Paul thanked his new acquaintance, and said he would.
Without more ado, his companion ushered him into a basement room near by. He led the way into a curtained recess, and both boys took seats one on each side of a small table.
“Just pull the bell, will you, and tell the waiter we’ll have two stews.”
Paul did so.
“I suppose,” continued the other, “the governor wouldn’t like it much if he knew where I was.”
“The governor!” repeated Paul. “Why, it isn’t against the laws, is it?”
“No,” laughed the other. “I mean my father. How jolly queer you are!” He meant to say green, but had a purpose in not offending Paul.
“Are you the Governor’s son?” asked Paul in amazement.
“To be sure,” carelessly replied the other.
Paul’s wonder had been excited many times in the course of the day, but this was more surprising than anything which had yet befallen him. That he should have the luck to fall in with the son of the Governor, on his first arrival in the city, and that the latter should prove so affable and condescending, was indeed surprising. Paul inwardly determined to mention it in his first letter to Aunt Lucy. He could imagine her astonishment.
While he was busy with these thoughts, his companion had finished his oysters.
“Most through?” he inquired nonchalantly.
“I’ve got to step out a minute; wait till I come back.”
Paul unsuspectingly assented.
He heard his companion say a word to the barkeeper, and then go out.
He waited patiently for fifteen minutes and he did not return; another quarter of an hour, and he was still absent. Thinking he might have been unexpectedly detained, he rose to go, but was called back by the barkeeper.
“Hallo, youngster! are you going off without paying?”
“For what?” inquired Paul, in surprise.
“For the oysters, of course. You don’t suppose I give ’em away, do you?”
“I thought,” hesitated Paul, “that the one who was with me paid,–the Governor’s son,” he added, conscious of a certain pride in his intimacy with one so nearly related to the chief magistrate of the Commonwealth.
“The Governor’s son,” laughed the barkeeper. “Why the Governor lives a hundred miles off and more. That wasn’t the Governor’s son any more than I am.”
“He called his father governor,” said Paul, beginning to be afraid that he had made some ridiculous blunder.
“Well, I wouldn’t advise you to trust him again, even if he’s the President’s son. He only got you in here to pay for his oysters. He told me when he went out that you would pay for them.”
“And didn’t he say he was coming back?” asked Paul, quite dumbfounded.
“He said you hadn’t quite finished, but would pay for both when you came out. It’s two shillings.
Paul rather ruefully took out the half dollar which constituted his entire stock of money, and tendered it to the barkeeper who returned him the change.
So Paul went out into the streets, with his confidence in human nature somewhat lessened.
Here, then, is our hero with twenty-five cents in his pocket, and his fortune to make.
XIV.
A STRANGE BED-CHAMBER.
ALTHOUGH Paul could not help being vexed at having been so cleverly taken in by his late companion, he felt the better for having eaten the oysters. Carefully depositing his only remaining coin in his pocket, he resumed his wanderings. It is said that a hearty meal is a good promoter of cheerfulness. It was so in Paul’s case, and although he had as yet had no idea where he should find shelter for the night he did not allow that consideration to trouble him.
So the day passed, and the evening came on. Paul’s appetite returned to him once more. He invested one-half of his money at an old woman’s stall for cakes and apples, and then he ate leisurely while leaning against the iron railing which encircles the park.
He began to watch with interest the movements of those about him. Already the lamplighter had started on his accustomed round, and with ladder in hand was making his way from one lamp-post to another. Paul quite marvelled at the celerity with which the lamps were lighted, never before having witnessed the use of gas. He was so much interested in the process that he sauntered along behind the lamplighter for some time. At length his eye fel upon a group common enough in our cities, but new to him.