"I mean it. Now let us see what sort of a room has been assigned to us." It proved to be a very good room, moderately spacious, with two beds, one on each side of the apartment. "I think we'll be comfortable here, Robert," said his new friend. "I feel sure of it," replied the boy, looking about him with an air of satisfaction. "You can have that bed and I'll take the other. Now, do you feel hungry?" "I think I could eat something, Mr. Marden." "Don't call me Mr. Marden. I'm not used to it." "What shall I call you?" "Call me Dick." "If you wish me to, though I am afraid it is hardly respectful, considering how much older you are than I am." "Oh, hang respect! That won't bother me any. Take a wash, if you want to, and we'll go down to the dining-room." Robert was glad to do so, as he felt heated and dusty. Mr. Marden followed his example. They went down to the dining-room, and both did justice to the excellent meal provided. They had just commenced on the dessert when a small man with a slight hump entered the dining-room, and took a seat opposite. He glanced across the table. "Why, Dick Marden!" he cried in surprise. "Is that you?" The miner looked across the table. "Well, well, who would have expected to see you here, Peter Gray?" he returned, arching his eyebrows. "Strange things will happen, Dick. I've been in Chicago for nearly a year." "Are you in business here?" "Yes, I keep a cut-rate ticket office on Clark street." "Are you making money?" The small man shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not rich yet," he answered. "I suppose you are." "I have a little money," he answered. "Let me see; the last time I saw you was at the diggings?" "Yes, we were both in hard luck then. How are you fixed?" "I've got a little, and my business gives me a living." "It must, if you are boarding here." "I am not. I generally eat at a restaurant, but once a week I come in here and get a good dinner. The remembrance of it lasts me a week, and makes my other meals more palatable." "You are a sensible man." "Is that your son, Dick?" "No, I wish he were. He is a young friend of mine, who is for a short time under my protection. His name is Robert Frost. Don't you want a clerk in your office?" "Well, I don't know," said Mr. Gray. "If he were your son now----" "Consider him my son, then. But we'll speak of this after dinner." "All right, Dick." Robert's eyes lighted up with pleasant anticipation. He felt that he would indeed be fortunate if he should obtain a place at once. He would not be able to look up to his employer, for the cripple was a little less than five feet in height, but their relations might be pleasant, nevertheless. CHAPTER X. ROBERT GETS A PLACE. "You can go out and take a walk, Robert, while I go with Mr. Gray to his office." "All right, sir." "Now," said Marden, as they emerged into State street, "will you take the boy?" "Yes, but I can't pay him much." "How much?" "Five dollars a week."