“And mailed in London? It must be from Ben Bruce,” said Frank with interest.
He opened the letter, when two pieces of paper slipped out and fell to the floor.
Alvin picked them up.
“What is this?” he asked. “See what funny pieces of paper.”
“They are Bank of England pound notes,” said Mrs. Mordaunt joyfully.
“Are they money? What funny money?”
“The two are worth ten dollars. Heaven be thanked! It relieves us from our present troubles. What does Ben say?”
This was the letter which Frank read aloud. It was dated at Morley’s Hotel.
“Well, I have been in London now for three days, and I am beginning to enjoy myself. My patroness, or adopted mother, as I am instructed to call her, is very kind and provides me liberally with pocket money. I will slip into this letter two one-pound notes, which I think you will find a use for. Don’t think too much of it. All my wants are supplied, and I can spare it just as well as not. I haven’t forgotten though I am living in luxury now, that I have been a poor newsboy on the Bowery, and at times haven’t known where my next rent money was coming from.
“You will expect me to tell you something about my voyage. Well, it was a very pleasant one, and I wasn’t seasick at all. You will be very much su’prised when I tell you that a young fellow that shared my stateroom with me is the younger son of an English earl—the Earl of Bentley. His name is Cyril Augustus Bentley. I must tell you also that I became very well acquainted with the Earl and Countess, who were also on board, and who appeared to form quite a liking for me. I am even invited to visit them at Bentley Hall, and go in about a week and a half. Cyril was urgent to have me come, and his parents seemed entirely willing to invite me. I presume I shall meet a good many people of title there, but I shan’t forget that I am an American boy, and have reason to feel proud of my birth. I feel quite as much at home with the Earl as I would with an American gentleman, and more so than I would with some.
“Of course my adopted mother is quite proud of the attention I am receiving from Cyril’s family, and I fancy she would have liked to receive an invitation herself. But for some reason the invitation was limited to me—I think it is on that account that my allowance has been increased, and that’s why I am able to send you the two pounds.
“I sometimes ask myself whether it is really Ben Bruce, the Bowery newsboy, who is about to be a guest in an earl’s family. I am sure that in my case truth is more wonderful than romance. I sometimes wander back in thought to my country home, and my miserly old stepfather, Jacob Winter, who wanted to bind me apprentice to a shoemaker. I don’t think he would believe it if I should write about the people I am associating with.
“I don’t know how long my prosperity is going to last, but I shall try to save a little money, so that, if I am suddenly cast upon the world, I may have a little fund to draw from. I must tell you that I have had presented to me an elegant gold watch, for which my patroness paid fifty pounds in a crack jeweler’s store in Regent Street. The plain silver watch I have laid by, and when I go back to America I shall ask your acceptance of it, as I believe you have no watch.
“Well, it is getting late, and I am tired. I hope this letter will reach you safely, on account of the remittance. After finishing this letter I must write a few lines to Cyril.
“Your sincere friend,
“Ben Bruce.”
“Ben is a trump, mother,” said Frank, his face aglow.