Part 87

"We all have to live and learn, and experience is our best schoolmaster," added Keimer.

Keimer knew nothing of Benjamin's relation to Deborah Read, so that he spoke freely. The revelation was startling to Benjamin, and it set him to thinking. He concluded that Mrs. Read inferred from his first and only letter to Deborah that he would never return, or never be in a situation to support a wife and family; and, as time went on, and no other letters were received, she became fixed in her conclusion that he would not return. Benjamin took all the blame upon himself; and the honest sympathy of his heart asserted itself for the girl. He resolved to call upon her as soon as possible and confess his wrong-doing, ask her forgiveness, and renew his attentions.

"I should have said," Keimer added, "that Deborah has not changed her name. She refuses to be called Mrs. Rogers, and is still called Miss Read by her friends. This is all right, I suppose, because her marriage was illegal."

"Very wise for her, I think," responded Benjamin. "But she may consider herself fortunate to get released from such a bondage."

He improved the first opportunity to call at Mrs. Read's, to whom he appeared as one from the dead. She had not heard of his arrival, nor that he was expected. The American Weekly Mercury, the only newspaper of the town, announced, "Entered inwards, ship Berkshire, Henry Clark, from London." That was all; nothing was said about any passengers.

"Benjamin Franklin!" exclaimed Mrs. Read in great astonishment, throwing up her hands at first, as if fearing it was his ghost, and then giving him a most cordial welcome. "Can it be you?"

"It can be," Benjamin replied, with his old-time familiarity, being reassured by Mrs. Read's friendly appearance. "If I know myself, this is Benjamin Franklin."

Deborah made her appearance before the last words were fairly off the lips of the new comer, equally surprised and glad to see her old friend.

"I am really ashamed to meet you, Deborah, after my inexcusable neglect," he said, "and first of all I ask you to forgive me. It scarcely seems possible to myself that I should treat you so."

Before Deborah had time to reply her mother spoke:

"If there is any blame to be attached to any one, it is to me; for I opposed your engagement, and entreated Deborah to marry that apology for a man Rogers."

"But all that does not excuse me for not writing to Deborah," responded Benjamin "It was very wrong in me to treat her with such neglect. And I did not intend to do so; I meant to continue the correspondence, but one thing and another prevented for so long a time, that I really was ashamed to write."

"Well, it is all over now, and there is no help for what has been done, except to learn a good lesson from it for the future, if we are all bright enough to do that."

Mrs. Read swept the deck by these last remarks. There was no obstacle now to consummate an engagement with Deborah. She did not tell Benjamin to go ahead and make sure of his bird now, that she would not interpose the slightest objection; but she might as well have said so; and he so understood it, so that he felt perfectly at ease.

Deborah Read had never lost her first love, and never wholly abandoned the idea that her lover would return. She had no love for Rogers when she married him; she married him to please her mother. Now, her love for Benjamin was as fresh and strong as ever; and so was his love for her. Their intimacy was renewed, an engagement consummated.

Benjamin was twenty years old--a fine-appearing, handsome young man. Mr. Denham thought so, and so did Deborah Read. The first was fortunate in securing him for his clerk, and the second was equally fortunate in securing him for her future husband. And Benjamin himself was as fortunate as either of them in having such an employer as Denham, and such a betrothed as Deborah. It was a tidal wave of good fortune now.

"And I am prepared to go to work at once."

"I will pay you extra wages to take the whole charge of the printing office, so that I can give my attention to the stationer's shop."

"I can do that, or any thing else you desire; am not at all particular. I am now twenty-one years old, and ought to be a man any way, and do the best I can wherever I am put."

Keimer's offer was liberal, and Benjamin accepted it, and entered upon his work as superintendent of the printing house, a very responsible position. But, in a short time, he had good reason to believe that Keimer paid him so liberal wages because he wanted the poor printers to improve under his superintendence; and when that end was accomplished, he would cut down his wages, or hire another man for less money. However, he went to work with a will, as he always did, resolved to do the best he could for his employer.

As the workmen improved under Benjamin's supervision, Keimer evidently began to think of discharging him, or cutting down his wages. On paying his second quarter's wages, he told him that he could not continue to pay him so much. He became uncivil in his treatment, frequently found fault with him, and plainly tried to make his situation uncomfortable so that he would leave. At length a rare opportunity offered for him to make trouble. An unusual noise in the street one day caused Benjamin to put his head out of the window to learn what was the matter. Keimer happened to be in the street, and seeing him, cried out:

"Put your head in and attend to your business," adding some reproachful words which all the people around him heard. Then hastening up stairs into the office, he continued his insulting language.

"Men who work for me must give better heed to their business. If they care more for a noise in the street than they do for their work, it is high time they left."

"I am ready to leave any time you please," retorted Benjamin, nettled by such uncalled-for treatment. "I am not dependent on you for a living, and I shall not bear such treatment long, I assure you."

"That, indeed!" replied Keimer, derisively. "You would not stay another day were it not for our agreement, in accordance with which I now warn you that, at the end of this quarter, I shall cease to employ you."

"And I will notify you that I shall not work another minute for you. A man who is neither honest, nor a gentleman, does not deserve the service of decent men." Benjamin was aroused.

And, as he spoke these last cutting words, he took his hat and left. As he passed down, he said to Meredith:

"Bring all my things to my lodgings."