“Then you won't want me to come to-morrow?”
“Certainly, unless you object to going to Boston with me.”
“Object?” repeated Herbert, eagerly. “I should like nothing better.”
In fact, our hero, though a well-grown boy of sixteen, had never been to Boston but three times, and the trip, commonplace as it may seem to my traveled young readers, promised him a large amount of novelty and pleasurable excitement.
“I shall be glad of your company, Herbert. I hardly feel the strength or enterprise to travel alone, even for so trifling a trip as going to Boston.”
“At what hour will you go, Mr. Melville?”
“I will take the second train, at nine o'clock. It will afford me time enough, and save my getting up before my usual time.”
Herbert would have preferred going by the first train, starting at half-past seven, as it would have given him a longer day in the city, but of course he felt that his employer had decided wisely.
“It will be quite a treat to me, going to Boston,” he said. “I have only been there three times in my life.”
“You certainly have not been much of a traveler, Herbert,” said George Melville, smiling. “However, you are young, and you may see a good deal of the world yet before you die.”