"Have you always been in this business?"

"No. Sometimes I've sold papers."

"How did you like that?"

"I like baggage-smashin' best, when I get enough to do. You don't live
in the city, do you?"

"No, I live just out of Boston,--a few miles."

"Ever been in New York before?"

"Once. That was four years ago. I passed through on the way from
Pennsylvania, where I used to live."

"Pennsylvania," repeated Ben, beginning to be interested. "Whereabouts
did you live there,--in Philadelphy?"

"No, a little way from there, in a small town named Cedarville."

Ben started, and he nearly let fall the valise from his hand.

"What's the matter?" asked Charles.

"I came near fallin'," said Ben, a little confused. "What's your name?"
he asked, rather abruptly.

"Charles Marston."

Ben scanned intently the face of his companion. He had good reason to do
so, for though Charles little suspected that there was any relationship
between himself and the ragged and dirty boy who carried his valise, the
two were own cousins. They had been school-mates in Cedarville, and
passed many a merry hour together in boyish sport. In fact Charles had
been Ben's favorite playmate, as well as cousin, and many a time, when
he lay awake in such chance lodgings as the street provided, he had
thought of his cousin, and wished that he might meet him again. Now they
had met most strangely; no longer on terms of equality, but one with all
the outward appearance of a young gentleman, the other, a ragged and
ignorant street boy. Ben's heart throbbed painfully when he saw that his
cousin regarded him as a stranger, and for the first time in a long
while he felt ashamed of his position. He would not for the world have
revealed himself to Charles in his present situation; yet he felt a
strong desire to learn whether he was still remembered. How to effect
this without betraying his identity he hardly knew; at length he thought
of a way that might lead to it.

"My name's shorter'n yours," he said.

"What is it?" asked Charles.

"It's Ben."

"That stands for Benjamin; so yours is the longest after all."

"That's so, I never thought of that. Everybody calls me Ben."

"What's your other name?"

Ben hesitated. If he said "Brandon" he would be discovered, and his
pride stood in the way of that. Finally he determined to give a false
name; so he answered after a slight pause, which Charles did not notice,
"My other name is Hooper,--Ben Hooper. Didn