"Here is my handwriting," answered the boy, and wrote his name on a piece of paper. "That is quite good--for a boy. I think you will improve by practice. Here you will have quite some writing to do, and bills to sort out. But the work will not be difficult, for the summer is our dull season." "I see." "By the way, I suppose you know I require a deposit of one hundred dollars from each of my clerks," went on Hamilton Dart, with assumed carelessness. "Sometimes my clerks have quite some money to handle for me." "I can make that deposit," answered Nat. "Will I get a receipt for it?" "To be sure, and I will also pay you six per cent. interest on the money. You can have it back whenever you leave my service. When can you make the deposit?" "Right now, if you say so." "Very well; I'll make out the receipt." Hamilton Dart wrote out a receipt for a hundred dollars, and signed his name with a flourish. He passed it to Nat, and the boy handed him the hundred-dollar bill. "You don't believe in carrying small bills," said the man, with an assumed smile. "That is the only big bill I ever owned," was the answer. Hamilton Dart pocketed the bill, and looked out of the window as if in deep thought. "I was thinking you might go to work to-day, but perhaps it will be as well to go to work to-morrow," he said, after a pause. "Come at nine o'clock sharp." "I will, sir." "Then that is all for the present. I am sure we will get along very well together. To-morrow another clerk will be here to help you along." Hamilton Dart turned to his desk, and began to write. Feeling himself dismissed, Nat said "good-morning," and bowed himself out. The man listened to his footsteps as he descended the stairs, and then gave a low chuckle. "That was easy, Nick," he muttered. "Two so far. I wonder how many more fools I'll catch before the game plays out?" CHAPTER XII ON THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE "Well, I've struck luck again," said Nat, when he arrived at his boarding place, and met Dick Talcott. "Got a job?" questioned the newsboy. "Yes." "I hope you're going to get pretty good wages?" "Ten dollars per week," answered Nat, with just a trace of pride in his voice. "Ten dollars. That is luck. What at?" "I'm in a broker's office, and I'm to do writing and sorting out bills." "Where is the place?" "Down on Broadway." "I'm glad to hear of this, Nat," said the newsboy. "Wish I could strike something like that." "Perhaps you will some day, Dick." "The trouble is I can't write very well. I never had much schooling." "If you wish, I'll teach you how to write. It always came easy to me." "Will you teach me? I'll do my best to learn. We can go at it nights." Early on the following morning, Nat presented himself at the office on Broadway. He had shined his shoes and brushed his clothes, and presented a very neat appearance. He found Hamilton Dart at his desk, and smoking as before.