"Are you offering me a permanent place, Captain Renfrew?" he asked. The old man nodded. "I need a man with a certain liberality of culture. I will no doubt have you run through books and periodicals and make note of any points germane to my thesis." Peter looked at the pile of script on the table. "That is very flattering, Captain; but the fact is, I came by your place at this hour because I am just in the act of leaving here on the steamboat to-night." The Captain looked at Peter with concern on his face. "Leaving Hooker's Bend?" "Yes, sir." "Why?" Peter hesitated. "Well, my mother is dead--" "Yes, but your--your--your work is still here, Peter." The Captain fell into a certain confusion. "A man's work, Peter; a man's work." "Do you mean my school-teaching?" Then came a pause. The conversation somehow had managed to leave them both somewhat at sea. The Captain began again, in a different tone: "Peter, I wish you to remain here with me for another reason. I am an old man, Peter. Anything could happen to me here in this big house, and nobody would know it. I don't like to think of it." The old man's tone quite painted his fears. "I am not afraid of death, Peter. I have walked before God all my life save in one or two points, which, I believe, in His mercy, He has forgiven me; but I cannot endure the idea of being found here some day in some unconsidered posture, fallen out of a chair, or a-sprawl on the floor. I wish to die with dignity, Peter, as I have lived." "Then you mean that you want me to stay here with you until--until the end, Captain?" The old man nodded. "That is my desire, Peter, for an honorarium which you yourself shall designate. At my death, you will receive some proper portion of my estate; in fact, the bulk of my estate, because I leave no other heirs. I am the last Renfrew of my race, Peter." Peter grew more and more amazed as the old gentleman unfolded this strange proposal. What queerer, pleasanter berth could he find than that offered him here in the quietude of the old manor, among books, tending the feeble flame of this old aristocrat's life? An air of scholasticism hung about the library. In some corner of this dark oaken library his philosophies would rest comfortably. Then it occurred to Peter that he would have to continue his sleeping and eating in Niggertown, and since his mother had died and his rupture with Cissie, the squalor and smells of the crescent had become impossible. He told the old Captain his objections as diplomatically as possible. The old man made short work of them. He wanted Peter to sleep in the manor within calling distance, and he might begin this very night and stay on for a week or so as a sort of test whether he liked the position or not. The Captain waited with some concern until Peter agreed to a trial.