Three People

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"This is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of in my life," began
the gentleman when he could speak.

"So you're traveling with _me_, are you? And what do you propose to do
when you get to Cleveland?"

"Mean to work for you, sir."

"Upon my word! How do you know I shall need your help?"

"You've needed it several times on this journey," said Tode,
significantly.

Whereupon Mr. Hastings laughed again.

"You'll do," he said at length. "I don't see that you need any help from
me. I should say that you are thoroughly capable of taking care of
yourself."

Tode shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm a stranger on this road," he answered, gravely. "Just as you was on
the Central and them roads, I suppose."

"And you think inasmuch as you took care of me during the time I spent
on _your_ roads, I ought to return the favor now we are on _mine_." This
with a strong emphasis on that word "_mine_."

"Well, sir, I don't know that I ever did so foolish a thing in my life,
but then you must be considered as a remarkable specimen. Conductor,
could you do me the favor to pass this youngster through to Cleveland?"

Mr. Hastings spoke with easy assurance. Tode didn't know how nearly he
had touched the truth when he hinted at the great man's power on _that_
road.

"Certainly, sir," answered the obliging conductor, "if it will be a
favor to you."

"All right, sir. Now, young man, help yourself to a seat, and I shall
expect to be most thoroughly cared for during the rest of this journey."

Tode obeyed with great alacrity, and gave himself a great many little
commendatory nods and pats for the successful way in which he had
managed the whole of this delicate and difficult business.

CHAPTER V.

TODE'S AMBITION.

Mr. Hastings' elegant carriage was drawn up at a safe distance from the
puffing iron animal who had just screeched his way into the depot. The
coachman on the box managed with dextrous hand the two black horses who
seemed disposed to resent the coming of their puffing rival, while with
his hand resting on the knob of the carriage door, looking right and
left for somebody, and finally springing forward to welcome his father,
was Master Pliny Hastings, older by fourteen years than when that dinner
party was given in honor of his birthday.

"Tumble up there with the driver," was Mr. Hastings' direction to Tode,
who stood and looked with open-eyed delight on carriage, horses, driver,
_everything_, while father and son exchanged greeting.

Pliny _did_ wait until the carriage door was closed before he burst
forth with:

"Father, where on earth did you pick up that bundle of rags, and what
did you bring him home for?"

"He brought me, I believe," answered Mr. Hastings, laughing at the droll
remembrance. "At least I think you'll find that's his version of the
matter."

"What are you going to do with him?"

"More than I know. I'm entirely at his disposal."

"Father, how queer you are. What's his name?"

"Upon my word I don't know. I never thought to inquire. You may question
him to your heart's content when you get home. There is a funny story
connected with him, which I will tell you sometime. Meantime let me rest
and tell me the news."

"He is a very smart specimen, Augusta," explained Mr. Hastings to his
wife that evening, when she looked aghast at the idea of harboring Tode
for the night.

"A remarkable boy in some respects, and I fancy he may really become a
prize in the way of a waiter at one of the hotels. These fellows who
have brought themselves up on the street do sometimes develop a
surprising aptitude for business, and I am greatly mistaken if this one
is not of that stamp. I'll take him off your hands in the morning,
Augusta, and he can't demoralize Pliny in one evening. Besides," he
added as a lofty afterthought, "if my son can be injured by coming in
contact with evil in any shape, I am ashamed of him."

In very much the same style was Tode introduced at one of the grand
hotels the next morning.

"The boy is sharp enough for _anything_," explained Mr. Hastings to the
landlord. "I don't believe you will find his match in the city. Suppose
you take him in, and see what you can do for him?"

The landlord eyed the very ragged, and very roguish, and very doubtful
looking personage thus introduced with a not particularly hopeful face;
but Mr. Hastings was a person to be pleased first and foremost under all
circumstances, so the answer was prompt.

"Well, sir, if you wish it we will give him a trial, of course; but what
can we set him at in that plight?"

"Um," remarked Mr. Hastings, thoughtfully, "I hadn't thought of that. Oh
well, he means to earn some better clothes at once. Isn't that so, my
lad?"

Tode nodded. He hadn't thought of such a thing--his aim was still only
a warm place to sleep in; but he immediately set down better clothes as
another hight to be attained.

"Meantime, Mr. Roberts, hasn't Tom some old clothes that he has
outgrown? This fellow is shorter than Tom, I should think. He'll work
for his board and clothes, of course, for the present. Can you make it
go, Mr. Roberts?"

