Читать книгу Ben Bruce: Scenes in the Life of a Bowery Newsboy - Horatio Jr. Alger - Страница 5

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There was very little conversation at the supper table after Ben had told the story of the explosion. Mrs. Winter was indignant at her husband’s breaking his promise to her that Ben should receive a thorough education. She had not yet had an opportunity to tell Ben, but she did so after the meal, when Mr. Winter had gone out to visit a neighbor.

“Ben,” she said, “you are not to go to the high school.”

“Who says so, mother?”

“Mr. Winter.”

“Does he give any reason?”

“He says you have had education enough, that you are as well educated as himself.”

“Did he say educated?” asked Ben with a twinkle in his eye.

“Well, he said ‘eddicated,’” responded his mother with a faint smile.

“So, I suppose. He is right there. I should be very sorry if I hadn’t as much education as he. He cares more for money than books, and always did.”

“I am very sorry, Ben.”

“So am I. I need education to help me succeed in life. I suppose he expects me to stay at home and help him on the farm.”

“So he says.”

“Then,” said Ben quietly, “he will be disappointed.”

“But Ben, what can you do?”

“I can leave home and seek my fortune elsewhere.”

Mrs. Winter looked very sober.

“I don’t believe you know what you are undertaking, Ben,” she said. “You will have a hard time.”

“I expect to—at first.”

“Besides Mr. Winter won’t let you go, I am afraid.”

“He can’t stop me. I would rather stay at home if he would let me go to the high school.”

“I don’t think I can persuade him to do that.”

“Then, mother, I must leave you.”

“Don’t go without letting me know.”

“I won’t, mother, I will let him know too. I am not going to run away. I’ll give him fair warning of my intention. Now, mother, if you’ll excuse me I’ll go over and tell Albert Graham about my plans.”

Albert lived not more than half a mile away. He was about as old as Ben, but at least two inches shorter. The two were great chums. To him Ben communicated his purpose.

“Where do you talk of going?” asked Albert.

“To New York.”

“Ain’t you afraid to go alone to such a big city?”

“No; why should I be?”

“There are a good many bad people there, I’ve heard.”

“And still more good people. I think I shall have a better chance in a large city than in the country.”

“How far away is New York?”

“It is a little more than two hundred miles from Boston.”

“And we are fifty miles from Boston. Won’t it cost a good deal to go there?”

“No; there is a rivalry between the steamboat lines and the fare has been put down to one dollar.”

This statement, which may surprise some of my readers, was strictly correct. For a short time, some years ago, it was possible to travel between these two cities for this small sum.

“It will cost a dollar and a quarter to get to Boston from here.”

“I know it.”

“Are you well provided with money, Ben?”

“Not very.”

“Then I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll lend you five dollars.”

“But how do you happen to have as much, Albert?”

“You know I rode as a jockey at the last agricultural fair. I was to get ten dollars if I succeeded in winning the race, and you know I did win.”

“Yes, I know.”

“So I can lend you the money as well as not.”

“You are a good fellow, Albert, but I don’t think I ought to take the money.”

“Oh, you can pay it back—with interest, if you insist upon it.”

“Thank you, Albert. I won’t refuse so kind an offer. My mother would let me have the money, but she was foolish enough when she married to give all she had to Mr. Winter, and now he doles her out a quarter at a time, and she has to ask for that. You won’t hardly believe me, Albert, but she hasn’t had a new dress for a year.”

“I can believe it fast enough. Jacob Winter is the meanest man I ever heard of, and everybody in town says so. I don’t blame you at all for leaving him. Won’t you be sorry to be away from your mother?”

“I can’t tell you how much I shall miss her, Albert,” answered Ben, gravely, “but I hope to provide her a better home some day. I can’t do it by staying here. You must go over and see her some time, Albert.”

“So I will. Of course you will write to me.”

“Yes, if I have any good news.”

“By the way, Ben, how much money did your mother have?”

“Two thousand dollars.”

“And she handed it all over to old Winter? Excuse my speaking so disrespectfully of your stepfather.”

“That won’t worry me any.”

“I suppose Mr. Winter is worth a good deal of money?”

“I suppose so, but I don’t want any of it. I only wish mother had back what she brought him and could go with me to New York.”

“By the way, Ben, have you any idea what Mr. Winter does with his money?”

“I suppose he puts it in the banks. I never thought much about the matter.”

“Probably he does put some there, but I heard that he was rather afraid of banks. Some years ago a savings bank failed and he lost fifty dollars, so I heard.”

“That accounts for it.”

“Accounts for what?”

“For what I am going to tell you. Last Wednesday evening I was crossing the four-acre lot—a part of Mr. Winter’s farm—when I saw him coming across the field with a box in his hand. It was rather dark, so he could not see me very well, for you know he is short-sighted.

“I had a curiosity to find out what he was going to do, so I followed him. Oh, I forgot to say that he had a spade in his hand. Well, when he got to the big oak tree about the center of the place he halted. There was a smaller tree near by, and I hid behind it so I could see what he was doing.”

“What did he do?” asked Ben, who was by this time intensely interested.

“He began to dig, and kept on till he had dug a hole about two feet deep. Then he took the box and put it down in the hole and covered it up with dirt. After finishing he got a little brushwood and laid it down careless like over the spot so as to hide the dirt, and then went away, without knowing that any one had seen him.”

“What do you think was in the box, Albert?” asked Ben, in excitement.

“Money,” answered Albert, sententiously. “It may have been gold or silver or bills. I didn’t see the contents of the box and so of course I can’t tell.”

“It seems to me he was very foolish to put his money there.”

“So I think, but he was scared by the failure of the savings bank and was afraid to trust them any more.”

“The money would be safer in any savings bank than in a hole where anybody could dig it up.”

“That’s the way I feel about it. I wonder if that is the only hiding place he has for his gold.”

“Albert, when it gets a little darker suppose we go out to see the place. I feel some curiosity on the subject.”

“All right, Ben, I’ll go. Just go round to the store with me. I have a few things to buy for mother. Then we’ll start across the fields.”

“All right.”

When they reached Albert’s house from the store it was too early for their expedition. So Albert proposed a game of checkers. They played two, and when the second was completed the church clock pealed out the hour of nine.

“We must go at once or it will be too late,” said Ben.

“It isn’t very far.”

They went out of the house and struck across the fields.

“This is just about the hour I came last Wednesday evening,” said Albert.

They neared the tree, when suddenly Albert uttered an exclamation:

“By gracious, Ben,” he said, clutching his companion by the arm, “if there isn’t old Winter coming again. He hasn’t got a box, but he has a spade in his hand. I wonder what he’s up to now. Come with me, and we’ll get behind the other tree and watch. Don’t cough or make any noise. We don’t want him to see us.”