Kitobni o'qish: «Wait and Hope: or, A Plucky Boy's Luck», sahifa 5

Chapter XIII

A Curious Old Lady

The next morning Mr. Manning introduced Ben to his temporary ward, a bright, attractive little girl, who seemed to take an instant fancy to our hero.

"Is he my brother?" she inquired of Mr. Manning.

"He is going to be your brother, if you like," was the smiling reply.

"I am glad of it," said the little girl, putting her hand confidingly in

Ben's.

Ben was not much used to girls, never having had a sister, but it occurred to him that he should find it very pleasant to have Emma in the house.

"Are you willing to leave the city and go home with your new brother?" asked Mr. Manning.

"Yes," said Emma promptly. "When are we going?"

"This afternoon. You will sail on a big boat, and then ride on the cars. Shall you like that?"

"Ever so much," said Emma, clapping her hands. "You will take care of me, won't you?" appealing to Ben.

"Oh, yes, I'll take care of you," said Ben manfully.

"I think you had better go to Boston on the Fall River line," said Mr. Manning. "That will give you nearly all night on the boat, and you can have a comfortable night's rest. Indeed, I think you may as well remain on board till the half-past-six train starts. That will get you into Boston about nine o'clock, in time for a late breakfast. What time can you go to Milltown?"

"There is a train at half-past ten."

"That will answer very well. Now, if you will come down-town with me, I will engage passage for you."

Ben accompanied Mr. Manning to the office of the steamers, and passage tickets were obtained and paid for.

At four o'clock, Ben and his young charge were seated in the showy cabin of the immense Sound steamer which plies between New York and Fall River.

As the two were chatting, an old lady, evidently from the country, looked attentively at them. She was old and wrinkled, and, from time to time, took a pinch of snuff from a large snuff-box which she took from the pocket of her dress.

"What is your name, little gal?" she inquired at last.

"Emma," answered the child,

"Come and kiss me," said the old lady.

Emma surveyed the old lady critically, and answered bluntly, "I don't want to."

"Come and kiss me, and I'll give you the first cent I find on the currant bushes," said the old lady coaxingly.

"I don't want to," answered Emma again.

"Why don't you want to?" asked the old lady, with a wintery smile.

"'Cause you're old and ugly, and put snuff up your nose." answered Emma, who had not yet learned that the truth is not to be spoken at all times.

The old lady gasped with wrath and amazement.

"Well, I never did!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, you did," said Emma, understanding her to say that she never took snuff. "I saw you do it a minute ago."

"You are a bad, wicked little gal!" said the old lady, in high displeasure. "You're spoiled child."

"No, I ain't," said Emma, angry in turn. "Don't you let her call me names," she added, speaking to Ben.

Ben found it difficult not to laugh at the old lady's discomfiture; but he felt called upon to apologize for his young charge.

"I hope you'll excuse her, ma'am," he said. "She's only a little girl."

"How old is she?" asked the old lady abruptly.

"Five years old."

"Then she'd orter know better than to sass her elders," said the old lady snappishly. "She's badly brung up. Is she your sister?"

"No, ma'am."

"Is she any kin to you?"

"No; I'm her guardian."

The old lady adjusted her spectacles, and surveyed Ben from head to foot in a scrutinizing manner.

"Sho!" said she. "Why, you're a child yourself!"

"I'm fifteen," returned Ben, with dignity.

"You don't mean to say you have the care of the little gal?"

"At present I have."

"Ain't nobody else travelin' with you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Where are you goin?"

"To Milltown."

"Where's that?"

"In Massachusetts."

"Is she goin' to board with your folks?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'd like to have charge of her for a month. I'd make a different gal of her."

"I wouldn't go with you," said Emma.

"If you was bad, I'd whip you so you couldn't stand," said the old lady, her eyes snapping. "I've got a granddarter about as big as you; but she wouldn't dare to sass me the way you have."

"I'm glad you ain't my grandmother," said Emma. "I don't want a dirty grandmother like you."

"You mustn't talk so, Emma," said Ben, thinking it time to interfere.

"Talkin' won't do no good. She ought to be whipped," said the old lady, shaking her head and scowling at Emma.

