“I’ve been talkin’ with the other fellers, Paul, an’ I want you to let me have the money that come from the theatre. We’re thinkin’ of doin’ somethin’ with it, an’ when you come home to-night we’ll tell you what it is.”
Paul had been thinking so much of his home and of his parents, whom he feared he should not see again, that he could have had no idea of Ben’s purpose, even though he had spoken more plainly, and he handed him the money without a word.
During the remainder of that day Paul was considerably mystified at the singular behavior of his friends; they indulged in the most wonderful winks and nods to one another whenever they were where he was, and something which Ben showed them from time to time seemed to please them immensely. Whenever he asked the reason for their unusual good-humor, and apparent secrecy about something, he was told that he should know at dinner-time, but not before.
Without having the slightest suspicion as to what his friends had done for him, Paul was so excited by the evident secret which was being kept from him that he was very impatient for the time to come when he could know what it was.
Never before had the boys seemed so anxious to be with him as they were during that afternoon, and he quite forgot their seeming coolness of the morning. One or all of them—excepting Mopsey, of course, who was obliged to remain at his stand in the absence of the boy who sometimes acted as clerk for him—kept near Paul all the day; and when it was time to go to dinner, it seemed as if they were escorting him home.
Once or twice while they were eating dinner some one of the party had said, “Now, Ben, now!” but Ben had shaken his head significantly and continued eating, as if he had no other duty before him.
When the meal was finished, instead of getting up from the table as they were in the habit of doing, each one of Mrs. Green’s boarders, as well as herself and Nelly, remained at the table as if waiting for something, and Paul looked at them in the greatest surprise.
“Mister Weston,” said Ben, gravely, as he pushed his plate farther on the table, and arose from his seat as if he had a long speech to deliver, “us fellers have seen that you wasn’t feelin’ very nice at havin’ to stay with us, an’ we kinder thought you wanted to leave us ’cause things didn’t go to suit you.”
As he paused for a moment, Paul, who had been in a perfect maze of wonder at this preface to the speech, said, quickly,
“I’m sure things go to please me as much as you can make them; but you mustn’t feel angry if I don’t want to stay, ’cause you know just how it happened that I came here; an’ when I think of my father an’ mother an’ my sister, I can’t—help—feeling—”