Mark Mason's Victory

It came two days before the party.

With the money with which Mark supplied her, Mrs. Mason went up town to the well-known store of Arnold & Constable, intending to get dress patterns there.

She had made her purchases and received her bundle.

"Will you have it sent home?" asked the salesman courteously.

"No, thank you."

Mrs. Mason shrank from having the parcel brought to her humble abode in St. Mark's Place.

She was turning to go when she heard her name called in glad and familiar accents.

"Why, Ellen, do I meet you at last?"

"Lucy!" exclaimed Mrs. Mason, as she clasped hands warmly with her sister. "This is a delightful surprise."

"To me also; I thought I should never see you again."

"It is not my fault, Lucy."

"No, no. I know it," answered Mrs. Talbot. "Mr. Talbot is peculiar, as you know. He thinks everything of social rank. Now tell me, how are you getting on?"

"Very poorly till lately, but now better."

"You are not in want? Solon doesn't allow me much money, but – "

"No, Lucy. I want for nothing. Mark is a good boy, and he has been fortunate. You see I have just bought two dress patterns, one for Edith, the other for myself."

"I am glad indeed to hear it. Mark is a telegraph messenger, is he not?"

"Yes."

"I shouldn't think that would pay very well."

"It does not, so far as wages go, but some who have employed him have been liberal."

"Come out with me for a walk. My purchases can wait. We will go to Sixth Avenue, as we are less likely to be seen together than on Broadway."

For an hour the two sisters talked, and it seemed delightful to both to be again together.

"I must go home now," said Mrs. Mason, "as I left Edith alone. Besides it is time for me to prepare supper for Mark. I wish you could go with me."

"I would, Ellen, but Mr. Talbot would be angry."

"Do you think he is justified in keeping you away from your only sister?"

"No, but, Ellen, I am ready to make a sacrifice for a quiet life."

"Can't we meet again?"

"Yes; I will go to Arnold & Constable's next week on the same day and at the same hour. I wish I could invite you to my house, but you know how matters stand."

"Yes I know. Mr. Talbot appears to have increased his property."

"Yes, I judge so, though I receive no larger allowance. But he tells me very little of his affairs. He is more confidential with Edgar than myself."

"I have seen Edgar. He came to my rooms with his father some time since. He is about the age of Mark."

"Yes; there is not over a month's difference between them."

"If Mr. Talbot was different they would be company for each other. I believe Mark meets Edgar occasionally in the street. I hope Edgar is a comfort to you."

"He is my son, and of course I love him; but, Ellen; I fear his father is not exercising a good influence upon him. He is making him proud and arrogant. I would not mention this except to you."

At this moment Mark, going up-town on an errand in a Sixth Avenue car, saw his mother and his aunt together on the sidewalk. He instantly left the car and joined them.

"How do you do, Aunt Lucy?" he said, his face lighting up.

"And this is Mark!" said Mrs. Talbot equally pleased. "How you have grown and how well you look!"

"Thank you, aunt. I am tall enough to look over my mother's head."

"As Edgar is taller than I. Your mother tells me you meet Edgar sometimes."

"Yes, Aunt Lucy," returned Mark smiling, "but he doesn't care to be very intimate with his poor relations."

Mrs. Talbot looked grave.

"You won't suspect me of the same feeling, Mark?" she said.

"No; you are too much like mother."

"I am glad to hear that you are doing well."

"Yes; I have been fortunate."

"I wish you were in a better position. Perhaps Mr. Talbot might interest himself to get you a better place."

"No, aunt, don't ask him. I have other friends who will help me when I wish to make a change. For the present I am content to remain as I am."

Mark excused himself and boarded the next car, as he did not wish to lose any time.

The sisters separated and Mrs. Mason went home feeling cheered by her unexpected interview with Mrs. Talbot.

When she returned to her humble home Edith said, "Mrs. Mack wants to see you. I think she is very sick. A gentleman came to see her, but I don't know whether it was a doctor."

Mrs. Mason went up stairs immediately.

The old lady was lying on the bed, looking fatigued.

"How do you do, Mrs. Mack?" said Mrs. Mason kindly.

"I feel tired, but I am strong – oh, yes, I am very strong. I think I shall live ten years," and the old woman peered anxiously into Mrs. Mason's face hoping for a confirmation of her opinion.

