"Wait a minute, boy. I'm a year younger than you, but I'm older than you in many respects. You are only a big boy and you want some one to look after you." She blushed a little as she said this. "You are impetuous. You say things which you don't mean. You speak so sharply at times that people misunderstand your naturally kind disposition and think that you are fault-finding. And then you are really so conceited that you hate to admit you are wrong, with the result that you leave people with a wrong impression of you. Do you remember that saying about the man who conquers himself being greater than he who masters a city? You should learn to think a little more carefully about what you say before you say it. Remember that you can say something sharp to the help and then forget it the next minute; but they won't forget it. They will think it over and it will rankle and they will feel spiteful toward you, and they'll do something to 'get even' with you." I hated to admit it, but I had got a hunch that Betty was very nearly right. I decided I would try to control my tongue a little more, and would remember that the people who worked for me would do better work for me if they liked and respected me. The next morning, I went around with Larsen, as I had promised him, to see Jim Simpson, and found that he had gone. He had left a note for me saying that he found he had an opportunity to get away and that he would write me his address in a few days. Larsen saw me twisting his note in my fingers while I was thinking about it there, and he came over and said: "Can I see that note, Boss?" I passed it to him. He read it, shook his head, and said: "Guess you believe me now, don't you, Mr. Black?" I nodded. That's all I could do. He shrugged his shoulders and said: "Well, two weeks' money don't hurt me very much. I hope, Boss, he hasn't stung you." I went cold at the thought of it. I didn't think it could be true, but, when I came to think it over, I realized that I had taken his word for almost everything. I went home and told mother and Betty about it, and they advised me to get in touch with Mr. Barlow at once. I said I wouldn't do that--I wasn't going to leave a man and then two or three days afterwards run to him for help. I thought of Fellows of the Flaxon Advertising Company. I telephoned his house and, fortunately, caught him, and he came right around to see me. He asked me if I had had a lawyer draw up the agreement. I told him "no." He asked me if I had had an inventory made before buying the store. I told him "no." He asked me if I had verified the profits of the business for the last two years. I told him "no." He asked me if I had had the books audited at all. I told him "no." "Good God, lad," he said, "what have you done, anyhow?" And then I acted like a fool. I burst out crying and told him that what I had done had been to make an ass of myself and to give Jim Simpson $6500.00. He thought a minute and said: