"Tell me how I can help you," said Dick, promptly, "and I will do so."
"We are stopping at the house of a friend in Brooklyn. If you will give my uncle a seat in your carryall, for he is unable to walk, and carry him there, it will be a great favor. I will remain and attend to the horse and carriage."
"With pleasure, Frank. Are you going to remain in this neighborhood long?"
"I shall try to gain admission to the sophomore class of Columbia College this summer, and shall then live in New York, where I hope to see you often. I intended to enter last year, but decided for some reasons to delay a year. However, if I am admitted to advanced standing, I shall lose nothing. Give me your address, and I will call on you very soon."
"I am afraid I shall inconvenience you," said Mr. Whitney.
"Not at all," said Dick, promptly. "We have plenty of room, and I shall be glad to have an opportunity of obliging one to whom I am indebted for past kindness."
Mr. Whitney was assisted into the carriage, and they resumed their drive, deviating from their course somewhat, in order to leave him at the house of the friend with whom he was stopping.
"I am very glad to have met Frank again," thought Dick: "I always liked him."
CHAPTER XXV
AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY
Mark remained in the bookstore on the same footing as before. He was not old enough to succeed to Rowell's vacant place, but Mr. Baker, as a mark of his satisfaction with him, and partly also to compensate for the temporary suspicions which he had entertained of his honesty, advanced his wages a dollar a week. He therefore now received four dollars, which yielded him no little satisfaction, as it enabled him to pay a larger share of his expenses.
They were all seated in Richard Hunter's pleasant room in St. Mark's Place one evening, when Dick said suddenly: —
"Oh, by the way, Fosdick, I forgot to tell you that I had a letter from Mr. Bates to-day."
"Did you? What does he say?"
"I will read it to you."
Richard drew the letter from the envelope, and read as follows: —
"My dear Mr. Hunter: – I have received your letter, reporting that you have as yet obtained no trace of my unfortunate grandson, John Talbot. I thank you sincerely for your kind and persistent efforts. I fear that he may have left New York, possibly in the care of persons unfit to take charge of him. It is a great source of anxiety to me lest he should be suffering privation and bad treatment at this moment, when I, his grandfather, have abundance of worldly means, and have it in my power to rear him handsomely. I cannot help feeling that it is a fitting punishment for the cruel harshness with which I treated his mother. Now I am amassing wealth but I have no one to leave it to. I feel that I have small object in living. Yet I cannot give up the thought that my grandson is still living. I cannot help indulging the hope that some day, by the kind favor of Providence, he may be given back to me.
"If it will not be too much trouble to you and Mr. Fosdick, I shall feel indebted if you will still continue on the watch for the lost boy. Any expenses which you may incur, as I have already assured you, will be most cheerfully paid by your obliged friend and servant,
"Hiram Bates."
While Richard was reading this letter, Mark listened attentively. Looking up, Richard observed this.
"Did you ever meet with a boy named John Talbot, Mark?" he inquired.
"No," said Mark, "not John Talbot."
"Did you ever meet any boy named Talbot? It is not certain that the name is John."
"Talbot used to be my name," said Mark.
"Used to be your name!" exclaimed Richard, in surprise. "I thought it was Manton."
"Some of the boys gave me that name, because there was a story came out in one of the story papers about Mark Manton. After a while I got to calling myself so, but my real name is Mark Talbot."
"It would be strange if he should turn out to be the right boy after all, Dick," said Fosdick. "Where is the photograph? That will soon settle the question."
Richard Hunter opened his desk, and took out the card photograph which Mr. Bates had left with him.
"Mark," he said, "did you ever see any one who looked like that picture?"
Mark took the picture in his hand. No sooner did his eyes rest upon it than they filled with tears.
"That is my mother" he said. "Where did you get it?"
"Your mother! Are you sure?"
"Yes; I should know it anywhere, though it looks younger than she did."
"Do you know what her name was, before she was married?"
"Yes; she has told me often. It was Irene Bates."
