The interviews over, Archie and Bill went early to bed. The Enterprise correspondent had telegraphed the news of their arrival to New York, and had received word from Mr. Van Bunting to send them on to New York at once. So, early in the morning, the two started for the East, and the train seemed to travel quite as slowly as the steamer. “It does seem good to be in our own country again,” they said a hundred times during the days that followed, and when they reached the Empire State and began their journey down the Hudson River, Archie could hardly restrain his enthusiasm at being again in his native commonwealth.
There was quite a delegation at the Grand Central Station to meet them. Mr. Jennings was there in person, and he explained that Mr. Van Bunting was waiting anxiously at the office to see him. Then there were reporters from the various other city papers, who wanted interviews, but Archie was told to say whatever he had to say in the columns of the Enterprise, so he had to deny the reporters for the first time. Bill Hickson was introduced at once, and became the lion of the hour. Every one had read of him, and was glad to shake his hand, and poor Bill was quite bewildered by so much attention. They didn’t linger long at the station, however, but hurried down to the Enterprise office, where Mr. Van Bunting was awaiting them. He grasped Archie’s hand in his as they entered, and cried, “Well done, my boy, well done.” And Archie felt as if he had grown three feet that instant.
CHAPTER XXIV.
DOING “SPECIAL” WORK UPON THE EVENING PAPER—INTERVIEWS WITH FAMOUS
MEN—CALLS UPON OLD FRIENDS.
THERE was so much to tell Mr. Jennings and Mr. Van Bunting, that Archie didn’t get away from the Enterprise office until seven o’clock in the evening. And what a lot they did say to each other during the afternoon! Archie told of all his experiences, and found them all anxious to hear about them. He learned, to his joy, that everything he had sent had been printed, and that the articles had made a great hit with the public. “We would have liked to keep you there longer, but we knew you must be worn out, and then we want you to stay right here, now, and see if you cannot get us some good interviews and articles of various kinds for the Evening Enterprise. The paper has been losing ground somewhat, of late, and we need some new life for its pages. Of course the morning paper profited greatly by your articles, but the evening edition seemed very weak in comparison, and we think it only fair to Mr. Jennings to let him have you on his staff for awhile now. So if you are willing, you can start in to-morrow as a member of the staff. We will see that you are well paid for what you write, or we will put you on salary, whichever you like. You can think it over, and in the morning you can tell us which plan you like best.”
Archie wanted to ask for a few days’ absence to return home, but he felt, somehow, that he ought not to ask it just now. So he contented himself with writing a long letter to his mother, in which he enclosed a very large check, money which he had not used on his return to New York. He told her that he would be home just as soon as he could get off for any length of time, and he knew that she would now be looking forward to the visit every day. She had written him about the enthusiasm displayed by every one over his achievements, and how proud she was of what he had accomplished. “I think I am the proudest mother in the country,” she wrote one day, and this sentence made Archie very happy, of course, and more anxious than ever to return home. He received a letter, too, from Jack Sullivan, telling him how much the boys all thought of his success, and how every member of the Hut Club had longed time and again to be with him. “It all reads just like some book,” Jack wrote, “and we are dying to have you come home and tell us all about it.” Then his mother sent him clippings from the town papers, eulogising his efforts, and calling him the “coming man of the State.” All this was very pleasant and very encouraging, and Archie couldn’t help having a kindly feeling for the townsfolk who thought so much of him.
New York was as delightful as ever. It was now the last of April, and the trees were all green with fresh leaves, and the numerous little parks scattered over the city were looking their very best. The asphalt pavements looked clean and elegant when Archie thought of some other streets he had seen, and the tall office buildings lifted their ornate domes and cupolas into a sky of clear blue. “Surely,” he thought to himself, “this is the most charming city in all the world.” Fifth Avenue, with its crowds of fashionable folk, and its throng of vehicles, was a delight of which he never tired, and when he went into the Bowery, just to see how things were looking now, he found it quite as interesting and as dirty as in the fall.
But the first place he visited was the dear little square away down-town, where he had lived during those few happy days spent in New York. It, too, looked the same, only the flowers and grass were fresher now, and the fountain seemed to flow more joyously, now that spring was here. The house where he had lodged was as clean as ever, and Archie at once decided to engage a room here, where he could have his New York home. So he called upon the motherly landlady, and was glad to learn that the room he had first was still vacant, and that he could take possession at once.
As before, when he came to this house, Archie was almost out of clothing, so he went out and fitted himself with everything he needed. And this time he felt able to buy the best to be had, for he thought he had now earned the privilege to dress well if he liked. And then, when he had everything he needed to wear, he went out and bought many pretty things for his room, for he felt that he would like to have it just as cosy and home-like as possible. He wasn’t able to do much at it this first night, but in the succeeding days he furnished the place in a charming way, so that the landlady said it was the “handsomest room in the house, sir.” The dear old lady could hardly understand this great change in her lodger’s circumstances. She worried about it very often, and discussed the question with many of the neighbours. “He come here last fall looking mighty poor-like, but, lawsy me, he’s as fine now as any man on the avenue.” And she never did understand it until one day she learned that her lodger was the “very young man who had been to the war in the Philippines, and writ about his battles in the Enterprise.”