CHAPTER XIV BEN SHOWS HIMSELF A HERO
A fire in a country village, particularly where the building is a prominent one, is sure to attract a large part of the resident population. Men, women, and children, as well as the hook and ladder company, hurried to the scene of conflagration. Everybody felt a personal interest in Crawford's. It was the great emporium which provided all the families in the village with articles of prime and secondary necessity. If Paris can be called France, then Crawford's might be called Pentonville.
"Crawford's on fire!" exclaimed old Captain Manson. "Bless my soul!
It cannot be true. Where's my cane?"
"You don't mean to say you're goin' to the fire, father?" asked his widowed daughter in surprise, for the captain had bowed beneath the weight of eighty-six winters, and rarely left the domestic hearth.
"Do you think I'd stay at home when Crawford's was a-burning?" returned the captain.
"But remember, father, you ain't so young as you used to be. You might catch your death of cold."
"What! at a fire?" exclaimed the old man, laughing at his own joke.
"You know what I mean. It's dreadfully imprudent. Why, I wouldn't go myself."
"Shouldn't think you would, at your time of life!" retorted her father, chuckling.
So the old man emerged into the street, and hurried as fast as his unsteady limbs would allow, to the fire.
"How did it catch?" the reader will naturally ask.
The young man who was the only other salesman besides Ben and the proprietor, had gone down cellar smoking a cigar. In one corner was a heap of shavings and loose papers. A spark from his cigar must have fallen there. Had he noticed it, with prompt measures the incipient fire might have been extinguished. But he went up stairs with the kerosene, which he had drawn for old Mrs. Watts, leaving behind him the seeds of destruction. Soon the flames, arising, caught the wooden flooring of the upper store. The smell of the smoke notified Crawford and his clerks of the impending disaster. When the door communicating with the basement was opened, a stifling smoke issued forth and the crackling of the fire was heard.
"Run, Ben; give the alarm!" called Mr. Crawford, pale with dismay and apprehension. It was no time then to inquire how the fire caught. There was only time to save as much of the stock as possible, since it was clear that the fire had gained too great a headway to be put out.
Ben lost no time, and in less than ten minutes the engine, which, fortunately, was housed only ten rods away, was on the ground. Though it was impossible to save the store, the fire might be prevented from spreading. A band of earnest workers aided Crawford in saving his stock. A large part, of course, must be sacrificed; but, perhaps, a quarter was saved.
All at once a terrified whisper spread from one to another:
"Mrs. Morton's children! Where are they? They must be in the third story."
A poor woman, Mrs. Morton, had been allowed, with her two children, to enjoy, temporarily, two rooms in the third story. She had gone to a farmer's two miles away to do some work, and her children, seven and nine years of age, had remained at home. They seemed doomed to certain death.
But, even as the inquiry went from lip to lip, the children appeared. They had clambered out of a third story window upon the sloping roof of the rear ell, and, pale and dismayed, stood in sight of the shocked and terrified crowd, shrieking for help!
"A ladder! A ladder!" exclaimed half a dozen.
But there was no ladder at hand—none nearer than Mr. Parmenter's, five minutes' walk away. While a messenger was getting it the fate of the children would be decided.
"Tell 'em to jump!" exclaimed Silas Carver.
"They'd break their necks, you fool!" returned his wife.
"Better do that than be burned up!" said the old man.
No one knew what to do—no one but Ben Barclay.
He seized a coil of rope, and with a speed which surprised even himself, climbed up a tall oak tree, whose branches overshadowed the roof of the ell part. In less than a minute he found himself on a limb just over the children. To the end of the rope was fastened a strong iron hook.
Undismayed by his own danger, Ben threw his rope, though he nearly lost his footing while he was doing it, and with an aim so precise that the hook caught in the smaller girl's dress.
"Hold on to the rope, Jennie, if you can!" he shouted.
The girl obeyed him instinctively.
Drawing the cord hand over hand, the little girl swung clear, and was lowered into the arms of Ebenezer Strong, who detached the hook.
"Save the other, Ben!" shouted a dozen.
Ben needed no spur to further effort.
Again he threw the hook, and this time the older girl, comprehending what was required, caught the rope and swung off the roof, scarcely in time, for her clothing had caught fire. But when she reached the ground ready hands extinguished it and the crowd of anxious spectators breathed more freely, as Ben, throwing down the rope, rapidly descended the tree and stood once more in safety, having saved two lives.
Just then it was that the poor mother, almost frantic with fear, arrived on the ground.
"Where are my darlings? Who will save them?" she exclaimed, full of anguish, yet not comprehending that they were out of peril.
"They are safe, and here is the brave boy who saved their lives," said Ebenezer Strong.
"God bless you, Ben Barclay!" exclaimed the poor mother. "You have saved my life as well as theirs, for I should have died if they had burned."
