Robert Coverdale's Struggle Part 37

How could he suppose that the boy before him, dressed as well as himself, was the poor fisher boy of Cook's Harbor?

"I don't seem to remember you," said George civilly.

Robert smiled.

"You met me at Cook's Harbor," he explained. "I am Robert Coverdale."

"What! not the young fisherman?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed George incredulously.

"The same."

"You haven't come into a fortune, have you? What brings you here?"

demanded the city boy in great amazement.

"I am in the city on business. No, I haven't come into a fortune, but I am better off than I was. Can you recommend me a good hotel?"

"I don't know about the cheap hotels."

"I don't care for a cheap hotel. I want a good one."

More and more surprised, George said:

"You might go to Young's."

"I will go there. Thank you for telling me."

"I don't understand how a boy like you can afford to go to such a hotel as that," said George, looking very much puzzled.

"No, I suppose not," returned Robert, smiling.

"If you don't mind telling me----"

"I am sorry I can't, but my errand is a secret one.

"Did my uncle send you?"

"No, neither he nor Herbert knows of my coming. I didn't have time to see Herbert before I came away."

"Are you going to stay long in Boston?"

"No, I think not. I am going to New York or Albany."

"It seems queer to me."

"Very likely. Good-by! Thank you for directing me."

George had been remarkably civil, but in a boy like him that is easily explained. He was civil, not to Robert, but to his new suit and his new prosperity.

"It's the strangest thing I ever heard of," he muttered as he walked away. "Why, the young fisherman is dressed as well as I am!"

CHAPTER XXIV

ON LONG ISLAND SOUND

Had he possessed plenty of leisure, Robert would have been glad to remain in Boston long enough to see the princ.i.p.al objects of interest in the city and its vicinity, but he never for a moment forgot that his time was not his own.

He had entered the service of the hermit, and every day's delay was so much additional expense to his employer. True, Gilbert Huet was a rich man, as he had himself acknowledged, but Robert was conscientious, and felt that this would not justify him in gratifying himself at the expense of the man who had so trusted him.

Robert felt proud of this trust--this very unusual proof of confidence in a boy so young and inexperienced as he was--and he was ambitious to justify it. I am sure, therefore, that he would have had little satisfaction in postponing it out of regard to his own pleasure.

There were two ways of going to the West, which, it will be remembered, was his destination--by the way of Albany or New York City.

Finding that it would not matter much how he went, Robert decided upon the latter. It would enable him to see the great city of which he had heard so much, and who knows but, in this great metropolis, which swallows up so many, he might hear something of the lost boy?

He decided, therefore, to go at once to New York, and, after some inquiry, he fixed upon the Fall River route.

This includes railroad travel to Fall River, a distance of about fifty miles, where the traveler embarks on a great steamer and arrives in New York after a night on Long Island Sound.

Guided by an advertis.e.m.e.nt in the daily papers, Robert made his way to the Old State House, at the head of State Street, and, entering the office of the steamboat line, asked for a ticket.

"Will you take a stateroom also?" asked the clerk.

"Is that necessary?" asked Robert, who was unused to traveling.

"No, it's not necessary. Your ticket will ent.i.tle you to a comfortable berth, but in a stateroom you have greater privacy."

"What is a stateroom?" asked our hero.

The clerk was rather surprised by this question, but decided that Robert was not accustomed to traveling and answered politely enough:

"It is very much like a room in a hotel, only much smaller. There is a berth and a washstand, and you can lock yourself in. There is greater security against robbery, for you hold the key and no one can enter it without your knowledge."

As Robert carried considerable money belonging to Mr. Huet, he felt that he ought to take this precaution, if it were not too expensive.

"How much must I pay for a stateroom?" he asked.

"You can get a good one for a dollar."

"Then I will take one."

"Number fifty-six," said the clerk, handing him a card with the number penciled on it. "What's your name?"

"Robert Coverdale."

So Robert walked out of the office with his pa.s.sage engaged.