"Yes; I have arranged a place for you temporarily down stairs on the 'flockers.' You said yesterday that you would like factory work better than nothing. This is about the meanest job in the whole mill, but it is the only thing that I can possibly give you." "All right; I guess I can stand it for a while," returned Fred. "Then you may try it and see how you get along. I will advance you as soon as there is a vacancy--if I find that you deserve it," he added, with a significant smile. "Very well, sir; I shall try to satisfy you. When shall I commence?" "You may come in tomorrow morning at the regular hour--six o'clock. I will discharge Tim Short tonight." "Oh, you are not going to send him away simply to give me a place, are you?" inquired Fred, with evident regret. "No; I should never discharge one for such a cause, even if I wanted the place for my own brother. I have been looking around for several days, trying to find a boy, as I had made up my mind to get rid of Tim, who isn't faithful in his work." "I am sorry to have him discharged; I would rather go without work myself than to feel I have his place. His parents will be obliged to support him, and they are very poor." "I like to hear you talk that way, for it shows that you have a kind heart. I, too, am sorry for them, but it will not do to let sympathy interfere with the proper management of business. Such a course would not be just to my employers, for I am convinced that Tim causes more mischief than a little, every day." "Then if you are bound to discharge him any way, there would be nothing wrong in my taking the place, would there?" "Certainly not. Some one else will have it if you don't." Mr. Farrington's assurance that there would be nothing dishonorable in the proposed course seemed to satisfy Fred's compunctions to some extent; still, as he entered the mill the next morning at the call of the shrill whistle, long before daylight, he could not help feeling a little guilty. He also felt that he was entering upon a new career, and one that seemed anything but pleasing. An utter change had taken place in his life. He was now only a common factory hand, and was about to begin work as such. The "flockers" were located under the stairs, down in the basement of the mill, in a dark and dingy corner. When Fred arrived there, he saw standing beside one of the machines a medium sized man with small gray eyes, that were shaded with immense bushy brows nearly an inch in length. His features were dull and expressionless, and over the lower portion of his wrinkled face a scraggy, mud colored beard seemed struggling for existence. His clothing appeared to indicate a penurious, grasping nature. A single look at this uncouth specimen was sufficient to make our young friend shudder at the thought of being under his control; however, he walked straight up to him, and said: "Is this Mr. Hanks?" "That's my name--Christopher Hanks. Be you the new boy?" "Yes, sir." "What's yer name?"