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

"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.