Wait and Hope: or, A Plucky Boy's Luck

"This lady," he commenced, "is distinguished for her amiable disposition." Here there was a smile visible on several faces, which, luckily, the old lady didn't see. "At the same time, she is always ready to stand up for her rights, and will not submit to be imposed upon."

"You're right there, mister," interjected the old lady, "as my son-in-law will testify. He tried to put upon me; but I soon let him know that I knew what was right, and meant to have it.

"My subject has a good taste for music, and would have been a superior performer if her talent had been cultivated. But her practical views would hardly have permitted her to spend much time in what is merely ornamental. She is a good housekeeper, and I may venture to remark that she understands cooking thoroughly."

The old lady – so potent is flattery – really began to look amiable.

"I wish old Miss Smith could hear you," she interrupted. "She's a vain, conceited critter, and purtends she can cook better than I can. If I couldn't make better pies that she had the last time the sewin' circle met at her house, I'd give up cookin', that's all."

"You see, gentlemen and ladies," said the professor, looking about him gravely, "how correct are the inductions of science. All that I have said thus far has been confirmed by my subject, who surely ought to know whether I am correct or not."

"This lady," he proceeded, "is fitted to shine in society. Her social sphere may have been limited by circumstances; but had her lot been cast in the shining circles of fashion, her natural grace and refinement would have enabled her to embellish any position to which she might have been called."

The contrast between the old lady's appearance and the words of Prof. Crane was so ludicrous that Ben and several others with difficulty, kept their countenances. But the old lady listened with great complacency.

"I wish my granddarter would hear you," she said. "She's a pert little thing, that thinks she knows more than her grandmother. I've often told my darter she ought to be more strict with her; but it don't do no good."

"It's the way with the young, madam. They cannot appreciate the sterling qualities of their elders."

When the examination was concluded, the old lady expressed her faith in phrenology.

"I never did believe in't before," she admitted, "but the man described me just as if he know'd me all my life. Railly, it's wonderful."

Prof. Crane got his money, and with it the favor of the old lady to whom he had given such a first-class character. Her only regret was that her friends at home could not have heard him.

About one o'clock in the afternoon the long journey was at an end, and Ben and his young charge descended from the train in the South Terminal, in Boston.

Chapter XVI

Ben's Loss

It has already been mentioned that there was a train to Milltown at half-past ten in the morning. Of course Ben was too late for this. He ascertained, however, that there was another train at five o'clock, and this he resolved to take.

"Where are we going, Ben?" asked Emma, as they stepped out of the station.

"Don't you feel hungry, Emma?"

"Yes."

"Then we will go and have some dinner, first of all."

This proposal was satisfactory to the little girl, who took Ben's hand and walked up toward Washington Street with him.

On School Street they found an eating-house which did not appear too high in price, and Ben led Emma in.

They seated themselves at a table, and ordered dinner. Just opposite sat a pleasant-looking man, of middle age. He was fond of children, and his attention was drawn to little Emma.

"Is that your sister?" he inquired of Ben.

"No, sir," answered Ben.

"No relation?"

"No, sir; she is from New York. She is going to board with my aunt."

"Does your aunt live in Boston?"

"No, sir; in Milltown."

"Has the young lady come into the city on a shopping excursion?" inquired the new acquaintance, smiling.

"No, sir; she is just on her way from New York. I went to fetch her."

"You are a young guardian."

"Rather, sir; but there was no one else to go for her."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Are you attending school?"

"No, sir; I should be glad to do so; but my aunt is not in good circumstances, and I have to work. I have been employed in the mills, but they discharged some of their hands lately, and I was among them."

"How would you like to come to Boston to work?"

"Very much."

"I may some time have a vacancy for you. I am a wholesale stationer on State Street. Give me your address, and if I have any opening I will write to you."

"Thank you, sir," said Ben; "I should like very much to work here."

Ben took the stranger's card, from which he learned that his name was Otis Johnson, and that he dealt in stationery, blank books, diaries, and a similar line of goods.

"This may lead to something," thought Ben. "I should enjoy living in Boston. There is a good deal more going on here than in Milltown."

It was about quarter of two when Ben and Emma rose from the table.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Emma.

Ben considered.

"The train doesn't start till five," he said. "We won't go to the station yet, for we should get tired of waiting. We will walk about, and look into the shop windows, unless you are tired."

"I am not tired. I should like it," said Emma.

Presently they came to the old State House. Ben's attentions was attracted by a Charleston car. He knew that Bunker Hill Monument was in Charleston, and it struck him that it would be a good opportunity to go and see it.