  Mark had intended to find a new and more comfortable place for his mother, being dissatisfied with their humble rooms in St. Mark's Place, but the journey he was called upon so unexpectedly to make, led to a postponement of this plan. "You can move, mother, if you like," said Mark, after placing the hundred dollars in her hands. "You'll have money enough." "That's true, Mark, but you wouldn't know how to address me, and I might lose some of your letters. I shall be satisfied to stay here till you return. But do you think you had better go? You are very young to cross the continent alone." "I am nearly sixteen, mother, and I have been in the habit of looking out for myself. Besides Mr. Gilbert thinks I am old enough, and if he has confidence in me I ought to have confidence in myself." "I suppose it is all right, but I shall miss you terribly." "It is for my good, and will be for yours, mother. I have long wanted to leave the messenger service and get into some steady position where I can push myself ahead, and this seems to me my chance." "You will write often, Mark?" "I will be sure to do that. You don't think I will forget my mother?" On Saturday evening Mark went to Mr. Gilbert's to receive instructions. "I must tell you something about the boy of whom you are to be temporary guardian," said Mr. Gilbert. "Perhaps it will be best for me to read you in the first place the letter I received from my poor cousin just before his death. It was written at his dictation, for he was already too weak to hold the pen." He drew from a desk this letter which he proceeded to read aloud: "Gulchville, California, "Oct. 17. "My dear Cousin, "When this letter reaches you I shall in all probability be in a better world. I am dying of consumption. I leave behind me a boy of ten—my poor little Philip. I leave him to the mercies of a cold world, for I am penniless. I had a little property once, but I speculated and lost all. Poor Philip will be an orphan and destitute. I know you are rich and prosperous. Won't you, in your generosity, agree to care for my poor boy? He won't require much, and I shall be content to have him reared plainly, but I don't want him to suffer. "I am sick at the house of a cousin of my wife. He is a mean man, and his wife is also penurious and mean. They have made my sickness still more bitter by their taunts. They complain that I am an expense to them, and they would turn me out of doors, sick as I am, I am convinced, if they were not ashamed to do so. Poor Philip will be left to their tender mercies, but I hope only for a short time. I can bear to suffer myself, but I can't bear to think of his suffering. He is a sensitive boy, not over strong, and ill-fitted to bear the buffetings of a cold and unkind world. Won't you send for him as soon as you can? In your hands I am sure he will be safe and kindly cared for. "I am getting very tired and must stop. God bless you! "Your unfortunate cousin, "John Lillis. "P. S. The man in whose house I am stopping is named Nahum Sprague." "You see, Mark, your mission will be one of mercy. The sooner the poor boy is rescued from such people as Mr. and Mrs. Sprague the better for him. By the way, I don't want them to say my cousin has been an expense to them. Therefore I will authorize you to obtain from them an itemized account of what they have spent for him and the boy and pay it. You will see that they don't impose upon me by presenting too large a bill." "Yes, sir. I will look sharply after your interests." "I shall give you more than enough to get you to San Francisco, and I will give you a letter to a firm there, authorizing you to draw upon them for any sum you may require up to a thousand dollars." "But that will be a great deal more than I shall need." "I presume so, but I give you so large a credit to use in case of emergencies." "You are trusting me very far, Mr. Gilbert." "I am aware of that, but I feel entirely safe in doing so." "Thank you, sir." Other directions were given, and it was agreed that Mark should start on his long journey on Monday morning. |
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