"Don't you want to go on deck and see the steamer start?" asked Ben, as the only means of putting a stop to the irrepressible conflict between the old lady and his charge.

"Oh, yes; let us go up."

So they went on deck, where Emma was not a little interested at the varied sights that met her eye.

"Did you ever see such an ugly old woman, Ben?" asked Emma, when they had reached the top of the stairs.

"Hush, Emma! You must be more particular about what you say. You shouldn't have said anything about her taking snuff."

"But she does take it," insisted the little girl. "I saw her put it up her nose."

"That is nothing to us. She has a right to take it if she wants to."

"But she wanted me to kiss her. You wouldn't want to kiss her, Ben, would you?"

"No, I don't think I should," answered Ben, with an involuntary grimace. "You were right in refusing that."

Soon after the boat started they went down to the supper-room and got some supper. Mr. Manning having supplied Ben with sufficient funds to travel in a liberal manner. Just opposite them at the table sat the old lady, who shook her head frowningly at the free-spoken young lady. Ben was amused in watching her.

"I say, you, sir," she said, addressing the waiter, "bring me some tea and toast, and be quick about it, for I ain't had anything to eat since breakfast, and feel kinder gone, at the stomach.

"Please write your order, ma'am, on this paper," said the waiter.

"What's the use of writin it? Can't you remember?"

"Yes, but the bill has to be footed up at the desk."

"Well, I can't write it, for I ain't got my specs about me."

"Madam, I shall be happy to write for you," said Ben politely.

"I'm obleeged to you. I wish you would," she said.

"What shall I put down?"

"How much is a cup of tea?"

"Ten cents."

"It's awful high. It don't cost 'em more'n three cents."

"Shall I put it down?"

"Yes, I must have it. How much do they charge for toast?"

"Dry toast – ten cents."

"That's awful high, too. Why, you can git ten slices off a five-cent loaf, and they only bring you two or three. It costs a sight to travel."

"Cream toast – twenty cents," said Ben mischievously.

"What is the world comin' to?" exclaimed the old lady. "Twenty cents for cream toast! Like as not, it's skim-milk. Well, I guess you may put down dry toast."

"Shall I put down anything else?" asked Ben.

"How much do they charge for beefsteak?" inquired the old lady.

"Fifty cents."

"It's wicked shame!" she exclaimed indignantly. "They're a set of robbers, and I've a good mind to tell 'em so. You, sir" – to the waiter who came up at that moment – "what do you mean by askin' such shameful prices for your vittles?"

"I haven't anything to do with the prices, ma'am."

"I need some meat," said the old lady sternly, "but I won't buy any. I won't encourage you in your shameful swindlin'. I'll bear up as well as I can till I get home, though like as not I shall be faint."

The waiter took the written order, and brought the old lady's tea and toast. Ben ordered some steak, and, finding that more was brought than he needed, offered a piece to the old lady.

"Shan't I rob you?" asked the old lady, looking at the meat covetously.

"Not at all, ma'am. I've taken all I want."

"Then I don't keer if I do take a piece. I feel kinder faint, and meat goes to the right spot; but I wasn't going to pay any of their shameful prices."

The old lady ate the meat with evident relish, and an expression satisfaction, which arose partly from the reflection that she was gratifying her appetite without expense. She even regarded Emma with a softened expression, saying: "I forgive you, little gal, for what you said to me. You don't know no better. You must try to behave like the boy that's with you. He's a real polite boy."

"So he is," said Emma. "I like him ever so much."

Luckily she added nothing to kindle the old lady's resentment, and they rose from the table on good terms.

Chapter XIV

Prof. Crane, The Phrenologist

After supper Ben and his young charge took their seats in the main salon. The passengers were grouped about the tables, many of them reading the New York evening papers. Among them Ben observed a tall man, wearing a full beard, and attired in a suit of rather rusty black, who presently sat down beside him. From his appearance Ben fancied that he might be a clergyman or a missionary.

"My young friend," said the stranger at length, "are you traveling to

Boston?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ahem! Do you live in Boston?"

"No, sir; I live in Milltown, a manufacturing town."

"Did you ever have your head examined?"

Ben stared at the questioner in surprise.

"What should I have my head examined for?" he asked.