"I hope you will if you desire it. Edith tells me you have had a visit from the doctor."

"No, it was not the doctor; it was a lawyer. I have made my will."

Mrs. Mason looked surprised.

"Not that I have much to leave, but I don't want my nephew to get anything. If anything happens to me – some years hence – I would like you to call on my lawyer and tell him. He has an office at 132 Nassau Street. Mr. Page. You will remember?"

"Yes."

"He has my will. I didn't want to leave it here. It might be stolen, or mislaid, and then Jack Minton would inherit. You'll put down the address?"

"I will do it at once."

"That is all. I think I will sleep now."

"I wonder who will inherit the old lady's money," thought Mrs. Mason. "Very probably she has left it to some charitable society. I know of no other relation except Jack Minton."

CHAPTER XXV.

MAUD GILBERT'S PARTY

Edgar Talbot looked forward with eager anticipation to the evening of Maud Gilbert's party. It was to be his introduction into New York society.

He flattered himself that his appearance would win him favor. Though far from handsome, he thought himself so – a delusion not uncommon among boys and men. He dressed himself very carefully, and at the proper time set out for the house where the party was to be held. He and Stanley Rayburn had agreed to go together.

On reaching the house they were directed to the room set apart for gentlemen to arrange their toilet and leave their coats. The mansion was brilliantly decorated, and as Edgar went up-stairs he felt a thrill of exultation at being a guest in such a house.

He inwardly resolved that he would take advantage of his slight acquaintance with the Gilberts and push himself into intimate friendship. In that way he would be in a position to extend his acquaintance among fashionable people.

But a surprise and a shock were in store for him. As he entered the room he saw a boy standing in front of the mirror brushing his hair. He started in surprise.

The figure looked familiar. Could it be! Yes, it was his cousin Mark Mason – Mark Mason, handsomely dressed in party costume, and with a rose in his button-hole.

Mark turned round to see who were the newcomers.

"Good evening, Edgar," said Mark.

"You here!" exclaimed Edgar, in unqualified amazement.

"Yes; I did not expect to have the pleasure of meeting you," answered Mark with an amused smile. He understood Edgar's surprise, and the reason of it.

Meanwhile Stanley Rayburn stood by in silence.

"Introduce me to your friend, Edgar," he said, for he was attracted by Mark's frank, handsome face.

"Mark Mason – Stanley Rayburn!" said Edgar awkwardly. He would have liked to decline introducing Stanley to his poor cousin, but there seemed to be no way of avoiding it.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Mason," said Stanley cordially.

"Thank you, but don't call me Mr. Mason."

"I would rather say Mark. Any friend of Edgar – "

"Mark Mason and I are only acquaintances," said Edgar hurriedly, and in the worst possible taste.

"I hope that we shall be friends," said Stanley with emphasis, thinking that Edgar was a cad.

"I hope so too," rejoined Mark earnestly, "if, after getting my 'character' from Edgar," he added with a smile, "you still wish it."

Stanley was a little puzzled, not knowing how Mark was regarded by his companion.

"I think I shall go down at once," said Stanley. "I don't think I require any finishing touches to my toilet."

"Be ready to go with me to Miss Gilbert," said Edgar. "I will follow you in a minute."

"Very well."

"Now," said Edgar, when he and his cousin were alone, "how do you happen to be here?"

"By Miss Gilbert's invitation, of course. I suppose that is the case with you."

"Certainly. Does she know that you are a telegraph boy?"

"Yes."

"That's strange. Did you ever meet her?"

"Oh, yes; I have spent the evening here two or three times."

"That's queer. By the way, you seem to be very nicely dressed."

"I am glad you like my suit."

"Yet you are as poor as poverty. It was a crazy idea to run into debt for an expensive suit."

"I didn't run into debt. My suit is paid for."

"Yet your mother claims to be very poor."

"We are getting along better now."

"It would have been wiser for you to save the money you spent on this suit and keep it for rent and food."

"Your advice is very kind, Edgar, but I really feel that I can manage my own business."

"Oh, well, if you choose to resent my good advice – "

"I don't. I hope it springs from your interest in me."

During this conversation Edgar was brushing his hair carefully and "prinking" before the glass, for he was anxious to appear as fascinating as possible when he presented himself to Miss Gilbert.

