Walter sat down at the desk complacently. He had parted with thirty dollars, but it was on deposit with his new employer, and would be returned to him whenever his engagement terminated. He only hoped that his services would prove satisfactory. He meant to do his best. On fifteen dollars a week he could live very comfortably, and even save money. He felt that it would be prudent to do this, as he did not wish to call upon his guardian for any remittances during the year.
“I sha'n't have to work very hard,” thought Walter.
In default of any other employment he looked over the large ledger committed to his charge. It appeared to contain certain accounts with different agents, all of whom seemed to be meeting with very good success, judging from the amount of remittances credited to them.
In about half-an-hour there was a knock at the door.
“Come in!” called out Walter.
A man of about thirty-five entered briskly. He was rather shabbily dressed, and his red face indicated possible indulgence in intoxicating liquor. “Is Mr. Locke in?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“I wanted to see him.”
“I am his confidential clerk,” said Walter proudly. “Are you an agent?”
“Yes, I am an agent. I suppose I ought to see him.”
“He will be back at one o'clock.”
“I can't stop, as I have been away for some weeks and want to go out and see my family at Barrington.”
“If you wish to leave any message I will give it to Mr. Locke as soon as he returns.”
“Perhaps that will do. My name is Jerome Grigson. Tell Mr. Locke I have met with excellent success in Ohio. In the last four weeks I have sold goods to the amount of four hundred and seventeen dollars.”
“I should think it was doing remarkably well,” observed Walter.
“It is; but any one could sell for Locke business chiefly in Mr. Locke's hands. How long have you been in the office?”
“Not long,” answered Walter, who did not care to admit that his term of service covered less than an hour.
“You've a good place with a rising firm. Mind you keep it!”
“I will try to,” said Walter earnestly.
“They're square men, Locke & Green. I never worked for squarer men.”
This was pleasant to hear. Walter felt that he Had made no mistake in parting with his thirty Dollars.
“Well, I must be going. Have you taken down my name?”
“Yes, sir; Jerome Grigson.”
“Right. Say, I will look in some time to-morrow and bring in a check for four hundred and seventeen dollars.
“Very well, sir.”
Mr. Grigson left the office. Twenty minutes Later a boy of about his own age opened the door. He glanced at Walter diffidently.
“You advertised for a confidential clerk,” he said. “Is—is the place filled?”
“Yes,” answered Walter, in a tone of satisfaction.
“You don't want anybody else, do you?” asked the youth, looking disappointed.
“Not at present, but we might be able to employ you as an agent.”
“Is it hard work?
“Well, of course you will have to exert yourself,” said Walter condescendingly, toying with a pen as he spoke, “but successful men can earn good wages with us.”
He was talking as if he was one of the partners, but it is a way young clerks have.
“Are you one of the firm?” asked the young man doubtfully.
“No,” answered Walter, “not exactly. Mr. Locke will be in about one o'clock, and if you will come round a little after that you can talk with him about an agency. I will put in a good word for you,” he added, in a patronizing tone.
“Thank you, sir. I'd like to get a place.”
The youth departed and Walter was left alone. But not for long. A middle-aged man entered and looked inquiringly at Walter.
“Are you Mr. Green?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“I have seen Mr. Locke, but I thought you might be Mr. Green.”
Walter felt flattered to be taken for one of the firm.
“I am the confidential clerk,” he said. “Can I do anything for you?”
“I wanted to see Mr. Locke and pay him some money.”
“I will take it and receipt for it,” said Walter briskly.
“Well, I suppose that will do, as you are the clerk.”
“What name?” asked Walter, opening the book.
“Jonas Damon. Here is a check on the Corndish National Bank of Illinois for two hundred and twenty-seven dollars. I have made it payable to Locke & Green.”
“All right,” said Walter, in a businesslike tone.
“If you wish to see Mr. Locke he will be in at one o'clock,” he added, as he put the check in his vest pocket.
