Part 23 (1/2)
”Yes, sir, and had a fight at the summit.”
Mr. Melville looked at Herbert in amazement.
”Had a fight at the top of Bunker Hill Monument?” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.
”Yes, sir; let me tell you about it.”
When the story was told, Mr. Melville said: ”That was certainly a remarkable adventure, Herbert. Still, I am not sorry that it occurred.”
It was Herbert's turn to look surprised.
”I will tell you why. It proves to me that you are worthy of my confidence, and can be trusted with the care of money. It has also taught you a lesson, to beware of knaves, no matter how plausible they may be.”
”I haven't got over my surprise yet, sir, at discovering the real character of the man who went with me. I am sorry I met him. I don't like to distrust people.”
”Nor I. But it is not necessary to distrust everybody. In your journey through the world you will make many agreeable and trustworthy acquaintances in whom it will be safe to confide. It is only necessary to be cautious and not give your confidence too soon.”
”Oh, I didn't mention that I met somebody from Wayneboro,” said Herbert.
”Was it Eben Graham?”
”Yes.”
”I met him myself on Was.h.i.+ngton Street. Did you speak to him?”
”Yes, sir.”
”I suppose he goes back to-night?”
”I don't think he will go back at all, Mr. Melville.”
His employer looked at him inquiringly.
”I saw him buy a ticket to Chicago, though he does not know it,”
continued Herbert. ”When he spoke with me he didn't admit it, but spoke of going back by an afternoon train.”
”I am afraid he has appropriated some of his father's funds,” said Melville. ”I doubt if Ebenezer Graham would voluntarily furnish him the means of going West.”
”That was just what occurred to me,” said Herbert; ”but I didn't like to think that Eben would steal.”
”Perhaps he has not. We shall be likely to hear when we return. But you must be hungry. We will go in to dinner.”
Herbert followed Mr. Melville into the dining room, where a good dinner was ordered, and partaken of. Herbert looked over the bill of fare, but the high prices quite startled him. He was not used to patronizing hotels, and it seemed to him that the price asked for a single dish ought to be enough to pay for a whole dinner for two. He knew about what it cost for a meal at home, and did not dream that it would amount to so much more at a hotel.
When the check was brought Herbert looked at it.
”Two dollars and a half!” he exclaimed.
”It costs an awful amount to live in Boston.”