Burnham Breaker Part 23

"Well, Uncle Billy, I got lost in Wilkesbarre; I wasn't used to it, an' I went into a saloon there, an' they got all my money, an' I got onto the train 'ithout a ticket, an' the conductor put me off, an' I had to walk the rest o' the way home; an' I'm pirty tired, an' dirty, an' 'shamed."

Sharpman laughed aloud.

"Ah! that's Wilkesbarre charity," he said; "you were a stranger, and they took you in. But come, let's go back to my office and talk it over."

Secluded in the lawyer's private room Ralph told the whole story of his adventures from the time he left Sharpman at the court-house door.

When he had finished, Bachelor Billy said, "Puir lad!" then, turning to Sharpman, "it was no' his fau't, thenk ye?"

"Oh, no!" said the lawyer, smiling, "any one might have met with the same fate: dreadful town, Wilkesbarre is, dreadful! Have you had any dinner, Ralph?"

"No, sir," said Ralph, "I haven't."

"Well, come into my wash-room and brighten yourself up a little.

You're somewhat travel-stained, as it were."

In ten minutes Ralph reappeared, looking clean and comparatively fresh.

"Now," said Sharpman, "you don't resemble quite so strongly the man who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. Here, take this," reaching out some money, "and go down to the restaurant on the corner and surprise yourself with the best dinner you can buy. Oh, you can pay it back," as the boy hesitated about accepting the money; "we'll call it a loan if you like. Come, you agreed to obey my instructions, you know. Buckley will wait here for you till you get back. Now, don't hurry!" he said, as Ralph pa.s.sed out at the door, "there's plenty of time."

For some minutes after the boy's departure, Sharpman and Bachelor Billy sat talking over Ralph's recent adventure. Then the conversation turned to the prospect for the future, and they agreed that it was very bright. Finally, the lawyer said:--

"He was pretty sick when you first found him, wasn't he?"

"He was that, verra bad indeed."

"Called a doctor for him, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes! Dr. Gunther. He comed every day for a for'night, an' often he comed twice i' the same day. He was awfu' sick, the chil' was."

"Footed the doctor's bill, I suppose, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes, yes; but I did na min' that so long's the lad got well."

"Had to pay the woman to nurse him and look after him, I take it?"

"Oh! well, yes; but she needit the money, mon, an' the lad he needit the noorsin', an' it was doin' a bit double good wi' ma siller, do ye see?"

"Well, you've housed and clothed and fed the boy for a matter of three years or thereabouts, haven't you?"

"Why, the lad's lived wi' me; he had a right to't. He's the same as my own son'd be, min' ye."

"You collect his wages, I presume?"

"Oh, now! what'd I be doin' wi' the wee bit money that a baby like him'd earn? He's a-savin' o' it. It ain't much, but mayhap it'll buy a bit o' schoolin' for the lad some day. Ye s'ould see the braw way he'll read an' write now, sir."

Sharpman sat for some time as if in deep thought. Finally, he said:--

"Look here, Buckley! You're a poor man; you can't afford to throw away what little money you earn, nor to let an opportunity slip for turning an honest penny. You have done a good deal for the boy; I don't see why you shouldn't be rewarded."

"I've had ma reward, sir, i' the blessin' o' the lad's company."

"Yes, that's all very true, but a man must not rob himself; it's not right. You are getting along in years; you should have a little something to lay by for old age. We are sure to establish Ralph's ident.i.ty, and to recover his interest in his father's estate. I know that the boy would be delighted to have you paid out of the funds that would come into our hands, and I am very certain that Mrs. Burnham would be proud to have your services acknowledged in that way. The basis of compensation would not be so much the time, labor, and money actually expended by you, as it would be the value of the property rescued and cared for. That would figure into a very nice sum. I think you had better let me manage it, and secure for you something to lay by for a rainy day, or for old age that is sure to fall on you. What do you say?"

But Bachelor Billy had risen to his feet, excited, and in earnest.