"I see you don't understand me," said the gentlemen of clerical appearance. "I am a phrenologist."

"Oh, yes, I understand," said Ben.

"I lecture on phrenology and examine heads, describing the character and prominent traits of my subjects on phrenological principles. For instance, I can readily tell by the help of my science your leading tendencies, and in what career you would be most likely to meet with success."

"I would like to know that myself," said Ben, becoming interested.

"My terms for an ordinary examination are twenty-five cents. For a written description I charge a dollar."

"If I had plenty of money," said Ben, "I wouldn't mind getting a written description."

"A dollar spent that way may save you hundreds of dollars, nay, perhaps thousands," said the phrenologist insinuatingly.

Ben shook his head.

"I haven't any money to spare," he said. "I have some money, but it was given to me to pay traveling expenses."

"Surely you can spare twenty-five cents," said the phrenologist. "You can remember what I say and write it down yourself afterward."

"So, I can," said Ben. "I guess I can afford a quarter; but where can we go?"

"Stay here," said Prof. Crane, for this was his self-chosen designation. "It will probably bring me other customers."

"I don't know," said Ben, looking about him doubtfully. "I don't think I should like to have all these people hear about me."

"You need not be afraid. You have a very good heard. Besides, it is no more public than at my lectures."

"All right then!"

"Move your chair forward a little. There, that is right."

Prof. Crane arose, and assumed the attitude of a speaker.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he commenced, after clearing his throat.

The gentlemen in the saloon looked up from their newspapers in some surprise at this unexpected interruption.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am Prof. Crane, the phrenologist. I trust you will pardon the interruption if I publically examine the head of this young man, and describe his character as indicated by his phrenological development."

"Go on," said a stout gentlemen opposite. "It will help to pass the time."

"Thank you, sir. I trust that what I may say will not only help to pass the time, but lead you to reflect seriously upon the great importance of this science, and its claims upon your attention."

All eyes were turned upon Ben, who bore the ordeal very well.

"This lad has an excellent head. All the organs are well balanced, none being in great excess. His temperament is nervous-sanguine. Hope predominates with him. He will not be easily discouraged, but when he has an object in view he will pursue it perseveringly to the end. He is not quarrelsome, but will not allow himself to be trodden upon. He has plenty of courage. He is not bashful, but respectful to his elders and superiors. He is conscientious, and more likely to do right than wrong. Of course he might yield to temptation, but it would have to be a powerful one. He has a fondness for pets, and will be kind to younger children. He will find no pleasure in ill-treating or tyrannizing over them He has not much invention, and would make a poor machinist, but is likely to succeed in general business. He will probably be steady and reliable, and faithful to the interests of his employer."

This was the substance of Prof. Crane's description of our hero. Ben listened with satisfaction, feeling that it was a very good character indeed. He was sorry that some business man could not hear it, as it might lead him to offer him employment.

When the examination was over, Ben tendered the professor twenty-five cents in payment.

"Now," said the professor, looking around him, "is there any other lady or gentleman whose head I can examine, for the small sum of twenty-five cents? My usual terms are fifty cents, but as I am traveling, and this is out of office hours, I don't mind reducing the price for this occasion."

Among those present was a rustic couple, who appeared to be on a wedding trip. The bridegroom was dressed in a full suit of blue cloth, the coat being decorated with brass buttons, while the bride was resplendent in a dress brilliant in color and with large figures.

"Sally," said the young husband, "I want you to have your head examined. It only costs a quarter."

"Oh, Jonathan, how can I before all them folks?" said Sally bashfully. "Suppose he should say something bad about me."

"If he does, I'll bu'st his head," said Jonathan. "He can't say nothin' but what's good about you, Sally.

"All right, Jonathan, just as you say."

"My wife will have her head examined," said Jonathan, with a proud glance at his radiant bride.

"Please sit here, madam," said the professor. "Now I will trouble you to remove your bonnet."

"Don't tumble up my hair," said Sally solicitously.

"That will not be necessary," said Prof. Crane. "This lady has a very harmonious head."

"What's that?" inquired Sally, in a low voice, of Jonathan, who stood at her side.

"Something good, I reckon," whispered her husband.

