It was Mr. Bayard. He had finished his business with the gentleman by his side, and hearing the noise of the scuffle, had come to learn the occasion of it.
"This impudent young puppy wouldn't let the books alone!" began Mr. Timmins. "I threatened to turn him out if he didn't; and I meant to make good my threat. I think he meant to steal something."
Bobby was astonished and shocked at this bold imputation; but he wished to have his case judged on its own merits; so he turned his face away, that Mr. Bayard might not recognize him.
"I wanted to buy one of these blank books," added Bobby, picking up the one he had dropped on the floor in the struggle.
"All stuff!" ejaculated Timmins. "He is an impudent, obstinate puppy! In my opinion he meant to steal that book."
"I asked him the price, and told him I wanted to buy it," added Bobby, still averting his face.
"Well, I told him; and he said it was too high."
"He asked me twenty-five cents for it."
"Is this true, Timmins?" asked Mr. Bayard, sternly.
"No, sir! I told him fourpence," replied Timmins, boldly.
"By gracious! What a whopper!" exclaimed Bobby, startled out of his propriety by this monstrous lie. "He said twenty-five cents; and I told him I could buy one up in Riverdale, where I came from, for six cents. Can you deny that?"
"It's a lie!" protested Timmins.
"Riverdale," said Mr. Bayard. "Are you from Riverdale, boy?"
"Yes, sir, I am; and if you will look on your memorandum book you will find my name there."
"Bless me! I am sure I have seen that face before," exclaimed Mr. Bayard, as he grasped the hand of Bobby, much to the astonishment and consternation of Mr. Timmins. "You are——"
"Robert Bright, sir."
"My brave little fellow! I am heartily glad to see you;" and the bookseller shook the hand he held with hearty good will. "I was thinking of you only a little while ago."
"This fellow calls me a liar," said Bobby, pointing to the astonished Mr. Timmins, who did not know what to make of the cordial reception which "Country" was receiving from his employer.
"Well, Robert, we know that he is a liar; this is not the first time he has been caught in a lie. Timmins, your time is out."
The spruce clerk hung his head with shame and mortification.
"I hope, sir, you will——" he began, but pride or fear stopped him short.
"Don't be hard with him, sir, if you please," said Bobby. "I suppose I aggravated him."
Mr. Bayard looked at the gentleman who stood by his side, and a smile of approbation lighted up his face.
"Generous as he is noble! Butler, this is the boy that saved Ellen."
"Indeed! He is a little giant!" replied Mr. Butler, grasping Bobby's hand.
Even Timmins glanced with something like admiration in his looks at the youth whom he had so lately despised. Perhaps, too, he thought of that Scripture wisdom about entertaining angels unawares. He was very much abashed, and nothing but his silly pride prevented him from acknowledging his error and begging Bobby's forgiveness.
"I can't have a liar about me," said Mr. Bayard.
"There may be some mistake," suggested Mr. Butler.
"I think not. Robert Bright couldn't lie. So brave and noble a boy is incapable of a falsehood. Besides, I got a letter from my friend Squire Lee by this morning's mail, in which he informed me of my young friend's coming."
Mr. Bayard took from his pocket a bundle of letters, and selected the squire's from among them. Opening it, he read a passage which had a direct bearing upon the case before him.
"'I do not know what Bobby's faults are,'"—the letter said,—"'but this I do know: that Bobby would rather be whipped than tell a lie. He is noted through the place for his love of truth.'—That is pretty strong testimony; and you see, Bobby,—that's what the squire calls you,—your reputation has preceded you."
Bobby blushed, as he always did when he was praised, and Mr. Timmins was more abashed than ever.
"Did you hear that, Timmins? Who is the liar now?" said Mr. Bayard, turning to the culprit.
"Forgive me, sir, this time. If you turn me off now, I cannot get another place, and my mother depends upon my wages."
"You ought to have thought of this before."
"He aggravated me, sir, so that I wanted to pay him off."
"As to that, he commenced upon me the moment I came into the store. But don't turn him off, if you please, sir," said Bobby, who even now wished no harm to his discomfited assailant. "He will do better hereafter: won't you, Timmins?"
Thus appealed to, Timmins, though he did not relish so direct an inquiry, and from such a source, was compelled to reply in the affirmative; and Mr. Bayard graciously remitted the sentence he had passed against the offending clerk.
"Now, Robert, you will come over to my house and dine with me. Ellen will be delighted to see you."
"Thank you, sir," replied Bobby, bashfully, "I have been to dinner"—referring to the luncheon he had eaten at Brighton.
"But you must go to the house with me."
"I should be very glad to do so, sir, but I came on business. I will stay here with Mr. Timmins till you come back."