"Shall we go down?" asked Mark.

"Yes, perhaps we may as well. I suppose you would feel awkward entering the drawing-room alone."

"Perhaps so," said Mark smiling.

As the two presented themselves in the room below Edgar looked about for Stanley, but did not see him.

"I wonder where Stanley has disappeared to," he said in a tone of vexation. "He promised to go up with me to Miss Gilbert."

"If he doesn't show up, Edgar, I shall be glad to take his place. As you have only recently come to the city, I suppose you don't know her well."

"I only met her once," Edgar admitted, "and she may not remember me."

"Then come with me."

Almost against his wishes Edgar found himself walking up to the other end of the room with his despised cousin. He would not have believed it possible if this had been predicted to him an hour earlier.

"Good evening, Mark! I am glad to see you here," said Maud Gilbert, with a pleasant smile.

"Let me present Mr. Edgar Talbot," said Mark after a suitable acknowledgment.

"I had the pleasure of meeting you when in company with Stanley Rayburn," explained Edgar.

"Oh, yes, I remember. And so you are also acquainted with Mark."

"Yes," answered Edgar, rather awkwardly. "I expected Mr. Rayburn to present me."

"You have found a sponsor equally good," returned Maud.

Then the two walked on, giving place to others.

"You seem to know Miss Gilbert very well," said Edgar in a tone of curiosity.

"Yes."

"It is strange. I don't understand it."

Edgar was relieved to find that Mark did not claim him as a cousin, though to his surprise he saw that Mark stood particularly well with the young hostess.

"How do you, Mark?" The speaker was a bright boy of sixteen, the brother of Miss Gilbert. "How well you are looking!"

"Thank you, Charlie. If a young lady had told me that it would make me proud."

"Come along. I will introduce you to a couple of nice girls."

"Who is that?" asked Edgar of Rayburn, who had now come up.

"Don't you know? That is Charlie Gilbert, Maud's brother."

"So he knows Mark, too."

"Why shouldn't he?"

"Because Mark is – you will be surprised to hear it – a common telegraph boy."

"He may be a telegraph boy, but he certainly is not a common one. He is a nice-looking fellow, and I am glad to know him."

Presently dancing began. In his earlier days, when his father was living, Mark had taken lessons from a teacher, and though he was rather out of practise he ventured to go out on the floor, having as his partner one of the prettiest girls in the room.

As there was space for but two sets of dancers, Edgar was obliged to sit still and see the others dance. He felt very much dissatisfied especially as Mark seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly.

"Society in New York seems to be very much mixed," he said to himself, "when telegraph boys can push in and make themselves so conspicuous in rich men's houses."

Edgar got a chance to dance once later on, but the girl he danced with was very small and insignificant in appearance.

"Well, what kind of a time did you have?" asked Solon Talbot when his son returned home.

"Very good."

"I suppose it was quite a brilliant affair," said Solon Talbot complacently. "I am glad to have you invited to such a swell house. Did Stanley Rayburn take you up to Miss Gilbert?"

"No; he promised to, but when I looked for him he was not to be found."

"That was awkward."

"No; I found a substitute, a boy whom you and I both know."

"I have no idea whom you can mean."

"No; you might guess all night, but without success. It was Mark Mason."

"What! You don't mean to say that Mark Mason was a guest at the party?"

"Yes he was, and he seemed very well acquainted too."

"Was he in his telegraph uniform?"

"No; he had on a nice new suit, as handsome as mine. He had a rose in his button-hole and looked quite like a dude."

"How very extraordinary!" ejaculated Solon.

"I thought you would say so."

"Why, they are living from hand to mouth, steeped in poverty."

"So I thought, but it doesn't seem like it."

"The boy must be very cheeky, but even so, I can't account for his success. I shall have to call on his mother and ask what it means."

CHAPTER XXVI.

AN IMPORTANT COMMISSION

A week later Mark received the following letter:

"Mark Mason: Please call at my office as soon as convenient.

"D. Gilbert."

"This letter is from Maud Gilbert's father," said Mark, addressing his mother. "I wonder what he wants."

"Nothing disagreeable, I am sure. Of course you will go."

"I will call to-morrow morning."

Mr. Gilbert was a commission merchant, with an office in the lower part of the city, west of Broadway. Mark obtained leave of absence for an hour agreeing to pay the price usually charged to customers.

