"Let it pass," said the squire, with a wave of the hand.  "Call it

three-fifths, if you will.  Even then the property is more mine than
yours.  Women don't understand business, or you would see matters in a
different light."

"I am a woman, it is true, but I understand very well that you wish to
take advantage of me," said the widow, not without excusable
bitterness.

"My good lady, you forget that I am ready to cancel the mortgage and
pay you three hundred and fifty dollars for the house.  Now, three
hundred and fifty dollars is a handsome sum--a very handsome sum.  You
could put it in the savings bank and it would yield you quite a
comfortable income."

"Twenty dollars, more or less," said Mrs. Barclay.  "Is that what you
call a comfortable income?  How long do you think it would keep us
alive?"

"Added, of course, to your son's wages.  Ben is now able to earn good
wages."

"He earns four dollars a week, and that is our main dependence."

"I congratulate you.  I didn't suppose Mr. Crawford paid such high
wages."

"Ben earns every cent of it."

"Very possibly.  By the way, what is this that Tom was telling me
about Ben being sent to New York to buy goods for the store?"

"It is true, if that is what you mean."

"Bless my soul!  It is very strange of Crawford, and I may add, not
very judicious."

"I suppose Mr. Crawford is the best judge of that, sir."

"Even if the boy were competent, which is not for a moment to be
thought of, it is calculated to foster his self-conceit."

"Ben is not self-conceited," said Mrs. Barclay, ready to resent any
slur upon her boy.  "He has excellent business capacity, and if he
were older I should not need to ask favors of anyone."

"You are a mother, and naturally set an exaggerated estimate upon your
son's ability, which, I presume, is respectable, but probably not
more.  However, let that pass.  I did not call to discuss Ben but to
inquire whether you had not thought better of the matter we discussed
the other evening."

"I never shall, Squire Davenport.  When the time comes you can
foreclose, if you like, but it will never be done with my consent."

"Ahem!  Your consent will not be required."

"And let me tell you, Squire Davenport, if you do this wicked thing,
it won't benefit you in the end."

Squire Davenport shrugged his shoulders.

"I am not at all surprised to find you so unreasonable, Mrs. Barclay,"
he said.  "It's the way with women.  I should be glad if you would
come to look upon the matter in a different light; but I cannot
sacrifice my own interests in any event.  The law is on my side."

"The law may be on your side, but the law upholds a great deal that is
oppressive and cruel."

"A curious set of laws we should have if women made them," said the
squire.

"They would not bear so heavily upon the poor as they do now."

"Well, I won't stop to discuss the matter.  If you come to entertain
different views about the house, send word by Ben, and we will arrange
the details without delay.  Mr. Kirk is anxious to move his family as
soon as possible, and would like to secure the house at once."

"He will have to wait three months at least," said Mrs. Barclay
coldly.  "For that time, I believe the law protects me."

"You are right there; but at the end of that tine you cannot expect as
liberal terms as we are now prepared to offer you."

"Liberal!" repeated the widow, in a meaning tone.

"So I regard it," said the squire stiffly.  "Good-evening."

An hour later Mrs. Barclay's reflections were broken in upon by the
ominous clang of the engine bell.  This is a sound which always
excites alarm in a country village.

"Where's the fire?" she asked anxiously, of a boy who was running by
the house.

"It's Crawford's store!" was the startling reply.  "It's blazin' up
like anything.  Guess it'll have to go."

"I hope Ben'll keep out of danger," thought Mrs. Barclay, as she
hurriedly took her shawl and bonnet and started for the scene of
excitement.




CHAPTER XIV
BEN SHOWS HIMSELF A HERO


A fire in a country village, particularly where the building is a
prominent one, is sure to attract a large part of the resident
population.  Men, women, and children, as well as the hook and ladder
company, hurried to the scene of conflagration.  Everybody felt a
personal interest in Crawford's.  It was the great emporium which
provided all the families in the village with articles of prime and
secondary necessity.  If Paris can be called France, then Crawford's
might be called Pentonville.

"Crawford's on fire!" exclaimed old Captain Manson.  "Bless my soul!
It cannot be true.  Where's my cane?"