“No, I am obliged to go out of town in half-an-hour. It isn't necessary to see him. He would rather see the check.”
Mr. Damon laughed, and so did Walter. It Made him feel quite like a business man to be installed in an office, receiving and crediting checks.
“Have you been long in our employment?” he asked.
“About six months.”
“I hope you have found it satisfactory?”
“Yes, I have made an excellent living. How much salary do you get?”
“Fifteen dollars a week,” answered Walter rather complacently.
“You look like a smart young fellow. You'd easily make double the money as an agent.”
“Thank you for the suggestion. I may undertake that some time. I have been a life-insurance agent.”
“Did it pay?”
“Not as well as I hoped. I think I shall like my present place better.”
“I must be going. Tell Mr. Locke I will be in to-morrow.”
“All right.”
“It is evident,” thought Walter, “that I am in the employ of a substantial and prosperous firm. The duties are certainly very light and pleasant. I am in luck to get a clerkship here. It is rather surprising Mr. Locke didn't ask for references.”
Then it occurred to him that the deposit was taken as a substitute for references. Then again Walter flattered himself that his personal appearance might have produced a favorable impression upon his employer and had some influence in leading to an engagement.
His next caller was a young man, dark and sallow, with a slight mustache.
“Is this the office of Locke & Green?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Will you describe Mr. Locke to me?” asked the young man, who appeared to be laboring under some excitement.
Walter was rather surprised at such a request, but complied with it.
“Yes, he's the man,” said his visitor, slapping his hands together impetuously. “He's the man that cheated me out of fifty dollars!”
“You must be mistaken,” said Walter. “How did he cheat you out of it?”
“One moment—are you his confidential clerk?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so,” returned the young man, laughing wildly. “So was I.”
“You were his clerk?”
“Yes, for two weeks. I paid him fifty dollars good money as security.”
“You did?” repeated Walter, with some anxiety.
“Yes; at the end of two weeks he told me I would not suit.”
“But he paid you your wages and returned you your money?”
“No, he didn't!” exploded the young man. “He told me to come round on Monday morning and he would pay me.”
“Well?”
“I called Monday, and he was gone! He had moved, the scoundrel! I should like to choke him!”
“Was it this office?”
“No. Let me see that book! Ah, it is the same that I kept. Have you, too, given him money?”
“I deposited thirty dollars.”
“Ah, it is the same old game! You will never see a cent of it again.”
“But,” said Walter, “I don't understand. He is doing a good business. I have had calls from two of his agents. One of them handed me this check,” and he drew out the check Mr. Damon had given him.
The young man took it and laughed bitterly.
“I don't believe there is any such bank,” he said. “I never heard of it.”
“Then why should the agent hand me the check?”
“To pull wool over your eyes. These agents are in league with this man Locke. That wasn't his name when he engaged me.”
“What was it then?”
“He called himself Libby. Libby & Richmond, that was the name of the firm.”
“What made you think he might have changed his name?”
“Because the advertisement reads the same.”
“And you really think it is the same man?”
“Yes, I feel sure of it.”
“He will be back at one o'clock. If you will wait till then you can see for yourself.”
“I'll wait!” said the young man, grinding his teeth. “I will confront the swindler face to face. I will demand my money.”
The door opened and some one put in his head, but before Walter or his visitor could see who it was it closed again.
Fifteen minutes later a telegraph boy entered the office.
“Mr. Sherwood?” said the telegraph messenger inquiringly.
“That is my name,” answered Walter.
“A message for you.”
Walter opened the note, and read as follows:
“I am called out of the city. You may close up at four, and leave the key with the janitor. Report for duty to-morrow morning. LOCKE.”
“What is it?” asked the young man eagerly.
Walter showed him the note.
“It looks to me like some trick,” said the stranger.
“But I don't see any object in it.”
“He has your thirty dollars.”
“And I have a check for over two hundred.”
“I would rather have the thirty dollars. What shall you do?”
“There is nothing to do but follow directions.”
The young man shrugged his shoulders.
