Bernard Brooks' Adventures: The Experience of a Plucky Boy

“No, sir; I am quite alone in the world.”

“How did you chance to come to England?”

“It might take me some time to answer that question.”

“Never mind! I have plenty of time at my command.”

Thus invited, Bernard made a full statement of his position, and the circumstances which led to his leaving America. He also explained why he had left Professor Puffer.

“I am very much interested in your narrative,” said Cunningham. “You are certainly placed in a difficult position. You have reason to think that your guardian is no friend of yours?”

“I am certain of that, sir.”

“This Professor Puffer, though it is doubtful if he has any rightful claim to the title, appears to be a bad lot.”

“That’s what he calls me,” said Bernard, laughing. He already felt on very cordial terms with Mr. Cunningham.

“I may be foolish,” went on Cunningham, after a pause. “I don’t know what my friends will say, but I feel very much inclined to engage you.”

“I hope you will. It is not only that I need employment. I am sure I should enjoy being with you.”

“That settles it,” said Cunningham. “I already like you, and if you like me I am sure it will be pleasant for us to be associated. To be sure, you don’t know much about traveling. I do, and can supply your deficiencies. Now I will tell you why I seek a companion. Partly because it is agreeable, but partly also because I am not robust and am likely – that is, there is a chance of being sick – and in that case I should need a friend with me. I think I want a friend more than a companion. That was one reason why I didn’t feel favorably inclined to the other applicants.”

“No doubt they were better qualified than I am.”

“Yes, they were. The first one has considerable experience in traveling and speaks two or three of the Continental languages, but I never could make a friend of him.”

“He seemed very stiff and unsocial.”

“That was my judgment of him. As to the second, he was entirely too well satisfied with himself. I have no doubt he would try to make himself agreeable, and he has traveled some.”

“He seemed to think there was every chance of his obtaining the position. No one thought I had any chance.”

“You wouldn’t have with most persons, but I happen to like you,” said Walter Cunningham frankly.

“I am glad of that. I thought the young man who went in last might be successful. The middle-aged man didn’t have strong hopes.”

“No, he is too old, and seems to have had such a rough time in life that he would be far from a cheerful companion. He seems very hard up. When I write him my refusal I shall send him a five pound note to relieve his feeling of disappointment.”

“That will be very kind in you. I would do the same in your place.”

“I think we are alike in being considerate of others. As to the young man, he doesn’t seem to be practical. I am afraid that I should be a companion to him rather than he to me.”

“It may be so with me, but I shall try to make myself useful.”

“You look bright, and would, I think, learn rapidly to do all I expect of you.”

At this moment the man servant came in and handed a card to Mr. Cunningham, who uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“Whose card do you think this is?” he asked.

“I couldn’t guess.”

“It bears the name of Professor Ezra Puffer, your friend.”

“Don’t call him my friend! What can bring him here?”

“He wants to be my traveling companion.”

CHAPTER XXIV. PROFESSOR PUFFER FROM HIS OWN POINT OF VIEW

Shall you see him, Mr. Cunningham?” asked Bernard.

“Yes; I have engaged you, to be sure, but after what you have told me of the professor, I am curious to interview him.”

“I shouldn’t like to have him see me. He might try to get me into his power.”

“Wouldn’t you like to be present and hear what he has to say?”

“Yes, if I could do so unobserved.”

“You can. There is an alcove curtained off from the main room. Go in there, and you can hear every word that passes between us.”

“Thank you, I shall like it very much.”

“You may tell the gentleman to come in,” said Walter Cunningham, addressing his servant.

The latter reappeared, followed by Professor Puffer, who bowed low to the young man from whom he sought a position.

“Professor Puffer?” said Cunningham inquiringly.

“I have that honor,” said Puffer. “I called about your advertisement for a traveling companion.”

“Do you know of any one whom you can recommend?”

“I would be glad to accept the position myself. What salary do you propose to give?”

“That will be a matter of negotiation after I have made my selection.”

“I only wanted to make sure that it would be worth my while to accept. As you may infer from my card I am a man of reputation,” and Professor Puffer swelled out his chest and assumed a look of dignity.

“I am glad to hear it. I consider it a compliment that a man of your standing should be willing to be my companion.”

