It was eleven o'clock in the evening when, heated and dizzy from the wine they had drunk, Arthur and Charley took their seats in the cars for home; with Mr. Clinton heavily reclining between them. They were a noisy trio, though an experienced eye might have detected readily that Clinton pretended to be much more intoxicated than he really was. When the cars arrived at St. Joseph-street he alighted, bidding his two friends a hearty good night, and saying, as he shook Arthur's hand:
"Hope to see you soon again, Pratt, [hic]-from this day for [hic] ward, consider me one of you."
And, with a stagger which threatened a fall, he left the cars, and disappeared round the corner. As he did so, he drew a ponderous key from his pocket, and holding it up between his eye and an adjacent lamp, regarded it closely, then burst into a laugh: "I'll have some fun with this yet, I reckon; I'll teach the governor to forbid my having any of the keys. By the gods! I'll bring him round with this, or die in the attempt," soliloquized Mr. Clinton, swinging the key between his thumb and finger.
"By-the-by," he added, suddenly thrusting it deep into a side-pocket, "I'll just stroll down Chartres-street, and see what the boys'll do when they find it out."
Mr. Clinton was evidently perfectly sober.
Whistling a tune thoughtfully, as he went, he reached Camp-street; when, taking the shady side, he struck into a run, which pace he kept up until he had crossed Canal, then he assumed a slow, careless walk; and as the moon had now risen, the lamps had been put out, and one side of Chartres-street lay in deep shadow.
To this side he kept, and when he had arrived nearly opposite Delancey's store, he stepped back into an archway, and remained quiet.
In a few moments he heard the voices of his late companions, and saw them coming down the other side of the street, leaning upon each other, and both evidently fully affected by the liquor they had imbibed.
As Charley gained the door, he sustained himself by holding with his left hand upon the door-post, while with the right he applied a small steel key to the key-hole.
"Why the devil don't it fit? Lend a hand here, Pratt, and see what you can do."
Arthur had seated himself upon the step, and sat with his head leaning on his hand, but he rose at Charley's bidding, and took the key.
"Why don't it fit?" said he, after looking at it a moment, intently. "Well, the reason is my trunk key don't fit this door, and I'd like to know how you came by it."
"Your trunk key! well, where's the other? Your trunk key! I guess so! Well, here's one that will fit," and he drew out a brass house-door key, and shufflingly applied it to the lock.
"Devil! wrong again. Pratt, stand up here, and help me."
"We'll never get in at this rate, Charley."
"I'll give you a lodging, if that's what you're after," said a voice near them, and a hand fell heavily on a shoulder of each.
"Nabbed, by gripes!" cried Quirk, suddenly turning round.
"But just look here, old feller, I'd like to know [hic] what for you arrest a couple-of gen'l'men for-as is decently [hic] to go home to bed."
"Breaking into a store is a new way of going to bed. You're my prisoners; so march along with you."
"Do you take us for thieves," said Arthur, startled into soberness; "we belong there, and were trying to use our pass-key."
"Let's see your pass-key, then."
"It's lost! I can find it neither in my own nor my companion's pockets."
"Good story, but won't go down, so trot along."
And the watchman, stepping between them, seized an arm of each, and hurried them off to the guard-house.
"Phew! that's more than I bargained for," said Clinton, stepping out of the archway, and looking after the retreating figures. "However, that's Grey that's got 'em, and I can make it straight by morning." So saying, he pressed his hand hard upon the ponderous key he held, and muttering, "Ah, a good time's coming," turned his steps toward the First Municipality.
CHAPTER VI.
Since noonday, Guly had sat in the darkened store alone. He could not go out in search of his brother, being ignorant of the streets; and besides, where in that great city could he have looked with any hope of finding him? When he returned from church, and found Arthur absent, he was not only surprised, but deeply troubled. Knowing what a stranger he was in that vast metropolis, the thought crossed his mind that in the proud and angry mood that was upon him, he might have wandered off, and lost himself. But an instant's reflection told him that any one would be able to give the direction of Mr. Delancey's store, and that Arthur, in such a case, would not be slow to make inquiry.
He could but wait patiently, as there was no one near, either to accompany him in a search, or to give him advice. He seated himself to write to his mother, deeming that his time could not be more dutifully passed.
The letter was finished and sealed, and still no news of Arthur. Guly had seized his hat with the intent of going forth at all hazards, when the door of his room slowly opened, and Jeff's shining face was thrust in.
"Please, young massar, may I come in?"
"Certainly. Close the door."
The negro entered with a shuffling gait, holding a tattered straw hat in his hands, and with a bow and sheepish look stopped directly in front of Guly.
"Anything I can do for you, Jeff?"
"Well, I hopes you'll 'scuse my 'trusion, young massar, but I thought as dis was Sunday, mebbe you'd be reading dat big book yourself, and would let me hear you."
"To be sure, Jeff, to be sure. Whenever that big book is read you will always be a welcome listener, and whenever I have time I shall always be ready to read it to you."
"Oh, young massar, you is so good to de poor nigger-sometimes when I look at you, I can't help tinking you'se just some angel as has lost his wings, and a-waiting on dis airth till they grow agin."
"Hush, Jeff."
"Yes, massar; if you'se ready to read, I'se ready to listen."
Guly smiled at this misconstruction of his words, but opening the Bible he read aloud the fourteenth chapter of John; while Jeff sat with his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his palms, his large eyes fixed attentively on the reader.
When the chapter was finished, Guly took the different paragraphs, and in a simple but concise manner endeavored to explain all which was difficult for his listener to understand.
"Thar!" said Jeff, flinging his old hat emphatically upon the floor, as Guly ceased, "If that ain't as good as a minister, dis child guv it up, dat's all! Oh, young massar, if you'd just call a meetin' ob de clerks in dis store, and read and 'spound to 'em sometime in dis way, dar'd be a better set in old massar's bizness, to say the least."
"Your master's clerks all seem to be well-disposed young men, I'm sure, Jeff-I never see them commit a wrong."
"You'se too good yousef to see evil, sah; but mebbe de clerks is good when de Boss's sharp eye is on 'em."
"Oh!" exclaimed Guly, starting to his feet, and rapidly pacing the floor, "What a place of sin for a young inexperienced boy to be in, and under the influence of evil companions. Oh! my brother! my brother!"
"He'll be home by night-time, Massar Gulian, in my 'pinion. I'se jus sorry I told you, sah, since you take on so, but it just slipped out o' me like, an' I couldn't help it."
Guly drew a chair near one of the windows, and though he could see neither sky above or brightness below, he gazed out upon the brick walls before him, and his thoughts flew backward to the past. From that hour of reflection Guly rose up wiser and older. He felt how much depended on himself, and decided that henceforth his watchful eye should ever be upon the brother, who, though so much older than himself, required so much of tender counsel and care.