The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 38

The little boy skipped along beside him, humming a happy tune as they went through town. Hannover hadn't paid him much heed, but the child's presence was having an ever-growing influence on him. His mind had been focused on other things that day, like the visit he was paying to his second hotel, and the list of things he wanted to buy from the shops. But soon, he realized that a few of his cares had faded from his mind, and he was humming along with Timothy's cheerful song.

Holding onto the little boy's hand and letting Timothy's cheer melt his troubles had become a perfectly natural thing to Hannover. It felt right to take the lad wherever he went. And when this little friend wasn't there, the man felt almost lonely.

"Mr. Hannover, I learnt 'ow t' write me name yesterday!" Tim said with a shine of pride in his eyes. "I'm learnin' t' read an' write a whole lot o' fings! Why, I fink I could even write a letter if I tried! Only, I ain't got nobody t' write to!" The little boy laughed, and Hannover smiled.

"A fine accomplishment," he said with a nod of approval. "You will have to buy yourself some writing materials."

"Can I?" the boy exclaimed in excitement.

"I see no reason why you couldn't. Have you not counted your money of late? You could buy a pen and a good bit of ink and paper if you were of a mind to. And you would still have money to spare!"

Tim could hardly believe it. His exuberance pleased his money-loving master. The child went on and on about the things he wanted to buy. Books, paper, spinning tops, sticks of candy... Finally, Hannover stopped him with a laugh.

"Come, come, be reasonable!" the man advised. "Your savings may not be sufficient to buy all of those things. Besides that, some of them are completely impractical. Spinning tops? Yo-yos? Ridiculous! But your money is your own, and if you wish to fritter it away on meaningless nothings, I can do little about it. When you want your money, I have it here, safely stored in my own pocket book."

"Fank you, sir!' the boy giggled. He thought a little longer about the things he wanted. But, as they neared a shop, he saw something that made all of his dreams vanish. Across the road, there was a poorly dressed lad cleaning the gutters. He couldn't have been older than thirteen. But hard work had made him look as weathered as an old man, and he was nearly skin and bones.

"Mr. Hannover," the child whispered sadly, "did I look like that when ya found me?"

His master followed the boy's gaze to the hard-working lad. "Just about," he answered in a grave tone. "You must be glad that your fortune has changed."

"I'm awful thankful, sir, to God first, an' then t' you! But, sir, the poor bloke looks awful 'ungry."

Hannover cast the youth another glance and felt his heart move with pity. But the next second, he turned his eyes away. No, no, no! Don't do this, or you will be throwing money to every beggar on the street! Do you know what will happen if you do that? he complained to himself. Pretty soon, you won't have a penny to your name. And then —you— shall be a beggar in rags! Ugh! Perish the thought!

He shook his head as memories filled his mind. They swayed him this way and that, first making him break with remorse, then making him harden his heart in self-defense. Once he had been poor. Once he had been hungry. He had lived from day to day, wondering what the future would hold. But he had left those wretched days in the past. Charles Hannover was no longer a poor baker's son. He was a gentleman. And in society, he towered above this lowly guttersnipe.

Trying to callous himself, he stood up tall and began walking away. "I daresay, the boy will soon be eating his supper," he said briskly. "He has a job. He must have money enough to buy food."