“To tell the truth, Mr. Cunningham,” went on Puffer, “I was not sure till I saw you whether I should be willing, but now that I have seen you I have a strong desire to accompany you.”

“Appearances are deceitful, you know, professor.”

“I am willing to take the risk. How soon do you propose to start?”

“My dear sir, it seems to me you are going too fast. I have not yet selected you. I should like to ask you a few questions.”

“I shall have pleasure in answering, sir. Professor Puffer is always open and aboveboard.”

“That is well. May I ask where you have held the position of professor?”

“At the American University of Harvard. Doubtless you have heard of it.”

“Certainly.”

“I have also lectured at Cornell University.”

“On what subject?”

“Ahem! On antiquities.”

“Then that is your specialty?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Doubtless I should find your companionship very instructive.”

“You are kind to say so.”

“I don’t say so. I only say that from your account of yourself I should presume so. Of course I know of you only from your own statements. So you were a professor at Harvard University?”

“Yes, sir.”

“During what years?”

“I left there a year since, after serving for a term of five years.”

“That was a long period. Why did you leave, may I ask?”

“On account of my health. I labored so assiduously that it became seriously affected. My physician prescribed traveling for a year or more. My means are not large, partly because I have spent so much money on books and scientific research, and our salaries as professors were not munificent.”

“You have a large library?”

“About four hundred volumes,” answered Puffer promptly. “I think those books – many of them rare – must have cost over ten thousand dollars.”

“Where are they now?”

“I have stored them. I could not make up my mind to sell them.”

“What an old humbug!” thought Bernard, as he heard the professor’s statements in the security of the alcove.

“May I ask your age, Professor Puffer?”

Puffer hesitated, and finally answered, “I am forty-five.”

Walter Cunningham would have been surprised if he had put any confidence in the professor’s statements, as he looked at least ten years older.

“I asked because I am a young man, and though you are doubtless a man from whom I should gain instruction, I am in doubt as to whether your age would not be too great to make you a congenial companion.”

“My dear Mr. Cunningham,” said the professor with a genial smile, “I am not surprised to hear you say so. Forty-five no doubt seems very old to you, but I assure you I have a young heart and my company is prized by a great many young people. Why, only recently I was engaged as companion for a boy of sixteen.”

“Indeed! What was his name?”

“Bernard Brooks.”

“Did he seem happy in your company?”

“Yes, indeed! We were like brothers. He loved me dearly.”

Walter Cunningham had hard work to suppress a smile, and Bernard felt like choking with laughter.

“Old Puffer is a worse humbug than I supposed,” he said to himself. “How I should like to burst upon him after that big falsehood! Wouldn’t he look disconcerted!”

“Where is the boy now? I should like to see him.”

“He has left England with some friends of the family.”

“Was he sorry to part with you?”

“I don’t like to boast, but, big boy as he is, he shed tears at leaving me.”

“How was it that you gained such an ascendency over him?”

“I really can’t say. I am naturally fond of young people, and they take to me.”

“You think, then, that I should find you an agreeable companion?”

“My dear Mr. Cunningham, may I say Walter, give me a week and we should be like Damon and Pythias.”

“I suppose this boy Bernard was an attractive boy?”

“Very much so. Of course he had his faults – most boys have – but as long as he gave me his affection I was willing to overlook them.”

“That was very kind in you. I am afraid I have faults, too.”

“Very few, I am sure, Walter – excuse me, Mr. Cunningham.”

“Can you give me an idea of what you would regard as a satisfactory salary in case I engaged you?”

The professor brightened up. This looked encouraging.

“At Harvard I was paid three thousand dollars a year,” he said, “but then my duties were arduous. I instructed a large junior class, and gave lectures weekly to the seniors.”

“I hope you wouldn’t feel inclined to lecture me, professor.”

“Ha, ha! very good!” said Puffer, laughing heartily. “You will have your joke. However, I only mentioned this to explain why my salary was so large. Of course I shouldn’t expect nearly as much with you. If you paid my traveling expenses and a hundred dollars a month it would satisfy me. I am not expecting to save much in this my year of recreation.”

“I will consider your proposal. By the way, can you show me a catalogue of Harvard University with your name enrolled as professor?”

