“Arithmetic and History! You are studying, eh? Well, now, I call that industrious. Where do you go to school?”
“Nowhere. I pretend to go to the evening class at the Twenty-third Street Station, and sometimes I get there twice in the week, and sometimes only once. It’s a discouraging kind of studying. I’ve been after one example for two weeks and can’t get it.”
“Whereabouts are you? Ho! that old fellow; I remember him. I can show you about it, there’s just a mean little catch to it; but you’ve done well to get so far along.”
Then the two heads bent over the book, and over the row of figures on the margin of a freight bill; and presently the face of the discouraged boy lighted with a smile; he saw through the “catch.” Then there was a little talk between the two.
Ralph Westwood learned that the boy was an orphan; was working at the freight depot beyond his strength and on very small pay, because times were hard, and boys plenty; that he had a little sister in the Orphans’ Home, and the ambition of his life was to learn, and become a scholar, and earn money to support the little sister. He went to school regularly while mother lived, and worked between times to help support himself; and mother wanted him to be a scholar, and thought it was in him, but she had been dead for two years, and things were growing worse with him, and sometimes he was discouraged.
Then the freight came, and Ralph Westwood caught his ride into town, and had only time to say:—
“Don’t give it up, Charlie; who knows what may happen? Christmas is coming.”
“Christmas!” said Charlie to himself with a bitter smile; what could that bring to him but more work, because of an extra train, and late hours and scanty fare, and not even time to run up to the “Home” and see little Nell? Didn’t he remember how it was last Christmas?
As for Ralph Westwood he waited only to brush the snow from his clothes, and wash away the stains of soot from his hands, which must have been left when he shook hands with Charlie, then he sought a handsome library where a gentleman sat reading. Here he did not even wait to reply to the cordial “Good evening!” which greeted him, save as his polite bow was a reply, then he dashed into business. “Uncle Ralph! I have found your boy for you.”
“Indeed! that is quick work! Where did you find him?”