Toward the first of April of the succeeding year, Miss Sophia Grant took a severe cold, not serious, indeed, but such as to make it prudent for her to remain indoors. This occasioned a little derangement of her sister's plans; for both sisters were in the habit, about the first of April and of October, of taking a journey to Boston—partly for a change, and partly because at these times certain banks in which they owned stock declared dividends, which they took the opportunity to collect. But this spring it seemed doubtful if they could go. Yet they wanted the money—a part of it, at least.
“Send Andrew,” suggested Miss Sophia, after her sister had stated the difficulty.
In general Miss Priscilla did not approve Sophia's suggestions, but this struck her more favorably.
“I don't know but we might,” she said, slowly. “He is a boy to be trusted.”
“And I think he is a smart boy.”
“He can take care of himself. You remember how he saved Colonel Preston from the robber?”
“Then, on the other hand, he has never been to Boston.”
“I don't suppose there would be any particular difficulty. I could give him all the necessary directions.”
So, after supper, as Andy was going out into the woodshed for an armful of wood, Miss Priscilla stopped him.
“Were you ever in Boston, Andy?” asked she.
“Because I should like to send you there on some business.”
“I'll go, ma'am,” said Andy, eagerly.
Like most boys of his age, no proposition could have been more agreeable.
“Do you think you could find your way there, and around the city?”
“No fear of that, ma'am,” said Andy, confidently.
“We generally go ourselves, as you know, but my sister is sick, and I don't like to leave her.”
“Of course not, ma'am,” said Andy, quite approving any plan that opened the way for a journey to him.
“We own bank stock, and on the first of April they pay us dividends. Now, if we send you, do you think you can get to the bank, get the money, and bring it back safe?”
“I'll do it for you, ma'am,” said Andy.
“Well, I'll think of it between now and next week. If we send you at all, you must start next Monday.”
“I'll go any day, ma'am,” said Andy, “any day you name.”
Miss Priscilla finally decided to send Andrew, but cautioned him against saying anything about it, except to his own family.
On Monday morning, just before the morning train was to start, Andrew appeared on the platform of the modest village depot with a small carpetbag in his hand, lent him by the Misses Grant.
“Give me a ticket to Boston,” said he to the station master.
Godfrey Preston, who was about to return to his boarding school, had just purchased a ticket, and overheard this. He didn't much care to speak to Andy, but his curiosity overcame his pride.
“Are you going to Boston?” he asked.
“Has Miss Grant turned you off?”
“She didn't say anything about it this morning. Why, do you want to take my place?”
“Do you think I'd stoop to be a hired boy?” said Godfrey, haughtily.
“You wouldn't need to stoop,” said Andy; “you ain't any too tall.”
Godfrey winced at this. He was not tall of his age, and he wanted to be. Andy had been growing faster than he, and was now, though scarcely as old, quite two inches taller.
“It makes no difference about being tall,” he rejoined. “I am a gentleman, and don't have to work for a living like you do.”
“What are you going to be when you grow up?”
“Then won't you work for money?”
“Then you'll be a hired man, and work for a living.”
“That's very different. When are you coming back?”
“When I've finished my business.”
“Humph! I shouldn't wonder if you were running away.”
“Don't you tell anybody,” said Andy, in a bantering tone.
“Where did you get the money to pay for your ticket?”
“What would you give to know?”
“You are impudent,” said Godfrey, his cheek flushing.
“So are your questions,” said Andy.
“Look here, Godfrey Preston,” said Andy, roused to indignation by this insinuation, “you'd better not say that again, if you know what's best for yourself.”
He advanced a step with a threatening look, and Godfrey instinctively receded.
“That comes of my speaking to my inferior,” he said.
“I don't know anybody that's inferior to you.”
Godfrey turned on his heel wrathfully, muttering something about a “low beggar,” which Andy, not hearing, did not resent.
The whistle of the locomotive was heard, and the cars came along.
With high anticipation of pleasure, Andy got aboard. He had before him a journey of close upon a hundred miles, and he wished it had been longer. He had never been much of a traveler, and the scenes which were to greet his eyes were all novel. He had heard a good deal of Boston also, and he wanted to see it.
Besides the money which Miss Grant had given him to defray his expenses, he had with him ten dollars of his own. Since his mother had received the two donations from Colonel Preston she made Andy keep half his wages for his own use. These were now seven dollars a week, so he kept three and a half, and of this sum was able to lay up about half. So he had a supply of money in his trunk, of which he had taken with him ten dollars.
“Maybe I'll see something I want to buy in the city,” he said to himself.
I don't mean to dwell upon the journey. There is nothing very exciting in a railway trip, even of a hundred miles, nowadays, unless, indeed, the cars run off the track, or over the embankment, and then it is altogether too exciting to be agreeable. For the sake of my young hero, whom I really begin to like, though he was “only an Irish boy,” I am glad to say that nothing of that sort took place; but in good time—about the time when the clock on the Old South steeple indicated noon—Andy's train drove into the Boston &Maine Railway depot, fronting on Haymarket Square.
“Inquire your way to Washington Street.”
That was the first direction that Andy had received from Miss Priscilla, and that was what our hero did first.
The question was addressed to a very civil young man, who politely gave Andy the necessary directions. So, in a short time, he reached Washington Street by way of Court Street.
The next thing was to inquire the way to the Merchants' Bank, that being the one in which the ladies owned the largest amount of stock.
“Where is the Merchants' Bank?” asked Andy of a boy, whose blacking-box denoted his occupation.
“I'll show you, mister,” said the boy. “Come along.” His young guide, instead of taking him to the bank, took him to the side door of the court-house, and said:
It was a massive stone building, and Andy, not suspecting that he was being fooled, went in. Wandering at random, he found his way into a room, where a trial was going on. That opened his eyes.
“He cheated me,” thought Andy. “Maybe I'll get even with him.”
He retraced his steps, and again found himself in the street. His fraudulent young guide, with a grin on a face not over clean, was awaiting his appearance.