"How strange!" exclaimed Richard and Fosdick together. "Mark," continued Richard, "I think you are the very boy I had been in search of for several months. I had succeeded without knowing it."
"Please tell me all about it," said Mark. "I don't understand."
"I have a great piece of good luck to announce to you, Mark. Your grandfather is a rich man, formerly in business in New York, but now a successful merchant in Milwaukie. He has no child, no descendant except yourself. He has been anxiously seeking for you, intending to give you all the advantages which his wealth can procure."
"Do you think I shall like him?" asked Mark, timidly.
"Yes; I think he will be very kind to you."
"But he was not kind to my mother. Although he was rich, he let her suffer."
"He has repented of this, and will try to make up to you his neglect to your mother."
Mark was still thoughtful. "If it had come sooner, my poor mother might still have been alive," he said.
"I think I had better telegraph to Mr. Bates to-morrow," said Richard. "The news will be so welcome that I don't like to keep it back a single day."
"Perhaps it will be better," said Fosdick. "You will have to give up your ward, Dick."
"Yes; but as it will be for his good, I will not object."
The next morning the following message was flashed over the wires to Milwaukie: —
"Hiram Bates.
"Your grandson is found. He is well, and in my charge.
"Richard Hunter."
In the course of the forenoon, the following answer was received: —
"Richard Hunter.
"How can I thank you! I take the next train for New York.
"Hiram Bates."
On the afternoon succeeding, Mr. Bates entered Richard's counting-room. He clasped his hand with fervor.
"Mr. Hunter," he said, "I do not know how to thank you. Where is my boy?"
"I am just going up to the house," said Richard. "If you will accompany me, you shall soon see him."
"I am impatient to hear all the particulars," said Mr. Bates. "Remember, I know nothing as yet. I only received your telegram announcing his discovery. When did you find him?"
"That is the strangest part of it," said Richard. "I found him sick just outside the office door several weeks since. I took him home, and when he recovered let him get a place in a bookstore; but, having become interested in him, I was unwilling to lose sight of him, and still kept him with me. All this while I was searching for your grandson, and had not the least idea that he was already found."
"How did you discover this at last?"
"By his recognition of his mother's photograph. It was lucky you thought of leaving it with me."
"Is his name John?"
"He says his name is Mark, but for his last name he had adopted a different one, or I should have made the discovery sooner."
"How did he make a living before you found him? Poor boy!" said Mr. Bates, sighing, "I fear he must have suffered many privations."
"He was selling matches for some time, – what we call a match boy. He had suffered hardships, but I leave him to tell you his story himself."
"How does he feel about meeting me?" asked Mr. Bates.
"You are a stranger to him, and he naturally feels a little timid, but he will soon be reassured when he gets acquainted with you."
Mark had already arrived. As they entered the room, Mr. Bates said with emotion, "Is that he?"
"Yes, sir."
"Come here, Mark," he said, in a tone which took away Mark's apprehension. "Do you know who I am?"
"Are you my grandfather?"
"Yes, I have come to take care of you, and to see that you suffer no more from poverty."
Mr. Bates stooped down and pressed a kiss upon the boy's forehead.
"I can see Irene's look in his eyes," he said. "It is all the proof I need that he is my grandchild."
It was arranged that in three days, for he had some business to transact, he should go back to Milwaukie carrying Mark with him. He went round to Mr. Baker's store the next morning with his grandson and explained to him why he should be obliged to withdraw him from his employ.
"I am sorry to lose him," said Mr. Baker. "He is quick and attentive to his duties, and has given me excellent satisfaction; but I am glad of his good fortune."
"It gives me pleasure to hear so good an account of him," said Mr. Bates. "Though he will be under no necessity of taking another situation, but will for several years devote himself to study, the same good qualities for which you give him credit will insure his satisfactory progress in school."
CHAPTER XXVI.
CONCLUSION
It was not long before Mark felt quite at home with his grandfather. He no longer felt afraid of him, but began to look forward with pleasant anticipations to his journey West, and the life that was to open before him in Milwaukie. It was a relief to think that he would not now be obliged to take care of himself, but would have some one both able and willing to supply his wants, and provide him with a comfortable home.