“I am really sorry, but I don’t happen to have a catalogue with me.”

“One of Cornell, where I understand you gave a course of lectures, will do.”

“I regret to say that I haven’t that either.”

“Of course I don’t doubt you, but it would be pleasant to have some confirmation of your statements.”

“My dear Mr. Cunningham, I hope you don’t doubt my word.”

“You know I have never met you before this morning. Perhaps you have some of the books you have published which you can show me.”

“I haven’t at present, but I may be able to pick one up in the London book stores.”

“Do so, and send it to me by messenger. I shall be too busy to see you for a week to come.”

“Do I understand,” asked the professor insinuatingly, “that you engage me as a traveling companion?”

“Don’t understand anything of the kind just now. Give me your address, and I will communicate with you.”.

“I am staying at the Brown Hotel, in Norfolk Street.”

“Very well, I will note it down.”

“I shall be glad to hear from you as soon as possible, as I have another position in view.”

“Very well, Professor Puffer. I won’t keep you waiting unduly.”

Professor Puffer bowed gracefully and retired. Then Bernard was called from his nook by Mr. Cunningham. He came out all smiles.

“It was as good as a play, Mr. Cunningham,” he said. “I am very glad the professor speaks so well of me. It is quite unexpected.”

“It seems you shed tears at leaving him.”

“If I did they were tears of joy.”

“I don’t know but I had better reconsider my decision and engage Professor Puffer instead of you.”

“If you really think you would like him better, Mr. Cunningham, you had better do so.”

“You are not very much afraid of it. Well, Bernard, I will tell you what I did not care to tell him. I mean to start away inside of a week, and I think you had better join me at this hotel, so that we may make preparations together.”

“I should like nothing better.”

“As to the salary – you have not inquired how much I am to pay you.”

“I am content to leave that to you.”

“Very well. The professor settled that matter. I will pay your traveling expenses and give you a hundred dollars a month.”

“But that is much more than I can earn,” said Bernard, in astonishment.

“Very probably. I give you a large salary out of friendship.”

Miss Smith, the schoolmistress, was delighted to hear of Bernard’s success. The next day he removed to Morley’s Hotel.

CHAPTER XXV. BERNARD’S GOOD FORTUNE

It will be several days before I shall be able to get away, Bernard,” said Walter Cunningham, the next morning, “and, by the way, I have not told you where I am going.”

“No, sir; I should like very much to know.”

“I propose to visit Italy and perhaps Sicily. We shall go first to Paris, and remain a short time.” Bernard’s eyes sparkled. He had always wished to visit the continent, and had expected to do so in the company of Professor Puffer, but he felt that he should enjoy himself much more in the companionship of Walter Cunningham. Even had Puffer proved a reliable man, there was nothing about him to win the good will and attachment of a boy of his age.

“I shall enjoy it very much, Mr. Cunningham,” said Bernard.

“So I hope. I have not told you much about myself,” continued the young man, “but as we are to be companions and friends it is proper that I should do so.”

Bernard did not speak, but his face expressed unmistakable interest.

“I am alone in the world. My father and mother are dead, and I never had a brother or sister. My father was a wealthy man of business and a man of note, having reached (this was two years before he died) the position of Lord Mayor of London. He contracted a fever at his country house, where, it appeared, the drainage was bad. Two years since, just after I had attained my majority, he died, my mother having preceded him; and I was left in possession of a hundred thousand pounds.”

“Half a million of dollars!” said Bernard.

“Yes, that is the way it would be rated in America. In a pecuniary way, therefore, I am fortunate, but I can’t tell you how solitary I feel at times.”

“I can understand it, Mr. Cunningham. I am in the same position as yourself, only that I am left destitute.”

“Then it appears to me, Bernard, there is a special propriety in our being together. How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“I am but seven years older. I shall look upon you as a younger brother, and in our new relationship I shall expect you to drop the formal Mr. and call me Walter.”

“It will seem awkward at first, but I shall get used to it and like it.”

“By the way – you will excuse my mentioning it – but it seems to me that your suit is well worn, not to say shabby.”

“That is true. As soon as I can afford it I will buy another.”