"She has those sweet domestic virtues which fit the possessor to adorn the family circle and lend a luster to the home."

"How nice he talks!" murmured Sally, in a tone of gratification.

"Yes, Sally, he's smart," said Jonathan, "and can read you like a book."

"This lady has a great taste for music. She would be like to excel as a musician. Am I right, sir?"

"I guess you are," said Jonathan. "You'd ought to hear her sing in the choir to hum. She's got a powerful voice, Sally has. She can almost raise the rafters of the old meetin'-house."

"You see, ladies and gentlemen, that the husband of the lady confirms what I say of her. Phrenology never errs. A phrenologist is never mistaken in character. Nature has stamped her impress upon each one of us, and declares unmistakably what we are."

"Go ahead, professor," said Jonathan impatiently.

"The lady has a taste for strong and decided colors. What is showy attracts her admiration."

"That's so!" commented Jonathan.

"She has a good deal of firmness, and likes to have her own way; as most of use do," added the professor. "Still she would yield to strong persuasion."

It will be unnecessary to go farther in the examination which proved quite satisfactory to the young couple, and a source of amusement to the rest of the passengers.

Jonathan next submitted himself to the professor's skill, and was highly delighted in being told that he was fitted to shine in public life, and might hereafter become a member of Congress.

"I guess the folks at home will think more of me when they hear that," he remarked to Sally. "The professor has given us good characters."

"So he has. Do you think it's all true, Jonathan?"

"Of course it is. It's a wonderful science, Sally. I didn't know I had so many bumps."

"Nor I. I can't feel 'em myself."

"That's because you're not used to it. It takes the professor to do it."

Other subjects were forthcoming, and the professor cleared three dollars during the evening. He understood human nature well enough to flatter all, without absolutely contradicting the science of which he claimed to be the exponent.

Chapter XV

An Old Convert to Phrenology

About eleven o'clock the steamer stopped. A dense fog had sprung up, which made it perilous to proceed. Ben, who was a novice in traveling, got up to see what was the matter. He was on his way back to the stateroom, when he encountered a strange figure. The old lady was wandering about in dishabille, looking thoroughly alarmed.

Recognizing Ben, she clutched his arm.

"What has happened?" she asked, in a hollow voice, "Is the ship sinkin'?"

"No, ma'am," answered Ben. "We have only stopped on account of the fog."

"Something may run into us," exclaimed the old lady. "Oh, dear!

I wish I had never left home."

"You'd better go back to bed," said Ben soothingly. "There's no danger."

"No, I won't," said the old woman resolutely. "I'm not going to be drowned in my bed. I'll stay here till mornin'."

And she plumped down into an armchair, where she looked like an image of despair.

"Hadn't you better put on something more?" suggested Ben.

"You may get cold."

"I'll put on my shawl and bunnit," said the old lady. "I can't sleep a wink. We shall be shipwrecked; I know we shall."

Whether the old lady kept her word, or not, Ben did not know. When he entered the saloon the next morning she was already up and dressed, looking haggard from want of sleep. Ben ascertained that the boat had started again about five o'clock, and would probably reach Fall River five or six hours late. This would make it necessary to take breakfast on board.

He imparted the news to the old lady.

"It's a shame," she said indignantly. "They did it a purpose to make us spend more money. I expected to eat breakfast at my son's house in Boston."

"We shall not probably reach Boston till noon, I hear."

"Then suppose I'll have to buy somethin' to stay my stomach. It's a shame. It costs a sight to travel."

"So it does," acquiesced Ben.

"They'd oughter give us our breakfast."

"I'm afraid they won't see it in that light."

The old lady went down to breakfast, and grudgingly paid out twenty cents more for tea and toast. She was in hopes Ben would get some meat and offer her a portion; but he, too, felt the necessity of being economical, and ordered something less expensive.

Prof. Crane attempted to renew his phrenological examinations, but could only obtain two subjects.

"Shan't I examine your head?' he asked insinuatingly of the old lady.

"No, you shan't," she answered tartly. "I don't want you pawing over me."

"Don't you want me to describe your character?"

"No, I don't. Like as not, you'd slander me."

"Oh, no, ma'am; I should only indicate, by an examination of your bumps, your various tendencies and proclivities."

