“I want a job.” “Oh, you want a job! Here?” “Yes, sir.” “What are you good for in a newspaper office?” “Nothin’.” “That’s a fine recommendation. Do you expect to get the job on the strength of it?” “Yes, sir. No, sir. On this.” After much painful struggling the urchin succeeded in extracting from his pocket a note which he placed in Jeremy’s hands. At sight of it, all residue of raillery died out of the editor’s face. Though he had but once seen Marcia’s writing, he knew, at the first glance, the bold, frank, delicate, upright characters for hers. The note was undated. He read, with a feeling that the world had changed and sweetened about him, her words. _Dear Jem: If you ever can, give Buddy a chance; some work that will not interfere with his schooling. I wish you two to look after each other. And, oh, my dear, do please not quite altogether forget Marcia_ Jeremy sat in a long silence. The boy did not disturb it. Finally the young man looked up. “When did she give you this, Buddy?” “Before she went away.” “All right. You get the job.” “Thanks. I knew I would,” said the urchin confidently. “I c’n start in to-morrow.” He watched, sympathetically, the other fold the note and bestow it in his pocket. “Mr. Robson,” he said. “She said a queer thing when she gimme the letter.” “What was that?” “She said--you know how her eyes get solemn and big and--and kinda light up, deep inside, when she means a thing _hard_--she said, ‘Buddy, I shall like to think that you and he are looking after each other.’ What did she mean by that?” “I don’t know. I’ll have to think it over.” “Well, I been thinkin’ it over an’ I don’t get it.” He paused. Then with the self-centered simplicity of boyhood, “Mr. Robson, I miss her somethin’ fierce. You don’t know how I miss her.” “Don’t I!” retorted Jeremy involuntarily, with a stab of pain. “Nobody could,” stated the other with conviction. So Jeremy and Buddy Higman became fellow-workers. Buddy’s job was decidedly indeterminate. It did n’t matter. In taking him on Jeremy was performing his first definite service to Marcia. A week later his second was completed. Eli Wade was appointed a member of the Library Board. The Guardian chronicled the appointment more conspicuously than its unimportance as news warranted. Jeremy hoped that in some manner Marcia would see or hear of it. CHAPTER IV MARTIN EMBREE more than fulfilled his word. As if a royal patent had been issued in favor of The Guardian, the Senator’s zealous partisans of the Northern Tier bestowed upon it their patronage. Max Verrall, who revealed himself as a brisk and unfettered spirit with political ambitions and a slavish fervency for Embree, did the actual work of establishing the circulation in the district, and did it so well that Jeremy Robson had no misgivings in turning over to him the circulation managership of the paper.