The old man made no reply. On the desk stood a picture of little Clinton--one that Jim had had framed and kept constantly before him. This the old man had seized in both hands, and he lay back in his chair, staring at it blankly. His face was deathly pale, while his eyes blazed fiercely. “Where did you get it?” he gasped. “How came this here?” This was certainly strange conduct, and Jim was not altogether pleased. “That is our little boy,” he said shortly. “Does it remind you of some one you know?” The old man stared at him. “Your little boy?” he gasped. “I thought it was--that is----” He stopped to recover himself. “I beg your pardon,” he said humbly. “But it recalled another face. I am sorry if I have annoyed you.” And he turned to the desk and wrote his name, “Arthur Harland,” in a bold, plain hand. “I beg your pardon,” he said again in that same humble tone. Jim was rather pleased with him, in spite of his strange conduct. He asked him several questions, and received satisfactory replies. He had been out of a position for some months, the old man said; and Jim could see how poverty had gripped him during that time. He gave a very good list of references, giving, among others, the name of Jim’s lawyer. He would leave the question of compensation with Mr. Darling. Jim thought he had his man at last. “I know some of these names,” he said, “and will make inquiries. If I find you worthy of confidence, I will give you the position. If you will call to-morrow at this time I will let you know. In the meantime, you can do a small favor for me.” And Jim inclosed ten dollars in an envelope, and wrote a line stating, that this was an advance on the first month’s salary, if he was employed. “There,” he said, putting it in the man’s hand; “now call to-morrow.” Harland, supposing the envelope to be directed, placed it in an inside pocket, and, after another lingering glance at the picture on the desk, bowed himself out. Jim made the necessary inquiries that afternoon, and as everything was satisfactory, Mr. Harland was duly installed as his manager, secretary, and general factotum; and, having at last got this burden off his mind, Jim proceeded with his more important business. It was necessary that there should be considerable ready money to cover the expenses of the proposed tour, and Jim looked about him to see which of their several properties could be sold to the best advantage. Their aunt had left them, with the rest of the estate, a plot of some hundred acres of wild land situated somewhere in northern Michigan. This was supposed to be of little value, but he decided to sell it for whatever it would bring. Having once seen the value of advertising, Jim tried it again, and caused to be published in several Michigan papers a description of the land, with a notice that it was for sale. “I must be lucky in my advertising,” he said to Norine one morning at breakfast. “You remember my advertising for help?” Norine laughed.