Ben scarcely heard her, for one and another came up to shake his hand and congratulate him upon his brave deed. Our young hero was generally self-possessed, but he hardly knew how to act when he found himself an object of popular ovation.
"Somebody else would have done it if I hadn't," he said modestly.
"You are the only one who had his wits about him," said Seth Jones.
"No one thought of the rope till you climbed the tree. We were all looking for a ladder and there was none to be had nearer than Mr. Parmenter's."
"I wouldn't have thought of it myself if I hadn't read in a daily paper of something like it," said Ben.
"Ben," said Mr. Crawford, "I'd give a thousand dollars to have done what you did. You have shown yourself a hero."
"Oh, Ben, how frightened I was when I saw you on the branch just over the burning building," said a well-known voice.
Turning, Ben saw it was his mother who spoke.
"Well, it's all right now, mother," he said, smiling. "You are not sorry I did it?"
"Sorry! I am proud of you."
"I am not proud of my hands," said Ben. "Look at them."
They were chafed and bleeding, having been lacerated by his rapid descent from the tree.
"Come home, Ben, and let me put some salve on them. How they must pain you!"
"Wait till the fire is all over, mother."
The gallant firemen did all they could, but the store was doomed. They could only prevent it from extending. In half an hour the engine was taken back, and Ben went home with his mother.
"It's been rather an exciting evening, mother," said Ben. "I rather think I shall have to find a new place."
CHAPTER XV BEN LOSES HIS PLACE
Ben did not find himself immediately out of employment. The next morning Mr. Crawford commenced the work of ascertaining what articles he had saved, and storing them. Luckily there was a vacant store which had once been used for a tailor's shop, but had been unoccupied for a year or more. This he hired, and at once removed his goods to it. But he did not display his usual energy. He was a man of over sixty, and no longer possessed the enterprise and ambition which had once characterized him. Besides, he was very comfortably off, or would be when he obtained the insurance money.
"I don't know what I shall do," he said, when questioned. "I was brought up on a farm, and I always meant to end my days on one. Perhaps now is as well any time, since my business is broken up."
This came to the ears of Squire Davenport, who was always keen-scented for a bargain. His wife's cousin, Mr. Kirk, who has already been introduced to the reader, had, in his earlier days, served as a clerk in a country store. He had no capital, to be sure, but the squire had plenty. It occurred to him as a good plan to buy out the business himself, hire Kirk on a salary to conduct it, and so add considerably to his already handsome income. He sent for Kirk, ascertained that he was not only willing, but anxious, to manage the business, and then he called on Mr. Crawford.
It is unnecessary to detail the negotiations that ensued. It was Squire Davenport's wish to obtain the business as cheaply as possible. The storekeeper, however, had his own estimate of its worth, and the squire was obliged to add considerable to his first offer. In the end, however, he secured it on advantageous terms, and Mr. Crawford now felt able to carry out the plan he had long had in view.
It was in the evening, a week after the fire, that the bargain was struck, and Ben was one of the first to hear of it.
When he came to work early the next morning he found his employer in the store before him, which was not usual.
"You are early, Mr. Crawford," he said, in evident surprise.
"Yes, Ben," was the reply. "I can afford to come early for a morning or two, as I shall soon be out of business."
"You haven't sold out, have you?" inquired Ben quickly.
"Yes; the bargain was struck last evening."
"How soon do you leave the store?"
"In three days. It will take that time to make up my accounts."
"I am sorry," said Ben, "for I suppose I shall have to retire, too."
"I don't know about that, Ben. Very likely my successor may want you."
"That depends on who he is. Do you mind telling me, or is it a secret?"
"Oh, no; it will have to come out, of course. Squire Davenport has bought the business."
"The squire isn't going to keep the store, is he?" asked Ben, in amazement.
"No; though he will, no doubt, supervise it. He will employ a manager."
"Do you know who is to be the manager, Mr. Crawford?"
"Some connection of his named Kirk."
Ben whistled.
"Do you know him?" the storekeeper was led to inquire.
"I have not seen him, but he called with the squire on my mother," said Ben significantly.
"I shall be glad to recommend you to him."
"It will be of no use, Mr. Crawford," answered Ben, in a decided tone.
"I know he wouldn't employ me, nor would I work for him if he would.
Neither he nor the squire is a friend of mine."
"I did not dream of this, Ben. I am sorry if the step I have taken is going to deprive you of employment," said Mr. Crawford, who was a kind-hearted man, and felt a sincere interest in his young clerk.
"Never mind, Mr. Crawford, I am not cast down. There will be other openings for me. I am young, strong, and willing to work, and I am sure I shall find something to do."
"That's right, Ben. Cheer up, and if I hear of any good chance, rest assured that I will let you know of it."