Mr. Roberts thought he could, and as Mr. Hastings drew on his gloves he
remarked to that gentleman aside:

"I've taken a most unaccountable interest in the young scamp. He's a
_scamp_, no mistake about that, and he'll have to be looked after very
closely. But then he's sharp, sharp as steel; just the sort to develop
into a business man with the right kind of training, such as he will
receive here. The way in which he wheedled me into bringing him home
with me was a most astonishing proceeding. I shall have to tell you all
about it when we are more at leisure. Good-morning, sir."

And Mr. Hastings bowed himself out.

By noon Tode was fairly launched upon his new life, and made such good
use of his eyes and ears that in some respects he knew more about the
business than did the new errand boy who had been there for a week. For
the first time in his life he was going to earn his living.

Mr. Hastings was correct in his opinion. Tode was sharp; yet he was
after all, not unlike a piece of soft putty, ready to be molded into
almost any shape, ready to take an impression from anything that he
chanced to touch. If the people who dined at that great hotel on the
Avenue during those following weeks could have known how the chance
words which they let drop, and in dropping forgot, were gathered up by
that round-eyed boy, how startled they would have been! There was one
memory which stood out sharply in Tode's life--it was of his mother's
death. The boy had never in his fifteen years of life heard but one
prayer, that was his mother's, it was for him: "O Lord, don't let Tode
ever drink a drop of rum." He had very vague ideas in regard to prayer,
very bewildering notions concerning the Being to whom this prayer was
addressed; but he knew what rum was--he had excellent reason to know;
and he knew that these words of his mother's had been terribly earnest
ones--they had burned themselves into his brain. He remembered his
mother as one who had given him what little care and kindness he had
ever received. Finally he had a sturdy, positive, emphatic will of his
own, which is not a bad thing to have if one takes proper care of it. So
without any sort of idea as to the right or wrong of the matter, with
perfect indifference as to whether this thing came under either head, he
had sturdily resolved that he would never, no never, so long as he
lived, drink a drop of rum. In this resolution he had been strengthened
by the constant jeers and gibes and offerings of his father not only but
of his boon companions.

There are natures which grow stronger by opposition. Tode had one of
these; so the very forces which would have met to ruin nine boys out of
ten, came and rallied around him to strengthen his purpose. So Tode,
having been brought up, or rather having come up, thus far in one of the
lowest of low grog-shops, had steadily and defiantly adhered to his
determination. It was seven years since his mother's prayer had gone up
to God; Tode, only seven at that time, but older by almost a dozen years
than are those boys of seven who have been tenderly and carefully reared
in happy homes, had taken in the full force of that one oft-repeated
sentence and had lived it ever since.

Behold him now, the caterpillar transformed into the butterfly. He had
shuffled off the grog-shop, and fluttered into one of the brightest of
Cleveland hotels. The bright-winged moth singes itself in the brilliant
gaslight sometimes where the caterpillar never comes.

Queer thoughts came into Tode's head with that suit of new clothes with
which he presently arrayed himself. Not particularly new, either. Tom
Roberts was in college, and they were his cast-off attire, worn before
he, too, in his way became a butterfly; and he would not have been seen
in them--no, nor have had it enter into the mind of one of his college
mates that he ever _had_ been seen in them, for a considerable sum even
of spending money.

Different eyes have such different ways of looking at the same thing.
Tode will never forget how that suit of clothes looked to _his_ eyes,
nor how, when arrayed in them, he stood before his bit of glass, and
took a calm, full, deliberate survey of himself. To be sure, Tom being a
chunk and Tode being long limbed, notwithstanding Mr. Hastings'
supposition to the contrary, pants and jacket sleeves were somewhat
lacking in length; moreover there was a patch on each knee, and you have
no idea how nice those patches looked to Tode. Why, bless you! he was
used to seeing great jagged, unseemly holes where these same neat
patches now were. Also he had on a shirt! A real, honest white shirt;
and so persistently does one improvement urge upon us the necessity of
another in this world, that Tode had already been obliged to doff his
shirt once in order to bring his face and hair into something like
propriety, that the contrast might not be too sharp.

