“All right, sir; I will do so.”
He went to the post office, and, buying a postal card, wrote to his friend, Gilbert Vance, as follows:
“DEAR GILBERT:–Please send my trunk by express to me at Milford, care of Henry Jennings, Esq. He is my employer, and I live at his house. He is proprietor of a furniture factory. Will write further particulars soon.
“CARL CRAWFORD.”
This postal carried welcome intelligence to Gilbert, who felt a brotherly interest in Carl. He responded by a letter of hearty congratulation, and forwarded the trunk as requested.
Carl reported for duty the next morning, and, though a novice, soon showed that he was not without mechanical skill.
At twelve o’clock all the factory hands had an hour off for dinner. As Carl passed into the street he found himself walking beside the boy whom he had succeeded–Leonard Craig.
“Good-morning, Leonard,” said Carl, pleasantly.
“Good-morning. Have you taken my place in the factory?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you shall like it?”
“I think I shall, though, of course, it is rather early to form an opinion.”
“I didn’t like it.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to grow up a workman. I think I am fit for something better.”
“Mr. Jennings began as a factory hand.”
“I suppose he had a taste for it. I haven’t.”
“Then you like your present position better?”
“Oh, yes; it’s more genteel. How much does Jennings pay you?”
“Two dollars a week and board.”
“How is that? Where do you board?”
“With him.”
“Oh!” said Leonard, his countenance changing. “So you are a favorite with the boss, are you?”
“I don’t know. He gave me warning that he should be just as strict with me as if we were strangers.”
“How long have you known him?”
Carl smiled.
“I met him for the first time yesterday,” he answered.
“That’s very queer.”
“Well, perhaps it is a little singular.”
“Are you a poor boy?”
“I have to earn my own living.”
“I see. You will grow up a common workman.”
“I shall try to rise above it. I am not ashamed of the position, but I am ambitious to rise.”
“I am going to be a bookkeeper,” said Leonard. “My uncle is going to teach me. I would rather be a bookkeeper than a factory hand.”
“Then you are right in preparing yourself for such a post.”
Here the two boys separated, as they were to dine in different places.
Leonard was pleased with his new position. He really had very little to do. Twice a day he went to the post office, once or twice to the bank, and there was an occasional errand besides. To Carl the idleness would have been insupportable, but Leonard was naturally indolent. He sat down in a chair by the window, and watched the people go by.
The first afternoon he was in luck, for there was a dog fight in the street outside. He seized his hat, went out, and watched the canine warfare with the deepest interest.
“I think I will buy you a system of bookkeeping,” said his uncle, “and you can study it in the office.”
“Put it off till next week, Uncle Julius. I want to get rested from the factory work.”
“It seems to me, Leonard, you were born lazy,” said his uncle, sharply.
“I don’t care to work with my hands.”
“Do you care to work at all?”
“I should like to be a bookkeeper.”
“Do you know that my work is harder and more exhausting than that of a workman in tho factory?”
“You don’t want to exchange with him, do you?” asked Leonard.
“No.”
“That’s where I agree with you.”
Mr. Jennings took several weekly papers. Leonard was looking over the columns of one of them one day, when he saw the advertisement of a gift enterprise of a most attractive character. The first prize was a house and grounds valued at ten thousand dollars. Following were minor prizes, among them one thousand dollars in gold.
Leonard’s fancy was captivated by the brilliant prospect of such a prize.
“Price of tickets–only one dollar!” he read. “Think of getting a thousand dollars for one! Oh, if I could only be the lucky one!”