The Telegraph Boy. Alger Horatio Jr.Читать онлайн книгу.
but did not venture to make any remark.
"This way, young man," she said, and ascended the front stairs, Frank following her closely.
She led the way into a handsomely furnished chamber, ejaculating, "Well, I never!"
"I hope you'll find things to your satisfaction, sir," she said, dryly. "If we'd known you were coming, we'd have made particular preparations for you."
"Oh, I think this will do," said Frank, smiling for he thought it a good joke.
"I am glad you think it'll do," continued Susan. "Things mayn't be as nice as you're accustomed to at home."
"Not quite," said Frank, good-humoredly; "but I shan't complain."
"That's very kind and considerate of you, I'm sure," said Susan, tossing her head. "Well, I never did!"
"Nor I either, Susan," said Frank, laughing. "I am a poor boy, and I am not used to this way of living; so if you'll be kind enough to give me any hints, so I may behave properly at the table, I'll be very much obliged to you."
This frank acknowledgment quite appeased Susan, and she readily complied with our hero's request.
"But I must be going downstairs, or dinner will be late," she said, hurriedly. "You can come down when you hear the bell ring."
Frank had been well brought up, though not in the city, and he was aware that perfect neatness was one of the first characteristics of a gentleman. He therefore scrubbed his face and hands till they fairly shone, and brushed his clothes with great care. Even then they certainly did look rather shabby, and there was a small hole in the elbow of his coat; but, on the whole, he looked quite passable when he entered the dining-room.
"Take that seat, my boy," said his host.
Frank sat down and tried to look as if he was used to it.
"Take this soup to Mr. Kavanagh," said Mr. Bowen, in a dignified tone.
Frank started and smiled slightly, feeling more and more that it was an excellent joke.
"I wonder what Dick Rafferty would say if he could see me now," passed through his mind.
He acquitted himself very creditably, however, and certainly displayed an excellent appetite, much to the satisfaction of his hospitable host.
After dinner was over, Mr. Bowen detained him and began to talk of his dead son, telling anecdotes of his boyhood, to which Frank listened with respectful attention, for the father's devotion was touching.
"I think my boy looked a little like you," said the old gentleman. "What do you think, Susan?"
"Not a mite, sir," answered Susan, promptly.
"When he was a boy, I mean."
"I didn't know him when he was a boy, Mr. Bowen."
"No, to be sure not."
"But Mr. John was dark-complected, and this boy is light, and Mr. John's hair was black, and his is brown."
"I suppose I am mistaken," sighed the old man; "but there was something in the boy's face that reminded me of John."
"A little more, and he'll want to adopt him," thought Susan. "That wouldn't do nohow, though he does really seem like a decent sort of a boy."
At eight o'clock Frank rose, and wished Mr. Bowen good-night.
"Come and see me again, my boy," said the old gentleman, kindly. "You have been a good deal of company for me to-night."
"I am glad of it, sir."
"I think you might find something better to do than selling papers."
"I wish I could, sir."
"Come and dine with me again this day week, and I may have something to tell you."
"Thank you, sir."
Feeling in his pocket to see that his dollar was safe, Frank set out to walk down-town, repairing to the lodging-house, where he met Dick, and astonished that young man by the recital of his adventures.
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