sank into the seat beside Phil.
"Sorry to
inconvenience you," he said, with a
glance at the bag.
"Oh, not at all," returned Phil. "I only put the
valise on the seat till it was wanted by some passenger."
"You are more
considerate than some passengers,"
observed the young man. "In the next car is a
woman, an
elderly party, who is
taking up three extra
seats to
accommodate her bags and boxes."
"That seems rather selfish," remarked Phil.
"Selfish! I should say so. I paused a minute at
her seat as I passed along, and she was terribly
afraid I wanted to sit down. She didn't offer to
move anything, though, as you have. I stopped
long enough to make her feel
uncomfortable, and
then passed on. I don't think I have fared any the
worse for doing so. I would rather sit beside you
than her."
"Am I to consider that a compliment?" asked Phil,
smiling.
"Well, yes, if you choose. Not that it is saying
much to call you more
agreeable company than the
old party alluded to. Are you going to New York?"
"Yes, sir."
"Live there?"
"I expect to live there."
"Brought up in the country, perhaps?"
"Yes, in Planktown."
"Oh, Planktown! I've heard it's a nice place, but
never visited it. Got any folks?"
Phil hesitated. In the light of the
revelation that
had been made to him by Mrs. Brent, he did not
know how to answer. However, there was no call
to answer definitely.
"Not many," he said.
"Goin' to school in New York?"
"No."
"To college, perhaps. I've got a cousin in
Columbia College."
"I wish I knew enough to go to college," said
Phil; "but I only know a little Latin, and no Greek
at all."
"Well, I never cared much about Latin or Greek,
myself. I
presume you are thinking about a business
position?"
"Yes, I shall try to get a place."
"You may find a little time necessary to find one.
However, you are, no doubt, able to pay your board
for awhile."
"For a short time," said Phil.
"Well, I may be able to help you to a place. I
know a good many
prominent business men."
"I should be
grateful to you for any help of that
kind," said Phil, deciding that he was in luck to
meet with such a friend.
"Don't mention it. I have had to struggle
myself--in earlier days--though at present I am well
fixed. What is your name?"
"Philip Brent."
"Good! My name is Lionel Lake. Sorry I haven't
got any cards. Perhaps I may have one in my
pocket-book. Let me see!"
Mr. Lake opened his porte-monnaie and uttered a
exclamation of surprise.
"By Jove!" he said, "I am in a fix."
Phil looked at him inquiringly.
"I took out a roll of bills at the house of my aunt,
where I stayed last night," explained Mr. Lake, "and
must have neglected to
replace them."
"I hope you have not lost them," said Phil
politely.
"Oh, no; my aunt will find them and take care of
them for me, so that I shall get them back. The
trouble is that I am left
temporarily without funds."
"But you can get money in the city," suggested
Phil.
"No doubt; only it is necessary for me to stay
over a train ten miles short of the city."
Mr. Lionel Lake seemed very much perplexed.
"If I knew some one in the cars," he said
reflectively.
It did occur to Phil to offer to loan him
something, but the scantiness of his own resources warned
him that it would not be
prudent, so he remained
silent.
Finally Mr. Lake appeared to have an idea.
"Have you got five dollars, Philip?" he said
familiarly.
"Yes, sir," answered Philip slowly.
"Then I'll make a proposal. Lend it to me and I
will give you this ring as
security. It is worth
twenty-five dollars easily.
He drew from his vest-pocket a neat gold ring,
with some sort of a stone in the setting.
"There!" said Mr. Lake, "I'll give you this ring
and my address, and you can bring it to my office
to-morrow morning. I'll give you back the five
dollars and one dollar for the
accommodation. That's
good interest, isn't it?"
"But I might keep the ring and sell it," suggested
Phil.
"Oh, I am not afraid. You look honest. I will
trust you," said the young man, in a
careless, off-
hand manner. "Say, is it a bargain?"
"Yes," answered Phil.
It occurred to him that he could not earn a dollar
more easily. Besides, he would be doing a favor to
this very
polite young man.
"All right, then!"
Five dollars of Phil's
scanty hoard was handed
to Mr. Lake, who, in return, gave Phil the ring,
which he put on his finger.
He also handed Phil a scrap of paper, on which he
penciled:
"LIONEL LAKE, No. 237 Broadway."
"I'm ever so much obliged," he said. "Good-by.
I get out at the next station."
Phil was congratulating himself on his good stroke
of business, when the
conductor entered the car,
followed by a young lady. When they came to where
Phil was seated, the young lady said:
"That is my ring on that boy's finger?"
"Aha! we've found the thief, then!" said the
conductor. "Boy, give up the ring you stole from this
young lady!"
As he spoke he placed his hand on Phil's shoulder.
"Stole!"
repeated Phil, gasping. "I don't
understand you."
"Oh, yes, you do!" said the
conductor roughly.
CHAPTER V.
AN OVERBEARING CONDUCTOR
No matter how honest a boy may be, a sudden
charge of theft is likely to make him
look confused and guilty.
Such was the case with Phil.
"I assure you," he said
earnestly, "that I did not
steal this ring."
"Where did you get it, then?" demanded the
conductor roughly.
He was one of those men who, in any position,
will make themselves dis
agreeable. Moreover, he
was a man who always thought ill of others, when
there was any chance of doing so. In fact, he preferred
to credit his fellows with bad qualities rather
than with good.
"It was handed me by a young man who just
left the car," said Phil.
"That's a likely story," sneered the
conductor.
"Young men are not in the habit of giving
valuable rings to strangers."
"He did not give it to me, I
advanced him five
dollars on it."
"What was the young man's name?" asked the
conductor incredulously.
"There's his name and address," answered Phil,
drawing from his pocket the paper handed him by
Mr. Lake.
"Lionel Lake, 237 Broadway,"
repeated the
conductor. "If there is any such person, which I very
much doubt, you are probably a
confederate of his."
"You have no right to say this," returned Phil
indignantly.
"I haven't, haven't I?" snapped the
conductor.
"Do you know what I am going to do with you?"
"If you wish me to return the ring to this young
lady, I will do so, if she is
positive it is hers."
"Yes, you must do that, but it won't get you out
of trouble. I shall hand you over to a
policeman as
soon as we reach New York."
Phil was certainly dismayed, for he felt that it
might be difficult for him to prove that he came
honestly in possession of the ring.
"The fact is," added the
conductor, "your story
is too thin."
"Conductor," said a new voice, "you are doing
the boy an injustice."
The
speaker was an old man with gray hair, but
of form still
robust, though he was at least sixty
five. He sat in the seat just behind Phil.
"Thank you, sir," said Phil
gratefully.
"I understand my business," said the
conductorimpertinently, "and don't need any instructions
from you."
"Young man," said the old gentleman, in a very
dignified tone, "I have usually found officials of
your class
polite and gentlemanly, but you are an
exception."
"Who are you?" asked the
conductor rudely.
"What right have you to put in your oar?"
"As to who I am, I will answer you by and by.
In
reference to the boy, I have to say that his story
is correct. I heard the whole conversation between
him and the young man from whom he received the
ring, and I can
testify that he has told the truth."
"At any rate he has received
stolen property."
"Not
knowing it to be
stolen. The young man
was an entire stranger to him, and though I
suspected that he was an unscrupulous
adventurer, the
boy has not had experience enough to judge men."
"Very well. If he's
innocent he can prove it
when he's brought to trial," said the
conductor.