The Erie Train Boy

Fred, though only nominally a prisoner, felt very uncomfortable. He was saved from the disgrace of being handcuffed, and was consoled by knowing that not even the detective believed him guilty of any connection with the burglary. Still he was not his own master, to come and go as he pleased, and it was not certain that he would be able to go back to New York the next day as he had planned. Circumstances thus far had worked against him, but there was to be a turn in the tide. As they walked through the streets on the way to the station house, where Palmer was to be locked up for safekeeping, they met a man whose dress showed him to be an employee of the Erie road.

"Mr. Ferguson," said Fred eagerly, "that is the conductor of one of my trains. He will tell you that I am the train-boy."

The conductor had just discovered and recognized Fred.

"You are staying over, like me," he said.

"Yes, I have permission."

"And so have I. I have a brother living here, and got two days off.

Where are you stopping?"

"At the Lynch House. Will you tell this gentleman that I am an Erie train boy?"

"Certainly; but why is that necessary?" asked the conductor in surprise.

"I will tell you later. Mr. Ferguson, have you any questions to ask?"

"Was this boy on your train yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Did he get on at Elmira?"

"Certainly not. He came all the way from New York."

"It is false!" said Palmer.

"What does he mean, Fred?" asked the conductor.

"He committed a burglary at Elmira yesterday afternoon, and is trying to make out that I was connected with it."

"There he tells a falsehood," said the conductor bluntly. "I saw you on the train through the entire journey."

"A very good alibi, Fred," said the detective. "Mr. Lawrence, after this testimony it is hardly necessary for me to hold the boy. Are you satisfied that I should let him go free?"

"Entirely so. I felt from the first that he was innocent."

"Then, Fred, you may consider yourself at liberty to go where you please. I am as glad as you are that you are freed from suspicion."

"Thank you, sir. I will go with you as far as the lock-up."

Palmer scowled at him, but saw that it was useless to persist in his charges against the boy, and walked on with head bent, reflecting bitterly that he had not only lost the proceeds of the burglary, but his freedom besides. He could see now that but for his secreting the stolen watch and chain in Fred's bundle, he would probably have escaped scot free. As for the present, at least, we shall have nothing more to do with F. Grant Palmer, it may be briefly set down that after a speedy trial he was found guilty by the jury without leaving their seats. He was sentenced to seven years' imprisonment, and is now serving out his term at Auburn.

Daring the remainder of his stay at Niagara, Fred used his time to advantage, and it was with a thankful heart that he took his place on the through train to New York the next morning. Just before starting, Mr. Lawrence appeared on the platform, and handed him a small package covered with brown paper.

"Have you a pocket where this will be safe?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Then put it away, and open it when you arrive home."

"Thank you, sir."

Fred's attention was taken up by his duties as train boy, and he gave no thought to the package, though he wondered at the moment what it contained.

The train left at 8:43, and was not due in Jersey City till 10:10 P.M. At Port Jervis a young lady came on board dressed in a very plain and quiet manner. In his rounds through the train Fred stopped at her seat with a pile of recent novels under his arm and asked her to buy.

"No, thank you," she answered courteously, and Fred observed that her face was very sad. If she had been dressed in mourning, he would have supposed that she had lost a near relative, but there was nothing in her dress to justify such a supposition. Being naturally sympathetic, Fred from time to time glanced at the young lady passenger, wishing it were in his power to lighten her sorrow, whatever it might be.

Sitting next to her was a young lady, handsomely dressed, who was evidently annoyed at the near neighborhood of one whom she considered her social inferior. It chanced to be the only seat unoccupied when the train reached Port Jervis, and the young lady was compelled to avail herself of it. But when she reached the seat she found it occupied by a fat poodle of uncertain temper, belonging to the fashionable young lady.

"May I take this seat?" asked the new arrival.

"Don't you see that it is occupied?" snapped the dog's owner.

"There is no other seat vacant," said the new passenger deprecatingly.

"Then you had better go into the next car." As the young girl stood in the aisle, undecided, Fred, who had heard the entire colloquy, and was naturally indignant, made up his mind to interfere.

"These seats were meant for passengers – not for dogs," he said.