“Then you will come round to-morrow morning?” he said.
“Certainly.”
“I'll look in upon you. I want to see this Mr. Locke, though I doubt if that is his name.”
Walter was disposed to think the young man too suspicious. He was of a sanguine temperament, and he tried to persuade himself that there was really no good reason to suspect Mr. Locke of unfair dealing. He laid considerable stress upon the favorable reports of the agents who had called upon him during the day.
At length four o'clock came, and he closed up the office, leaving the key with the janitor. He went home, not quite knowing whether he was to be congratulated or not. He decided not to say anything just yet about his engagement, lest it might turn out to be deceptive. Had he been quite sure that it was substantial and to be relied upon, he would have written to his guardian to announce the good news, but he thought it best to wait.
The next morning he went to the office, arriving at the hour agreed upon.
“Please give me the key to Locke & Green's office,” he said to the janitor.
“Mr. Locke's given up the room,” was the startling reply.
Walter was dismayed.
“Given up the room! Have you seen him?” he inquired.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“He called yesterday afternoon, an hour after you went away, and got the key from me. In about ten minutes he came down again, carrying a ledger in his hand.
“'I have taken another office,' he said. 'This is not large enough for me.'
“'Have you told your clerk?' I asked him.
“'Yes, I have sent a message to him,' he replied carelessly.”
Walter sank against the door. He felt limp and helpless. Mr. Locke had gone off, and carried his thirty dollars with him. There was hardly room to doubt that it was a case of deliberate swindling.
True, he had the check in his possession—a check for two hundred and twenty-seven dollars—but, even if it were genuine, it was made out in favor of Locke & Green, and would be of no service to him, though in that case it would insure Mr. Locke's calling upon him. Should such be the Case, he determined that he would not give up the Check till his thirty dollars were returned.
Walter walked slowly out of the building. When he reached Dearborn Street he went into the office of a private banker, and, showing the check, asked, “Is there any such bank as this?”
“I never heard of any,” said the banker.
Walter turned pale.
“Then you think it is bogus?”
“Very likely. Under what circumstances did you receive it?”
Walter explained.
“I am sorry to say that you are probably the victim of a confidence man, or firm. I think I saw an expose of some similar swindlers in theInter-Oceana few weeks since. Did you give the fellow any money?”
“Yes, sir; thirty dollars.”
“You will have to whistle for it, in all probability.”
Walter's heart felt as heavy as lead. He had less than twenty dollars now, and his small balance would last him less than three weeks. What should he do then? Should he write to his guardian for more money? He hated to do this, and, above all, he hated to confess that he had been victimized.
In the next three days he answered several advertisements, and made personal applications for employment. But no one seemed to want him. In one case he was offered three dollars a week as an office boy, but he had not got quite so low down as to accept this place and salary. It struck Walter as very singular that one who had spent two years at college, and possessed a fair knowledge of Latin, Greek, and mathematics, should be in so little request. He envied the small office boys whom he saw on the street, and even the busy newsboys, who appeared to be making an income. They had work to do, and he had none. He decided that he must reduce his expenses, and accordingly hired a poor hall-bedroom for a dollar and a quarter a week, and took his meals at restaurants.
One day he went into Kinsley's restaurant, on Adams Street, feeling the need of a good meal, and sat down at a table. He gave his order, and ate his dinner with appetite. He was about to rise from the table when, casting his eye about the room, he started in surprise, as at a neighboring table he saw the familiar face of Mr. Jonas Damon, whose check he held in his pocket.
Instantly his resolve was taken. He would speak to Mr. Damon, and try to ascertain something about the check.
He walked over to the table, and touching Damon on the shoulder, said: “Mr. Damon, I believe?”
The man looked up quickly, and a little change in his countenance showed that he recognised Walter; but he assumed a stolid look, and said: “Were you speaking to me, young man?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What did you call me?”
“Mr. Damon.”
“You're off the track. That isn't my name.”
