made known his errand.
"Old Ben sick!" said Doctor Compton. "What's the matter with him?"
Tony explained how he appeared to be affected.
"How did you happen to be in his house?" asked the doctor, with
curiosity. "You are not a relation of his, are you?"
Tony laughed.
"I don't think he would let me into the house if I were," he said. "He
would be suspicious of me."
"Then how does it happen that you were with him?"
Tony explained.
"He has been repaid for taking you in," said the doctor. "I'll put on
my hat, and go right over with you."
After Tony left the house, old Ben lay and tormented himself with the
thought that the boy would never come back. "Just as like as not," he
thought, "he will go off with the money, and leave me here to die."
Then he tried to sit up, but without success.
Half an hour later he was relieved by seeing the door open, and Tony
enter. But he looked dismayed when he saw the doctor.
"What did you come for?" he asked, peevishly.
"To see what I can do for you, Mr. Hayden. Let me feel your pulse."
"But I can't afford to have a doctor. I am poor, and can't pay you,"
whined old Ben.
"We'll talk about that afterward."
"You can't charge when I didn't send for you."
"Make your mind easy. I won't charge for this visit. Let me feel your
pulse."
Old Ben no longer opposed medical treatment, finding it would cost
nothing.
"Am I going to die?" he asked, with an anxious look.
"You need nourishing food and care, that is all," was the reply. "You
have had a chill, and you are reduced by insufficient food."
"I have some bread and tea here," said Tony.
"Do you know how to make the tea?" asked the doctor.
"Yes," said Tony.
"Then make a fire, and boil it at once. And, by the way, Mr. Hayden
needs somebody to be with him for a few days. Can you stay with him and
look after him?"
"If he will give me money enough to buy what he needs," said Tony.
"Will you do it, Mr. Hayden?" asked the doctor.
Old Ben whined that he was poor, and had no money, but the doctor
interrupted him impatiently.
"That's all nonsense," he said. "You may not have much money, but
you've got some, and you'll die if you don't spend some on yourself.
If you don't agree to it, I shall advise this boy here to leave you to
your fate. Then your only resource will be to go to the poor-house."
This proposal was not acceptable to Ben, who was unwilling to leave
the house where his treasures were concealed. He therefore reluctantly
acceded to the doctor's conditions, and Tony got his breakfast. Despite
his sickness, he relished the tea and toast, and for the moment forgot
what it cost.
"Well," thought Tony to himself with a smile, "I've got a situation as
plain cook and housekeeper. I wonder how long it will last, and what'll
come of it. I don't believe Rudolph will look for me here."
But in this Tony was mistaken.