And this elevation of Eli remodeled him as a being. Instead of the stoop-shouldered, thin-faced, frowsy-headed, dirty, unwashed, ill-clad, uncared-for individual that a scanty stipend produces, we now see an erect, sharp-featured, cleanly-shaved, neatly-clad, bright-eyed young man. Although not handsome, his face called for an adulatory responsiveness on the part of those who came in contact with him. Instead of having his hands continually soiled by the labors that he performed in sorting junk and displaying it to customers, it was not uncommon to see him going about the shop gloved in brown kid. Instead of a dark-brown lay-down-collar shirt that always gave him the appearance of a water front workman, he wore boiled linen, decorated with a sparkling stud and flashy necktie. Instead of a greasy coat that hung loosely over his shoulders, he wore a neat business suit. Instead of the sweat-marked slouch hat, that used to loll on one side of his head, he wore a derby. Instead of a chain made of leather, to which was attached a brass watch, he carried a gold ticker fastened to his vest by a delicately-linked chain. Instead of the black, filthy office, in which his master sat for years, and in which he sat for a time after his advancement, he could now be found in a bright, clean place, papered and tinsled and decorated, with a new desk to write at, and a leather-cushioned chair to recline in. Thus he appeared in his new role, when the phone rang one day, as it often did, but now with a different purport than ever before. "Hello!" responded Eli, taking down the receiver and adjusting it to his ear. "Yes; this is Mr. Jerey." "Eli Jerey; yes." "Yes; Mr. Dieman's office." "Very busy day; but we're always open for new business." "A private interview!" "Can't you come to my office?--I never go out--except ordered by Mr. Dieman." "Can I come without him knowing it?" "That depends on the business." "Well; who wants me?" "Can't set a time or date till I know." "What! Mr. Jarney's residence!" ("Well, did you ever!" on the side). "Miss Jarney!" "Who's this talking?" "Star Barton!" ("Well, did you ever!" on the side.) "Where are you?" now more interested. "At Mr. Jarney's?" ("Well, what now?" on the side.) "What time?" ("Bless me!" on the side.) "Yes; 7 p. m. will do." ("Ha, me!" on the side.) "I will be there." ("On the dot!" on the side.) Eli hung up the receiver, stood a moment tickling his right ear with his right forefinger, a habit of his. He was in a confused and perplexed state of mental consternation. Miss Barton! Miss Barton! Peter Dieman's step-daughter! went through his head in a rollicking way. "Hah! Miss Barton! I've heard of her; and Miss Jarney--rich--young--poorty--and wants an interview with me! Humph!" he mused, after sitting down. "Well, I must make myself presentable and go henceforth to meet them in all my dignity; yes, meet my superiors now in all my dignity--hah!"