“I’ll not do anything until I’m more certain,” he decided. “But if Mr. Sandow calls up Mr. Cutler on the wire again, I’ll listen to all he says. I think I have a right to, for I believe he is up to something wrong.” During the days that followed Tom became more and more expert at the switchboard, so that even Mr. Cutler, anxious as he was to do so, could find no fault with the lad. “Tom, I have some good news for you,” Mr. Keen said to him one Saturday afternoon, when he was paying the telephone boy his weekly wages. “In the first place Mr. Boise wants me to tell you that he is very well satisfied with your work.” “I am glad of that.” “And, better than being merely glad about it, he has shown his appreciation in a substantial way. Hereafter your wages will be eleven dollars a week.” “Thank you, very much,” replied Tom, “and tell Mr. Boise that I appreciate it.” “I think he knows that. He is a man who likes to help boys get along in the world, and I am sure he will prove your friend.” Tom was delighted at the additional money every week, and he knew his mother and aunt would share in his joy. He was now getting more than Charley Grove, who had been at the switchboard over a year, for Charley had not received the additional dollar he had “struck the boss for,” as he expressed it. Tom thought this a good opportunity, when Mr. Keen was in such a particularly kindly mood, to broach the subject of Barton Sandow, and the mysterious message, but, just as he was about to mention it, a telephone call came in, and he had to adjust the switchboard. The call was for Mr. Keen, who had remained after the other members of the law firm had departed, and when he had finished talking he hurried away, before Tom had a chance to more than say “good-afternoon.” “I’ll speak to him Monday,” thought Tom, but, when Monday came, Mr. Keen had to go out of town, and was away for several days. There came several dull days in the law office, when, for hours at a time Tom would sit at the switchboard and not a call would come in. This was rather tiresome, but he had to remain on duty, as there was no telling when he would have to make the connections. “I wish I could read,” he thought. “Guess I’ll ask one of the clerks if there’s any objection.” Accordingly, he broached the matter to the young fellow who relieved him at the board during the noon hour. “Sure you can read, if you want to,” said the youth. “Why don’t you start in to read law? This is a good chance. I used to have your job, and one day I was reading a book of adventures. Mr. Boise saw me, and wanted to know what it was. I told him, and I thought he’d object, but he suggested that I start to study law in my spare moments. I did, beginning on a simple book, and finally he made me a clerk. That gave me more time, and I’ll be ready for the bar examinations in another year.” “I never thought of that,” said Tom. “I believe I would like to know something of law.”