There was a stirring of new emotions in his heart. Perhaps he then and
there resolved to be a genius, to be the president, or at least the
governor; perhaps he did, but he only gave his thoughts utterance after
this fashion:

"Jemima Jane! Do you tell the truth, you young upstart in the glass
there? Be you Tode Mall, no mistake? Well now, for the land's sake, a
fellow _does_ look better in a shirt, that's as true as whistling. I
mean to have a shirt of my own, I do now. S'pose these are mine after I
earn 'em. Oh, ho; _me_ earn a shirt for myself. Ain't that rich now?
What you s'pose Jerry would think of that, hey, old fellow in the glass?
Well, why not? Like enough I'll earn a pair of boots some day. I will
now, true's you live; it's real jolly. I wonder a fellow never thought
of it before. Oh I'll be some; I'll have a yellow bow one of these days
for a cravat, see if I don't!"

And this was the hight and end and aim of Tode's ambition.

CHAPTER VI.

NEW IDEAS.

"Come," said Pliny Hastings, halting before the hotel, and addressing
his companion, "father said if it snowed hard when school was out to
come in here to dinner."

"Well, go ahead, then," answered his friend, gaily. "Father didn't tell
me so, and I suppose I must go home."

"Oh bother--come on and get some dinner with me; then when the pelting
storm is over we'll go up together."

So the two came into the great dining-room, and Tode came briskly
forward to help them. Tode had been in his new sphere for more than
three weeks, and already began to pride himself on being the briskest
"fellow in the lot."

Pliny Hastings ordered dinner for two with an ease and promptness that
proved him to be quite accustomed to the proceeding; and Tode dodged
hither and thither, and finally hovered near, and looked on with
admiring eyes as the two ate and drank, and talked and laughed. Thus
far in his life Tode had been, without being aware of it, a believer in
"blood descent," distinct spheres in life, and all that sort of
nonsense. He was a boy to be sure, but it had never so much as occurred
to him that he could be even remotely connected with such specimens of
boyhood as were before him now. Not that they were any better than he.
Oh no, Tode never harbored such a thought for a moment; but then they
were different, that he saw, and like many another unthinking mortal, he
never gave a thought to the difference that home, and culture, and
Christianity must necessarily make. But what nonsense am I talking! Tode
didn't know there _were_ any such words, but then there _are_ people who
_do_, and who reason no better than did he.

While he looked and enjoyed, Pliny was seized with a new want, and
leaned back in his chair with the query:

"Where's Tompkins? Oh, Mr. Tompkins, here you are. Can you make Ben and
me something warm and nice this cold day?"

Mr. Tompkins paused in his rush through the room.

"In a very few minutes, Master Hastings, I will be at your service. Let
me see--could you wait five minutes?"

Pliny nodded.

"Very well then. Tode, you may come below in five minutes, and I shall
be ready."

Tode went and came with alacrity, and stood waiting and enjoying while
the two drained their glasses.

There was a little wet sugar left in the bottom of Pliny's glass, and
he, catching a glance from Tode's watchful eye, suddenly held it forth,
and spoke in kindly tone:

"Want that, Todie?"

Tode, a little taken aback, shook his head in silence.

"You don't like leavings, eh? Get enough of the real article, I presume.
How do they make this? I dare say you know, now you are at
headquarters?"

Tode shook his head again.

"Belongs to the trade," he answered, with an air of wisdom.

"Oh it does. Well how much of it do you drink in a day?"

"Not a drop."

"Bah!"

Tode didn't resent this incredulous tone. He was used to being doubted;
moreover he knew better than did any one else that there was no special
reason for trusting him, so now he only laughed.

"Come, tell us, just for curiosity's sake, I'd like to know how much
your queer brain will bear. I won't tell of you."

"You won't believe me," answered Tode coolly, "so what's the use of
telling you."

"I will, too, if you'll tell me just exactly. This time I'll believe
every word."

"Well then, not a drop."

"Why not?" queried Pliny, still incredulous. "Don't you like it?"

"Can't say. Never tasted it."

"Weren't you ever where there was any liquor before?"

"Slightly!" chuckled Tode over the remembrance of his cellar life, and
knowing by a sort of instinct that these two had never been inside of
such a place in their lives.

Pliny continued his examination:

"Don't you like the smell of it?"

"First-rate."

"Then why don't you take it?"

"Ain't a going to."

"But _why_?"

And then for the first time his companion spoke:

"Are you a total abstainer?"

"What's them?"

Both boys stopped to laugh ere they made answer.

