At a very early hour on the following morning Tim was up and dressed. Sam’s glowing pictures of the happy life he was about to lead had so excited him that he was anxious to begin it at once, and his sleep had been troubled by dreams of life on a steamboat under all kinds of possible and impossible circumstances.
Mr. Simpson gave him twenty-five cents as a nest-egg to the fortune he was about to make; and when Mrs. Simpson packed a generous lunch for him he choked up so badly that it was only with the greatest difficulty he could thank her for her kindness.
“Be a good boy, and never do anything to be ashamed of,” was the good lady’s parting charge, and he answered:
“I’ll try hard, so’s you sha’n’t be sorry you was so good to me.”
Sam walked toward the store with him, while as lonely and envious a feeling as he ever knew came over him as he thought of all the things Tim would see, simply because he had neither home nor parents, while he, who had both, was obliged to remain where he could see nothing.
“I wish it was me that was goin’,” he said, with a sigh of envy.
“If I had as good a home as you’ve got I wouldn’t want to go away,” replied Tim, gravely; and yet Sam had talked so much about the charms of the life he was so soon to lead that he had already begun to look upon himself as a very fortunate boy, and was impatient to begin his work at once.
The walk to Mr. Coburn’s store was not a long one; and although they were there fully half an hour before the time agreed upon, they found Captain Pratt ready and waiting for them. In fact, it seemed almost as if he feared his new boy, however unimportant the position he was to occupy, would not keep the agreement he had made.
“I’m glad to see you on hand early, for it’s a good sign,” and the captain’s face was wreathed in what he intended should be a pleasing smile, but which really was an ugly grimace.