“You need not wait till then. I will send you to my tailor’s, with instructions to make you two suits at once. I will also give you an order on my haberdasher for such articles as you may require in his line.”

“Thank you. You can deduct the price from my salary.”

“That is unnecessary. These articles will be my first gift to you.”

“How kind you are, Walter. I think,” Bernard added with a smile, “Professor Puffer would be willing to be a brother to you.”

“I have no doubt of it, but in spite of the professor’s fascinations and the affection which he says you entertain for him, I am afraid I should not appreciate him as perhaps he deserves. Now, I think it will be well for you to go and order your clothing, as we haven’t much time to spare.”

Mr. Cunningham’s tailor occupied a shop in Regent Street, and thither Bernard went. He took with him a note from his employer which insured him a flattering reception. He had no trouble in choosing cloth for suits, as Mr. Cunningham had sent instructions. Next he repaired to the haberdasher’s, and selected such furnishing goods as he required. By special direction of Mr. Cunningham they were of the best description.

He was just coming out of the shop when he met the young man – the first applicant for the position of companion to Mr. Cunningham. He looked rather shabby, and Bernard noticed that his coat was shiny.

He stopped short at sight of Bernard.

“Didn’t I see you at Mr. Cunningham’s rooms at Morley’s two days since?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir.”

“I have been expecting to hear from him. Do you know whether he has yet made choice of a traveling companion?”

“Yes, sir; he has.”

A shade of disappointment passed over the young man’s features.

“Whom did he select?” he asked.

“He chose me.”

“You!” exclaimed the other, in mingled surprise and disdain. “You?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What on earth made him select you? Why, you are only a boy.”

“That is true.”

“Have you ever traveled?”

“Only across the Atlantic from America.”

“It is positively humiliating,” said the other angrily, “to be superseded by a half grown, immature boy,” and he glared at Bernard.

“No doubt, sir,” said Bernard.

“Why, it was the height of audacity for you to apply for such a position.”

“I suppose it was,” said Bernard modestly; “but I had one excuse.”

“What was it?”

“I was poor, and very much in need of employment.”

“Then why didn’t you apply for a position as shop boy.”

“Because I don’t think I could live on the pay of a shop boy.”

“Mr. Cunningham must be insane. Certain no man with his wits about him could make such a foolish selection. Listen to me! I am poor as well as you. I need a new suit of clothes, but I can’t buy it. I have been out of work for three months. Now I am going to ask a favor of you.”

Bernard concluded that the favor was a pecuniary one, and he felt disposed to assist his unfortunate fellow applicant; but he waited to have him explain himself.

“This is the favor I ask,” the young man proceeded. “You will not long retain your position. Mr. Cunningham will discover your incompetency. When you are about to be discharged, will you mention my name as your successor? I am sure to suit Mr. Cunningham. There is my card.”

Considerably astonished at the coolness of the request, Bernard glanced at the card. It bore the name and address of Stephen Brayton.

“I will remember your request, Mr. Brayton,” he said; “but I hope I shall not be discharged.”

“Of course you hope so, but you are certain to lose your place. You seem to be good-natured. Since you have been successful, perhaps you will do me another favor.”

“I will if I can.”

“It is a small one. I am very short of money. Could you lend me half a crown?”

“I will do better than that. Here’s half a sovereign.”

The young man’s eyes sparkled with pleasure.

“You have a good heart,” he said. “As I did not get the place I am glad you did.”

“Thank you. I wish you good luck.”

“He is right,” thought Bernard. “It was certainly a singular selection for Mr. Cunningham to make. He did not think of my qualifications. He evidently took a liking to me.”

The next morning as Bernard was sitting in Mr. Cunningham’s rooms at Morley’s assorting his papers, the servant brought in a short note which Bernard read.

It ran thus:

“My Dear Mr. Cunningham:

“Not yet having heard from you, and being uncertain as to your decision in reference to a traveling companion, I have ventured to call to inquire as to your intentions. It is desirable that I should know speedily, as I have a proposal from another party which I shall otherwise accept. I should, however, prefer to go with you, as in the brief interview which you kindly accorded me I was very favorably impressed by your engaging personal traits.

“I am, very respectfully,

“Ezra Puffer.”

Bernard read over this note with amusement and a little apprehension.