"You don't mean to say you're goin' to the fire, father?" asked his
widowed daughter in surprise, for the captain had bowed beneath the
weight of eighty-six winters, and rarely left the domestic hearth.

"Do you think I'd stay at home when Crawford's was a-burning?"
returned the captain.

"But remember, father, you ain't so young as you used to be.  You
might catch your death of cold."

"What!  at a fire?" exclaimed the old man, laughing at his own joke.

"You know what I mean.  It's dreadfully imprudent.  Why, I wouldn't go
myself."

"Shouldn't think you would, at your time of life!" retorted her
father, chuckling.

So the old man emerged into the street, and hurried as fast as his
unsteady limbs would allow, to the fire.

"How did it catch?" the reader will naturally ask.

The young man who was the only other salesman besides Ben and the
proprietor, had gone down cellar smoking a cigar.  In one corner was a
heap of shavings and loose papers.  A spark from his cigar must have
fallen there.  Had he noticed it, with prompt measures the incipient
fire might have been extinguished.  But he went up stairs with the
kerosene, which he had drawn for old Mrs. Watts, leaving behind him
the seeds of destruction.  Soon the flames, arising, caught the wooden
flooring of the upper store.  The smell of the smoke notified Crawford
and his clerks of the impending disaster.  When the door communicating
with the basement was opened, a stifling smoke issued forth and the
crackling of the fire was heard.

"Run, Ben; give the alarm!" called Mr. Crawford, pale with dismay and
apprehension.  It was no time then to inquire how the fire caught.
There was only time to save as much of the stock as possible, since it
was clear that the fire had gained too great a headway to be put out.

Ben lost no time, and in less than ten minutes the engine, which,
fortunately, was housed only ten rods away, was on the ground.  Though
it was impossible to save the store, the fire might be prevented from
spreading.  A band of earnest workers aided Crawford in saving his
stock.  A large part, of course, must be sacrificed; but, perhaps, a
quarter was saved.

All at once a terrified whisper spread from one to another:

"Mrs. Morton's children!  Where are they?  They must be in the third
story."

A poor woman, Mrs. Morton, had been allowed, with her two children, to
enjoy, temporarily, two rooms in the third story.  She had gone to a
farmer's two miles away to do some work, and her children, seven and
nine years of age, had remained at home.  They seemed doomed to
certain death.

But, even as the inquiry went from lip to lip, the children appeared.
They had clambered out of a third story window upon the sloping roof
of the rear ell, and, pale and dismayed, stood in sight of the shocked
and terrified crowd, shrieking for help!

"A ladder!  A ladder!" exclaimed half a dozen.

But there was no ladder at hand--none nearer than Mr. Parmenter's,
five minutes' walk away.  While a messenger was getting it the fate of
the children would be decided.

"Tell 'em to jump!" exclaimed Silas Carver.

"They'd break their necks, you fool!" returned his wife.

"Better do that than be burned up!" said the old man.

No one knew what to do--no one but Ben Barclay.

He seized a coil of rope, and with a speed which surprised even
himself, climbed up a tall oak tree, whose branches overshadowed the
roof of the ell part.  In less than a minute he found himself on a
limb just over the children.  To the end of the rope was fastened a
strong iron hook.

Undismayed by his own danger, Ben threw his rope, though he nearly
lost his footing while he was doing it, and with an aim so precise
that the hook caught in the smaller girl's dress.

"Hold on to the rope, Jennie, if you can!" he shouted.

The girl obeyed him instinctively.

Drawing the cord hand over hand, the little girl swung clear, and was
lowered into the arms of Ebenezer Strong, who detached the hook.

"Save the other, Ben!" shouted a dozen.

Ben needed no spur to further effort.

Again he threw the hook, and this time the older girl, comprehending
what was required, caught the rope and swung off the roof, scarcely in
time, for her clothing had caught fire.  But when she reached the
ground ready hands extinguished it and the crowd of anxious spectators
breathed more freely, as Ben, throwing down the rope, rapidly
descended the tree and stood once more in safety, having saved two
lives.

Just then it was that the poor mother, almost frantic with fear,
arrived on the ground.

