"I will set the table at once," said his aunt. "The little girl must be hungry, too."

"You're undertakin' a great responsibility, Mrs. Bradford," said Mrs. Perkins. "The little girl will be a great care to you."

"I don't look upon it in that light," said Mrs. Bradford. "I am glad to have her here."

"Humph! You will talk different a month from now. But I must be goin'."

After dinner Ben bethought himself of the envelope which Mr.

Somerby had given him.

He opened it, when a bank-note dropped to the floor. Picking it up, he saw, to his amazement, that it was a fifty-dollar bill. With sparkling eyes he read the letter, or rather these few lines which were penciled on a half-sheet of note paper:

"I have been interested in your story, and beg your acceptance of the enclosed as a slight help and encouragement. Should you ever need advice or a.s.sistance, I shall be glad to have you call upon me."

"Frederic Somerby"

"What do you think of that, Aunt Jane?" said Ben in a tone of exultation. "Hasn't my motto worked pretty well, after all? Isn't it better to 'Wait and Hope' than to give up and get discouraged?"

"Yes, Ben, I begin to think you are right."

"We are better off than when I was at work in the factory."

"Yes, Ben; we can get along very comfortably."

"I have been thinking, aunt, that while business continues dull I will go to school. This money I will put in a savings-bank, and we shall have it to fall back upon if we need it."

This plan met with Mrs. Bradford's approval, and was carried out by Ben. When he returned from the savings-bank, with his book in his hand, he felt like a capitalist. In fact, he was so cheerful that his aunt caught the infection, and looked brighter than she had for years.

"It is pleasant to have money in the bank," she said to old Mrs. Perkins.

"Like as not the bank will break," said the old lady.

"I see an account last week of a savin's-bank that failed. I wouldn't trust any of 'em."

"Mrs. Perkins," said Ben, with mock gravity, "I heard last week of a man who died in his bed. I'd never go to bed if I were you."

"It aint' well to joke," said the old lady. "Always be prepared for the worst."

"That isn't my motto," said Ben. "As long as I live I mean to 'Wait and Hope'!"

Chapter XIX

The Prize for Scholarship

The annual examination of the grammar schools in Milltown came about the middle of June, just before summer vacation. It the First Ward School two prizes had been offered by the princ.i.p.al to the scholars who stood highest on the rank-lists.

Speculation was rife as to the probable result; but the choice was finally narrowed down to two boys.

One of these was Ben Bradford, now sixteen years of age. The other was Samuel Archer, son of the superintendent of the Milton Mills.

There is an old saying, "Like father, like son." Mr. Archer was purse-proud and consequential, and felt that he was ent.i.tled to deference on the score of his wealth and prominence.

"Sam," said he, two days before the examination, "what are your chances of obtaining the prize?"

"I think I ought to have it, father," answered Sam.

"That is, you think you will be ent.i.tled to it?"

"Yes sir."

"Then you will get it, as a matter of course."

"I don't know that."

"Don't you think the prize will be adjudged fairly?"

"The princ.i.p.al thinks a great deal of Ben Bradford."

"Is he your chief compet.i.tor?"

"He is the only boy I am afraid of."

"Who is he?"

"He is a poor boy--used to work in the mills."

"He is the nephew of the Widow Bradford?"

"Yes; he lives in a small house about the size of a bandbox. I expect they are as poor as poverty. Ben wears coa.r.s.e clothes. I don't believe he has a new suit a year."

"And you have too many. I believe your bill for clothes exceeds mine."

"Oh, father, you want your son to dress well. People know you are a rich man and they expect it."

"Humph! it may be carried too far," said Mr. Archer, who had just paid a large tailor's bill for Sam.

"And you say the princ.i.p.al favors him?"

"Yes, everybody can see it."

"It is rather strange he should favor a penniless boy," said Mr.

Archer, himself a worshiper of wealth. "The man don't know on which side his bread is b.u.t.tered."

"So I think. He ought to consider that you are a man of consequence here."

"I rather think I have some influence in Milltown," said Mr. Archer, with vulgar complacency; "I fancy I could oust Mr. Taylor from his position if I caught him indulging in favoritism. But you may be mistaken, Sam."

Mr. Archer looked thoughtful.