1893845Bob Chester's Grit — Chapter 5Frank V. Webster

CHAPTER V


BOB MISSES A FRIEND


Never stopping to notice in what direction he was going, Bob dashed along the street, fearful only lest his guardian would pursue him, and expecting every moment to hear his voice shouting at him to stop. But as the moments wore by without any sign of excitement or alarm, Bob gained confidence, finally slackening his pace to a walk, and began to think of what he should do, now that he had taken matters into his own hands, and severed the ties of years that had bound him to his guardian.

Back in the store the grocer had stood undecided what to do. The knowledge that his ward had been informed of the bequest, a fact which he supposed was known only to himself, had unnerved him. And the failure of his attempt to get the letter and thus destroy all evidence of the trust fund, had caused him to be seized with a great fear lest retribution should be visited upon him.

Instead, therefore, of going in pursuit of Bob, his one idea was to conceal himself. Going to the front door of the shop, he closed it and locked it, and then betook himself to his private office, the door of which he also shut, and sitting down in the chair buried his head in his hands and tried to think what was best for him to do.

But his sense of guilt would not let him rest, and in the thought that Bob might seek some lawyer and place the matter in his hands, which would mean a visit to the grocery store and the necessity of making embarrassing explanations, the dishonest guardian determined to go away for a few hours at least. No sooner had he made up his mind upon this course of action than he seized his hat, stole from his room, glided across the floor to the front door, listened a moment for the sound of voices, or any other indication that people were passing, then hurriedly turned the key in the door, stepped outside, locked the door again, and after a furtive glance up and down the street, slunk away, keeping close to the buildings, for all the world like a dog that was hounded, rather than a man.

It was because of this action on the part of Mr. Dardus in closing his store that Foster was unable to gain admittance when he arrived half an hour later, having come for the purpose of seeing the boy he had championed so effectively, and of assisting in a reconciliation between the ward and the guardian, in case it had not already been accomplished. On his way, his mind had pictured many scenes in which the boy and the grocer were participants, but none of them had contained the possibility of the store being closed. And it was with distinct surprise that he found the door locked, and was unable to arouse any one by his vigorous pounding upon the weather-worn panels.

"I wonder what it means," said the reporter to himself. "Perhaps Bob didn't come back, and the old man, repenting of his refusing to go to his ward's assistance, is on his way either to the police station or to the court."

His occupation, however, necessitated his being resourceful, and, seeing an elderly woman peering at him closely from a window of the neighboring house, Foster hastened toward her. Bowing politely, he asked:

"Have you seen anything of Mr. Dardus, or Bob Chester?"

"Uhuh! I seen 'em both," replied the woman, nodding her head, as though to confirm her words. But though Foster remained silent in the hope that she would add to this information, he was at length obliged to renew, his questions, as she vouchsafed nothing more.

"Were they together?"

"No."

"Which way were they going—in the same direction?"

"No. Bob ran up the street as though the police were after him."

"Then Mr. Dardus was chasing him," suggested Foster, jumping at the conclusion that Bob and his guardian had had angry words, that the boy had run away, and that his guardian had gone in pursuit.

"No, he wasn't. He came out about twenty minutes after Bob had gone, and went in the opposite direction."

This response puzzled the reporter, as he could think of no plausible explanation, but his thoughts were diverted by the old woman, who demanded:

"What's wrong, mister?"

"What makes you think there is anything wrong?" parried Foster, determined, if possible, to keep the knowledge of Bob's arrest from so evident a neighborhood gossip.

"Because Len Dardus closed his store on a Saturday. I've been living here thirty years, and he has never done such a thing before, but once, and that was twelve years ago, the day he brought Bob back with him. So I know that it must be something important, or the old man wouldn't lose the opportunity to make a few cents in his store."

Struck by the coincidence that it was because of Bob the grocer had at both times shut up his store, Foster considered for a few moments what it was best to do, and then said with ever so faint a smile:

"I suppose you will see Bob when he comes back?"

"I reckon I will. I see most everything going on around here that's to be seen."

"Then I will be obliged if you will give him this," and he handed her one of his calling cards. "Tell him, please, that I am at home any evening after seven o'clock, and should like to have him call on me."

"I'll be glad to. I suppose you may be some friend of Bob's who knew his father? I've often wondered why no one came to see the boy and take him from that man Dardus."

These words suggested a new train of thought to the reporter, and, judging from the remark that his informant had some knowledge of the boy's antecedents, he determined to learn what he could about them.

"Then you knew Bob's father?" asked Foster.

"No. I can't say as I knew him, but I do know that I wouldn't treat a dog the way Dardus has treated Bob, and I have often wondered why none of the friends of the lad's father came to find out about him, or to take him away. And I made up my mind, as soon as I saw you, that you were one of them. Anyway, I hope so, for Bob is a real bright boy; too bright to be working for that old miser. He's fond of book reading, and I've told old man Dardus, every time I saw him, that he ought to have the boy educated."

"Well, I am Bob's friend," said the reporter, "and if you think it's a wise thing, I'll see what I can do about getting him into a different place. You just tell him to come and see me the first opportunity he has."

And again lifting his hat, Foster bowed and took his departure.