While Ben is considering how he can find employment, we will go back to Wrayburn.

Jacob Winter felt very sorry over Ben’s running away. His stepson was a strong boy and would have been of considerable service on the farm even if Mr. Flack had not agreed to take him. But what troubled Jacob most was the fifty dollars a year which the shoemaker had agreed to pay him.

Then, too, he felt that Ben had defied his authority, and had come out victorious. It was not pleasant to be worsted by a boy.

He felt obliged to go round to Silas Flack’s shop and inform him of what had happened. The shoemaker looked up when the farmer entered the store.

“Good morning, Mr. Winter. How are you this morning?”

“Tollable, but I’ve had something to vex me.”

“What’s that?”

“Ben has gone away.” “Gone away? Where?”

“He’s run away, I expect.”

“What’s he run away for?”

“Well, he didn’t like the idee of goin’ to work in a shoe-shop.”

“He was over here and had a talk with me yesterday. He didn’t seem to like the idee, but I thought it was only a boy’s notion. You don’t mean to say he’s run away on that account?”

“When I went up this mornin’ to call him I couldn’t find any trace of him.”

“Hadn’t the bed been slept in?”

“No.”

“Then he must have gone away last night.”

“He went over and slept with the Graham boy. He tells me that Ben got up early this mornin’ and walked over to the railroad and took the cars for Boston.”

“Did he have any money with him?”

“He had two dollars given him by his mother.”

“Did she know he was going to run away?”

“Well, she surmised it, and she upholds the boy in it. She wanted him to go to the high school.”

“That was all foolishness. He knows as much as you or I now and maybe more.”

“Yes, I’ve done my duty by Ben in givin’ him an eddication. What’s enough for you and me is enough for him.”

“That’s so. Well, how about our engagement?”

“It’ll be carried out,” said Jacob firmly. “I’ll get the boy back, but it may be a leetle later than I calculated.”

“What steps have you taken? Did you say he went to Boston?”

“Yes.”

“Shall you go to Boston and bring him back?”

“Well, I might not find him easy, and it costs money to travel. But I expect he’ll be comin’ back himself. Two dollars won’t last him very long, and he’ll be glad enough to come home.”

“Will he have money enough to get back?”

“He may have to foot it, but it will do him good. He ought to suffer a little for his foolishness. Just keep the place open for him, Silas, and I’ll see that he comes as soon as he gets back.”

“All right, Mr. Winter. I always thought Ben was smart even if he is a bit headstrong, and I’d be glad to have him with me.”

Mr. Winter left the shoemaker’s somewhat encouraged. The place was still open to Ben, and he had not yet lost the fifty dollars a year which he was to receive by contract. “We’ll see if a boy’s goin’ to get the best of me,” he soliloquized, nodding his head emphatically. “Ben’s got his mother on his side, but when Jacob Winter puts down his foot that settles it.”

The next morning, as Mrs. Winter was at work in the kitchen, there was a knock at the side door. Opening it she found her caller to be a man well known about the village, Jonathan Smith by name. He was elderly and a bachelor, and acted as janitor of one of the churches.

“How are you, Jonathan?” she said.

“I’m so’s to be round, Mrs. Winter. I hear your boy Ben has gone away.”

“Yes, he has gone to Boston.”

“I suppose you ain’t heerd of him since he went away?”

“No; have you any news of him?” asked Mrs. Winter, detecting some significance in Jonathan’s tone.

“Yes,” answered Jonathan complacently, and he began to open a copy of the Boston Globe, considerably to Mrs. Winter’s surprise. What could Ben have to do with the Globe?

Opening the paper Jonathan pointed out Ben’s picture, saying, “What do you say to that?”

“Why, it’s Ben!” exclaimed Mrs. Winter in surprise and agitation. “What’s happened? Has he met with any accident?”

“No; he’s saved a boy from being bit by a mad dog. You just read it, and it’ll tell you all about it.”

