"I thought he would. Are we likely to see him on deck soon?"
"No, sir, I think not."
Ben spoke so coldly that Bolton regarded him with a puzzled look. He could not help seeing that the boy did not care to continue the conversation, and, with a bow of farewell, joined another passenger in a promenade.
"I should like to have asked him a little more about the boy I am succeeding," thought Ben; but he respected the major's wishes, and kept aloof from Bolton for the remainder of the voyage.
CHAPTER XVII.
The Beauforts in Trouble.
There was an anxious look on Rose Beaufort's pleasant face. She and her young brother were the only bread-winners in the family, and work as hard as they might it was very difficult to make both ends meet. But for one item they could have managed with strict economy, but that item—the rent—was a formidable one. They hired their humble apartment of a Mrs. Flanagan, who leased the whole floor, and agreed to pay two dollars a week. This woman was a coarse, selfish person, whose heart was as hard and unfeeling as her face and manners were unprepossessing.
One Monday morning, about two months after Ben's departure for Europe, the landlady knocked at the door of the two sisters.
"It's Mrs. Flanagan," said Rose, with a troubled look, recognizing her knock. "She has come for her rent, and I have but fifty cents toward it."