Mark Mason's Victory: The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph Boy. Horatio Alger Jr.
I don't. The lady will tell you."
"Mother, I'll be home late," said Mark. "I must put on some clean clothes. Is my collar dirty?"
"Yes, you had better put on a clean one. I don't like your being out so late. I thought you were through for the day."
"I'll get extra pay, mother, and every little helps."
"I say, Mark," said Jimmy, "you'd better wear your dress suit and diamond scarf-pin."
"I would, Jimmy, only I lent 'em both to a bootblack of my acquaintance who's going to attend a ball on Fifth Avenue to-night."
Jimmy laughed.
"You've always got an answer ready, Mark," he said. "Well, so long! Hope you'll have a good time."
"Where does the lady live, Mark?" asked Mrs. Mason.
"At No. 90 West Forty-Fifth Street. I haven't much time to spare. I must go as soon as I can get ready."
It was half-past seven o'clock before Mark rang the bell at a fine brown stone house on West Forty-Fifth Street. The door was opened by a colored servant, who, without speaking to Mark, turned his head, and called out: "The messenger's come, Miss Maud."
"I'm so glad," said a silvery voice, as a young lady of twenty, already dressed for the street, came out of a room on the left of the hall. Mark took off his hat politely.
"So you are the messenger boy?" she said. "You are to take me to Daly's Theater."
"Yes, miss. So I heard."
"Let us go at once. We will take the horse cars at Sixth Avenue, and get out at Thirtieth Street."
Before she had finished they were already in the street.
"I must explain," she said, "that my uncle bought two tickets this morning and expected to accompany me, but an important engagement has prevented. I was resolved to go, and so I sent for a messenger. Perhaps you had better take the tickets."
"All right, Miss – ."
"Gilbert. As you are to be my escort I will ask your name."
"Mark Mason."
"Shall I call you Mark, or Mr. Mason?" she asked with a roguish smile.
"I would rather you would call me Mark."
"Perhaps, as you are taking the place of my uncle, it would be proper to call you Uncle Mark," she laughed.
"All right, if you prefer it," said Mark.
"On the whole I won't. I am afraid you don't look the character. Are you quite sure you can protect me?"
"I'll try to, Miss Gilbert."
"Then I won't borrow any trouble."
Maud Gilbert had carefully observed Mark, and as he was an attractive-looking boy she felt satisfied with the selection made for her.
"I am glad you didn't wear your uniform," she said. "I forgot to speak about that."
"When I heard what I was wanted for I thought it would be better to leave off the uniform," said Mark.
"That was right. Now I can pass you off as a young friend. If I meet any young lady friend, don't call me Miss Gilbert, but call me Maud. Perhaps you had better call me that at any rate."
"I will – Maud."
"That's right, and I will call you – let me see, Cousin Mark. I don't want my friends to think I had to send for an escort to a telegraph office."
When they entered Daly's Miss Gilbert met an old school friend – Louisa Morton.
"Why, Maud, are you here?" said her friend. "How delightful! And who is this young gentleman?"
"My cousin, Mark Mason."
"Indeed! Well, I congratulate you on having such a nice escort. If he were a few years older I might try to make you jealous."
Maud laughed gaily.
"Oh, you can't get him away. He is devoted to me. Aren't you, Cousin Mark?"
Mark was about to say "You bet," but it occurred to him that this would not be comme il faut, so he only said, "You are right, Maud."
"Where are your seats? I hope they are near ours."
They proved to be in the same row, but on the other side of the center aisle.
As Mark and the young lady took seats two pairs of astonished eyes noted their entrance. These belonged to Edgar and his father, who sat two rows behind. Edgar was the first to catch sight of them.
"Look, father!" he said, clutching his father's arm. "There is Mark Mason and a beautiful girl just taking their seats. What does it mean?"
"I don't know," returned Mr. Talbot. "She seems to be a fashionable young lady."
"How in the world did he get acquainted with such people? She treats him as familiarly as if he were a brother or cousin."
"It is very strange."
"Please take the opera-glass, Mark," Edgar heard Miss Gilbert say. "You know I must make you useful."
For the rest of the evening the attention of Edgar and his father was divided between the play and Miss Gilbert and Mark. For the benefit chiefly of her friend, Maud treated her young escort with the utmost familiarity, and quite misled Solon Talbot and Edgar.
When the play was over Mark carefully adjusted Miss Gilbert's wraps. As he passed through the aisle he saw for the first time Edgar and his father looking at him with astonished eyes.
"Good evening," he said with a smile. "I hope you enjoyed the play."
"Come, Mark, it is growing late," said Maud.
Mark bowed and passed on.
"Well, if that doesn't beat all!" ejaculated Edgar. "They seemed very intimate."
When Mark bade Miss Gilbert good night after ringing the bell at her home, she pressed a bank note into his hand.
"Thank you so much," she said. "Keep the change, and when I want another escort I will send for you."
By the light of the street lamp Mark inspected the bill and found it was a five.
"That will give me over three dollars for myself," he said joyfully. "So the rent is secure."
The next day about two o'clock he was in the office of a prominent banker to whom he had carried a message, when a wild-looking man with light brown hair and wearing glasses, rushed in, and exclaimed dramatically to the astonished banker, "I want a hundred thousand dollars! Give it to me at once, or I will blow your office to atoms."
He pointed significantly to a small carpet bag which he carried in his left hand.
The broker turned pale, and half rose from his chair. He was too frightened to speak, while two clerks writing in another part of the office seemed ready to faint.
CHAPTER V
MARK AS A HERO
The situation was critical. That the wild-eyed visitor was demented, there was hardly a doubt, but his madness was of a most dangerous character.
The eyes of all were fixed with terror upon the innocent-looking valise which he held in his left hand, and in the mind of all was the terrible thought, Dynamite!
"Well, will you give me the money?" demanded the crank fiercely.
"I – I don't think I have as much money in the office," stammered the pallid banker.
"That won't work," exclaimed the visitor angrily. "If you can't find it I will send you where you won't need money," and he moved his arm as if to throw the valise on the floor.
"I – I'll give you a check," faltered Luther Rockwell, the banker.
"And stop payment on it," said the crank with a cunning look. "No, that won't do."
"Give me half an hour to get the money," pleaded Rockwell desperately. "Perhaps twenty minutes will do."
"You