Willis submitted reluctantly to his stepmother's caress, and threw himself into a rocking chair opposite her. “Are you well, Willis?” asked Mrs. Estabrook, anxiously. “Yes, I'm well enough,” muttered the young man. “I thought you looked out of sorts.” “I feel so.” “Is anything the matter?” “Yes; I'm sick of working at such starvation wages.” “I thought fifteen dollars a week a very good salary. Only last January you were raised three dollars.” “And I expected to be raised three dollars more on the first of July.” “Did you apply to Mr. Reynolds?” “Yes, and he told me I must wait till next January.” “I think he might have raised you, if only on account of the connection between our families.” “Perhaps he would if you would ask him, mother.” “I will when there is a good opportunity. Still, Willis, I think fifteen dollars a week very comfortable.” “You don't know a young man's expenses, mother.” “How much do you pay for board, Willis?” “Six dollars a week. I have a room with a friend, or I should have to pay eight.” “That leaves you nine dollars a week for all other expenses. I think you might save something out of that.” “I can't. I have clothes to buy, and sometimes I want to go to the theatre, and in fact, nine dollars don't go as far as you think. Of course, a woman doesn't need to spend much. It's different with a young man.” “Your income would be a good deal increased if you had no board to pay.” “Of course. You don't know any generous minded person who will board me for nothing, do you?” “There's a new office boy in your office, isn't there?” “Yes, a country boy.” “Did you know he was boarding here?” “No; is he?” “Mr. Reynolds told me to-night he was going to keep him here permanently, as a companion for his little son.” “Lucky for him.” “I wish Mr. Reynolds would give you a home here.” “I would rather he would make it up in money, and let me board where I please.” “But you forget. It would give you a chance to get him interested in you, and if Herbert should die, you might take his place as heir.” “That would be a splendid idea, but there's no prospect of it. It isn't for me.” “It may be for the office boy. He's an artful boy, and that's what he's working for, in my opinion.” “I didn't think the little beggar was so evil-headed. He seems quiet enough.” “Still waters run deep. You'd better keep an eye on him, and I'll do the same.” “I will.” The next day Grant was puzzled to understand why Willis Ford spoke so sharply to him, and regarded him with such evident unfriendliness. “What have I done to offend you?” he thought. CHAPTER XIII -- TWO VIEWS OF TOM CALDER