"You won't stay in the grocery long—I'll predict that. If you ever have a notion of becomin' a blacksmith, I'll take you into my employ, and be glad to do it." "I'll bear it in mind, Mr. Crane." When the train had started and his new friend was fairly on his way home, Gerald could not help thinking soberly of his own unpromising future. If Mrs. Lane had been more like her brother, rough and uneducated as he was, he felt that he could like her better. He at least had a good heart. On his way home he met Mr. Nugent. "Good morning, Gerald," said the old gentleman, in a friendly tone. "Have you had any more exciting experiences?" "Yes, sir. Last night our house was entered by a burglar." "Indeed! That is something new for Portville. Did he take anything?" "No; he was taken himself." "Surely you were not a match for him?" "No, sir; but Mr. Crane captured him, and he is now in the lock-up." "Ah, yes; our good friend the blacksmith. He is a muscular man." "He is going home happy with the check that you gave him." "I was glad to be of service to him, as he in all probability saved my life. But I have not done anything for you. You must apply to me whenever you need assistance. Do you go into Mr. Tubbs's store on Monday?" "Yes, sir." "Come round next Saturday evening and tell me how you like it. I was your father's friend; I shall be glad if you will consider me yours." "I shall be very glad to do so, Mr. Nugent," said Gerald, earnestly. "Who was that you were talking with?" asked Abel, whom he met a minute later. "Mr. Nugent." "The rich man? Why didn't you introduce me?" "I will some time if I have the opportunity." "You are going to work Monday, ma tells me." "Yes." "She says a grocery store will be a good place for you." "Would you like it?" "No. I'm going to be a lawyer or a civil engineer—I haven't decided which." Gerald smiled. He had very little faith in Abel's ever being either. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XII A GROCER'S CLERK EARLY Monday morning Gerald went over to Mr. Tubbs's grocery store and reported for duty. The grocer gave him some instructions as to the prices of leading commodities, and he took his place behind the counter. There was a young man of twenty-one in the grocer's employ—a cousin of Mrs. Tubbs's, named Charles Brandon. He was rather an unattractive-looking young man, with a pimply face, and small eyes with a shifting expression. Gerald already knew him slightly, but did not like him. Twice he had seen him under the influence of liquor and knew that he frequented a billiard-room in the village patronized by a low class of young men. "So we are going to be fellow-clerks, eh?" said Brandon, with a disagreeable smile. "I suppose so." "I always looked upon you as one of the tip-tops! I never thought you would be willing to become a boy in a grocery!" "I am not willing."