"Boy, you are impertinent!" said the fashionable young lady haughtily.

"Where is the impertinence?" asked Fred composedly. "Do you wish this young lady to stand up in order that your dog may have a seat?"

"I will report you to the railroad company for insolence."

"Just as you like, but I will remove the dog in order to give this young lady a seat."

"Oh, I don't want to make any trouble," said the new arrival.

"Touch my dog if you dare, boy," said the young lady with a flush of anger on her face.

Just then the conductor entered the car, and Fred called him.

"Mr. Collins," he said, "this young lady refuses to remove her dog from the seat to make room for a passenger."

"Is this true, madam?" asked the conductor.

"She can go into the next car."

"Are you paying for two seats?"

"No," snapped the lady.

"I must take your dog into the baggage car. It is against our rules to have them in the regular cars, and they certainly cannot be allowed to keep our passengers from occupying seats."

"Don't you dare to touch my dog!"

"Do you go to Jersey City?"

"Yes."

"Then you can call for the dog there," and in spite of the remonstrance of the dog's owner, and the growling of the poodle, the conductor removed the animal to the baggage car, much to the secret satisfaction of the passengers, who had observed with disgust the selfishness of its owner.

"I am indebted to you for this," said the young lady, with a furious glance at the train boy.

Fred did not think himself called upon to make any answer. The young lady scornfully drew aside her dress to avoid contact with her unwelcome companion, saying audibly, "It is only in America that servant girls are allowed to thrust themselves in the company of their betters."

"I am not a servant girl," said the new passenger, "but even if I were I have paid my fare, and am entitled to a seat."

"Do not address me, girl!" said her seat-mate haughtily.

"I thought your remark was addressed to me."

"I am forced to sit beside you, but I don't care to converse with you."

The other took the hint, and left her undemocratic neighbor to herself.

Fred was naturally a little curious to ascertain the name of the young lady who had made herself so disagreeable. The mystery was solved in a way to surprise him.

On reaching the depot at Jersey City all the passengers left the cars.

The young lady looked about her evidently in search of some one whom she expected to meet her.

Greatly to Fred's surprise, his Cousin Raymond Ferguson turned out to be the party expected.

"Here you are, sis," he said. "Come right along. It is late."

"I can't go yet. My poor little Fido is in the baggage car. They wouldn't let me have him in the car with me. Go and get him, and I will stay here."

"Gracious!" thought Fred, "that must be Cousin Ferguson's daughter Luella. Well, I can't say I am proud of the relationship."

CHAPTER XVIII.

UNSATISFACTORY RELATIONS

Miss Ferguson waited till her brother returned with the dog, who seemed to be in a bad humor.

"My precious Fido!" exclaimed the young lady, as she embraced the little animal. "Did they put him in the dirty baggage car?" Then, turning to Fred, who stood by, she said spitefully: "It was all your work, you impertinent boy. I have a great mind to report you to the president of the road."

Raymond's attention was directed to Fred by his sister's attack.

"Fred Fenton!" he exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes," answered Fred, amused. "I was not aware that it was your sister and a relative of mine when I took sides against her."

"What does the boy mean?" demanded Miss Ferguson haughtily.

"It is Fred Fenton," explained Raymond deprecatingly.

"Does he claim relationship with me?" asked the young lady, looking disgusted.

"No, Miss Ferguson, I don't claim it, though I believe it exists," said Fred.

"A common train boy!" ejaculated the young lady. "This is altogether too much. Raymond, let us go!"

As they left the station the other young lady passenger who had listened eagerly to the conversation asked in a tone of almost painful excitement, "Is that the daughter of Robert Ferguson?"

"Yes, do you know him?" asked Fred in surprise.

"To my sorrow. When my poor father died Mr. Ferguson was appointed executor and trustee of his estate. It was not large, but we supposed it would amount to ten thousand dollars, and perhaps more. Last week my mother received a letter from him stating that he had satisfied all claims against the estate, and that only seventy-five dollars was left. This leaves us well-nigh penniless."

"Is it possible? Do you suspect that any fraud has been practised upon you?"

"My mother feels sure of it, but what can we do? We are poor, and the poor are always friendless," continued the girl bitterly.