Tom Davenport was not long in hearing of his father's bargain. He heard it with unfeigned pleasure, for it occurred to him at once that Ben, for whom he had a feeling of hatred, by no means creditable to him, would be thrown out of employment.
"Promise me, pa, that you won't employ Ben Barclay," he said.
"I have no intention of employing that boy," said his father. "Mr. Kirk has a son of his own, about Ben's age, and will, no doubt, put him into the store, unless you should choose to go in and learn the business."
"What! I become a store boy!" exclaimed Tom, in disgust. "No, thank you. I might be willing to become salesman in a large establishment in the city, but I don't care to go into a country grocery."
"It wouldn't do you any harm," said the squire, who was not quite so high-minded as his son. "However, I merely mentioned it as something you could do if you chose."
"Bah! I don't choose it," said Tom decidedly.
"Well, well; you won't have to do it."
"It would put me on a level with Ben Barclay, if I stepped into his shoes. Won't he be down in the month when he hears he has lost his place?" and Tom chuckled at the thought.
"That is no concern of mine," said the squire. "I suppose he can hire out to a farmer."
"Just the business for him", said Tom, "unless he should prefer to go to New York and set up as a bootblack. I believe I'll suggest that to him!"
"Probably he won't thank you for the suggestion."
"I guess not. He's as proud as he is poor. It's amusing to see what airs he puts on."
Squire Davenport, however, was not so much interested in that phase of the subject as Tom, and did not reply.
"I think I'll go down street," thought Tom. "Perhaps I may come across Ben. I shall enjoy seeing how he takes it."
Tom had scarcely walked a hundred yards when he met, not the one of whom he had thought, but another to whom he felt glad to speak on the same subject. This was Rose Gardiner, the prettiest girl in the village, who had already deeply offended Tom by accepting Ben as her escort from the magical entertainment in place of him. He had made advances since, being desirous of ousting Ben from his position of favorite, but the young lady had treated him coldly, much to his anger and mortification.
"Good-morning, Miss Rose," said Tom.
"Good-morning," answered Rose civilly.
"Have you heard the news?"
"To what news do you refer?"
"Crawford has sold out his business."
"Indeed!" said Rose, in surprise; "who has bought it?"
"My father. Of course, he won't keep store himself. He will put in a connection of ours, Mr. Kirk."
"This is news, indeed! Where is Mr. Crawford going?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. I thought you'd be more apt to inquire about somebody else?"
"I am not good at guessing enigmas," said Rose.
"Your friend, Ben Barclay," returned Tom, with a sneer. "Father won't have him in the store!"
"Oh, I see; you are going to take his place," said Rose mischievously.
"I? What do you take me for?" said Tom, haughtily. "I suppose Ben Barclay will have to go to work on a farm."
"That is a very honorable employment," said Rose calmly.
"Yes; he can be a hired man when he grows up. Perhaps, though, he will prefer to go to the city and become a bootblack."
"Ben ought to be very much obliged to you for the interest you feel in his welfare," said Rose, looking steadily and scornfully at Tom. "Good-morning."
"She feels sore about it," thought Tom complacently. "She won't be quite so ready to accept Ben's attentions when he is a farm laborer."
Tom, however, did not understand Rose Gardiner. She was a girl of good sense, and her estimate of others was founded on something else than social position.
CHAPTER XVI BEN FINDS TEMPORARY EMPLOYMENT
"Oh, Ben, what shall we do?" exclaimed Mrs. Barclay, when she heard Mr. Crawford had sold out his business.
"We'll get along somehow, mother. Something will be sure to turn up."
Ben spoke more cheerfully than he felt. He knew very well that Pentonville presented scarcely any field for a boy, unless he was willing to work on a farm. Now, Ben had no objections to farm labor, provided he had a farm of his own, but at the rate such labor was paid in Pentonville, there was very little chance of ever rising above the position of a "hired man," if he once adopted the business. Our young hero felt that this would not satisfy him. He was enterprising and ambitious, and wanted to be a rich man some day.
Money is said, by certain moralists, to be the root of all evil. The love of money, if carried too far, may indeed lead to evil, but it is a natural ambition in any boy or man to wish to raise himself above poverty. The wealth of Amos Lawrence and Peter Cooper was a source of blessing to mankind, yet each started as a poor boy, and neither would have become rich if he had not striven hard to become so.
When Ben made this cheerful answer his mother shook her head sadly. She was not so hopeful as Ben, and visions of poverty presented themselves before her mind.
"I don't see what you can find to do in Pentonville, Ben," she said.
"I can live a while without work while I am looking around, mother," Ben answered. "We have got all that money I brought from New York yet."
"It won't last long," said his mother despondently.
"It will last till I can earn some more," answered Ben hopefully.
Ben was about to leave the house when a man in a farmer's frock, driving a yoke of oxen, stopped his team in the road, and turned in at the widow's gate.
It was Silas Greyson, the owner of a farm just out of the village.
