“That's good!” Witherby now entered at large into the nature of the position which he offered Bartley. They talked a long time, and in becoming better acquainted with each other's views, as they called them, they became better friends. Bartley began to respect Witherby's business ideas, and Witherby in recognizing all the admirable qualities of this clear-sighted and level-headed young man began to feel that he had secretly liked him from the first, and had only waited a suitable occasion to unmask his affection. It was arranged that Bartley should come on as Witherby's assistant, and should do whatever he was asked to do in the management of the paper; he was to write on topics as they occurred to him, or as they were suggested to him. “I don't say whether this will lead to anything more, Mr. Hubbard, or not; but I do say that you will be in the direct line of promotion.” “Yes, I understand that,” said Bartley. “And now as to terms,” continued Witherby, a little tremulously. “And now as to terms,” repeated Bartley to himself; but he said nothing aloud. He felt that Witherby had cut out a great deal of work for him, and work of a kind that he could not easily find another man both willing and able to do. He resolved that he would have all that his service was worth. “What should you think of twenty dollars a week?” asked Witherby. “I shouldn't think it was enough,” said Bartley, amazed at his own audacity, but enjoying it, and thinking how he had left Marcia with the intention of offering himself to Mr. Atherton as a clerk for ten dollars a week. “There is a great deal of labor in what you propose, and you command my whole time. You would not like to have me do any work outside of the Events.” “No,” Witherby assented. “Would twenty-five be nearer the mark?” he inquired soberly. “It would be nearer, certainly,” said Bartley. “But I guess you had better make it thirty.” He kept a quiet face, but his heart throbbed. “Well, say thirty, then,” replied Witherby so promptly that Bartley perceived with a pang that he might as easily have got forty from him. But it was now too late, and a salary of fifteen hundred a year passed the wildest hopes he had cherished half an hour before. “All right,” he said quietly. “I suppose you want me to take hold at once?” “Yes, on Monday. Oh, by the way,” said Witherby, “there is one little piece of outside work which I should like you to finish up for us; and we'll agree upon something extra for it, if you wish. I mean our Solid Men series. I don't know whether you've noticed the series in the Events?” “Yes,” said Bartley, “I have.” “Well, then, you know what they are. They consist of interviews--guarded and inoffensive as respects the sanctity of private life--with our leading manufacturers and merchant princes at their places of business and their residences, and include a description of these, and some account of the lives of the different subjects.”