“Is that all that is required, Doctor?” asked Mr. Dean, for he and Miss Wells had stepped into the room, just in time to hear the last sentence. “Don’t you think I owe Ted a few weeks in the country for finding Miss Wells for me again, when I hadn’t seen or heard from her for five years? Ted, you are a regular little mascot.”
At the word “mascot” a sudden idea seized John Dean. Drawing Amy Wells aside, he began speaking rapidly in a low voice. What he had to say evidently pleased her very much, but a look of doubt caused her to knit her pretty eyebrows. Mr. Dean, too, looked more sober, but he turned and came directly to Mrs. Marsh.
“Mrs. Marsh,” he began without preliminaries, “Ted, here, must go west with Amy and me. He has the kind of stuff in him that goes to make a man, and we can’t get too much stock of that sort out in our part of the country. You owe it to him—we all owe it to him—to get him out of the life he must face if he goes back to the street and his news-stand. He needs opportunity, and a chance to live in a place where he can fill both lungs with clean, fresh, health-giving air. He can’t get it in the city; he can on the ranch, and I’ll see to it that he gets the best education that money can obtain. Ted is our mascot. Amy and I can’t leave him here.”
Ted listened, open-mouthed, to all that was said that afternoon, for John Dean’s speech brought forth a long and earnest discussion in Room 30. Little Mrs. Marsh’s protests became fainter and fainter, until finally she reluctantly gave her consent, realizing it was a great opportunity for Ted.
It was Helen who had really convinced Mrs. Marsh when she said: “We must let Ted have his chance, mother. We must not be selfish.”
A few days later found Ted Marsh standing, bright eyed, on the observation platform of a Pullman, watching the country roll behind him.
CHAPTER V
NEWS FOR THE DOUBLE X
“SAY, boys, the boss is coming tomorrow.” Smiles, the speaker, proved the correctness of his nickname, for there was a broad grin on his countenance as he gave the message.
Fourteen men were sitting about a table. Busily, noisily too, they were clearing away the food. There was no pretense as to the finer points of table etiquette, the food came and it went; speed was the object. They were hungry men.
“How do you know he’s coming?” asked Pete.