"I'm a poor mon, Muster Sharpman," he said, "an' money's worth a deal to me, but I could na tak' it for a-doin' what I ha' for Ralph."

"Why, I am sure your services have been of infinite value, both to the boy and to his mother."

"Mayhap! mayhap! that's no' for me to say. But I canna do it. I could na look ony mon i' the eye wi' a cent o' the lad's money i' ma purse.

It'd seem as though I'd been a-doin' for 'im a' these years wi' a purpose to get it back in siller some day, an' I never did; I never thocht o' it, sir. The chil's been as free an' welcome as the suns.h.i.+ne wi' me. The bit money I ha' spent, the bit care I ha' had wi' 'im, why that was paid back wi' dooble interest the first week he could sit oop i' the bed an' talk. It's a blessin' to hear the lad talk to ye. Na, na! do what ye can for Ralph. Spare naught to get his rightfu' dues; but me, there's not a penny comin' to me. I've had ma pay, an' that lang sin', lang sin', do ye mind."

The lawyer waved his hand, as much as to say: "Very well, you're a fool, but it's not my fault. I have placed the opportunity within your reach; if you do not choose to grasp it, you're the loser, not I." But Sharpman felt that he was the loser, nevertheless.

He knew that his shrewd scheme to use this honest man as a tool for the furtherance of his own ends had fallen through, and that the modest sum which he had expected to gain for himself in this way would never be his.

He was not quite so cordial when Ralph returned from his dinner; and, after a few words of admonition to the boy, he dismissed the pair, and set himself diligently to the task of preparing a new scheme to take the place of the one that had just vanished.

CHAPTER X.

AT THE BAR OF THE COURT.

When Ralph went to his work at the breaker on the morning after his return from Wilkesbarre, he was met with curious glances from the men, and wondering looks and abrupt questions from the boys. It had become generally known that he claimed to be Robert Burnham's son, and that he was about to inst.i.tute proceedings, through his guardian, to recover possession of his share of the estate. There was but little opportunity to interrogate him through the morning hours: the flow of coal through the chutes was too rapid and constant, and the grinding and crunching of the rollers, and the rumbling and hammering of the machinery, were too loud and incessant.

Ralph worked very diligently too; he was in the mood for work. He was glad to be at home again and able to work. It was much better than wandering through the streets of strange towns, without money or friends. Nor were his hands and eyes less vigilant because of the bright future that lay before him. He was so certain of the promised luxuries, the beautiful home, the love of mother and sister, the means for education,--so sure of them all that he felt he could well afford to wait, and to work while waiting. This toil and poverty would last but a few weeks, or a few months at the longest; after that there would be a lifetime of pleasure and of peace and of satisfied ambitions.

So hope nerved his muscles, and antic.i.p.ation brought color to his cheeks and fire to his eyes, and the thought of his mother's kiss lent inspiration to his labor, and no boy that ever worked in Burnham Breaker performed his task with more skill and diligence than he.

When the noon hour came the boys took their dinner-pails and ran down out of the building and over on the hill-side, where they could lie on the clean gra.s.s in the warm September suns.h.i.+ne, and eat and talk until the bell should call them again to work.

Here, before the recess was over, Ralph joined them, feeling very conscious, indeed, of his embarra.s.sing position, but determined to brave it out.

Joe Foster set the, ball rolling by asking Ralph how much he had to pay his lawyer. Some one else followed it up with a question relating to his expectations for the future, and in a very few minutes the boy was the object of a perfect broadside of interrogations.

"Will you have a hoss of your own?" asked Patsey Welch.

"I don't know," was the reply; "that depen's on what my mother'll think."

"Oh! she'll give you one if you want 'im, Mrs. Burnham will," said another boy; "she'll give you everything you want; she's ter'ble good that way, they say."

"Will you own the breaker, an' boss us boys?" came a query from another quarter.

Before Ralph could reply to this startling and embarra.s.sing question, some one else asked:--