He had seen Mr. Gilbert, a stout, portly man of fifty, during his call at the house in Forty-Fifth Street. Therefore when he was admitted to Mr. Gilbert's office, he addressed him not as a stranger but as an old acquaintance.

"I received your note, Mr. Gilbert, and have called according to your request."

"That is right, Mark. Sit down till I have finished looking over my letters. You will find the morning Herald on the table near you."

In ten minutes the merchant had finished with his letters, and whirled round in his chair.

"I believe you are a telegraph boy," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"What pay do you receive?"

"I don't average over six dollars a week."

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"My daughter thinks you are unusually bright and intelligent."

"I am very much obliged to Miss Maud for her good opinion," said Mark, his face flushing with gratification.

"How can you get along on six dollars a week? You have a mother partially dependent upon you, I believe."

"I have lately had a present of a thousand dollars from Mr. Luther Rockwell, the banker. I was in his office when a dynamite crank threatened to blow us all up."

"I heartily congratulate you, Mark. You deserved the gift for your coolness and courage, but it isn't every rich man who would make so generous an acknowledgment for your services."

"That's true, sir. Mr. Rockwell has been very kind."

"How do you like the position of telegraph boy?"

"I would like to give it up. It doesn't lead to anything. But I don't want to throw myself out of work. Six dollars a week is a small income, but it is better than nothing."

"I approve your prudence, but I think other and better employment can be obtained for you. Maud tells me that you were sent not long since to Cleveland with some valuable jewelry."

"Yes, sir."

"You succeeded in your mission?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you meet with any adventures while you were gone?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me briefly what they were."

Mark did so.

"Don't think I am influenced by curiosity," said Mr. Gilbert. "The fact is, I have a still longer journey for you if you don't object, and I wished to assure myself that you were adequate to undertake it. It may take six weeks, or it may take two months. I should advise you to give up your position as messenger, and I will guarantee you an equally good place when you return."

"Thank you, sir. In that case I won't hesitate to give it up."

"Your week closes to-morrow, I suppose."

"Yes, sir."

"Then give notice at once."

"Where are you going to send me, sir?" asked Mark, with pardonable curiosity.

"To California."

Mark looked amazed. He knew that California was even further away than Liverpool, and having the love of travel and adventure natural to boys of his age he felt that he should thoroughly enjoy the trip.

"I should like very much to go," he said promptly.

"Now I must tell you why I send you. A cousin of mine has just died in California, leaving a young son of ten years of age. He wrote me a letter from his death-bed commending the boy to my care. I will gladly undertake the charge of the boy, as I had a strong regard for his father, who, by the way had died poor.

"But a difficulty presented itself. The boy could not come East by himself, and there seemed no one to bring him. Of course I can't leave my business, and there is no one else in my family who can be sent. Under these circumstances Maud has recommended me to send you."

"I shall be glad to go, sir."

"You are a rather young guardian for a young boy, but I think you possess the necessary qualification. Your experience as a telegraph boy has made you sharp and self-reliant, and altogether I think you will acquit yourself to my satisfaction."

"I will try to, sir."

"I need no assurance of that."

"How am I to go?"

"By the Union and Central Pacific Road from Omaha. I will supply you with a through ticket."

"Shall you wish me to return immediately?"

"No; you can stay in California two or three weeks and get acquainted with the boy. I have never seen him, but I think you won't find him troublesome. Are you fond of children?"

"Very, sir."

"The poor boy will need a kind friend, having lost his father so recently. And now, there is one thing more to be spoken of – your compensation."

"I shall be satisfied with whatever you think right."

"Then we will fix that after your return. But you will need to leave some money with your mother to pay expenses while you are away."

"I can draw from Mr. Rockwell."

"No; if you have money in his hands let it remain. I will advance you a hundred dollars to leave with your mother. I may as well do that now. On Saturday evening, when you are released from your present position, call at the house and receive your ticket and final instructions."

"Thank you, sir."

Mr. Gilbert rang a little bell, and a boy appeared.

"Go to the bank and get this check cashed," said the merchant.

In a few minutes he returned with a roll of bills.

"Count them over and see if they are right, Mark."

"Yes, sir; they are correct."

"Very good! Remember that they are for your mother. Tell her also that if you remain longer than I anticipate, and she gets short of money, she can call at my office and I will supply her with more."