The truth is, he had heard something about the fine houses of the city, and how stylish the people were, and he had some misgivings about venturing into such a strange and untried scene as the parlor of a Boston merchant.
"Indeed, you must come with me. Ellen would never forgive you or me, if you did not come."
"I would rather rest here till you return," replied Bobby, still willing to escape the fine house and the fine folks. "I walked from Riverdale, sir, and I am rather tired."
"Walked!" exclaimed Mr. Bayard. "Had you no money?"
"Yes, sir, enough to pay my passage; but Dr. Franklin says that 'a penny saved is a penny earned,' and I thought I would try it. I shall get rested by the time you return."
"But you must go with me. Timmins, go and get a carriage."
Timmins obeyed, and before Mr. Bayard had finished asking Bobby how all the people in Riverdale were, the carriage was at the door.
There was no backing out now, and our hero was obliged to get into the vehicle, though it seemed altogether too fine for a poor boy like him. Mr. Bayard and Mr. Butler (whom the former had invited to dine with him) seated themselves beside him, and the driver was directed to set them down at No. —, Chestnut Street, where they soon arrived.
Though my readers would, no doubt, be very much amused to learn how carefully Bobby trod the velvet carpets, how he stared with wonder at the drapery curtains, at the tall mirrors, the elegant chandeliers, and the fantastically shaped chairs and tables that adorned Mr. Bayard's parlor, the length of our story does not permit us to pause over these trivial matters.
When Ellen Bayard was informed that her little deliverer was in the house, she rushed into the parlor like a hoiden school girl, grasped both his hands, kissed both his rosy cheeks, and behaved just as though she had never been to a boarding school in her life.
She had thought a great deal about Bobby since that eventful day, and the more she thought of him, the more she liked him. Her admiration of him was not of that silly, sentimental character which moonstruck young ladies cherish towards those immaculate young men who have saved them from drowning in a horse pond, pulled them back just as they were tumbling over a precipice two thousand five hundred feet high, or rescued them from a house seven stories high, bearing them down a ladder seventy-five odd feet long. The fact was, Bobby was a boy of thirteen and there was no chance for much sentiment; so the young lady's regard was real, earnest, and lifelike.
Ellen said a great many very handsome things; but I am sure she never thought of such a thing as that he would run away with her, in case her papa was unnecessarily obstinate. She was very glad to see him, and I have no doubt she wished Bobby might be her brother, it would be so glorious to have such a noble little fellow always with her.
Bobby managed the dinner much better than he had anticipated; for Mr. Bayard insisted that he should sit down with them, whether he ate anything or not. But the Rubicon passed, our hero found that he had a pretty smart appetite, and did full justice to the viands set before him. It is true the silver forks, the napkins, the finger bowls, and other articles of luxury and show, to which he had been entirely unaccustomed, bothered him not a little; but he kept perfectly cool, and carefully observed how Mr. Butler, who sat next to him, handled the "spoon fork," what he did with the napkin and the finger bowl, so that, I will venture to say, not one in ten would have suspected he had not spent his life in the parlor of a millionaire.
Dinner over, the party returned to the parlor, where Bobby unfolded his plan for the future. To make his story intelligible, he was obliged to tell them all about Mr. Hardhand.
"The old wretch!" exclaimed Mr. Bayard. "But, Robert, you must let me advance the sixty dollars, to pay Squire Lee."
"No, sir; you have done enough in that way. I have given my note for the money."
"Whew!" said Mr. Butler.
"And I shall soon earn enough to pay it."
"No doubt of it. You are a lad of courage and energy, and you will succeed in everything you undertake."
"I shall want you to trust me for a stock of books, on the strength of old acquaintance," continued Bobby, who had now grown quite bold, and felt as much at home in the midst of the costly furniture, as he did in the "living room" of the old black house.
"You shall have all the books you want."
"I will pay for them as soon as I return. The truth is, Mr. Bayard, I mean to be independent. I didn't want to take that thirty-five dollars, though I don't know what Mr. Hardhand would have done to us, if I hadn't."
"Ellen said I ought to have given you a hundred, and I think so myself."
"I am glad you didn't. Too much money makes us fat and lazy."
Mr. Bayard laughed at the easy self-possession of the lad—at his big talk; though, big as it was, it meant something. When he proposed to go to the store, he told Bobby he had better stay at the house and rest himself.
"No, sir; I want to start out to-morrow, and I must get ready to-day."
"You had better put it off till the next day; you will feel more like it then."
"Now or never," replied Bobby. "That is my motto, sir. If we have anything to do, now is always the best time to do it. Dr. Franklin says, 'Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day.'"
"Right, Robert! you shall have your own way. I wish my clerks would adopt some of Dr. Franklin's wise saws. I should be a great deal better off in the course of a year if they would."
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