"Did you want to see mother?" asked Ben.
"No, I wanted to see you, Benjamin," answered Greyson. "I hear you've left the store."
"The store has changed hands, and the new storekeeper don't want me."
"Do you want a job?"
"What is it, Mr. Greyson?" Ben replied, answering one question with another.
"I'm goin' to get in wood for the winter from my wood lot for about a week," said the farmer, "and I want help. Are you willin' to hire out for a week?"
"What'll you pay me?" asked Ben.
"I'll keep you, and give you a cord of wood. Your mother'll find it handy. I'm short of money, and calc'late wood'll be just as good pay."
Ben thought over the proposal, and answered: "I'd rather take my meals at home, Mr. Greyson, and if you'll make it two cords with that understanding, I'll agree to hire out to you."
"Ain't that rather high?" asked the farmer, hesitating.
"I don't think so."
Finally Silas Greyson agreed, and Ben promised to be on hand bright and early the next day. It may be stated here that wood was very cheap at Pentonville, so that Ben would not be overpaid.
There were some few things about the house which Ben wished to do for his mother before he went to work anywhere, and he thought this a good opportunity to do them. While in the store his time had been so taken up that he was unable to attend to them. He passed a busy day, therefore, and hardly went into the street.
Just at nightfall, as he was in the front yard, he was rather surprised to see Tom Davenport open the gate and enter.
"What does he want, I wonder?" he thought, but he said, in a civil tone: "Good-evening, Tom."
"You're out of business, ain't you?" asked Tom abruptly.
"I'm not out of work at any rate!" answered Ben.
"Why, what work are you doing?" interrogated Tom, in evident disappointment.
"I've been doing some jobs about the house, for mother."
"That won't give you a living," said Tom disdainfully.
"Very true."
"Did you expect to stay in the store?" asked Tom.
"Not after I heard that your father had bought it," answered Ben quietly.
"My father's willing to give you work," said Tom.
"Is he?" asked Ben, very much surprised.
It occurred to him that perhaps he would have a chance to remain in the store after all, and for the present that would have suited him. Though he didn't like the squire, or Mr. Kirk, he felt that he had no right, in his present circumstances, to refuse any way to earn an honest living.
"Yes," answered Tom. "I told him he'd better hire you."
"You did!" exclaimed Ben, more and more amazed. "I didn't expect that. However, go on, if you please."
"He's got three cords of wood that he wants sawed and split," said Tom, "and as I knew how poor you were I thought it would be a good chance for you."
You might have thought from Tom's manner that he was a young lord, and Ben a peasant. Ben was not angry, but amused.
"It is true," he said. "I am not rich; still, I am not as poor as you think."
He happened to have in his pocketbook the money he had brought from New York, and this he took from his pocket and displayed to the astonished Tom.
"Where did you get that money?" asked Tom, surprised and chagrined.
"I got it honestly. You see we can hold out a few days. However, I may be willing to accept the job you offer me. How much is your father willing to pay me?"
"He is willing to give you forty cents a day."
"How long does he expect me to work for that?"
"Ten hours."
"That is four cents an hour, and hard work at that. I am much obliged to you and him, Tom, for your liberal offer, but I can't accept it."
"You'll see the time when you'll be glad to take such a job," said Tom, who was personally disappointed that he would not be able to exhibit Ben as his father's hired dependent.
"You seem to know all about it, Tom," answered Ben. "I shall be at work all next week, at much higher pay, for Silas Greyson."
"How much does he pay you?"
"That is my private business, and wouldn't interest you."
"You're mighty independent for a boy in your position."
"Very likely. Won't you come in?"
"No," answered Tom ungraciously; "I've wasted too much time here already."
"I understand Tom's object in wanting to hire me," thought Ben. "He wants to order me around. Still, if the squire had been willing to pay a decent price, I would have accepted the job. I won't let pride stand in the way of my supporting mother and myself."
This was a sensible and praiseworthy resolution, as I hope my young readers will admit. I don't think much of the pride that is willing to let others suffer in order that it may be gratified.
Ben worked a full week for Farmer Greyson, and helped unload the two cords of wood, which were his wages, in his mother's yard. Then there were two days of idleness, which made him anxious. On the second day, just after supper, he met Rose Gardiner coming from the post office.
"Have you any correspondents in New York, Ben?" she asked.
"What makes you ask, Rose?"
Because the postmaster told me there was a letter for you by this evening's mail. It was mailed in New York, and was directed in a lady's hand. I hope you haven't been flirting with any New York ladies, Mr. Barclay."
"The only lady I know in New York is at least fifty years old," answered Ben, smiling.
"That is satisfactory," answered Rose solemnly. "Then I won't be jealous."
"What can the letter be?" thought Ben. "I hope it contains good news."
He hurried to the post office in a fever of excitement.