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The Ben, The Luggage Boy; or, Among the Wharves, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 20. How All Came Right In The Morning |
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_ CHAPTER XX. HOW ALL CAME RIGHT IN THE MORNING It is quite possible that the pickpocket would have made good his escape, if he had not, unluckily for himself, run into another policeman. "Beg your pardon," he said, hurriedly. "Stop a minute," said the officer, detaining him by the arm, for his appearance and haste inspired suspicion. He was bare-headed, for his hat had fallen off, and he had not deemed it prudent to stop long enough to pick it up. "I'm in a great hurry," panted the thief. "My youngest child is in a fit, and I am running for a physician." This explanation seemed plausible, and the policeman, who was himself the father of a family, was on the point of releasing him, when the first officer came up. "Hold on to him," he said; "he's just broken away from me." "That's it, is it?" said the second policeman. "He told me he was after a doctor for his youngest child." "I think he'll need a doctor himself," said the first, "if he tries another of his games. You didn't stop to say good-by, my man." "I told you I had an important engagement," said the pickpocket, sulkily,--"one that I cared more about than the money. Where's the boy?" "I had to leave him to go after you." "That's a pretty way to manage; you let the thief go in order to chase his victim." "You're an able-bodied victim," said the policeman, laughing. "Where are you taking me?" "I'm going back for the boy. He said he'd wait till I returned." "Are you green enough to think you'll find him?" sneered the man in charge. "Perhaps not; but I shouldn't be surprised if I did. If I guess right, he'll find it worth his while to keep his promise." When they returned to the place where the thief had first effected his escape, our hero was found quietly sitting on a wooden step. "So you've got him," said Ben, advancing to meet the officer with evident satisfaction. "He's got you too," growled the pickpocket. "Why didn't you run away, you little fool?" "I didn't have anything to run for," answered Ben. "Besides, I want my money back." "Then you'll have to go with me to the station-house," said the officer. "I wish I could go to Mr. Abercrombie's office first to tell Mr. Sampson what's happened." "I can't let you do that; but you may write a letter from the station-house." "All right," said Ben, cheerfully; and he voluntarily placed himself on the other side of the officer, and accompanied him to the station-house. "I thought you was guilty at first," said the officer; "but I guess your story is correct. If it isn't, you're about the coolest chap I ever saw, and I've seen some cool ones in my day." "It's just as I said," said Ben. "It'll all come right in the morning." They soon reached the station-house. Ben obtained the privilege of writing a letter to Mr. Sampson, for which the officer undertook to procure a messenger. In fact he began to feel quite interested for our hero, feeling fully convinced that the other party was the real offender. Ben found some difficulty in writing his letter. When he first came to the city, he could have written one with considerable ease, but he had scarcely touched a pen, or formed a letter, for six years, and of course this made an important difference. However he finally managed to write these few lines with a lead-pencil:-- "MR. SAMPSON: I am sory I can't cary that leter til to-morrow; but it was took from my pokit by a thefe wen I was ridin' in the cars, and as he sed I took it from him, the 'copp' has brort us both to the stashun-house, whare I hope you wil come and tel them how it was, and that you give me the leter to cary, for the other man says it is his The 'copp' took the leter "BEN HOOPER."