“Perhaps not,” said Walter resolutely; “but when you called at Locke & Green's office and handed me a check you said your name was Jonas Damon.”
“Ho, ho!” laughed Damon. “So I gave you a check, did I?”
“Yes, for two hundred and twenty-seven dollars.”
“That's news to me. I'm not in a position to give such checks as that.”
“I have got the check with me now.”
“Why didn't you cash it?”
“It was not made payable to me.”
“Then why didn't you give it to the party it was made out to?”
“Because he disappeared.”
“That's a strange story. Do you know what I think?”
“No; but I should like to.”
“I think you are a confidence man, and are trying to take in a poor countryman. But I've read about you fellows in the papers, and I am on my guard. You'd better go away, or I may call a policeman.”
This certainly was turning the tables on Walter with a vengeance. For a fellow like Damon to accuse him of being a confidence man was something like the wolf's charge against the lamb in AEsop's fable.
Damon saw that Walter looked perplexed, and followed up the attack.
“If anybody has given you a check,” he said, “I don't see what you've got to complain about. You'd better make use of it if you can.”
“Do you deny that your name is Damon?”
“Of course I do. My name is Kellogg—Nelson Kellogg, of Springfield, Illinois. I am in the city to buy goods.”
“And you don't know Mr. Locke, of Locke & Green?”
“Never heard of the gentleman. If you've got a check of his, you'd better advertise for him. I wish my name was Locke. I shouldn't mind receiving it myself.”
Here the waiter came up with Mr. Damon's order, and that gentleman addressed himself to disposing of it.
Walter left the restaurant slowly, and walked in a dejected manner in the direction of the Palmer House. He began to think that he was a failure. When he was a student of Euclid College he was in his own estimation, a person of importance. Now he felt his insignificance. If the world owed him a living, it seemed doubtful if it was inclined to pay the debt.
Two weeks passed. Walter applied for all sorts of situations, but obtained no engagement. Meanwhile his money steadily diminished, till he awoke one morning to find only seventy-five cents in his purse. Things were getting decidedly serious.
“I wonder if there is any poorhouse in Chicago,” thought Walter, not wholly in jest. “It is not the sort of home I should prefer, but it is better than genteel starvation.”
He went out, breakfasted, and at the restaurant picked up a copy of the ChicagoTimes. This was a piece of luck, for it saved him from the small expenditure necessary to secure it. He turned to the department of Help Wanted, and looking down the column came to this notice:
“WANTED—By a traveling lecturer, a young man who can make himself generally useful; one who plays the violin preferred. Apply to PROFESSOR ROBINSON, Hotel Brevoort.”
Walter knew this hotel. It was located on Madison Street, and was on the European plan.
“That will suit me,” he said to himself. “I must lose no time in making application. I can play the violin fairly well. If it will help me to a position, I will bless the violin.”
In ten minutes he was at the hotel, inquiring for Professor Robinson.
“He is in his room,” said the clerk, “You can go up at once.”
Guided by a bell-boy, Walter reached the door of No. 65 and knocked.
“Come in!” said a deep bass voice.
Opening the door he found himself in the presence of a stout man, inclined to be tall, with a long, full beard, who glanced at him inquiringly.
“Professor Robinson, I believe?” said Walter.
“I am the man,” answered the professor.
“I have come to apply for a position. I have read your advertisement in theTimes.”
“Just so! Let me look at you.”
Walter blushed a little while the professor transfixed him with his glittering eye. He anxiously hoped that he would bear inspection.
“Humph! I think you'll do. How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
In fact, Walter's birthday had been passed in Chicago.
“You are rather young. Can you play on the violin?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me hear you.”
The professor pointed to a violin on the bed.
“I am glad he doesn't expect me to furnish the violin,” Walter said to himself.
He took the instrument from its case, and trying the strings began to play a series of familiar airs. The violin was not a Stradivarius, but it was of good quality, and responded satisfactorily to the efforts of the young musician. Professor Robinson listened attentively, and nodded his approval.
