The Store Boy. Alger Horatio Jr.

carried back the hat to Ben, and gave it to him with the remark:

      "Young man, you may call for your vegetables and other articles after the entertainment."

      "You are welcome to them," said Ben.

      "Thank you; you are very liberal."

      When at length the performance was over, Ben and Rose moved toward the door. As Rose reached the outer door, a boy about Ben's age, but considerably better dressed, stepped up to her and said, with a consequential air:

      "I will see you home, Miss Gardiner."

      "Much obliged, Mr. Davenport," said Rose, "but I have accepted Ben's escort."

      CHAPTER VI TWO YOUNG RIVALS

      Tom Davenport, for it was the son of Squire Davenport who had offered his escort to Rose, glanced superciliously at our hero.

      "I congratulate you on having secured a grocer's boy as escort," he said in a tone of annoyance.

      Ben's fist contracted, and he longed to give the pretentious aristocrat a lesson, but he had the good sense to wait for the young lady's reply.

      "I accept your congratulations, Mr. Davenport," said Rose coldly. "I have no desire to change my escort."

      Tom Davenport laughed derisively, and walked away.

      "I'd like to box his ears," said Ben, reddening.

      "He doesn't deserve your notice, Ben," said Rose, taking his arm.

      But Ben was not easily appeased.

      "Just because his father is a rich man," he resumed.

      "He presumes upon it," interrupted Rose, good-naturedly. "Well, let him. That's his chief claim to consideration, and it is natural for him to make the most of it."

      "At any rate, I hope that can't be said of me," returned Ben, his brow clearing. "If I had nothing but money to be proud of, I should be very poorly off."

      "You wouldn't object to it, though."

      "No, I hope, for mother's sake, some day to be rich."

      "Most of our rich men were once poor boys," said Rose quietly. "I have a book of biographies at home, and I find that not only rich men, but men distinguished in other ways, generally commenced in poverty."

      "I wish you'd lend me that book," said Ben. "Sometimes I get despondent and that will give me courage."

      "You shall have it whenever you call at the house. But you mustn't think too much of getting money."

      "I don't mean to; but I should like to make my mother comfortable. I don't see much chance of it while I remain a 'grocer's boy,' as Tom Davenport calls me."

      "Better be a grocer's boy than spend your time in idleness, as Tom does."

      "Tom thinks it beneath him to work."

      "If his father had been of the sane mind when he was a boy, he would never have become a rich man."

      "Was Squire Davenport a poor boy?"

      "Yes, so uncle told me the other day. When he was a boy he worked on a farm. I don't know how he made his money, but I presume he laid the foundation of his wealth by hard work. So, Tom hasn't any right to look down upon those who are beginning now as his father began."

      They had by this time traversed half the distance from the Town Hall to the young lady's home. The subject of conversation was changed and they began to talk about the evening's entertainment. At length they reached the minister's house.

      "Won't you come in, Ben?" asked Rose.

      "Isn't it too late?"

      "No, uncle always sits up late reading, and will be glad to see you."

      "Then I will come in for a few minutes."

      Ben's few minutes extended to three-quarters of an hour. When he came out, the moon was obscured and it was quite dark. Ben had not gone far when he heard steps behind him, and presently a hand was laid on his shoulder.

      "Hello, boy!" said a rough voice.

      Ben started, and turning suddenly, recognized in spite of the darkness, the tramp who had attempted to rob him during the day. He paused, uncertain whether he was not going to be attacked, but the tramp laughed reassuringly.

      "Don't be afraid, boy," he said. "I owe you some money, and here it is."

      He pressed into the hand of the astonished Ben the dollar which our hero had given him.

      "I don't think it will do me any good," he said. "I've given it back, and now you can't say I robbed you."

      "You are a strange man," said Ben.

      "I'm not so bad as I look," said the tramp. "Some day I may do you a service. I'm goin' out of town to-night, and you'll hear from me again some time."

      He turned swiftly, and Ben lost sight of him.

      CHAPTER VII THE TRAMP MAKES ANOTHER CALL

      My readers will naturally be surprised at the tramp's restitution of a coin, which, though counterfeit, he would probably have managed to pass, but this chapter will throw some light on his mysterious conduct.

      When he made a sudden exit from Mrs. Barclay's house, upon the appearance of the squire and his friend, he did not leave the premises, but posted himself at a window, slightly open, of the room in which the widow received her new visitors. He listened with a smile to the squire's attempt to force Mrs. Barclay to sell her house.

      "He's a sly old rascal!" thought the tramp. "I'll put a spoke in his wheel."

      When the squire and his wife's cousin left the house, the tramp followed at a little distance. Not far from the squire's handsome residence Kirk left him, and the tramp then came boldly forward.

      "Good-evenin'," he said familiarly.

      Squire Davenport turned sharply, and as his eye fell on the unprepossessing figure, he instinctively put his hand in the pocket in which he kept his wallet.

      "Who are you?" he demanded apprehensively.

      "I ain't a thief, and you needn't fear for your wallet," was the reply.

      "Let me pass, fellow! I can do nothing for you."

      "We'll see about that!"

      "Do you threaten me?" asked Squire Davenport, in alarm.

      "Not at all; but I've got some business with you—some important business."

      "Then call to-morrow forenoon," said Davenport, anxious to get rid of his ill-looking acquaintance.

      "That won't do; I want to leave town tonight."

      "That's nothing to me."

      "It may be," said the tramp significantly. "I want to speak to you about the husband of the woman you called on to-night."

      "The husband of Mrs. Barclay! Why, he is dead!" ejaculated the squire, in surprise.

      "That is true. Do you know whether he left any property?"

      "No, I believe not."

      "That's what I want to talk about. You'd better see me to-night."

      There was significance in the tone of the tramp, and Squire Davenport looked at him searchingly.

      "Why don't you go and see Mrs. Barclay about this matter?" he asked.

      "I may, but I think you'd better see me first."

      By this time they had reached the Squire's gate.

      "Come in," he said briefly.

      The squire led the way into a comfortable sitting room, and his rough visitor followed him. By the light of an astral lamp Squire Davenport looked at him.

      "Did I ever see you before?" he asked.

      "Probably not."

      "Then I don't see what business we can have together. I am tired, and wish to go to bed."

      "I'll come to business at once,