Bog paused, because, on taking a stealthy observation around him, he suddenly become conscious that his three auditors were listening attentively to his story.
"Not at all, my dear Bog," said Mr. Minford. "I, for one, am curious to know how this ingenious plan of advertising, in defiance of the law, succeeded." Mr. Wilkeson expressed himself curious on the same point. Bog, thus encouraged, continued:
"When I come home, after havin' stuck up six thousand bills in the principal towns and villages along the route, I went right to Mr. Fink. He shook hands with me, and ses he, 'Bog, your fortun's made.' 'How's that?' said I. 'Why, ses he, 'you're the greatest bill poster I ever heerd of. Professor Macfuddle" (that was the hair-dye man) "ses the money has begun to pour in to him like sixty, and he is buyin' up all the hair dye in the market, and puttin' his labils on it to supply the demand. He has given me ten dollars to present to you, besides the thirty for your wages.' Mr. Fink then give me forty dollars, and ses he, 'That a'n't all; for I have so much business now, I want a pardner, and I'll take you, and give you one third of the earnin's.' I rather guess I snapped at the offer; and we is goin' into pardnership to-morrer."
"Success to you," said Marcus and the inventor together. They saw, in this illustration of his bill-posting talents, only an evidence of business shrewdness that deserved encouragement. The young girl, however, viewed it in the light of a violation of law, and therefore could not conscientiously approve of it. Bog noticed her silence, and guessed the cause.
"Thank you very much," said he; "but I forgot to say I a'n't goin' to do any more business on the Erie plan. It a'n't right. Come to think it over, I was sorry I done it; and so I told Mr. Fink; and he sed it wasn't exackly reg'lar either, and he shouldn't never ask me to do it agen."
"I am glad of that," said Pet, quietly.
Bog's eyes were instantly turned toward her with an expression of pride and gratitude.
"Oh! of course, it is always best to obey the laws," observed Mr. Minford.
"And I wouldn't for a moment be thought to advise anything else," added Marcus Wilkeson; "though I never could help admiring pluck and sharpness in business affairs."
"I am going to school again, Bog," said the young girl, hastening to change the subject of conversation.
Bog looked up, surprised and pleased.
"Mr. Wilkeson," said Mr. Minford, "has taken another small share in my invention, and pays me in advance for it. With that, Pet will finish her education." The inventor would have made this disclosure of his private affairs to no other human being but Bog; for this simple boy was the only person he had ever known (excepting Marcus Wilkeson) who had not openly ridiculed his mysterious labors.
"I am very glad to hear of it, sir," said Bog, awkwardly, but with an air of profound respect. "How--how is the masheen, sir?" Bog asked the question hurriedly, as if the machine were a sick person, whose health he had until then forgotten to inquire after.
"Getting on finely, Bog. Only two or three springs, a cog here, a ratchet here, a band at this point, and a lever up there (Mr. Minford touched portions of the machine rapidly), and then look out for a noise!"
"A noise!" repeated Bog, with juvenile earnestness.
"Not an explosion, my good fellow, but tremendous public excitement--plenty of fame, mixed with a good deal of abuse at first, and a little money, I hope." The inventor's eyes flashed with the fire that Bog had often seen; and when he emphasized the word "little," Bog knew that he meant to express the boundlessness of the wealth that his labors would bring to him.
"I believe it," said Bog, with sincerity pictured in every lineament of his honest face. "I've always believed it."
"So you have, my dear Bog; and your faith has often cheered me," replied the inventor, patronizingly. "By the way, how's your aunt?"
"Oh, yes; how is your aunt, Bog?" asked Pet. "I had quite forgotten her."
"She's pooty well, ony them rheumatics troubles her some. They're workin' their way from her left arm into her head, aunt says. Week afore last they was in her feet, and they've ben clear round her and goin' back agen since then. Queer things, them rheumatics!"
"They are very painful, Bog, you know," said Pet.
"Yes; so aunt says." Bog did not add, as he might have truly done, "A thousand times a day."
"Give her my kind regards, Bog, and say I will call and see her," continued Pet.
"My respectful regards also," added Mr. Minford.
"Thank you," said the boy; "but I guess you better not call, Miss Minford. Aunt's a good woman, but kind o' cur'us, you know. Them rheumatics has made a great change in her." Bog here referred, but made no verbal allusion, to a certain friendly call which Pet had once made upon his aunt, on which occasion that elderly lady had entertained her visitor with a monologue two hours long, giving her a complete history of the malady, from its birth in the right great toe, three years previous, through all its eccentric phenomena, to that stage of the disease which made it, as the venerable sufferer observed with, some pride, the "very wust case the doctors ever heerd of."
Upon this fruitful theme, Bog's aunt could and would have discoursed for hours longer, but for the appearance of Bog, when she sought a new relief from her agonies by abusing that poor fellow, charging him with neglect and ingratitude, finding fault with the food which he brought home for her from market, and asking him when he was going to buy that soft armchair he had promised her so long. Bog laughed, and explained this outburst, by saying to Pet, "It's only aunt's rheumatics;" but the old lady rejected the explanation, and went on scolding and faultfinding with such increased fierceness, that Pet hastily put on her bonnet and shawl, and bade the rheumatic grumbler "good-by," saying (which was true) that her father would be anxious about her. Since then, the young girl had kept away from Bog's aunt.
"I've bought her a nice, soft armchair lately," continued Bog; "but it don't do her no good. The rheumatics seem to be getting wusser all the time; and the thing that makes them wussest of all is calls. So I guess it's better for aunt you should keep away, Miss Minford." Bog prided himself on his tact in putting forth the last argument.
Then the conversation turned on Pet's education; Marcus and her father fondly discussing what it ought to be, and Bog listening, and looking stealthily at the young girl, still busy at her work; and they all sat, happy in thoughts of the future, far into the twilight.
CHAPTER IV.
MISS PILLBODY.
Miss Pillbody's school was unknown to the pages of the City Directory. It was never advertised in the newspapers,