Hope Benham Part 1

Hope Benham.

by Nora Perry.

CHAPTER I.

"Ten cents a bunch! ten cents a bunch!"

A party of three young girls coming briskly around the southwest corner of the smart little Brookside station, hearing this call, turned, then stopped, then exclaimed all together,--

"Oh, how perfectly lovely! the first I have seen. Just what I want!" and they pulled out their purses to buy "just what they wanted," just what everybody wants,--a bunch of trailing arbutus.

"And they are made up so prettily, without all that stiff arbor-vitae framing. What is this dear little leafy border?" asked one of the young ladies, glancing up from her contemplation of the flowers to the flower-seller.

"It's the partridge-berry leaf."

"Oh! and you picked them all yourself,--the arbutus and this partridge-berry leaf?"

"Yes."

"Oh!" repeated the young lady, giving a stare at the little flower-seller,--a stare that was quickly followed by another question,--

"Do you live near here?"

"Yes; very near."

"But you don't find this arbutus in Brookside?"

"No, in Riverview."

"In Riverview! why, I didn't know that the arbutus grew so near Boston as that."

"We have always found a little in Riverview woods, but this year there is quite a large quant.i.ty."

Riverview was the next station to Brookside. In Riverview were manufactories, locomotives, and iron-works, and in Riverview lived the people who worked in these manufactories. But in Brookside were only fine suburban residences, and a few handsome public buildings, for in Brookside lived the owners of the manufactories and other rich folk, who liked to be out of the smoke and grime of toil. The railroad station of Brookside, as contrasted with that of Riverview, showed the difference in the residents of the two places; for the Brookside station was a fine and elegant stone structure, suited to fine and elegant folk, and the Riverview station was just a plain little wooden building, hardly more than a platform and a shelter.

"But you don't live in Riverview, do you?" was the next question the young lady asked of the flower-seller, about whom she seemed to have a great deal of curiosity.

"Yes; I live in Riverview," was the answer, with an upward glance of surprise at the questioner and the question. Why should the young lady question her in that tone, when she said, "But you don't live in Riverview?"

The next question was more easily understood.

"You come over to the Brookside station to sell your flowers, don't you, because there are likely to be more buyers here?"

"Oh, yes; I couldn't sell them at Riverview."

Just then other voices were heard, and other people began to gather about the flower-seller, who from that time was kept busy until the train approached. As the cars moved away from the station, the young lady who had been so curious looked out of the window, and then said to her companions,--

"She has sold every bunch."

"What? Oh, that flower-girl! Why in the world were you so interested in her?" one of the girls asked wonderingly.

"Why? Did you look at her?"

"I can't say that I did, particularly. What was there peculiar about her?"

"Nothing. Only she didn't look like a poor child,--a common child, you know, who would sell things on the street. She was very prettily and neatly dressed, and she spoke just like--well, just like any well-brought-up little girl."

"Did she?" politely remarked her friend, in an absent way. She was not in the least interested in this flower-girl. Her thoughts were turning in a very different direction,--the direction of her spring shopping, a gay little party, and a dozen other kindred subjects.

In the mean time the little flower-seller, with a light basket and a lighter heart, was waiting for the down train. It was only a mile from Brookside to Riverview, an easy walk for a strong, st.u.r.dy girl of ten; but all the same, this strong, st.u.r.dy girl of ten preferred to ride, and you will see why presently. The down or out-going train from Boston pa.s.ses the in-going train a short distance from Brookside, and she had only five minutes to wait for it. This five minutes was very happily employed in mentally counting up her sales, as she walked to and fro upon the platform. She had brought twenty bunches of arbutus in her basket, and she had sold every one. Twenty bunches at ten cents a bunch made two dollars. She gave a little hop, skip, and jump, as she thought of this sum.

Two dollars! Now, if she should go again this very afternoon to the Riverview woods and gather a new supply, she might come back to Brookside and be ready when the 5.30 train brought people home from the city. So many people drove down to the station then to meet their husbands or fathers or brothers,--ladies and children too. It would be just the very best hour of all to sell flowers. Yes, she would certainly do it. It was only half-past one. She would have ample time, and then perhaps she would double--Cling-a-ling-a-ling, went the electric announcement of the coming train, and pouf, pouf, pouf, comes the train down the line, and there is her father looking out for her from the engine cab. He nods and smiles to her, and in another minute she has been helped up, and is standing beside him.

"Well, Hope, how did the flowers go?"

"I sold them all,--twenty bunches. Now!" The last word was thrown out as a joyful exclamation of triumph. Her father laughed a little. "And, father, I want to go to the woods again this afternoon for more flowers, and come back here for the 5.30 train,--there's such lots of people on that train."

The father looked grave.

"Oh, do let me, please!"

"I don't like to have you hanging around a station so much."

"But Brookside is different from a great many stations. There are no rough people ever about;" and with a brisk little air, "It's business, you see."

Mr. Benham laughed again, as he said, "Two dollars a day is pretty good business, I should think."

"But it won't last long,--only this vacation week. 'T isn't as if I were going to make two dollars every day all through the season."

"That is true. Well, go ahead and 'make hay while the sun shines.'

You'll be a better business fellow than your father if you keep on. But here we are at Riverview. Mind, now, that you leave Brookside to-night on the six o'clock train, no matter whether you've sold your flowers or not."

"Yes, sir." There was a joyful sound in this "Yes, sir," and a happy upward look at her father, which he did not catch, however, for not once did his eyes move from their steady watchfulness of the road before him.

CHAPTER II.

"There he comes!" and Hope ran forward out of the little garden to meet her father, as he came down the street, while her mother turned from the door where she had been waiting and watching with Hope, and went back into the tiny dining-room to put a few finishing-touches to the supper-table. Mr. Benham nodded as he caught sight of Hope. Then he called out,--

"How's business?"

"Two dollars more!"