He felt glad again that he was going to school. He remembered how anxious his poor mother had been that he should receive a good education, and now his grandfather had promised to send him to the best school in Milwaukie.
The next morning after their meeting, Mr. Bates took Mark to a large clothing establishment, and had him fitted out with new clothes in the most liberal manner. He even bought him a silver watch, of which Mark felt very proud.
"Now, Mark," said his grandfather, "if there is any one that was kind to you when you were a poor match boy, I should like to do something to show my gratitude for their kindness. Can you think of any one?"
"Yes," said Mark; "there's Ben Gibson."
"And who is Ben Gibson?"
"He blacks boots down on Nassau Street. When I ran away from Mother Watson, who treated me so badly, he stood by me, and prevented her from getting hold of me again."
"Is there any one besides?"
"Yes," said Mark, after a pause; "there is Mrs. Flanagan. She lives in the same tenement-house where I used to. When I was almost starved she used to give me something to eat, though she was poor herself."
"I think we will call and see her first," said Mr. Bates. "I am going to let you give her a hundred dollars."
"She will be delighted," said Mark, his eyes sparkling with joy. "It will seem a fortune to her. Let us go at once."
"Very well," said his grandfather. "Afterwards we will try to find your friend Ben."
I forgot to mention that Mr. Bates was stopping at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.
They took the University Place cars, which landed them at the junction of Barclay Street and Broadway. From thence it was but a short distance to Vandewater Street, where Mark lived when first introduced to the reader.
They climbed the broken staircase, and paused in front of Mrs. Flanagan's door.
Mark knocked.
Mrs. Flanagan opened the door, and stared with some surprise at her visitors.
"Don't you know me, Mrs. Flanagan?" asked Mark.
"Why, surely it isn't Mark, the little match boy?" said Mrs. Flanagan, amazed.
"Yes, it is. So you didn't know me?"
"And it's rale delighted I am to see you lookin' so fine. And who is this gentleman?"
"It is my grandfather, Mrs. Flanagan. I'm going out West to live with him."
Mrs. Flanagan dropped a courtesy to Mr. Bates, who said, "My good woman, Mark tells me that you were kind to him when he stood in need of kindness."
"And did he say that?" said Mrs. Flanagan, her face beaming with pleasure. "Shure it was little I did for him, bein' poor myself; but that little he was heartily welcome to, and I'm delighted to think he's turned out so lucky. The ould woman trated him very bad. I used to feel as if I'd like to break her ould bones for her."
"Mark and I both want to thank you for your kindness to him, and he has a small gift to give you."
"Here it is," said Mark, drawing from his pocket a neat pocket-book, containing a roll of bills. "You'll find a hundred dollars inside, Mrs. Flanagan," he said. "I hope they will help you."
"A hundred dollars!" ejaculated Mrs. Flanagan, hardly believing her ears. "Does this good gentleman give me a hundred dollars!"
"No it is Mark's gift to you," said Mr. Bates.
"It's rich I am with so much money," said the good woman. "May the saints bless you both! Now I can buy some clothes for the childer, and have plenty left beside. This is a happy day entirely. But won't you step in, and rest yourselves a bit? It's a poor room, but – "
"Thank you, Mrs. Flanagan," said Mr. Bates, "but we are in haste this morning. Whenever Mark comes to New York he shall come and see you."
They went downstairs, leaving Mrs. Flanagan so excited with her good fortune, that she left her work, and made a series of calls upon her neighbors, in which she detailed Mark's good fortune and her own.
"Now we'll go and find your friend, Ben Gibson," said Mr. Bates.
"I think we'll find him on Nassau Street," said Mark.
He was right.
In walking down Nassau Street on the east side, Mr. Bates was accosted by Ben himself.
"Shine yer boots?"
"How are you, Ben?" said Mark.
Ben stared in surprise till he recognized his old companion.
"Blest if it aint Mark," he said. "How you're gettin on!"
"Ben, this is my grandfather," said Mark.
