Chapter XVIII. Farewell to Pentonville - Page 2

city?"

"Yes, sir; I am going to take a place."

Squire Davenport was still more surprised, and asked particulars. These Ben readily gave, for he was quite elated by his good fortune.

"Oh, that's it, is it?" said the squire contemptuously. "I thought you might have secured a position in some business house. This lady probably wants you to answer the doorbell and clean the knives, or something of that sort."

"I am sure she does not," said Ben, indignant and mortified.

"You'll find I am right," said the squire confidently. "Young man, I can't congratulate you on your prospects. You would have done as well to stay in Pentonville and work on my woodpile."

"Whatever work I may do in New York, I shall be a good deal better paid for than here," retorted Ben.

Squire Davenport shrugged his shoulders, and began to read the morning paper. To do him justice, he only said what he thought when he predicted to Ben that he would be called upon to do menial work.

"The boy won't be in so good spirits a week hence," he thought. "However, that is not my affair. There is no doubt that I shall get possession of his mother's house when the three months are up, and I don't at all care where he and his mother go. If they leave Pentonville I shall be very well satisfied. I have no satisfaction in meeting either of them," and the squire frowned, as if some unpleasant thought had crossed his mind.

Nothing of note passed during the remainder of the journey. Ben arrived in New York, and at once took a conveyance uptown, and due time found himself, carpet-bag in hand, on the front steps of Mrs. Hamilton's house.

He rang the bell, and the door was opened by a servant.

"She's out shopping," answered the girl, looking inquisitively at Ben's carpet-bag. "Will you leave a message for her?"

"I believe I am expected," said Ben, feeling a little awkward. "My name is Benjamin Barclay."

"Mrs. Hamilton didn't say anything about expecting any boy," returned the servant. "You can come in, if you like, and I'll call Mrs. Hill."

"I suppose that is the housekeeper," thought Ben.

"Very well," he answered. "I believe I will come in, as Mrs. Hamilton wrote me to come."

Ben left his bag in the front hall, and with his hat in his hand followed the servant into the handsomely-furnished drawing room.

"I wish Mrs. Hamilton had been here," he said to himself. "The girl seems to look at me suspiciously. I hope the housekeeper knows about my coming."

Ben sat down in an easy-chair beside a marble-topped center table, and waited for fifteen minutes before anyone appeared. He beguiled the time by looking over a