Mrs. Winter did read it, and she felt proud of Ben’s bravery.

“It’s kind of smart of Ben gettin’ into the paper,” remarked Jonathan.

“Can you leave me the paper, Jonathan?”

“Yes, I reckon so. I know where I can get another.”

“Let me pay you for it, and come in and eat a piece of mince pie. I’ve got one fresh-baked. You were kind to bring me round the paper.”

“You see Ben always treated me well. Some of the boys plague me, but he never did.”

About an hour later Mr. Winter came into the house. He was rather cross, for he had been doing some chores which would have fallen to Ben had he been home.

“I wish I had Ben here,” he said in a grumbling tone. “Like as not, he’s sufferin’ for his foolishness. I shouldn’t wonder if he was hungry and wished himself home. What can a boy like that do in Boston?” “He seems to have done himself credit there, Mr. Winter.”

“What?” demanded Jacob. “You hain’t heard from him, have you?”

“Only through the paper.”

“What do you mean by that, Mrs. W.? Is there anything about Ben in the paper?”

“Look at that, Mr. Winter.”

Jacob Winter put on his glasses, and stared open-mouthed at Ben’s picture in the Globe.

“Well, that beats all!” he exclaimed.

“I guess a boy like that can make his way,” said the mother proudly.

Mr. Winter read carefully the account of Ben and his exploit, and hardly knew what to say.

“He won’t have to fight a mad dog every day,” he observed at length.

“No, I hope not,” returned the mother fervently, “but it shows he’s brave. I think this man will prove a friend to him.”

Jacob Winter went out to the barn in a thoughtful mood. He began to think it less likely that Ben would “foot it back” to Wrayburn. But none the less he wished him back. Such a boy would eventually be a source of profit to him.

The next day Albert Graham came to the house.

“I’ve had a letter from Ben,” he said. “Is it possible? Where did he write from?” asked Mrs. Winter eagerly.

“From New York. Here it is.”

Mrs. Winter read the letter eagerly. It ran as follows:

“Dear Albert:

“You see I have got to New York safe and sound. I had a little adventure in Boston which got into the Boston Globe. I know your folks take that paper, so I need not say any more about it, except that Mr. Wentworth, whose boy I saved from being bitten by a mad dog, treated me very kindly and generously. As my coat was spoiled he gave me an order on a tailor for a new suit, and told me to spare no expense. My suit cost twenty-five dollars, so you can judge that it is a fine one. The coat I had on when I left home was old and shabby, and I was glad to give it up. A poor boy asked me for it, and I gave it to him.

“That was not all. When the thing happened my cousin Adelbert was with me. Mr. Wentworth invited us both to dinner at his house on Mt. Vernon Street. He lives in a fine house, and we had a tip-top dinner. You see I was pretty well paid.

“But that was not all. A new silver watch and chain was given to me before I left the house, and I was told that I must consider that a present from Paul, the little boy. You just ought to see me, Albert, in my new clothes and with my silver watch. Mr. Winter would open his eyes if he should see me. I haven’t any reason to be sorry yet that I left home.

“Now about coming to New York. On the boat I came across the burglar that tried to rob Mr. Winter, and I caught him robbing a gentleman’s stateroom. I was in time to give the alarm. The gentleman is a Mr. Griswold, a member of an athletic club in New York. He has taken me into his employ for three or four days till he starts for Europe. I wish he were going to stay in the city, for I think he would give me a permanent place. However, I have fared so well already that I guess I can get along. Please let mother read this letter. I write you, for I am afraid Mr. Winter might intercept any letter I wrote to her. I will write her soon and send it to your care. Mr. Griswold has just come in and I must close.

“Your affectionate friend,

“Ben.”

“Isn’t Ben having splendid luck, Mrs. Winter?” said Albert. “Yes, and I have reason to feel thankful.”

When Mr. Winter came in and suggested that Ben was probably “footin’ it home,” his wife only smiled.