"I don't believe I've got any bumps."

"Oh, yes, you have. We all have them. I shall only ask you twenty-five cents for an examination."

"I won't give it," said the old lady, resolutely clutching her purse, as if she feared a violent effort to dispossess her of it. "I can't afford it."

"It is a very small sum to pay for the knowledge of yourself."

"I guess I know myself better than you do," said the old lady, nodding her head vigorously. Then, yielding to an impulse of curiosity: "Say, mister, is it a pretty good business, examinin' heads?"

"It ought to be," answered the professor, "if the world were thoroughly alive to the importance of the noble science of phrenology."

"I don't see what use it is."

"Let me tell you, then, ma'am. You have doubtless employed servants that proved unworthy of your confidence."

The old lady assented.

"Now if you had employed a phrenologist to examine a servant's head before engaging her, he would have told you at once whether she was likely to prove honest and faithful, or the reverse."

"You don't say!" exclaimed the old lady, beginning to be impressed. "Well, that would be something, I declare. Now, there's Mirandy Jones, used to work for me – I'm almost certain she stole one of my best caps."

"To wear herself?" asked Ben demurely.

"No, she wanted it for her grandmother. I'm almost sure I saw it on the old woman's head at the sewin' circle one afternoon. Then, again, there was Susan Thompson. She was the laziest, sleepiest gal I ever see. Why, one day I went into the kitchen, and what do you think? There she stood, in the middle of the floor, leanin' her head over her broom fast asleep."

"In both these cases phrenology would have enabled you to understand their deficiencies, and saved you from hiring them."

Here a gentlemen whispered to Prof. Crane: "Offer to examine the old woman's head for nothing. I will see you are paid."

The professor was not slow in taking the hint.

"Madam," said he, "as my time just now isn't particularly valuable, I don't mind examining your head for nothing."

"Will you?" said the old lady. "Well, you're very polite and oblegin'. You may, if you want to."

Prof. Crane understood that a joke was intended, and shaped his remarks accordingly.

"This lady," he commenced, "is distinguished for her amiable disposition." Here there was a smile visible on several faces, which, luckily, the old lady didn't see. "At the same time, she is always ready to stand up for her rights, and will not submit to be imposed upon."

"You're right there, mister," interjected the old lady, "as my son-in-law will testify. He tried to put upon me; but I soon let him know that I knew what was right, and meant to have it.

"My subject has a good taste for music, and would have been a superior performer if her talent had been cultivated. But her practical views would hardly have permitted her to spend much time in what is merely ornamental. She is a good housekeeper, and I may venture to remark that she understands cooking thoroughly."

The old lady – so potent is flattery – really began to look amiable.

"I wish old Miss Smith could hear you," she interrupted. "She's a vain, conceited critter, and purtends she can cook better than I can. If I couldn't make better pies that she had the last time the sewin' circle met at her house, I'd give up cookin', that's all."

"You see, gentlemen and ladies," said the professor, looking about him gravely, "how correct are the inductions of science. All that I have said thus far has been confirmed by my subject, who surely ought to know whether I am correct or not."

"This lady," he proceeded, "is fitted to shine in society. Her social sphere may have been limited by circumstances; but had her lot been cast in the shining circles of fashion, her natural grace and refinement would have enabled her to embellish any position to which she might have been called."

The contrast between the old lady's appearance and the words of Prof. Crane was so ludicrous that Ben and several others with difficulty, kept their countenances. But the old lady listened with great complacency.

"I wish my granddarter would hear you," she said. "She's a pert little thing, that thinks she knows more than her grandmother. I've often told my darter she ought to be more strict with her; but it don't do no good."

"It's the way with the young, madam. They cannot appreciate the sterling qualities of their elders."

When the examination was concluded, the old lady expressed her faith in phrenology.

"I never did believe in't before," she admitted, "but the man described me just as if he know'd me all my life. Railly, it's wonderful."

Prof. Crane got his money, and with it the favor of the old lady to whom he had given such a first-class character. Her only regret was that her friends at home could not have heard him.

About one o'clock in the afternoon the long journey was at an end, and Ben and his young charge descended from the train in the South Terminal, in Boston.