Mr. Nevin looked relieved. “Come on, Leigh,” he said to Tommy, who thereupon nodded to Bill, said, “So long!” and followed Mr. Nevin. “I'm glad Bill took to you,” he told Tommy. “He is one of our best mechanics, but he is as crotchety as a genius. He distrusts everybody on general principles.” “Socialist?” asked Tommy. “Worse!” said Mr. Nevin. “Anarchist?” “Worse!” “Lunatic?” “Worse!” “Philanthropist?” “Worse!” “I give up,” said Tommy. “Inventor!” said Mr. Nevin. “Good!” Tommy spoke enthusiastically. This was life--to meet people about whom his only knowledge came from newspaper-reading. “Leigh,” said Nevin, stopping abruptly, “are you a politician?” The voice was intended to express jocularity, but Tommy thought he read in Mr. Nevin's eyes a doubt closely bordering upon a suspicion. Tommy felt his characteristic impulse to be as frankly autobiographical as he dared. He did not know that he could not help being what the offspring of two people to whom love meant everything must be. He wasn't aware of heredity when he kept his eyes on Mr. Nevin's and replied very earnestly: “Mr. Nevin, I'm going to tell you something that must not go any further.” “I was only joking. I have no desire to pry into your private affairs,” said Nevin, when he saw how serious Tommy had become. “I'm not going to tell you the story of my life,” Tommy explained, very earnestly; “but something else, I really want to.” “Shoot ahead,” said Mr. Nevin. Tommy's position in the shop was a mystery, for Mr. Thompson's instructions contained no explanation. “It's just this: I am alone in the world. I have no money and I have no friends. I've got to make money and I want to have friends here. I'm not a hand-shaker, but--” Tommy paused. “Yes?” Mr. Nevin looked a trifle uncomfortable, as men do when they listen to another man telling the truth about himself. “I know I'm going to be damned lonesome. Do you know what it means to have been called Tommy all your life by all the fellows you ever knew, and all of a sudden to be flung into a crowd of strangers to whom you cannot say, 'I'm one of you; please be friends'? I'm nobody but Leigh, a stranger among strangers. And what I want to be is Tom Leigh to people who will not be strangers. If I push myself they'll mistrust me. If I don't they'll think I am stuck on myself. Sooner or later I'll have to be Tom Leigh or get out. I'd rather be Tommy sooner because I don't want to get out. Do you understand?” “Sure thing, Le--er--Tommy,” said Nevin, heartily. “And I'll be glad to help all I can. Come to me any time you want any pointer about anything. Those are Mr. Thompson's orders; I'd have to do it whether I wanted to or not. But--this is straight!--I'll be glad to do it, my boy!”