"Where are my darlings?  Who will save them?" she exclaimed, full of
anguish, yet not comprehending that they were out of peril.

"They are safe, and here is the brave boy who saved their lives," said
Ebenezer Strong.

"God bless you, Ben Barclay!" exclaimed the poor mother.  "You have
saved my life as well as theirs, for I should have died if they had
burned."

Ben scarcely heard her, for one and another came up to shake his hand
and congratulate him upon his brave deed.  Our young hero was
generally self-possessed, but he hardly knew how to act when he found
himself an object of popular ovation.

"Somebody else would have done it if I hadn't," he said modestly.

"You are the only one who had his wits about him," said Seth Jones.
"No one thought of the rope till you climbed the tree.  We were all
looking for a ladder and there was none to be had nearer than Mr.
Parmenter's."

"I wouldn't have thought of it myself if I hadn't read in a daily
paper of something like it," said Ben.

"Ben," said Mr. Crawford, "I'd give a thousand dollars to have done
what you did.  You have shown yourself a hero."

"Oh, Ben, how frightened I was when I saw you on the branch just over
the burning building," said a well-known voice.

Turning, Ben saw it was his mother who spoke.

"Well, it's all right now, mother," he said, smiling.  "You are not
sorry I did it?"

"Sorry!  I am proud of you."

"I am not proud of my hands," said Ben.  "Look at them."

They were chafed and bleeding, having been lacerated by his rapid
descent from the tree.

"Come home, Ben, and let me put some salve on them.  How they must
pain you!"

"Wait till the fire is all over, mother."

The gallant firemen did all they could, but the store was doomed.
They could only prevent it from extending.  In half an hour the engine
was taken back, and Ben went home with his mother.

"It's been rather an exciting evening, mother," said Ben.  "I rather
think I shall have to find a new place."




CHAPTER XV
BEN LOSES HIS PLACE


Ben did not find himself immediately out of employment.  The next
morning Mr. Crawford commenced the work of ascertaining what articles
he had saved, and storing them.  Luckily there was a vacant store
which had once been used for a tailor's shop, but had been unoccupied
for a year or more.  This he hired, and at once removed his goods to
it.  But he did not display his usual energy.  He was a man of over
sixty, and no longer possessed the enterprise and ambition which had
once characterized him.  Besides, he was very comfortably off, or
would be when he obtained the insurance money.

"I don't know what I shall do," he said, when questioned.  "I was
brought up on a farm, and I always meant to end my days on one.
Perhaps now is as well any time, since my business is broken up."

This came to the ears of Squire Davenport, who was always keen-scented
for a bargain.  His wife's cousin, Mr. Kirk, who has already been
introduced to the reader, had, in his earlier days, served as a clerk
in a country store.  He had no capital, to be sure, but the squire had
plenty.  It occurred to him as a good plan to buy out the business
himself, hire Kirk on a salary to conduct it, and so add considerably
to his already handsome income.  He sent for Kirk, ascertained that he
was not only willing, but anxious, to manage the business, and then he
called on Mr. Crawford.

It is unnecessary to detail the negotiations that ensued.  It was
Squire Davenport's wish to obtain the business as cheaply as possible.
The storekeeper, however, had his own estimate of its worth, and the
squire was obliged to add considerable to his first offer.  In the
end, however, he secured it on advantageous terms, and Mr. Crawford
now felt able to carry out the plan he had long had in view.

It was in the evening, a week after the fire, that the bargain was
struck, and Ben was one of the first to hear of it.

When he came to work early the next morning he found his employer in
the store before him, which was not usual.

"You are early, Mr. Crawford," he said, in evident surprise.

"Yes, Ben," was the reply.  "I can afford to come early for a morning
or two, as I shall soon be out of business."

"You haven't sold out, have you?" inquired Ben quickly.

"Yes; the bargain was struck last evening."

"How soon do you leave the store?"

"In three days.  It will take that time to make up my accounts."

"I am sorry," said Ben, "for I suppose I shall have to retire, too."

"I don't know about that, Ben.  Very likely my successor may want
you."

"That depends on who he is.  Do you mind telling me, or is it a
secret?"

"Oh, no; it will have to come out, of course.  Squire Davenport has
bought the business."