“You play better than the last young man I had.”
Walter was glad to hear it.
“I may as well tell you the nature of your duties, in case I engage you. I call myself a traveling lecturer, but this may convey an erroneous idea. I am the discoverer of Professor Robinson's Liquid Balm, which is warranted to cure more diseases than any other patent preparation in existence. I won't go into particulars, for these can be read in my circular. Now, it is my custom to go from one town to another, engage a hall if the weather requires, otherwise gather a crowd around me in a public place, and lecture about the merits of my remarkable preparation. You, besides assisting me in a general way, are expected to draw and entertain the crowd by your performance on the violin. Can you sing?”
Walter shook his head.
“I am afraid,” he said, “that if I should undertake to sing it would drive away the crowd.”
“Very well! It isn't necessary, though it would have helped. Now, what are your ideas as to compensation?”
As the professor spoke, he leaned back in his chair and awaited a reply.
“I hardly know what it would be right to ask,” returned Walter hesitatingly. “How much did you pay your last assistant?”
“I paid him fifteen dollars a month and his traveling expenses.”
This was a good deal more than Walter had made since he had undertaken to earn his own living, yet there seemed small chance of laying up anything out of it.
“May I ask, sir,” he inquired, “do you meet with pretty good success in disposing of your balm?”
“Yes; the public knows a good thing when it is brought to its attention.”
“Would you be willing to pay my expenses and ten per cent. commission on sales?”
“Why do you prefer this to a stated salary?”
“Because it would be an incentive to do my best. Then if I helped you to a successful sale I should be paid in proportion.”
“I have an idea. You look blooming and healthy. Are you willing I should advertise you as one who has been snatched from death by my celebrated balm?”
“I don't think I would like it, sir. It would be imposing upon the public.”
“I merely suggested it, but I won't insist upon it. I suppose you are thoroughly honest and reliable?”
Walter smiled.
“I don't know that my assurance will satisfy you, but I can truly say that I am.”
“You look it, and I trust a good deal to appearances. I will accept your assurance.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Can you join me at once?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I will expect you to bring your baggage here during the day—the sooner the better. You will then receive your instructions.”
Walter was very glad to hear this, for his purse was so nearly exhausted that it was comforting to think his lodging and meals would hereafter be paid by some one else. When he came to reflect upon the nature of his duties—general assistant to a quack doctor, playing on village commons and in country halls to draw a crowd of prospective customers, he felt that it was hardly a thing to be proud of. With his college training he ought to be qualified for something better, but the cold, hard fact stared him in the face that it was the only employment that offered, and he must accept it or starve. Walter had become practical. His limited acquaintance with the world had made him so, and he was not going to refuse bread and butter because it was offered by a quack doctor.
Within an hour Walter had given up his room—the rent had been paid in advance—and transferred his luggage to the Hotel Brevoort, where he was assigned a small apartment on the upper floor.
“I shall leave the city in two days,” said the professor. “I have put an advertisement into the daily papers which brings customers to the hotel, but I depend chiefly upon my sales on the road.”
“Do you travel on the cars?” asked Walter.
“No; I have a neat wagon in which I carry a supply of bottles of balm, and this enables me to stop where I like. I prefer villages to very large towns and cities. It is better for me to visit places where there are no drug-stores, as the people are more dependent on what is brought to them.”
“When you are in the city shall I get my commission?”
“Ahem! I am not clear as to that,” answered Professor Robinson thoughtfully. “You see you are not called upon to play.”
“Suppose you give me five per cent. in Chicago and large places.”
“Very well. I will do so. I will settle with you at the end of every week, if that will be satisfactory.”
“Yes, sir.”
Two days afterward a light wagon drew up in front of the hotel, drawn by a strong horse, and Walter helped the professor to put a trunk of medicine in the back part. Then he seated himself with Professor Robinson on the front seat, and they set out in the direction of the suburbs.
A new life was opening before Walter. What it would lead to he could not guess. At any rate, it promised him a living, and this was a practical advantage which he had learned to appreciate.
