"Well," returned Mr. Van Riper, with an attempt at facetious geniality, "we'll try to get his nose down to the grindstone, we will. Come into my office with me, Dolph, and I'll hand this young gentleman over to old Mr. Daw. Mr. Daw will feel his teeth--eh, Mr. Daw?--see what he _doesn't_ know--how's that, Mr. Daw? You remember Mr. Daw, Dolph--used to be with your father before he went out of business--been with us ever since. Let's see, how long is that, Daw? Most fifty years, ain't it?" [Illustration: "Looks like his father," was Mr. Daw's comment.] Mr. Daw, who looked as though he might have been one hundred years at the business, wheeled around and descended with stiff deliberation from his high stool, holding his pen in his mouth as he solemnly shook hands with Jacob Dolph, and peered into his face. Then he took the pen out of his mouth. "Looks like his father," was Mr. Daw's comment. "Forty-five years the twenty-ninth of this month, sir. You was a little shaver then. I remember you comin' into the store and whittlin' timber with your little jack-knife. I was only eleven years with your father, sir--eleven years and six months--went to him when I was fourteen years old. That's fifty-six years and six months in the service of two of the best houses that ever was in New York--an' I can do my work with any two young shavers in the town--ain't missed a day in nineteen years now. Your father hadn't never ought to have gone out of business, Mr. Dolph. He did a great business for those days, and he had the makin' of a big house. Goin' to bring your boy up like a good New York merchant, hey? Come along here with me, young man, and I'll see if you're half the man your grandfather was. He hadn't never ought to have given up business, Mr. Dolph. But he was all for pleasuring an' the play-houses, an' havin' fine times. Come along, young man. What's your name?" "Eustace Dolph." "Hm! Jacob's better." And he led the neophyte away. "Curious old case," said Mr. Van Riper, dryly. "Best accountant in New York. See that high stool of his?--can't get him off it. Five years ago I gave him a low desk and an arm-chair. In one week he was back again, roosting up there. Said he didn't feel comfortable with his feet on the ground. He thought that sort of thing might do for aged people, but _he_ wasn't made of cotton-batting." Thus began Eustace Dolph's apprenticeship to business, and mightily ill he liked it. * * * * *