Left Behind Part 11

"Then it's all right," said Ben, joyfully; "an' now let's get what money he's got of ours, in some way so's he won't know what we want it for, an' add enough to it so's to buy the ticket, an' give it to him to-night."

The others, with the possible exception of Mopsey, were eager to complete the good work at once and Mrs. Green was called upon to tell them how much money was needed, and how much each person would be obliged to give. She was not an adept in the art of arithmetic, but after some little time, during which a good many figures were made, she informed them that the total amount needed was two dollars and thirty-five cents, and that as there were six of them, including herself and Nelly, each one would be obliged to give a fraction over thirty-nine cents.

Ben responded at once with forty cents, although he then had but ten cents left, and in a few moments the entire sum was contributed. It was only necessary to get the money which Paul had, and the ticket could be purchased.

It was decided that, since Ben had formed the plan, he should carry it out--a task which he was perfectly willing to perform; and, after promising to let his partners know as soon as he had succeeded, he started off, happy at the thought of being able to give Paul so much pleasure. When he met the boy whom he was eager to make happy once more, he had not been able to form any plan for getting the theatrical funds from him without running the risk of raising his suspicions. But since there was no other course which he could pursue, he said, as innocently as possible,

"I've been talkin' with the other fellers, Paul, an' I want you to let me have the money that come from the theatre. We're thinkin' of doin' somethin' with it, an' when you come home to-night we'll tell you what it is."

Paul had been thinking so much of his home and of his parents, whom he feared he should not see again, that he could have had no idea of Ben's purpose, even though he had spoken more plainly, and he handed him the money without a word.

During the remainder of that day Paul was considerably mystified at the singular behavior of his friends; they indulged in the most wonderful winks and nods to one another whenever they were where he was, and something which Ben showed them from time to time seemed to please them immensely. Whenever he asked the reason for their unusual good-humor, and apparent secrecy about something, he was told that he should know at dinner-time, but not before.

Without having the slightest suspicion as to what his friends had done for him, Paul was so excited by the evident secret which was being kept from him that he was very impatient for the time to come when he could know what it was.

Never before had the boys seemed so anxious to be with him as they were during that afternoon, and he quite forgot their seeming coolness of the morning. One or all of them--excepting Mopsey, of course, who was obliged to remain at his stand in the absence of the boy who sometimes acted as clerk for him--kept near Paul all the day; and when it was time to go to dinner, it seemed as if they were escorting him home.

Once or twice while they were eating dinner some one of the party had said, "Now, Ben, now!" but Ben had shaken his head significantly and continued eating, as if he had no other duty before him.

When the meal was finished, instead of getting up from the table as they were in the habit of doing, each one of Mrs. Green's boarders, as well as herself and Nelly, remained at the table as if waiting for something, and Paul looked at them in the greatest surprise.

"Mister Weston," said Ben, gravely, as he pushed his plate farther on the table, and arose from his seat as if he had a long speech to deliver, "us fellers have seen that you wasn't feelin' very nice at havin' to stay with us, an' we kinder thought you wanted to leave us 'cause things didn't go to suit you."

As he paused for a moment, Paul, who had been in a perfect maze of wonder at this preface to the speech, said, quickly,

"I'm sure things go to please me as much as you can make them; but you mustn't feel angry if I don't want to stay, 'cause you know just how it happened that I came here; an' when I think of my father an'

mother an' my sister, I can't--help--feeling--"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "MISTER WESTON," SAID BEN, GRAVELY.]

Here Paul burst into a flood of tears at the thought that his companions were reproving him for grieving for those whom he loved so dearly, and whom he feared he might never meet again. Ben hesitated at this grief of his friend, and for a moment it seemed as if he could not continue until he had tried to console him; but like one who has a duty to perform, and must do it as quickly as possible, he continued:

"We ain't layin' anything up agin you 'cause you don't want to stay round here, for we don't blame you, seeing how you've got a good home to go to; an' if we had one we should tear round worse'n you do. But all the same, we've seen how you felt about it, an' we've come to the 'clusion that you'd better not stay here any longer."