“What had I better do?” he thought. “Will it be safe for me to see the professor?”

Mr. Cunningham had assured him that Professor Puffer could have no possible hold upon him, and he therefore decided to take the risk.

“You can tell the gentleman to come in,” he said.

Professor Puffer was in the anteroom. When he presented himself, with the note already written, he asked the servant, “Is Mr. Cunningham in?”

“No, sir,” said the servant; “but Mr. Brooks is in.”

“Is Mr. Brooks a friend of Mr. Cunningham’s?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then be kind enough to hand him this note. It is addressed to Mr. Cunningham, but he can read it.”

“Yes, sir. All right, sir.”

Quite unprepared for a meeting with his old ward, Professor Puffer entered the room with a jaunty step. When he recognized Bernard, he stepped back with an expression of intense astonishment on his face.

“Bernard Brooks!” he ejaculated..

“Yes, Professor Puffer. What can I do for you?”

CHAPTER XXVI. PROFESSOR PUFFER ONCE MORE

What brings you here, Bernard Brooks?” demanded Professor Puffer sternly. “You have no business in Mr. Cunningham’s room.”

“I am in the employ of Mr. Cunningham,” said Bernard.

“How can that be? You are too young to be his valet.”

“I have been engaged by him as his traveling companion.”

To say that Professor Puffer was surprised would be too mild. He was absolutely overwhelmed with astonishment. He could not believe it.

“This must be a falsehood,” he returned after a pause.

“You can stay here and inquire of Mr. Cunningham if you like.”

“I will,” said Puffer sternly. “I will let him know in that case that you are under my guardianship, and that I will not permit you to accept the preposterous engagement. You, a traveling companion!”

Bernard was not quite withered by the professor’s disdainful tone. Secure in the attachment of Walter Cunningham, all fear of his quondam guardian had disappeared.

“You forget, Professor Puffer, that I was your companion,” he said with a smile. “If I was fit to be your companion, I am certainly fit to be his.”

“You were not my companion. You were my ward. You are my ward still, and when I leave this place you must go too.”

“Would you take away Mr. Cunningham’s traveling companion?”

“He will have no trouble in obtaining a better one. But I don’t believe you have been engaged. He would have no use for a child.”

“Say ‘kid’ at once, professor.”

“I do not use slang,” returned Professor Puffer severely. “I shall wait and see Mr. Cunningham.”

“You will excuse my going on with my work.”

“What are you doing?”

“Sorting Mr. Cunningham’s papers.”

“Does he trust you to do that?”

“He requests me to do so.”

“Do you actually mean to say that you have been engaged as his traveling companion?”

“It is quite true.”

“Where did you fall in with him?”

“I saw his advertisement and applied for the place.”

“Where were you staying at the time?”

“At the Arundel Hotel, near the Strand.”

“Ha! And I was only in the next street How did it happen that I did not meet you?”

“I don’t know.”

“If your story is true, which I can hardly believe, what pay has Mr. Cunningham promised to give you?”

“Excuse me, Professor Puffer, but I would rather not tell.”

“As your guardian, I demand an answer.”

“You are not my guardian. Nothing would induce me to place myself again under your charge. You know very well what reasons I have for fearing and distrusting you.”

“I suppose you allude to that little affair on board the Vesta.”

“That little affair, as you call it, was an attempt to murder me.”

“Nonsense!” said the professor, but he did not appear quite at his ease. “You had better not make such a ridiculous charge. No one will believe it.”

“You may be mistaken in that, Professor Puffer.”

“When does Mr. Cunningham propose to travel?”

“You had better apply to him. I do not feel at liberty to spread his plans.”

Professor Puffer felt exceedingly mortified and annoyed. Here was a situation which he had applied for and been refused actually given to a mere boy against whom he felt a grudge – his own ward, as he chose to consider him.

“I won’t let him keep the place,” said Puffer, shutting his lips firmly. “I will tear him away from this fool of a Cunningham – and when I get him once more into my grasp, I will revenge myself upon him. He won’t find it so easy to get away from me again.” Half an hour passed. The professor maintained his place, looking grim and angry. Bernard handed him the morning issue of the London Times, but he seemed busy with his own reflections, and scarcely glanced at it.