Part 26 (1/2)
”Is that what you call it?”
”Yes.”
”Well, is that what you do for a living?”
”Yes,” said Ben. ”It's my profession, when I aint attendin' to my duties as a member of the Common Council.”
”So you're a member of the city government?” asked Charles, amused.
”Yes.”
”Do you have much to do that way?”
”I'm one of the Committee on Wharves,” said Ben. ”It's my business to see that they're right side up with care; likewise that n.o.body runs away with them in the night.”
”How do you get paid?”
”Well, I earn my lodgin' that way just now,” said Ben.
”Have you always been in this business?”
”No. Sometimes I've sold papers.”
”How did you like that?”
”I like baggage-smas.h.i.+n' best, when I get enough to do. You don't live in the city, do you?”
”No, I live just out of Boston,--a few miles.”
”Ever been in New York before?”
”Once. That was four years ago. I pa.s.sed through on the way from Pennsylvania, where I used to live.”
”Pennsylvania,” repeated Ben, beginning to be interested. ”Whereabouts did you live there,--in Philadelphy?”
”No, a little way from there, in a small town named Cedarville.”
Ben started, and he nearly let fall the valise from his hand.
”What's the matter?” asked Charles.
”I came near fallin',” said Ben, a little confused. ”What's your name?”
he asked, rather abruptly.
”Charles Marston.”
Ben scanned intently the face of his companion. He had good reason to do so, for though Charles little suspected that there was any relations.h.i.+p between himself and the ragged and dirty boy who carried his valise, the two were own cousins. They had been school-mates in Cedarville, and pa.s.sed many a merry hour together in boyish sport. In fact Charles had been Ben's favorite playmate, as well as cousin, and many a time, when he lay awake in such chance lodgings as the street provided, he had thought of his cousin, and wished that he might meet him again. Now they had met most strangely; no longer on terms of equality, but one with all the outward appearance of a young gentleman, the other, a ragged and ignorant street boy. Ben's heart throbbed painfully when he saw that his cousin regarded him as a stranger, and for the first time in a long while he felt ashamed of his position. He would not for the world have revealed himself to Charles in his present situation; yet he felt a strong desire to learn whether he was still remembered. How to effect this without betraying his ident.i.ty he hardly knew; at length he thought of a way that might lead to it.
”My name's shorter'n yours,” he said.