"Well, you're a lucky chap," said Ben, enviously. "I wish I could find a rich grandfather. I don't believe I ever had a grandfather."
"How are you getting on, my lad?" inquired Mr. Bates.
"Middlin'," said Ben. "I haven't laid by a fortun' yet."
"No, I suppose not. How do you like blacking boots?"
"Well, there's other things I might like better," said Ben, – "such as bein' a rich merchant; but that takes rather more capital than blackin' boots."
"I see you are an original," said Mr. Bates, smiling.
"Am I?" said Ben. "Well, I'm glad of it, though I didn't know it before. I hope it aint anything very bad."
"Mark says you treated him kindly when he lived about the street."
"It wasn't much," said Ben.
"I want to do something for you. What shall I do?"
"Well," said Ben, "I should like a new brush. This is most worn out."
"How would you like to go to Milwaukie with Mark, if I will get you a place there?"
"Do you mean it?" said Ben, incredulously.
"Certainly."
"I haven't any money to pay for goin' out there."
"I will take care of that," said Mr. Bates.
"Then I'll go," said Ben, "and I'm much obliged to you. Mark, you're a brick, and so's your grandfather. I never expected to have such good luck."
"Then you must begin to make arrangements at once. Mark, here is some money. You may go with Ben, see that he takes a good bath, and then buy him some clothes. I am obliged to leave you to do it, as I must attend to some business in Wall Street. I shall expect to see you both at the Fifth Avenue Hotel at two o'clock."
At two o'clock, Mr. Bates found the two boys awaiting him. There was a great change in Ben's appearance. He had faithfully submitted to the bath, and bloomed out in a tasteful suit of clothes, selected by Mark. Mark had taken him besides to a barber's and had his long hair cut. So he now made quite a presentable appearance, though he felt very awkward in his new clothes.
"It don't seem natural to be clean," he confessed to Mark.
"You'll get used to it after a while," said Mark, laughing.
"Maybe I will; but I miss my old clothes. They seemed more comfortable."
The next day they were to start. Ben remained at the hotel with his friend Mark, feeling, it must be confessed, a curious sensation at his unusual position.
They went to make a farewell call on Richard Hunter.
"Mr. Hunter," said Mr. Bates, "money will not pay you for the service you have done me, but I shall be glad if you will accept this cheque."
Richard saw that it was a cheque for a thousand dollars.
"Thank you for your liberality, Mr. Bates" he said; "but I do not deserve it."
"Let me be the judge of that."
"I will accept it on one condition."
"Name it, Mr. Hunter."
"That you will allow me to give it to the Newsboys' Lodge, where I once found shelter, and where so many poor boys are now provided for."
"I will give an equal sum to that institution," said Mr. Bates, "and I thank you for reminding me of it. As for this money, oblige me by keeping it yourself."
"Then," said Richard, "I will keep it as a charity fund, and whenever I have an opportunity of helping along a boy who is struggling upward as I once had to struggle, I will do it."
"A noble resolution, Mr. Hunter! You have found out the best use of money."
Mark is now at an excellent school in Milwaukie, pursuing his studies. He is the joy and solace of his grandfather's life, hitherto sad and lonely, and is winning the commendation of his teachers by his devotion to study. A place was found for Ben Gibson, where he had some advantages of education, and he is likely to do well. He has been persuaded by Mark to leave off smoking, – a habit which he had formed in the streets of New York. The shrewdness which his early experiences taught him will be likely to benefit him in the business career which lies before him.
Every year Mark sends a substantial present to Mrs. Flanagan, under his grandfather's direction, and thus makes the worthy woman's life much more comfortable and easy. From time to time Mark receives a letter from Richard Hunter, who has not lost his interest in the little match boy who was once his ward.
So the trials of Mark, the Match Boy, as far as they proceeded from poverty and privation, are at an end. He has found a comfortable and even luxurious home, and a relative whose great object in life is to study his happiness. I hope that the record of his struggles will be read with interest by my young readers, and shall hope to meet them all again in the next volume of this series, which will be called: