For three months Ben made no sign, and his uncle concluded that he had given up his plan of coming to New York in search of employment. But one evening--it was the one on which our story commenced--on his way back from a call upon some friends in Brooklyn, Nicholas Walton stepped into Hitchcock's lunch-room, knowing it well by reputation, and was startled by seeing the nephew whose appearance he so much dreaded. It was his first impulse to speak to him, and harshly demand his reason for disobeying the positive command to remain at home; but this might be followed by an appeal for help (it was clear that Mr. Walton did not understand his nephew) and that might be awkward. "No," thought the merchant; "I won't speak to him till he comes to the store, as no doubt he intends to. Then I will give him a piece of my mind." We now come back to Ben and his new found friend, the reporter. "If you don't object, I will walk down town with you, Mr. Manton," said Ben, as they left the restaurant where they had breakfasted. "I shall be glad of your company, Ben," said Manton, cordially. "I will point out to you the chief landmarks, and places of interest, as we go along." "I wish you would," said Ben. "I know very little of the city." "That is a defect you will soon remedy," said his friend. "By the way," said Ben, with a sudden thought, "how was it that you asked me if I knew Mr. Walton?" "Because I saw that Mr. Walton knew you." "You saw that he knew me?" repeated Ben, puzzled. "Yes. Do you remember a stout gentleman who came into Hitchcock's just as we were going out?" "No; I did not observe him." "It was Nicholas Walton. When his glance first rested upon you he started and looked disturbed." "He did not approve of my coming to New York," explained Ben. "Then you think he recognized me?" "I am sure of it." "I wonder he did not speak to me!" said Ben, thoughtfully. "Probably for the reason you have assigned--because he did not approve of your coming. Do you expect to call upon him?" "Yes; I am going to ask if he won't give me a place in his store. He employs a large number, I suppose?" "Yes; not less than a hundred, I should think, in various ways inside the store, besides scores of seamstresses outside. He has a very large establishment, and is accounted a very rich man." "So I have always heard," said Ben. "He wanted me to stay in Sunderland and become a farmer." "And you don't fancy the advice?" "No. I should never make a farmer. If I had any taste for it, I might have followed my uncle's advice." "Have you ever seen Mr. Walton's store?" asked the reporter, presently. "No." "Here it is," and he pointed to a spacious store, with great plate-glass windows, in which was displayed suits of clothes in profusion. "Then, Mr. Manton, I believe I will leave you and go in. I want to find out as soon as possible whether my uncle will help me, or whether I must depend upon myself."