"Have you come to New York to see Mr. Ferguson?"

"Yes; my mother wishes me to ask full particulars, and to appeal to him to do us justice. I fear it will be of no avail, but it is the only thing that we can do."

"Pardon me," said Fred, "but we had better be getting on board the ferry-boat, or we shall have to wait till the next."

"Thank you! I hardly know what I am doing."

Fred accompanied the young lady to the ladies' cabin and sat down beside her.

"Can I be of any service to you?" asked the train boy. "It is late for a young lady to arrive in New York."

"I supposed we should reach the city at nine. That is what a neighbor told me. I hardly know where to go," she added timidly. "Can you recommend a cheap hotel or boarding-house?"

"There would be a difficulty about obtaining admission to either this evening."

"Then what shall I do?" asked the girl, looking distressed.

"I think you had better come home with me for to-night. Our home is a very humble one but mother will take good care of you. To-morrow you can make other arrangements if you desire."

"Oh, how kind you are! I should like nothing better, if you really think your mother would not be annoyed."

Fred smiled.

"She is too kind-hearted for that," he said. "Just wait till you see her, and you won't feel any doubt."

"How fortunate I am to fall in with such a friend! I now see how unwise it was for me to take such a late train."

They walked to the Cortlandt Street station of the Sixth Avenue Elevated Road, and ascended the steps. In spite of her anxieties the young lady felt interested in the novel means of locomotion, and asked a variety of questions of the train boy. At Thirty-Third Street they descended, and walking a short distance up Broadway turned down a side street, and were soon at the door of Fred's modest home.

Mrs. Fenton was sitting up, and had come to feel anxious.

"How long you have been away, Fred!" she said.

"Not quite three days, mother."

"But you were never away before. Bertie and I have missed you very much."

"Mother," said Fred, "you don't see that I have company."

Then, for the first time, the widow observed the young lady.

"Who is it, Fred?" she asked, as a wild and improbable suspicion entered her mind. Could it be that Fred, who was only a boy in years, had contracted a marriage and brought his wife home?

"I shall have to ask the young lady to introduce herself," said Fred.

"My name is Ruth Patton," said the girl timidly. "I hope you will not be angry with your son for bringing me here. I am a stranger in the city, and indeed I did not know that the train arrived so late. Your son told me that it would be difficult to get into any hotel or boarding-house at this hour, and I have ventured to throw myself on your hospitality for to-night."

"You are heartily welcome," said Mrs. Fenton, ready to smile at her first wild suspicion. "Remove your wraps, and in ten minutes I can offer you a cup of tea and some eggs and toast. You will sleep the better for a little supper."

"You are a wise woman, mother," said Fred. "You have guessed what I was longing for."

"Let me help you, Mrs. Fenton," said Ruth, already looking more cheerful.

"Then you may toast the bread," said Mrs. Fenton. "I don't dare to trust Fred. I did once to my sorrow, and the toast turned out to be as black as my shoe."

"I can promise to do better than that. I have plenty of experience."

She set herself to the task, as if she felt quite at home, and soon they were able to sit down to a plain but welcome supper.

"Do you know, mother," said Fred, between mouthfuls, "Luella Ferguson was on the train."

"How did you recognize her? Did she speak to you?"

Fred smiled roguishly.

"She did. Shall I tell you what she said?"

"I should be glad to hear it."

"She said: 'Boy, I will report you to the railroad company for insolence.' She's a sweet girl, Cousin Luella!"

"But you were not really insolent?"

Thereupon Fred told the whole story, and his mother agreed with him that Miss Ferguson's conduct was very selfish and unladylike.

"What's more, mother, Miss Patton tells me that Cousin Ferguson has cheated her mother and herself out of ten thousand dollars. I'll tell you about it to-morrow. It is just striking twelve, and I can hardly keep my eyes open."

CHAPTER XIX.

RUTH PATTON CALLS ON MR. FERGUSON

The next day Ruth Patton confided her story to Mrs. Fenton.

