“I’ll lend you a book to start on,” said the clerk kindly, and he handed Tom a volume that did not look very attractive. But Tom was not easily discouraged, and he began it. He found it simpler than he had expected, and he became quite interested in it. “What have you there?” asked Mr. Boise of him, one afternoon, as the senior partner came in from a late lunch. “Is it the life of ‘Fearless Frank, the Boy Scout,’ or ‘Death-Dealing Dick’? Oh, there’s no objection to you reading,” he added hastily, as Tom started up in some confusion. As he did so the book fell down, open, so that the title could be read. “Ah, the law primer,” remarked Mr. Boise. “I am glad to see this, Tom. Not that there is anything wrong in reading a good book of adventure, for I like that sort of a story myself, once in a while, but they are not good as a steady diet. When you finish that book I will loan you another.” He passed on, nodding his head in approval. Meanwhile, as the days passed, Tom was wondering why Barton Sandow did not call up again. “Maybe I frightened him,” thought the telephone boy. That afternoon Mr. Keen called Tom into his office. “I want you to leave a little earlier to-day,” he said. “A client of ours is coming to the Parker House. Do you know where that hotel is?” Tom well knew the location of the famous hotel, the rolls of which have become a byword in many parts of the country. “I want you to take these papers to Mr. Jonathan Norris, who is stopping there,” went on Mr. Keen. “Ask the clerk to show you to his room, deliver the documents, and have him give you a receipt. He is expecting them.” “What about the telephone?” asked Tom. “I will have one of the clerks look after it for you, while you are gone. You need not come back, here to-night.” Tom liked that, as it would give him about an hour off. He found Mr. Norris without trouble, delivered the papers, and was walking briskly toward the door of the main entrance, when he nearly collided with Barton Sandow, who was hurriedly entering the hotel. “Excuse me,” said Tom. “What! You here!” exclaimed Sandow. “I thought--I----” He seemed quite startled, and Tom wondered what the matter could be. “Did I hurt you?” he asked. “Hurt me? No--but you----” Again Sandow seemed confused. “Was it you at the telephone switchboard the other day?” he asked, and Tom wondered at the friendly tone he used. It was quite different from the voice in which Mr. Barton Sandow had called our hero a “gutter-pup.” “Yes,” replied the boy. “You mean the day you called up Mr. Cutler?” “That’s the day. Did you hear what I said?” “Part of it,” answered Tom. “You did?” and Sandow seemed quite excited. “I could not help it. I had to come in on the wire to see if Mr. Cutler was through, as a lady was anxious to talk to him.”