Paul looked up in fear and surprise, for it certainly seemed as if he was being turned away.

"No," continued Ben, in a loud voice, growing more emphatic the nearer he approached the conclusion of his speech--"we've made up our minds that you've got to go, an' d.i.c.key here's all ready to take your place as one of the boarders. We give a pretty good show Sat.u.r.day night, an' we got so much money out of it that we've bought this for you so's you can go home."

Ben handed Paul the ticket, which he had opened to full length as he ceased speaking, and it was some moments before the surprised boy could understand it all. But when he realized that now he could go to his friends, if not to his parents, his joy was more than he could control, and from its very excess came the tears in an irresistible torrent.

CHAPTER XIII.

A JOYFUL MEETING.

It is highly probable that one might have searched over New York City that night and not found a happier household than that of Mrs.

Green's. Paul was so wonderfully happy in the thought that he was going back to Chicago, where, even though he could not see his parents, he should find relatives and friends, that he could talk of little else. Even the theatre was forgotten by him; for when Mopsey spoke of the necessity of getting another boy to take his place in the dramatic company he hardly gave the matter a thought, except to say that he hoped they would make plenty of money out of it. And Paul's partners were happy, more happy than they could possibly have been by any other outlay of their money; Paul's pleasure reflected on them to such a degree that they became almost as much excited as he was before the evening was over.

Good Mrs. Green alternately laughed and cried, until she seemed to realize that such nervousness was not exactly suitable to the occasion, and then she busied herself by reading one of the papers Ben had brought home.

Master Treat had spent so much time on the good work he had carried through so successfully, and then had paid so much more attention to the boy he was going to surprise than to the sale of his goods, that, instead of helping Johnny as had been his purpose when he took some of his papers to sell, he was a drawback, and the consequence was that Mrs. Green had three evening papers to read, while Messrs. Jones and Treat had been "stuck" just that number.

After she had joined in the general good time over Paul's good-fortune with her daughter and her boarders, and found that she was marring rather than adding to it by her nervousness, she ceased to pay any more attention to what was said by those about her, but became interested in the advertis.e.m.e.nts of fruit for sale. Suddenly she came across something that seemed to surprise her greatly, for she took off her gla.s.ses and wiped them, as though she mistrusted that which she saw was on the gla.s.s and not in the paper.

After satisfying herself that she was not the victim of an optical delusion, her face was a remarkable sight, exhibiting as it did surprise and delight alternately. It appeared as if it was difficult for her to speak, for she tried several times before she succeeded in saying,

"Listen to me every one of you, an' if I ain't mistaken Paul will be more glad to hear this than he was to get his ticket. This is what it says in this paper, word for word: 'Paul Weston'--that's in big letters. 'Any one who can give information of Paul Weston, who strayed from an outward-bound steamer on the afternoon of the seventeenth, will receive a handsome reward by calling on the undersigned. Said boy is ten years old, has light hair, blue eyes, nose slightly turned up, and at the time of his disappearance was dressed in dark blue clothes; he would most likely be trying to make his way to Chicago, and any one who has seen such a boy will please communicate at once with Rufus Weston, Fifth Avenue Hotel.' There! what do you think of that?" and Mrs. Green looked around at her circle of listeners, who appeared to have been stricken dumb with astonishment.

"Why, that means me!" exclaimed Paul, suddenly, as if he had thought some one else was spoken of. "And Rufus Weston, that's my father! He didn't go away, after all. And now, somebody, tell me where that hotel is."

As he spoke he had grasped his coat and hat, running from the house at full speed before he even knew which direction he should take. There were none of that party who had a very clear idea of what they were saying or doing just then; but as the most important thing in their minds was to see this father of Paul's, who had come at a time when his son was about to go home without his a.s.sistance, each one of the boys started out in the same rapid way, overtaking their more excited companion just as he was stopping to consider which direction he should take.

"This way, Polly!" shouted Ben, waving his hand, and started along as if he were going to a fire.

