“I think they must be uncommon people, but I approve them for all that. ‘A man’s a man for a’ that,’ as Robert Burns says in his poem. That is, it makes no difference whether he is rich or poor, whether he lives in a palace or a hovel, if there is good stuff in him, he deserves honor.” “I would like to see the whole poem,” said Paul. “I think Burns is right.” “So do I, but I must not forget that it is late, and I am keeping you from your bed. I have not told you my name yet.” “No, sir.” “It is Eliot Wade. The firm name is William O. Wade & Co., of St Louis. We have a wholesale clothing house, and propose to establish a similar one in New York. Now, when this arrangement is effected, how can I communicate with you?” “If you will write to Paul Parton, A. D. T., No. ---- Broadway, I shall receive the letter. If I leave the telegraph service before, I will tell them where to send any letter which is received.” “And in case both fail, you will be sure to learn our place from the advertising columns of the newspapers. In that case, call and inquire for me.” “Thank you, sir. I will be sure to do so.” “You will be likely to find it to your advantage.” Paul, concluding that there was nothing more to be said, rose to go. “Good night, Mr. Wade,” he said. “I consider myself lucky in having met you.” “I can return the compliment. But I have not yet got through with you.” “I beg your pardon,” said Paul, resuming his seat. “You don’t suppose I would send you away without an immediate acknowledgment of the service you have done me tonight?” “The future employment which you promised me I consider a very valuable acknowledgment.” “That will, I hope, prove so, but there is nothing like a bird in the hand.” As Eliot Wade spoke, he produced the wallet which had been saved to him by the intrepidity and presence of mind of Paul, and drew therefrom a bank note, which he tendered to Number 91. “Accept that with my thanks added,” he said. Paul looked at the bill and his face expressed the amazement he felt. _It was a hundred dollar bill!_ “You don’t mean to give me so much as this, Mr. Wade,” he ejaculated. “Why not?” asked the young man, with a smile. “It is a good deal too much.” “On the other hand, it is about fifty dollars too little. Ten per cent on the sum saved would be one hundred and fifty dollars, and it is worth that. However, I will reserve that for a future occasion. Consider me fifty dollars in your debt.” “You are very liberal,” said Paul earnestly, “and I heartily thank you. You can imagine that a hundred dollars is a large sum to a poor telegraph boy.” “Now,” said the young man, smiling, “let me give you a piece of advice, suggested by my own experience. Don’t drop into any drinking saloon on your way home, or you may fall into the hands of a sharper, as I did.” “I will remember your caution, sir,” said Paul, smiling. “It may be safer for you to ride home, as the hour is late.” “I will do so, sir. Good night and thank you.”