“I look upon you as a brother, Bernard. With the affection I feel for you I could not allow you to run the risk of poverty and destitution. To be sure, you are young and a boy of capacity, but for a time you might be in trouble.”
That very morning Mr. Cunningham took Bernard to the office of his banker in Wall Street, and transferred the sum he had mentioned to Bernard’s account.
“I advise you to keep your money for the present in the hands of my good friends here, unless you should prefer to deposit it with your old guardian, Mr. McCracken.”
“I would not trust Mr. McCracken,” said Bernard, “but I should like before I leave the city to pay him a visit.”
Walking down Broadway in the afternoon Bernard was treated to a surprise. Marching in front of him with a slow and weary step was a thick-set man of over fifty, sandwiched between two advertising boards, bearing in large capitals these words:
“USE SWEETLAND’S PILLS.”
There was something familiar in the figure, but from a rear view Bernard could not immediately place it. However, the man presently turned partly round, showing his side face, and Bernard was startled by a sudden recognition.
It was Professor Puffer!
Yes, the celebrated professor, author (by his own account) of several large and elaborate works on the antiquities of the old world, had actually sunk so low as to become a sandwich man, earning the miserable pittance of fifty cents a day.
Bernard at once in some excitement imparted his astonishing discovery to his companion.