"My mother and I," she said, "in our grief for father's death, never dreamed that it would bring us destitution. Though he never furnished us particulars of his pecuniary condition, he gave us to understand that he would be comfortably provided for. Robert Ferguson we knew to have been a life-long friend, or perhaps I should rather say acquaintance, and we felt that as a trustee he would consider our interests. We were thunderstruck when a letter was received from him last week, stating that, in place of the ten thousand dollars on which we fully counted, a pitiful balance of seventy-five dollars alone remained to us."

"It was shameful!" said Mrs. Fenton indignantly.

"Nearly all of this sum will be swallowed up by small debts due in Port Jervis. You will understand now why I have come to lay our case before Mr. Ferguson, and see if he cannot give us more, or at any rate find me employment, for on me now rests the duty of providing for my poor mother."

"I wish I could encourage you, Miss Patton – "

"Don't call me Miss Patton. I look upon yon as a kind friend, and hope you will call me Ruth."

"So indeed I will, for I feel a strong interest in you, Ruth."

"And I will look to you for advice."

"Then I advise you to call this evening on Mr. Ferguson, and find out the worst."

"Meanwhile perhaps you can direct me to a cheap boarding-house."

"You will stay here till you have had time to form your plans."

"I will gladly do so if you will let me pay you."

"All in good time, Ruth. To-day you can help me if you will, and it will be time to pay board when you are earning something."

It was not till he sat down to an early breakfast that Fred thought of the package handed him by Mr. Lawrence at the Niagara Falls station. He opened it in some curiosity, and to his surprise discovered a roll of bills, accompanied by this note:

To FRED FENTON,

MY YOUNG FRIEND: – Though I have not yet had a chance to communicate with my uncle in Elmira, I feel authorized to act as his representative, and in his name ask you to accept the inclosed sum as an acknowledgment of your valuable assistance in bringing about the recovery of the securities stolen from his house, and incidentally as a recompense for the annoyance you experienced in being yourself suspected. Your conduct has been very creditable, and I feel that to you we are largely indebted for the recovery of the property and the conviction of the burglar. I infer that you are mainly dependent, on your earnings, which are probably limited, and I therefore take pleasure in handing you a substantial reward which I hope will be of service to you.

Yours sincerely,

EDMUND LAWRENCE.

Fred counted the bills, and alike to his surprise and gratification found that they amounted to two hundred dollars.

"Where did you get so much money, Fred?" asked his mother, entering the room as he completed his count.

"That letter will explain, mother," answered Fred radiant with delight.

"We are indeed rich!" said Mrs. Fenton joyfully. "This removes all anxiety for a long time to come."

"Yes, we can afford to snap our fingers at the landlord."

"I hope you are not going to carry all this money round with you, Fred.

You might get robbed."

"I shall deposit it in the Dime Savings Bank this forenoon."

"But you will leave before the bank opens."

"No, I am to take a midday train."

At ten o'clock Fred went to the Union Dime Savings Bank fronting on Thirty-Second Street, and deposited the hundred dollars in gold left him by his mining friend, and one hundred and seventy-five dollars besides from his recent gift. The other twenty-five he handed to his mother.

"Mother," he said, "you need a new dress, and Albert needs a new suit.

Take this money, and buy what you think best."

"I can go a little longer without a dress, Fred."

"But I don't want you to. We can spare the money well enough, and there is no better way to spend it."

Mrs. Fenton made no further opposition, but during the day asked Ruth Patton to accompany her to one of the large stores on Sixth Avenue, where the necessary purchases were made.

In the evening Ruth set out for her call upon Mr. Robert Ferguson.

She ascended the steps in a state of nervous agitation, for she felt that the interview was of momentous importance to her, and in a low voice asked the servant who answered the bell if she could see Mr. Ferguson.

"I will ask, miss," said the servant, surveying her plain dress with some disdain.

"A young lady to see me?" said Robert Ferguson in surprise. "Are you sure it is not my daughter she wishes to see?"

"No, sir; she expressly asked to see you."

Mr. Ferguson was a widower, and rather vain of his personal attractions. Perhaps the young lady might have been struck by his appearance.

"You can show her up," he said amiably, and turned to catch a further glance in a mirror just opposite. He straightened his necktie, and passed his hand softly over his hair to make sure that it was smooth, and then turned to the door to catch the first glimpse of his visitor.

