Part 7 (1/2)
The pa.s.senger wore a sack coat, and it was plain to all that the young lady was right.
”I will pay for the package if the pa.s.senger is not honest enough to do it himself.”
”No, miss,” said a rough-looking man who looked like a western miner.
”This man must pay, or I'll pitch him out of the car myself.”
”I think you had better pay, sir,” said the pompous looking man with an air of disgust. ”I took your part, because I supposed you were a gentleman.”
The other, without a word, drew out a dime from his pocket and handed it to Fred. Then, looking very ill at ease, he left the car hurriedly, and went as far forward as possible.
”Do you have many experiences like this?” asked the young lady, with a smile.
”Yes, miss, quite frequently,” aid Fred, ”and it isn't the poor pa.s.sengers that try to cheat me. Sometimes I travel on emigrant trains, but I never lost a cent by an emigrant. It is those who are able to pay, like this man, who try to take advantage of me.”
”Do you make good pay?”
”I average about a dollar a day.”
”I suppose that is fair pay for a boy of your age.”
”Yes, it is; but I need it all. I have a mother and brother to support.”
”Have you, indeed?” said the young lady sympathetically. ”You can't all three live on six dollars a week.”
”Mother earns a little by sewing, but that isn't paid very well.”
”Very true. So you sometimes get into difficulties?”
”We are in difficulties now. The rent is due, and we lack three dollars to make it up.”
”That is easily remedied,” said the young lady. ”It is my birthday to-day, and I shall allow myself the luxury of doing good. Here are five dollars which you will use to pay the landlord.”
”Thank you, miss,” said Fred gladly. ”You have lifted a weight from my mind. Our landlord is a strict man, and I was afraid we would be turned out on the street.”
”Miss, will you let me shake hands with you? You're a trump!”
It was the western miner who spoke, and he had come forward impulsively from his seat, and was extending a rough, sunburned hand to the young lady.
She did not hesitate a moment, but with a pleasant smile placed her hand in his.
”I wish all high-toned gals was like you, miss,” said the miner, as he shook her hand heartily.
”I am sure you would do the same, sir,” said Isabel Archer.
”Yes, I would, and I meant to if you hadn't got the start of me. You'll excuse the liberty I took,” said the miner.
”Oh, yes, certainly.”
”I'm a rough miner, but----”