No one thought of walking, for it seemed as if every moment was precious then, and that they might not find him if they were two or three minutes late. On they ran, at full speed; and when they stood in a row before the clerk of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, they were so breathless that they could not speak distinctly.

"Polly's come to see his father," said Ben, after they had stood there so long that the clerk was about to order one of the porters to turn this quite dirty and very ragged crowd, who appeared to have come there simply to look at him, out-of-doors.

"Who is his father?" asked the man, hardly believing that any guest in that hotel would claim a son from that rather disreputable-looking party, for Paul looked almost as dirty and ragged as the others did.

"His name's Rufus Weston," said Paul, speaking in a low voice, because of the tears that would persist in coming into his eyes, so much afraid was he that his father was no longer there.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THEY STOOD IN A ROW BEFORE THE CLERK OF THE FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL.]

Almost every one in the hotel knew Mr. Weston's story, and no sooner did he hear the name than the clerk, calling one of the servants, ordered him to show this odd-looking party to Mr. Weston's room. Paul almost ran ahead of the man in his eagerness to see his father, while the others were inclined to remain quite a distance in the rear, awed by the elegant things they saw around them, and not quite certain as to whether they ought to follow their friend. When, finally, the man stopped before one of the doors, knocked, and Paul rushed into the room, the boys heard a scream of delight, and then they were shut out, as if their companion had forgotten them entirely.

Ranged close to the wall, opposite the door which Paul had entered, wondering whether they ought to go or stay, four boys stood in bewilderment, hardly daring to speak. Porters, servants, and guests pa.s.sed them with looks of wonder at the motionless line, who appeared to be trying to make themselves as small as possible, so that they should be in no one's way; and each time they were favored with a look of scrutiny or surprise they fancied that they were to be ordered to leave the house at once.

"I guess we'd better go," whispered d.i.c.key, after one of the porters had looked at them unusually hard.

"Yes," replied Mopsey, in an injured tone; "he's got all he can out of us, an' we sha'n't see him agin."

"Now don't you go to tryin' to be a fool, Mopsey Dowd," said Ben, indignantly. "Polly ain't the kind of a feller to forget his chums, an' I'm going to stay here till he comes out, if it ain't till mornin'. S'posen you had a father that had got lost, an' you'd jest found him, wouldn't it be quite a while afore you'd think of such a lot of duffers as we be?"

Mopsey was silent, but not convinced; he shook his head in a knowing way, as if to say that his companions would soon see that he had spoken the truth, and then he tried to push himself farther into the wall in order to occupy less s.p.a.ce in the hall. For fully ten minutes the boys stood there, first on one foot and then on the other, like motherless chickens in a rain-storm, and then the turning of the handle of the door caused them to straighten up into what they intended should be careless att.i.tudes, which should say that they had intended to go right away, but had been delayed by the discussion of some important question. It was Paul who came out of the room; and if the boys had had any doubts as to whether they had done right in staying, they were convinced now, for their companion looked around as if he were absolutely certain they would be there.

"Father wants to see you; come in," he said, holding the door open for them to enter.

But they were not disposed to accept the invitation; they had waited to see Paul, not his father, and they had an idea that they should not feel exactly at their ease in there.

"Come in," insisted Paul; "there's no one here but father, and he wants to see all of you."

Mopsey was the first to enter; he had settled it in his mind that they ought to be invited to see Mr. Weston, and he considered it his right to go in because of the money he had contributed towards Paul's ticket to Chicago. The others followed him, but did not appear as confident as he did. Whatever extravagant idea Mopsey may have had as to the way in which they ought to be received by Mr. Weston, he was not disappointed. Paul's father welcomed them in the most cordial manner possible, and had they been his most intimate and esteemed friends they could not have been received more kindly.

Paul had given his father a brief account of his life since the time he learned that the steamer had sailed without him, and he had spoken in the warmest terms of the boys who had befriended him when he was in such bitter trouble. After the boys had entered the room, Mr. Weston explained why it was that he was still in New York City, when it seemed almost certain that he had sailed for Europe.