“At a railroad ticket office not far from the Old South Church.”
“Do you know if he bought any ticket?” asked Ebenezer, anxiously.
“Yes,” answered Herbert. “I overheard him purchasing a ticket to Chicago.”
Ebenezer groaned, and his face seemed more and more wizened and puckered up.
“It is as I thought!” he exclaimed, bitterly. “My own son has robbed me and fled like a thief, as he is.”
Herbert was shocked, but not surprised. He didn't like to ask particulars, but Ebenezer volunteered them.
“This morning,” he said, “I foolishly gave Eben a hundred dollars, and sent him to Boston to pay for a bill of goods which I recently bought of a wholesale house on Milk Street. If I had only known you were going in, I would have sent it by you.”
Herbert felt gratified at this manifestation of confidence, especially as he had so recently been charged with robbing the post office, but did not interrupt Mr. Graham, who continued:
“As soon as Eben was fairly gone, I began to feel sorry I sent him, for he got into extravagant ways when he was in Boston before, and he had been teasing me to give him money enough to go out West with. About noon I discovered that he had taken fifty dollars more than the amount I intrusted to him, and then I couldn't rest till I was on my way to Boston to find out the worst. I went to the house on Milk Street and found they had seen nothing of Eben. Then I knew what had happened. The graceless boy has robbed his father of a hundred and fifty dollars, and is probably on his way West by this time.”
“He was to start by the three o'clock train, I think,” said Herbert, and gave his reasons for thinking so.