“How long have you been in this business, professor?” he asked.
“Ten years,” answered the professor.
“How did you happen to go into it?”
“I'll tell you. Ten years ago I found myself in a tight place. I was on my uppers, as the actors say. A friend, who was a drug clerk, gave me the recipe for my balm, I borrowed a hundred dollars, had a quantity made up, and set out on the road.”
“And now?”
“Now I am worth fifteen thousand dollars, well invested, and can make a good living every year.”
All this was encouraging to Walter. He was eager to begin his work.
On a small common, near the center of the village of Brandon—for special reasons I do not give the real names of places visited by the travelers—Professor Robinson halted his wagon and signed to Walter to commence playing.
“Give 'em something popular,” he said.
Walter struck up “Annie Rooney,” and followed it up with “McGinty.”
Within ten minutes fifty persons were gathered about the wagon. Then the professor held up his hand and Walter stopped.
“Gentlemen,” began the professor, “my young assistant will soon charm you again with the dulcet strains of his violin. But it is necessary for me to combine business with pleasure, and it affords me satisfaction to call your attention to the surpassing merits of my Liquid Balm, only twenty-five cents a bottle. It is a sovereign remedy for most of the diseases that flesh is heir to. All diseases of the stomach, liver, and lungs are, if not cured, very greatly mitigated by this wonderful medicine. It is the only remedy for consumption that can be relied upon. Why, gentlemen, a year since I was selling in a small town in Ohio. Among those who gathered about me was a hollow-cheeked man with a churchyard cough. He asked me if I would undertake to cure him. I answered that I would guarantee nothing, but was convinced that his life would be prolonged by the use of my balm. He bought half-a-dozen bottles. Where do you think that man is now?”
Voice in the crowd: “In the grave.”
“Not a bit of it, gentlemen. He is hale and hearty, his face is full, his color healthy, and he tips the scales at one hundred and seventy-five pounds. I was myself surprised at the extraordinary efficacy of my wonderful medicine. He used in all a dozen bottles, giving me a second order later on, and so for the paltry sum of three dollars was drawn back from the brink of the grave, and restored to life and health. Now, who will buy a bottle?”
This appeal sold eight bottles.
A saffron-faced man came forward and asked if the balm could cure liver-complaint.
“My friend,” said the professor, “if you will try the balm—you ought to have half-a-dozen bottles, as it is uncertain when I shall come this way again—your liver will become O. K. and your face will be as fresh and blooming as that of a twelve-year-old boy.”
This prospect seemed so encouraging that the saffron-faced man bought four bottles, and took the professor's address.
At the end of about twenty minutes Walter struck up again, a lively dancing tune, and was listened to with evident pleasure.
When all who desired the balm seemed to have invested, the professor brought out a supply of toilet soaps, and sold to the amount of a couple of dollars.
At the end of two hours he packed up his wares, Walter took a seat beside him, and they started for the next village.
“You had a pretty good sale, professor,” said Walter.
“Yes; as well as I can calculate I took in about ten dollars.”
Walter reflected with pleasure that his commission would amount to a dollar.
The professor had another way of utilizing remedies. When he put up for the night at a hotel, he usually succeeded in paying a part of his hotel bill in medicine or toilet articles. As his average profits on the former were seventy per cent., and on the latter forty, it may be seen that this was greatly to his advantage. Walter did not wonder that he had already accumulated a small competence.
On the fourth evening, as Walter was leaving the supper-table, a tall young man, looking something like the stock pictures of Uncle Sam, came up to him.
“Say, young fellow,” he commenced, “some of us young people are going to have a dance at the schoolhouse hall, but we haven't got no fiddler. Peter Jackson, who generally plays for us, has got the lumbago and can't play. What'll you charge?”
“What do you generally pay Mr. Jackson?” asked Walter.
“Three dollars an evening.”
“Do you think I can play as well as he?”