"The squire isn't going to keep the store, is he?" asked Ben, in
amazement.

"No; though he will, no doubt, supervise it.  He will employ a
manager."

"Do you know who is to be the manager, Mr. Crawford?"

"Some connection of his named Kirk."

Ben whistled.

"Do you know him?" the storekeeper was led to inquire.

"I have not seen him, but he called with the squire on my mother,"
said Ben significantly.

"I shall be glad to recommend you to him."

"It will be of no use, Mr. Crawford," answered Ben, in a decided tone.
"I know he wouldn't employ me, nor would I work for him if he would.
Neither he nor the squire is a friend of mine."

"I did not dream of this, Ben.  I am sorry if the step I have taken is
going to deprive you of employment," said Mr. Crawford, who was a
kind-hearted man, and felt a sincere interest in his young clerk.

"Never mind, Mr. Crawford, I am not cast down.  There will be other
openings for me.  I am young, strong, and willing to work, and I am
sure I shall find something to do."

"That's right, Ben.  Cheer up, and if I hear of any good chance, rest
assured that I will let you know of it."

Tom Davenport was not long in hearing of his father's bargain.  He
heard it with unfeigned pleasure, for it occurred to him at once that
Ben, for whom he had a feeling of hatred, by no means creditable to
him, would be thrown out of employment.

"Promise me, pa, that you won't employ Ben Barclay," he said.

"I have no intention of employing that boy," said his father.  "Mr.
Kirk has a son of his own, about Ben's age, and will, no doubt, put
him into the store, unless you should choose to go in and learn the
business."

"What!  I become a store boy!" exclaimed Tom, in disgust.  "No, thank
you.  I might be willing to become salesman in a large establishment
in the city, but I don't care to go into a country grocery."

"It wouldn't do you any harm," said the squire, who was not quite so
high-minded as his son.  "However, I merely mentioned it as something
you could do if you chose."

"Bah!  I don't choose it," said Tom decidedly.

"Well, well; you won't have to do it."

"It would put me on a level with Ben Barclay, if I stepped into his
shoes.  Won't he be down in the month when he hears he has lost his
place?" and Tom chuckled at the thought.

"That is no concern of mine," said the squire.  "I suppose he can hire
out to a farmer."

"Just the business for him", said Tom, "unless he should prefer to go
to New York and set up as a bootblack.  I believe I'll suggest that to
him!"

"Probably he won't thank you for the suggestion."

"I guess not.  He's as proud as he is poor.  It's amusing to see what
airs he puts on."

Squire Davenport, however, was not so much interested in that phase of
the subject as Tom, and did not reply.

"I think I'll go down street," thought Tom.  "Perhaps I may come
across Ben.  I shall enjoy seeing how he takes it."

Tom had scarcely walked a hundred yards when he met, not the one of
whom he had thought, but another to whom he felt glad to speak on the
same subject. This was Rose Gardiner, the prettiest girl in the
village, who had already deeply offended Tom by accepting Ben as her
escort from the magical entertainment in place of him.  He had made
advances since, being desirous of ousting Ben from his position of
favorite, but the young lady had treated him coldly, much to his anger
and mortification.

"Good-morning, Miss Rose," said Tom.

"Good-morning," answered Rose civilly.

"Have you heard the news?"

"To what news do you refer?"

"Crawford has sold out his business."

"Indeed!" said Rose, in surprise; "who has bought it?"

"My father.  Of course, he won't keep store himself.  He will put in a
connection of ours, Mr. Kirk."

"This is news, indeed!  Where is Mr. Crawford going?"

"I don't know, I'm sure.  I thought you'd be more apt to inquire about
somebody else?"

"I am not good at guessing enigmas," said Rose.

"Your friend, Ben Barclay," returned Tom, with a sneer.  "Father won't
have him in the store!"

"Oh, I see; you are going to take his place," said Rose mischievously.

"I?  What do you take me for?" said Tom, haughtily.  "I suppose Ben
Barclay will have to go to work on a farm."

"That is a very honorable employment," said Rose calmly.

"Yes; he can be a hired man when he grows up.  Perhaps, though, he
will prefer to go to the city and become a bootblack."