Meanwhile, Mr. Sampson was busily engaged in his office in Wall Street. It may as well be explained here that he was the junior partner of Mr. Abercrombie. Occasionally he paused in his business to wonder whether he had done well to expose a ragged street boy to such a temptation; but he was a large-hearted man, inclined to think well of his fellow-men, and though in his business life he had seen a good deal that was mean and selfish in the conduct of others, he had never lost his confidence in human nature, and never would. It is better to have such a disposition, even if it does expose the possessor to being imposed upon at times, than to regard everybody with distrust and suspicion. At any rate it promotes happiness, and conciliates good-will, and these will offset an occasional deception. An hour had passed, when a boy presented himself at Mr. Abercrombie's office. It was a newsboy, who had been intrusted with Ben's letter. "This is for Mr. Sampson," he said, looking around him on entering. "Another of Mr. Sampson's friends," sneered Granby, in a tone which he took care should be too low to come to that gentleman's ears. "My name is Sampson," said the owner of that name. "Who is your letter from?" "It's from Ben." "And who is Ben?" asked Mr. Sampson, not much enlightened. "It's Ben, the baggage-smasher." "Give it to me," said the gentleman, conjecturing rightly that it was his messenger who was meant. He ran his eye rapidly over the paper, or, I should say, as rapidly as the character of Ben's writing would permit. "Do you come from the station-house?" he asked, looking up. "Yes, sir." "Which station-house is it?" "In Leonard Street." "Very well. Go back and tell the boy that I will call this afternoon. I will also give you a line to a house on Madison Avenue. Can you go right up there, calling at the station-house on the way?" "Yes, sir." "Very well. Here is something for your trouble." The boy pocketed with satisfaction the money proffered him, and took the letter which Mr. Sampson hastily wrote. It was to this effect:-- "MY DEAR MRS. ABERCROMBIE: I received your note, and despatched the money which you desired by a messenger; but I have just learned that his pocket was picked on the horse-cars. I cannot spare one of my clerks just now, but at one o'clock will send one up with the money, hoping that he may have better fortune than the first messenger, and that you will not be seriously inconvenienced by the delay. "Yours truly, "HENRY SAMPSON." Then he dismissed the matter from his mind until afternoon, when, the office having closed, he made his way to the Leonard Street station-house, where he was speedily admitted to see Ben. "I'm glad you've come, Mr. Sampson," said our hero, eagerly. "I hope you don't think I was to blame about the letter." "Tell me how it was, my lad," said Mr. Sampson, kindly. "I dare say you can give me a satisfactory explanation." Ben felt grateful for the kindness of his tone. He saw that he was not condemned unheard, but had a chance of clearing himself. He explained, briefly, how it occurred. Of course it is unnecessary to give his account, for we know all about it already. "I believe you," said Mr. Sampson, in a friendly tone. "The only fault I have to find with you is that you might have been more careful in guarding your pockets." "That's so," said Ben; "but I don't often carry anything that's worth stealing." "No, I suppose not," said Mr. Sampson, smiling. "Well, it appears that no serious loss has occurred. The money will be recovered, as it is in the hands of the authorities. As to the delay, that is merely an inconvenience; but the most serious inconvenience falls upon you, in your being brought here." "I don't mind that as long as the money is safe," said Ben. "It'll all be right in the morning." "I see you are a philosopher. I see your face is swelled. You must have got a blow." "Yes," said Ben; "the chap that took my letter left me something to remember him by." "I shall try to make it up to you," said Mr. Sampson. "I can't stop any longer, but I will be present at your trial, and my testimony will undoubtedly clear you." He took his leave, leaving Ben considerably more cheerful than before. A station-house is not a very agreeable place of detention; but then Ben was not accustomed to luxury, and the absence of comfort did not trouble him much. He cared more for the loss of his liberty, finding the narrow cell somewhat too restricted for enjoyment. However, he consoled himself by reflecting, to use his favorite phrase, that it would "all be right in the morning." It will not be necessary to give a circumstantial account of Ben's trial. Mr. Sampson was faithful to his promise, and presented himself, somewhat to his personal inconvenience, at the early hour assigned for trial. His testimony was brief and explicit, and cleared Ben. The real pickpocket, however, being recognized by the judge as one who had been up before him some months before, charged with a similar offence, was sentenced to a term of imprisonment, considerably to his dissatisfaction. Ben left the court-room well pleased with the result. His innocence had been established, and he had proved that he could be trusted, or rather, he had not proved faithless to his trust, and he felt that with his present plans and hopes he could not afford to lose his character for honesty. He knew that he had plenty of faults, but at any rate he was not a thief. While he stood on the steps of the Tombs, in which the trial had taken place, Mr. Sampson advanced towards him, and touched him on the shoulder. "Well, my lad," he said, in a friendly manner, "so you're all right once more?" "Yes," said Ben; "I knew it would all be right in the morning." "I owe you something for the inconvenience you have suffered while in my employ. Here is a ten-dollar bill. I hope you will save it till you need it, and won't spend it foolishly." "Thank you," said Ben, joyfully. "I'll put it in the bank." "That will be a good plan. Good-morning; when you need a friend, you will know where to find me." He shook Ben's hand in a friendly way and left him. "He's a trump," thought Ben. "If my father'd treated me like that, I'd never have wanted to run away from home." _ |
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