The Errand Boy | Page 6

look injured, but could not at once change the
expression of his countenance.
"Your explanation is quite satisfactory, Mrs. Brent," returned Philip. "I
don't think I stood much higher in your estimation yesterday than today,
so that I haven't lost much. But you haven't given me any proof yet."
"Wait a minute."
Mrs. Brent left the room, went up-stairs, and speedily returned,
bringing with her a small daguerreotype, representing a boy of three
years.
"Did you ever see this before?" she asked.
"No," answered Philip, taking it from her hand and eying it curiously.
"When Mr. and Mrs. Brent decided that you were to be left on their
hands," she proceeded, "they had this picture of you taken in the same
dress in which you came to them, with a view to establish your identity
if at any time afterward inquiry should be made for you."
The daguerreotype represented a bright, handsome child, dressed
tastefully, and more as would be expected of a city child than of one
born in the country. There was enough resemblance to Philip as he
looked now to convince him that it was really his picture.
"I have something more to show you," said Mrs. Brent.
She produced a piece of white paper in which the daguerreotype had
been folded. Upon it was some writing, and Philip readily recognized

the hand of the man whom he had regarded as his father.
He read these lines:
"This is the picture of the boy who was mysteriously left in the charge
of Mr. Brent, April, 1863, and never reclaimed. l have reared him as
my own son, but think it best to enter this record of the way in which
he came into my hands, and to preserve by the help of art his
appearance at the time he first came to us. GERALD BRENT."
"Do you recognize this handwriting?" asked Mrs. Brent.
"Yes," answered Philip in a dazed tone.
"Perhaps," she said triumphantly, "you will doubt my word now."
"May I have this picture?" asked Philip, without answering her.
"Yes; you have as good a claim to it as any one."
"And the paper?"
"The paper I prefer to keep myself," said Mrs. Brent, nodding her head
suspiciously. "I don't care to have my only proof destroyed."
Philip did not seem to take her meaning, but with the daguerreotype in
his hand, he left the room.
"I say, mother," chuckled Jonas, his freckled face showing his
enjoyment, "it's a good joke on Phil, isn't it?" I guess he won't be quite
so uppish after this."

CHAPTER III.
PHIL'S SUDDEN RESOLUTION.
When Phil left the presence of Mrs. Brent, he felt as if he had been

suddenly transported to a new world. He was no longer Philip Brent,
and the worst of it was that he did not know who he was. In his
tumultuous state of feeling, however, one thing seemed clear--his
prospects were wholly changed, and his plans for the future also. Mrs.
Brent had told him that he was wholly dependent upon her. Well, he
did not intend to remain so. His home had not been pleasant at the best.
As a dependent upon the bounty of such a woman it would be worse.
He resolved to leave home and strike out for himself, not from any such
foolish idea of independence as sometimes leads boys to desert a good
home for an uncertain skirmish with the world, but simply be cause he
felt now that he had no real home.
To begin with he would need money, and on opening his pocket-book
he ascertained that his available funds consisted of only a dollar and
thirty-seven cents. That wasn't quite enough to begin the world with.
But he had other resources. He owned a gun, which a friend of his
would be ready to take off his hands. He had a boat, also, which he
could probably sell.
On the village street he met Reuben Gordon, a young journeyman
carpenter, who was earning good wages, and had money to spare.
"How are you, Phil," said Reuben in a friendly way.
"You are just the one I want to meet," said Phil earnestly. "Didn't you
tell me once you would like to buy my gun?"
"Yes. Want to sell it?"
"No, I don't; but I want the money it will bring. So I'll sell it if you'll
buy."
"What d'ye want for it?" asked Reuben cautiously.
"Six dollars."
"Too much. I'll give five."

"You can have it," said Phil after a pause. "How soon can you let me
have the money?"
"Bring the gun round to-night, and I'll pay you for it."
"All right. Do you know of any one who wants to buy a boat?"
"What? Going to sell that, too?"
"Yes."
"Seems to me you're