Nothing thus far has been said of the outward appearance of Ruth Patton. Notwithstanding her anxious face she was unusually pretty, and her manners were refined and ladylike.

"Mr. Ferguson?" she said inquiringly, pausing at the door.

"Come in, my dear young lady!" said Robert Ferguson graciously. "I am pleased to see you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Pray sit down."

"He is much kinder than I supposed," thought Ruth. "I must have misjudged him."

"I wrote to you a few days since," she began.

"Indeed! I don't think I can have received your letter."

"But you answered it, sir."

"I answered a letter from you? What then is your name?"

"Ruth Patton."

"Oh!" returned Ferguson, his face darkening. He no longer felt inclined to be gracious, for he had a premonition that the interview would not be agreeable to him.

"My mother and I were quite overwhelmed by the news you sent us. We had no idea that my father left so little, and she wished me to come on and ask for some particulars."

"I have very little to tell you beyond what I wrote," said Mr. Ferguson coldly.

"My father led us to think that we should be comfortably provided for."

"Many men have very vague ideas of how they stand. Your father did wrong in not insuring his life."

"He did not think it would be necessary. He thought we should be sufficiently provided for without that."

"He had no right to think so," said Ferguson irritably. "You see how things have turned out."

"But what can have become of all the money?"

"I hope, Miss Patton, you don't think I have spirited it away?"

"No, sir. Don't be offended, but it seems so strange," faltered Ruth.

"The money was unwisely invested. A large part of it was in wild-cat mining stocks, which were not worth the paper they were written on."

"Father never spoke to us about any such investments."

"I presume not. Most men keep such matters to themselves. Well, the upshot is that but seventy-five dollars are left. I presume your mother received my check for this amount."

"Yes, sir."

"Then that is all I can do for you. I will in time forward a bill of particulars. A present I am busy."

At this moment Luella Ferguson entered the room. She recognized Ruth at once.

"You here?" she said in haughty surprise.

"Yes, I came on business."

"We do not want any servants. Papa, this girl was very insolent to me on the train yesterday. I hope you will send her away."

"I am going, Miss Ferguson," said Ruth with spirit. "Your father was the trustee of my poor father's property, and it was to ask about it that I came here. Good evening."

She left the house with faltering steps, for her last hope had been destroyed, and she felt keenly the cruel slight of Luella Ferguson. As she set foot on the sidewalk her brain reeled, and she would have fallen had not a young man who was about to ascend the steps sprung forward and supported her.

CHAPTER XX.

A FRIEND IN NEED

Ruth Patton recovered herself by a great effort. "I won't trouble you any longer, sir," she faltered. "I think I can do without further assistance."

"Excuse me for doubting it. You look very weak. Take my arm. There is a drug store not far away where I can procure you a strengthening draught."

"I am sorry to trouble you so much," she murmured apologetically.

"It is no trouble, I assure you. I count myself fortunate in being on hand so opportunely."

Ruth for the first time, encouraged by his kind words, stole a glance at the stranger. He was a well made and unusually handsome young man of perhaps twenty-seven. His careful dress and something in his manner seemed to indicate high social position. The indication corresponded with the fact. Alfred Lindsay belonged to an old and distinguished New York family. Though his means were ample he was not content to be an idler, but after careful preparation at Columbia College and Law School, he had opened a law office in the Mills Building, and was already beginning to be known as a young man with a future.

His wealth and high social standing led him to be considered a "catch," in the matrimonial market. It is safe to say that at least half a dozen young ladies had set their caps for him. Among these was Luella Ferguson, and there were those who considered her chance of landing the prize the best. At any rate Mr. Lindsay, who had been employed by the elder Ferguson in some legal matter, became a frequent caller, to the great satisfaction of Luella Ferguson. It may not be considered a mark of taste on the part of the young man to have fallen a victim to the young lady's arts, but in his presence she was all that was amiable. She was not without a certain attractiveness of face, which, had it been joined to an equally agreeable disposition, might have proved a good excuse to any young man for succumbing to her fascinations. Never for a moment had he cause to suspect that she was otherwise than she seemed. Kind and sympathetic himself, the absence of these qualities, if known to him, would have rendered her repulsive to him.