When my late employer, Mr. Clinch, found that I had some knowledge of arithmetic and accounts, he used to set me at work on his bills, to see if they were cast up correctly. This experience had prepared me for precisely the ordeal I was at present undergoing. I wrote the bill as handsomely as I could, though without straining over it, and figured up the prices, extending them and adding them. The examiner seemed to be very much pleased, and wanted to know where I had learned so much about the lumber business. I explained, and told him I had used about all my evenings for two years in studying. "You'll do," said he. "Now, what wages do you expect?" "I don't know; what do you pay?" "Well, we pay three or four dollars a week. As you are pretty good at figures, we will give you four." "I made more than that at my trade. I can't afford to work for four dollars a week, sir. It would only pay my board." "What do you ask?" "I will work eight weeks, say, at six dollars a week." Mr. Whippleton objected; but I was firm. He evidently thought I was just the person he wanted, and he finally consented to my terms, but insisted upon making the time a year. I told him I could not agree for a longer time than I had named without consulting my father. He yielded this point also, and I promised to be at the counting-room of Collingsby and Whippleton the next morning. I walked home with Mrs. Whippleton, who again assured me that she was always willing to do what she could for a "feller-cretur." CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH PHIL TAKES HIS PLACE AT THE DESK, AND IS ENGAGED FOR A YEAR. When I reached the house of Mrs. Whippleton, I took my writing materials from my bag, and wrote a long letter to my father, detailing the incidents of my journey, and explaining the motives which had induced me to take the situation in the counting-room of Collingsby and Whippleton. I was satisfied that he would not object, though he might not fully approve the course I had taken. I was up very early the next morning, and made a hurried survey of the city before breakfast. I walked from Washington Street, where my boarding-house was located, through Halstead Street, to the north branch of the Chicago River, where I found the lumber-yard of the firm. I read the sign and examined the locality with interest. I ate my breakfast at half past six; and though the beefsteak was very tough, and the butter very strong, I sustained my reputation as a good eater. I had lived too long in the wilderness, where we did not often have any butter, to be thrown off my balance by the accident of a rancid article, and I had certainly eaten buffalo meat that was as much tougher than any beef as sole leather is tougher than brown paper. Strong butter and tough beef are not good, I allow; but they are by no means the sum total of human misery. I had a clean conscience, and I ate a hearty breakfast.