"Why people who think it wicked to 'touch, taste or handle,' you know.
Say, Pliny, did you know there's quite an excitement on the subject up
our way? Old Mousey is round trying to get all the folks to promise not
to sell Joe any more brandy."

"Stuff and nonsense!" oracularly pronounced Pliny, quoting the
unanswerable argument of his elders.

"Fact. And folks say Joe has been drunk more times in a week since than
he ever was before."

"Of course, that's the way it always works, trying to _make_ folks do
what they won't do. Joe ought to be hung, though. What does a fellow
want to be a fool for and go and get drunk? But say, Todie, why don't
you drink a drop?"

"I ain't a going to," was Tode's only answer.

The two friends looked at each other curiously.

"You're green," said Pliny, at last.

"Yes," said Tode, promptly, "maybe; so's the moon."

Whereat the two laughed and strolled away.

"Isn't he a queer chap?" they said to each other as they went out into
the snow.

Meantime Tode looked after them for a moment before he began briskly to
gather up the remains of the feast. Tode had some new ideas. He had
formerly lived a stratum below the temperance movement; it had scarce
troubled his father's cellar; so he had to-day discovered that there
were others besides his mother who prayed their sons not to drink a drop
of rum. Also that a young man who went and got drunk was considered a
fool by elegant young men, such as he had just been serving. Also, and
sharpest, these two evidently thought him "green." If they had said a
thief or scamp Tode would have laughed, but "green!" that touched.

"I'll show them a thing or to, maybe," he said, defiantly, as he seized
a pile of plates and vanished.

Now our three babies, nurtured severally in the lace-canopied crib, in
the plump-cushioned rocking-chair, in the reeking cellar corner, had
come together from their several "spheres" and held their first
conversation. Other hungry people came for their dinner and Tode served
them, and was very attentive to their wants and their words. A busy life
the boy led during these days--a brisk, bustling life, which kept him in
a state of perpetual delight. There was something in his nature which
answered to all this rush and systematic confusion of business, and
rejoiced in it. He liked the air of method and system which even the
simplest thing wore; he liked the stated hours for certain duties; the
set programme of employment laid out for each; the set places for every
thing that was to be handled; the very bells, as with their different
tongues they called him hither and thither to different duties, were all
so much music to him. He did not know why he chuckled so much over his
work; why, at the sound of one of his bells, he gave that quick spring
which was so rapidly earning him a reputation for remarkable promptness;
but in truth there was that in the boy which met and responded to all
these things. Every bit of the clock-work machinery filled him with a
kind of glee.

There was another reason why Tode enjoyed his hotel life. He had
discovered himself to be an epicure, and an amazing quantity of the good
things of this life fell to his share--no, hardly that--but disappeared
mysteriously from shelf and jar and box, and only grave,
innocent-looking Tode could have told whither they went. Mince-pies, and
cranberry-pies, and lemon-pies, and the whole long catalogue of pies,
were equal favorites of his, and huge pieces of them had a way of not
being found. Poor Tode, his training-school had been a sad one; the very
first principle of honesty was left out of his street education, and the
only rule he recognized was one which would assist him in not being
discovered. So he eluded sharp eyes and hoodwinked sharp people; he
commended himself for being a cute, and, withal, a lucky fellow. On the
whole, although Tode was certainly clad in decent garments, and slept in
a comfortable bed, and was to all outward appearances earning a
respectable living, I can not say that I think he was really improving.
There were ways and means of leading astray in that hotel, to which even
his street life had not given him access; and if anybody's brain ever
appeared ripe for mischief of any sort, it was certainly Tode Mall's.
Any earthly friend, if he had possessed one, would have watched his
course just now with trembling terror, and made predictions of his
certain downfall. But Tode had no friend in all that great city; not one
who ever gave him a second thought. Christian men came there often, and
were faithfully served by the boy whose soul was very precious in their
Master's eyes, but his servants never thought to speak a word to the
soul for the Master. Why should they?--it was a hotel, and they had come
in to get their dinner; that duty accomplished and they would go forth
to attend the missionary meeting, or the Bible meeting, or the tract
meeting, or some other good meeting; but those and the hotel dinner were
distinct and separate matters, and the little Bibleless heathen, who
served them to oysters and coffee, went on his way, and they went
theirs. But God looked down upon them all. As the days passed, the three
boys, whose lives had been cast in such different molds, met often.
Pliny Hastings liked exceedingly to come to the hotel for his dinner,
and, loitering around wherever best suited his fancy, await his father's
carriage. This was very much pleasanter than the long walk alone; and he
liked to bring Ben Phillips with him--first, because he was in some
respects a generous-hearted boy, and liked to bestow upon Ben the
handsome dinners which he knew how to order; and secondly, because he
was a pompous boy, and liked to show off his grandeur to his simple
friend. Was there another reason never owned even to each other, why
these two boys loved to come to that place rather than to their pleasant
homes? Did it lie in the bottom of those bright glasses filled with
"something nice and warm," which Pliny never forgot to order? Sometimes
little Mrs. Phillips worried, and good-natured Mr. Phillips laughed and
"poohed" at her fancies. Sometimes Mr. Hastings sharply forbade his
son's visits to his favorite hotel, and the next windy day sent him
thither to dine. Sometimes his fond mother thought his face singularly
flushed, and wondered why he suffered so much from headache; but only
Tode who had come up in the atmosphere, and knew all about it, cool,
indifferent Tode, looked with wise eyes upon the two boys, and remarked
philosophically to himself:

"Them two fellows will get drunk some day, fore they know what they're
up to."

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VII.

TWO T'S.

Evil days had fallen upon Tode. He stood before the window with an
unmistakable frown on his face. The demon "Ambition" had taken
possession of him, and metamorphosed him so that he didn't know himself.
The Hastings' carriage passed in its elegant beauty, and as Tode gazed
his frown deepened. Not that he wanted to be seated among the velvet
cushions with Mrs. Hastings and Miss Dora. Oh no, he still belonged to
that other sphere; but he did long with a burning, absorbing passion to
be seated on the box, not with the driver, but alone, himself _the_
driver, above all others. Oh to be able to grasp those reins, to guide
and direct those two proud-stepping horses, to wind in and out of the
crowded street, to drive where no other dared to go, to extricate the
wheels very skillfully from among the bewildering confusion, to be a
prince among drivers! He could do it, he _knew_ he could, if only he
had the chance; but how was that to be had? Poked up here, carrying
plates and cups, and cleaning knives, wouldn't help him to that
longed-for place, Tode said, and drummed crossly on the window pane.
Already he was changed in the short space of six weeks. The clothes
clean, and whole, the clean warm bed, the plentiful supply of food, had
become every-day affairs to him, and were now just nothing at all in
comparison with those prancing horses, and his desire to get dominion
over them. Sad results had come of this new desire; all his list of
duties had dropped suddenly into entire insignificance, and he had taken
to leaving black stains on the knives, and rivers of water on the
plates, and being just exactly as long as he chose to be in doing
everything. Mr. Roberts was getting out of sorts with him, and things
were looking very much as though he would soon be discharged, and
permitted to gaze after the black horses with no troublesome
interruptions such as came to him at this present moment.

"Bother the coffee and the old fellow who wants it. I hope it will be
hot enough to scald him. I'll drink it half up on the way in, anyhow,"
muttered Tode, as he turned slowly and reluctantly from the window,
whence he could see Jonas just getting into a delightful snarl among
the wheels. Jonas was Mr. Hastings' coachman. Three gentlemen were
waiting for coffee and oysters; two friends talking and laughing while
they ate; one, sitting apart from the others, eating with haste and with
a preoccupied air. Tode having served them, fell into his accustomed
habit of hovering near, ready for service, and making use of his ears.
Curious yet respectful glances were cast now and again at the
preoccupied stranger; and when he paid his bill and departed in haste,
the two broke into a conversation concerning him.

"Richest man in this city," remarked one of them, swallowing an immense
oyster. "Made it all in ten years, too. Came here a youngster
twenty-five years ago; had exactly twenty-five cents in the world."

"How did he make his money?" queried his friend.

Whereat Tode drew nearer and listened more sharply. He was immensely
interested. He was certainly a youngster, and twenty-five cents was the
exact amount of money he possessed.

"I heard a man ask him just that question once, and he answered,
book-fashion. He's a precise sort of a fellow, and it makes me think of
Ben Franklin, or some of those fellows who ate and drank and slept by
rule.

"'Well, sir,' he said, drawing himself up in a proud way that he has.
'Well, sir, the method is very simple. I made it a point to live up to
three maxims: Do everything exactly in its time. Do everything as well
as possible. Learn everything I possibly can about everything that can
be learned.'"

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