As he turned into his street, he noticed in front of him the figure of a tall, elderly man, dressed in cleanly brushed but threadbare black clothes, who was walking rapidly on ahead of him. He was evidently looking for some place, for he would sometimes stop to scan the number of the house he was passing, and then would hurry feverishly along. Jim, whose strong, rapid stride kept him near this stranger, once or twice caught sight of his face. It was rather a pleasing face, with long, gray whiskers; a kindly-looking face, Jim thought, although it was a very anxious-looking face just now. He had walked on for a block or two, watching the old man curiously, before it struck Jim that this might be another applicant. And it was. For, as soon as the stranger arrived at Jim’s number, he mounted the steps and rang the bell. Jim could see by the restless motion of his hands that the old man was very nervous, although he was evidently trying hard to conceal it. The door opened just as Jim reached the house. There were a few words passed between the man and the servant, and then the door was closed, and the man turned wearily to go down the steps. Jim was absolutely frightened at the change in the man’s face as he stepped aside to let him pass. It was overspread with that grayish pallor that only comes over the face of the aged, and his steps, which a moment before were hurried and elastic, now were feeble and slow. He seemed to creep rather than walk. “Poor fellow!” thought Jim, “he has been buoyed up by hopes. I have half a mind to go after him.” Even as he thought thus, the man turned, and, seeing Jim on the steps, looking at him, stopped as if to return. Seeing this, Jim motioned to him. “I saw you coming from my door,” he said kindly, “and I thought perhaps you wished to see me.” “I did,” the old man replied hopelessly. “That is, I wished to apply for a position; but your servant tells me it is filled.” “I told her to say so,” said Jim candidly. “I have been troubled by the wrong class of applicants, and they became a nuisance; but I have not filled the place yet. You see, I am rather hard to please.” The old man’s face lighted up again. “I hope I can please you, sir,” he said. “I would be pleased to answer any questions.” “Come in with me,” replied Jim, “and I will see you about it.” They entered the house together, and went at once to the library. “There,” said Jim, opening his desk, and giving the man pen and paper, “be pleased to write your name.” He turned away as he spoke, and crossed the room. He had hardly done so, when he was startled by a gasping cry from the old man. He turned to him at once. “Are you ill?” he asked. “Is there anything the matter?”