"Did you see Philip?" asked Adeline, eagerly, when her young brother returned from his visit to the Metropolitan Hotel.
"No," answered Harry. "He was out."
"And you brought back the note, then?" said his sister, disappointed.
"No; the clerk said he would give it to him; so I left it with him."
Adeline looked anxious.
"I am afraid his guardian will get hold of it," she said, turning to Rose.
"Even if he does, there is nothing in it that you need regret writing."
"It would never reach Philip."
"Probably you are right. In that case we must make another effort when there seems a good chance."
[118]
It was decided that Harry should call the next day, at his dinner hour, and ascertain whether the note had been delivered. He did so, but only to learn that the note had been given to Major Grafton, and that both he and Philip had left the hotel.
"Do you know where they went," asked Harry, eagerly.
"No; the major did not say. He will probably send here for letters, and then I can mention that you called."
Harry assented, not being able to explain that this would not answer his purpose.
When he reported his information at home, Adeline said, quickly:
"He left because he does not want us to communicate with Philip."
"Probably," said Rose. "This shows," she added, "that he is afraid Philip would be inclined to do something for us. I am glad to have my faith strengthened in the boy, at all events. If he were willing to live in luxury while he knew we were struggling with poverty I could not regard him as a cousin."
The next morning Mr. Codicil read in the [119] morning papers, among the passengers who had sailed for Europe the day before, the names of Major Grafton and Philip.
"The fellow has lost no time," he said to himself. "The boy is bright and attractive, but he stands a chance of being spoiled under such a guardian. I wish I had questioned him, and tried to learn something of him. I might have given him some idea of the injustice which has been practiced toward his poor cousins. I do not care so much that he profits by it as that that worthless uncle of his should live in luxury at their expense. I am afraid they are having a hard time."
How hard a time the sisters were having—how stern and exacting was the toil which her sister's helplessness imposed upon Rose—Mr. Codicil really had little idea. If he had, he would certainly have done something to assist them, for he was a kind-hearted man; but whenever Rose called upon him she was neatly dressed, and did not bear outward marks of the poverty with which she had to contend.
So far as Nicholas Walton was concerned, [120] he was glad, upon the whole, to learn that his nephew had gone to Europe. He could not see Ben without his conscience reproaching him with the wrong he had done him, and was still doing him and his mother, by retaining possession of a sum of money which would have given them opulence in exchange for the poverty which was not removed by the small allowance he sent them.
"Perhaps Major Grafton will adopt the boy," he said to himself, "and then he won't need his father's money."
As if this would gloss over or excuse the base fraud of which he had been guilty. He had knowingly and intentionally been the occasion of his brother-in-law's sudden death, and was as much his murderer as if he had plunged a knife into his breast, though his crime was less brutal and revolting.
While these thoughts were passing through his mind, Clarence entered the office.
"Clarence, your cousin has been here to see you," said Mr. Walton.
"What did he have to say, pa?"
"He came to bid you good-by."
[121]
"To bid me good-by? What for? Where is he going?"
"He is to sail for Europe this afternoon."
"To sail for Europe!" repeated Clarence, in amazement. "He didn't say anything about it last evening."
"Because he did not know it. He was only told this morning."
"He's a lucky beggar!" said Clarence, enviously. "I've been longing to go to Europe this ever so long. Percy Van Dyke spent last summer in Switzerland. It annoys me to hear him talk of the splendid times he had. Here is my country cousin going, while I have to stay at home."
"Don't worry, Clarence," said his father, encouragingly. "You shall go in time. If your friend Percy should be going again, and will accept you as a companion, I will let you go."
This somewhat cheered up Clarence, though with the natural impatience of youth he wanted to go at once.
"I think I never knew a boy as lucky as Ben," said he.
[122]
"He certainly has been strangely fortunate," said Mr. Walton.
"He would have been glad to take a place in a store at five dollars a week, and now he's got something ever so much better. I believe he has more money than I to spend, and I am sure he dresses better."
"He seems to have made an impression upon this Major Grafton. I shouldn't be surprised if Grafton adopted him. He has no family of his own, and is, I imagine, very rich."
We know that on this last point Mr. Walton was misinformed. The suggestion, however, was enough to excite the envy and jealousy of Clarence.
"Do you think he will be richer than I?" he asked.
"You will be well provided for, Clarence. You won't have occasion for envying your cousin, even if he should be adopted by Major Grafton."
We have now to change the scene to the little town of Sunderland, from which our hero had come to New York to seek the good fortune which he so strangely found.
[123]
We direct our steps to a plain cottage, containing but four rooms and an attic, which stood a little out of the centre of the village. Small and plain as it was, it had an air of refinement and good taste, with its climbing honeysuckles, tiny bed of flowers, its trimly-kept lawn and neat surroundings, which are vainly sought about many more pretentious residences.
Here dwelt Mrs. Baker and Ben's little sister, Alice, but ten years old. She bore a strong family resemblance to Ben, and was equally good-looking.
"It seems an age since Ben left home," said Mrs. Baker, with a little sigh.
"I miss him dreadfully, mother," said Alice. "Why need he go away?"
"I can't blame him, Alice, though I am very sorry to have him go," said Mrs. Baker. "He is ambitious——"
"What does that mean?" asked Alice, puzzled.
"It means that he is anxious to get on in the world—to make money. It is a natural feeling for a boy."
[124]
"He used to earn money here at home," said Alice.
"Only a little. No doubt he can do better in New York, if he can get a chance. If his uncle will only help him——"
"I should think he might, mother. Ben is a good boy."
"There is none better," assented his mother, fondly; "but strangers may not know that."
Just then a neighbor, driving by, paused in the road and called out to the widow, whom he saw at the open window:
"Widder Baker, there's a letter for you at the post-office. 'Spect it's from Ben."
"Go right over and get it, Alice," said her mother, excitedly.
Alice wasn't long in performing her errand. She came back well rewarded, bringing with her two letters, one of which had arrived the day before. The first letter contained an account of his cold reception by his uncle, and on the other hand his good luck in encountering Major Grafton. As an earnest of his good fortune he enclosed three five-dollar bills.
"God has been very good to us!" said the [125] widow, with beaming face. "I can hardly believe in Ben's good fortune."
"Open the other letter, mother," said Alice.
Mrs. Baker did so, and, glancing over it rapidly, uttered a quiet exclamation of surprise and dismay.
"Alice," she said, "Ben has sailed for Europe!"
"Gone to Europe, and without bidding us good-by!"
"He did not have any chance," and Mrs. Baker read Ben's letter.
When she came to think it over, she felt that Ben was, on the whole, fortunate to have so good an opportunity of seeing the world; and as to dangers and risks, God would take care of him abroad as well as at home. She would have liked to have known the man who had her boy in charge. Doubtless he must have taken a fancy to Ben, or he would not have given him such a chance.