Mark left the office in a state of joyful excitement.

He was to make a long journey across the continent. He would see many states and cities, and become acquainted with places which he now knew only by hearsay. And after he returned his prospects would be brighter, for Mr. Gilbert had promised to find him a position at least equal to the one he resigned.

In the afternoon as Mark was returning from an errand in West Fiftieth Street, he saw Edgar Talbot in the neighborhood of Bryant Park.

"Hallo!" said Edgar condescendingly. "Are you on an errand?"

"Yes."

"Ho, ho! how you will look in a telegraph boy's uniform when you are a young man of twenty-five."

"What makes you think I am going to be a telegraph boy so long?"

"Because you are not fit for any other business."

Mark smiled.

"I am sorry for that," he said, "for as it happens I have tendered my resignation."

"You don't mean that you are going to leave the messenger service?"

"Yes."

"But how are you going to live? It won't be any use to ask father for money."

"I presume not."

"Perhaps," suggested Edgar hopefully, "you have been discharged."

"I discharged myself."

"Have you got another position?"

"I am going to travel for a while."

Edgar Talbot was more and more perplexed. In fact he had always found Mark a perplexing problem.

"How can you travel without money?"

"Give it up. I don't propose to."

"Have you got any money?"

Mark happened to have with him the roll of bills given him for his mother. He drew it out.

"Do you mean to say that is yours? How much is there?"

"A hundred dollars."

"I don't believe it is yours."

"It isn't. It belongs to my mother."

"But father said she was very poor."

"At any rate this money belongs to her."

"Where are you going to travel?"

"Out West."

This was all the information Mark would give. Edgar reported the conversation to his father, who was also perplexed.

"Mark Mason is a strange boy," he said. "I don't understand him."

CHAPTER XXVII.

LAST INSTRUCTIONS

Mark had intended to find a new and more comfortable place for his mother, being dissatisfied with their humble rooms in St. Mark's Place, but the journey he was called upon so unexpectedly to make, led to a postponement of this plan.

"You can move, mother, if you like," said Mark, after placing the hundred dollars in her hands. "You'll have money enough."

"That's true, Mark, but you wouldn't know how to address me, and I might lose some of your letters. I shall be satisfied to stay here till you return. But do you think you had better go? You are very young to cross the continent alone."

"I am nearly sixteen, mother, and I have been in the habit of looking out for myself. Besides Mr. Gilbert thinks I am old enough, and if he has confidence in me I ought to have confidence in myself."

"I suppose it is all right, but I shall miss you terribly."

"It is for my good, and will be for yours, mother. I have long wanted to leave the messenger service and get into some steady position where I can push myself ahead, and this seems to me my chance."

"You will write often, Mark?"

"I will be sure to do that. You don't think I will forget my mother?"

On Saturday evening Mark went to Mr. Gilbert's to receive instructions.

"I must tell you something about the boy of whom you are to be temporary guardian," said Mr. Gilbert. "Perhaps it will be best for me to read you in the first place the letter I received from my poor cousin just before his death. It was written at his dictation, for he was already too weak to hold the pen."

He drew from a desk this letter which he proceeded to read aloud:

"Gulchville, California,

"Oct. 17.

"My dear Cousin,

"When this letter reaches you I shall in all probability be in a better world. I am dying of consumption. I leave behind me a boy of ten – my poor little Philip. I leave him to the mercies of a cold world, for I am penniless. I had a little property once, but I speculated and lost all. Poor Philip will be an orphan and destitute. I know you are rich and prosperous. Won't you, in your generosity, agree to care for my poor boy? He won't require much, and I shall be content to have him reared plainly, but I don't want him to suffer.

"I am sick at the house of a cousin of my wife. He is a mean man, and his wife is also penurious and mean. They have made my sickness still more bitter by their taunts. They complain that I am an expense to them, and they would turn me out of doors, sick as I am, I am convinced, if they were not ashamed to do so. Poor Philip will be left to their tender mercies, but I hope only for a short time. I can bear to suffer myself, but I can't bear to think of his suffering. He is a sensitive boy, not over strong, and ill-fitted to bear the buffetings of a cold and unkind world. Won't you send for him as soon as you can? In your hands I am sure he will be safe and kindly cared for.