“You kin play enough sight better. He can't play no tunes that ain't fifty years old.”
“Very well, I will charge you the same, that is, if the professor doesn't object.”
“Go ahead and see him and let me know.”
Walter sought the professor and laid the matter before him.
“All right!” was the answer. “I've no objection. You can give me one-third of the money and keep the rest yourself. Is that satisfactory?”
“Perfectly so, sir.” Walter played till one o'clock. He felt rather tired when he got through, but he saw that he was making a favorable impression, and the two dollars which he would receive for himself would be of great service.
The man who first spoke to him paid him the money.
“I hope I gave satisfaction,” said Walter.
“Yes, you did, and no mistake; but some of the girls were sorry they couldn't have you for a partner.”
Walter blushed.
“I am afraid,” he said, “that I couldn't play and dance, too.”
At his age few young men are indifferent to the favorable opinion of young ladies, and Walter would have been glad to have participated in the dancing. However, just at present, money was more acceptable to him than anything else.
When the week was concluded, the professor looked over his accounts and ascertained that Walter's commission amounted to nine dollars and sixty cents. The two dollars he had received for outside services carried his week's earnings to nearly twelve dollars.
He had been out with Professor Robinson a month when he had a surprise. It was in the town of Glenwood. His violin drew the usual crowd, who were listening with complimentary attention, when a young man, who casually paused to judge of the musician's merits, started in amazement.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed to a young lady who accompanied him. “That's my classmate, Sherwood.”
“What do you mean, Hugh?” asked the young lady.
“I mean that the young man who is playing the violin is my college classmate, Walter Sherwood.”
“But what on earth can have put him in such a position? Is he poor?”
“He had the reputation of being rich in college, but I remember that at the close of the sophomore year he was reported to have lost his money.”
“He is nice-looking!” said the young lady, after a critical examination of Walter.
“Yes, and he's no end of a nice fellow. I am truly sorry that he is so reduced.”
“Shall you go and speak to him?”
“Yes; but I shall have to wait till he is at leisure.”
“Then I will go home by myself and leave you to confer together; and, by the way, Hugh, you know we are to have a little company to-night. Do you think your friend would play for us? He really plays uncommonly well.”
“I will invite him as a guest. I shouldn't want to treat him as a professional performer. We can afford to treat him as an equal, for he is of good family, and brought up as a gentleman.”
“I am quite willing to receive him as such.”
Hugh Longwood remained in the crowd, and when the playing was over pushed up to the wagon. Walter was assisting the professor in serving out bottles of the famous balm.
“You may give me a bottle, Walter,” said Longwood.
“By gracious, Hugh Longwood!” exclaimed Walter. “Who would have expected to see you here?”
“This is my home. But we certainly do meet under strange circumstances. What on earth led you into this business?”
“Thrift, thrift, Hugh,” answered Walter, with a smile. “Let me tell you that I am making a good living and benefiting my fellow men.”
“But it is such a change from Euclid College.”
“True.”
“Such a come down!”
“I don't know about that. I am afraid my career there was not particularly creditable. Now I am working and earning my own living. Can you wait till we get through here? Then I will talk with you as long as you like.”
“Agreed. I am curious to hear of your adventures.” Professor Robinson proposed to stay in Glenwood overnight, so that Walter had plenty of time to see his friend.
“My sister is to have a party of friends this evening, and she commissions me to invite you.”
“But,” hesitated Walter, “I have no dress suit here.”
“You look well enough.”
“Besides, I am filling a very humble position.”
“We know who you are, and that you are a gentleman. That is enough. Will you come?”
“Yes, I will,” answered Walter, heartily. “It will be like a taste of the old life.”
“And if we should ask you to favor us on the violin?”
“I shall be glad to contribute to the pleasure of the evening. But you haven't told me why you are not back at college.”
“My father is anxious to have me help him in his business. His health is not what it was. Not being likely to set the river on fire in any literary profession, I decided to give up the college for the counting-room.”
“I think you did right.”