Robert Burns and his new friend made their way into the business part of the city. They entered a large warehouse, and passed through it into a back room—found a young man writing notes at one of the desks. He looked up, saw the two boys, and suspended his writing long enough to question them with his eyes. “This is a boy that I want Mr. Gould to engage, sir. Where is the old gentleman?” said the newsboy, designating Robert by a wave of his not over-clean hand. “True as steel, sir, and honest as a morning paper, sir. Where’s the boss?—perhaps you don’t know,” he added, eyeing an antique seal ring on the gentleman’s white hand. “New feller in these premises, any way. I never see you afore.” The young man went on with his writing, and took no apparent heed of this rather elaborate address. His pen ran over a sheet of note-paper with a quick and noiseless motion, that filled the newsboy with admiring astonishment. Then the note was folded, and something placed with it in the long, narrow envelope, which rustled under the touch of those fingers, silkily, like a bank-note. Then a wax taper, coiled up like a garter-snake, was lighted, a drop of pale green wax fell from it to the note; and while the young man stamped the seal with his antique ring, he seemed to become suddenly conscious that the boys were gazing on him with no common curiosity. “Well,” he said, smiling down upon the seal as he examined the impression he had made, “what is it? Did you want something, boys?” “Yes, sir, that is just it. We want to see the old boss!” “The old what?” cried the young gentleman, with a look of comic astonishment—“the old what?” “The boss, sir; the old gentleman who runs this ere machine!” “Oh! you mean the governor. Too late; sailed for Europe yesterday.” “But he told me I might look up a boy for him the very last time I brought the weeklies here; and I’ve found just the chap.” “Oh! the errand-boy. So the governor commissioned you—just like him. We do want a handy lad, I think. I say, Smith.” Smith came in from a little den of a room at the left, with a pen behind his ear. “Did you call, sir?” “Did the governor say any thing about engaging a boy?” “Yes, sir. He was particularly anxious to get a good one, smart and honest.” “With all my heart, if he can find the paragon. Well, what do you think of that little fellow?” The young man pointed his pen carelessly at Robert without troubling himself to look that way. Smith looked at the boy keenly, who blushed crimson under his gaze. “He seems modest, at least, and looks intelligent,” was the kind answer. “Then you like him? Come here, sir, and answer me a few questions.” Robert moved up to the desk, and lifted his honest eyes to the young man’s face. “How old are you, my fine fellow?” “Twelve, sir, and going on thirteen.” “Rather young, isn’t he?” said the gentleman, appealing to Smith. “That will not matter so much, Mr. Gould. He seems healthy, and is intelligent.” “You like him, then?”