"Ben ought to be very much obliged to you for the interest you feel in
his welfare," said Rose, looking steadily and scornfully at Tom.
"Good-morning."

"She feels sore about it," thought Tom complacently.  "She won't be
quite so ready to accept Ben's attentions when he is a farm laborer."

Tom, however, did not understand Rose Gardiner.  She was a girl of
good sense, and her estimate of others was founded on something else
than social position.




CHAPTER XVI
BEN FINDS TEMPORARY EMPLOYMENT


"Oh, Ben, what shall we do?" exclaimed Mrs. Barclay, when she heard
Mr. Crawford had sold out his business.

"We'll get along somehow, mother.  Something will be sure to turn up."

Ben spoke more cheerfully than he felt.  He knew very well that
Pentonville presented scarcely any field for a boy, unless he was
willing to work on a farm.  Now, Ben had no objections to farm labor,
provided he had a farm of his own, but at the rate such labor was paid
in Pentonville, there was very little chance of ever rising above the
position of a "hired man," if he once adopted the business.  Our young
hero felt that this would not satisfy him.  He was enterprising and
ambitious, and wanted to be a rich man some day.

Money is said, by certain moralists, to be the root of all evil.  The
love of money, if carried too far, may indeed lead to evil, but it is
a natural ambition in any boy or man to wish to raise himself above
poverty.  The wealth of Amos Lawrence and Peter Cooper was a source of
blessing to mankind, yet each started as a poor boy, and neither would
have become rich if he had not striven hard to become so.

When Ben made this cheerful answer his mother shook her head sadly.
She was not so hopeful as Ben, and visions of poverty presented
themselves before her mind.

"I don't see what you can find to do in Pentonville, Ben," she said.

"I can live a while without work while I am looking around, mother,"
Ben answered.  "We have got all that money I brought from New York
yet."

"It won't last long," said his mother despondently.

"It will last till I can earn some more," answered Ben hopefully.

Ben was about to leave the house when a man in a farmer's frock,
driving a yoke of oxen, stopped his team in the road, and turned in at
the widow's gate.

It was Silas Greyson, the owner of a farm just out of the village.

"Did you want to see mother?" asked Ben.

"No, I wanted to see you, Benjamin," answered Greyson.  "I hear you've
left the store."

"The store has changed hands, and the new storekeeper don't want me."

"Do you want a job?"

"What is it, Mr. Greyson?" Ben replied, answering one question with
another.

"I'm goin' to get in wood for the winter from my wood lot for about a
week," said the farmer, "and I want help.  Are you willin' to hire out
for a week?"

"What'll you pay me?" asked Ben.

"I'll keep you, and give you a cord of wood.  Your mother'll find it
handy.  I'm short of money, and calc'late wood'll be just as good
pay."

Ben thought over the proposal, and answered: "I'd rather take my meals
at home, Mr. Greyson, and if you'll make it two cords with that
understanding, I'll agree to hire out to you."

"Ain't that rather high?" asked the farmer, hesitating.

"I don't think so."

Finally Silas Greyson agreed, and Ben promised to be on hand bright
and early the next day.  It may be stated here that wood was very
cheap at Pentonville, so that Ben would not be overpaid.

There were some few things about the house which Ben wished to do for
his mother before he went to work anywhere, and he thought this a good
opportunity to do them.  While in the store his time had been so taken
up that he was unable to attend to them.  He passed a busy day,
therefore, and hardly went into the street.

Just at nightfall, as he was in the front yard, he was rather
surprised to see Tom Davenport open the gate and enter.

"What does he want, I wonder?" he thought, but he said, in a civil
tone: "Good-evening, Tom."

"You're out of business, ain't you?" asked Tom abruptly.

"I'm not out of work at any rate!" answered Ben.

"Why, what work are you doing?" interrogated Tom, in evident
disappointment.

"I've been doing some jobs about the house, for mother."

"That won't give you a living," said Tom disdainfully.

"Very true."

"Did you expect to stay in the store?" asked Tom.

"Not after I heard that your father had bought it," answered Ben
quietly.

"My father's willing to give you work," said Tom.

"Is he?" asked Ben, very much surprised.