"Hannah always sees to that. She's knows just
what I want. She is a capital cook, too, Hannah is."
Hannah looked pleased at this compliment.
"You are easily pleased, master," she said.
"I should be hard to suit if I were not
pleased with your cooking. You don't know
so well Carl's taste, but if there is anything
he likes particularly he can tell you."
"You are very kind, sir," said Carl.
"There are not many men who would treat
a poor boy so considerately," he thought.
"He makes me an honored guest."
When dinner was over, Mr. Jennings invited
Carl to accompany him on a walk. They
passed along the principal street, nearly every
person they met giving the little man a cordial greeting.
"He seems to be very popular," thought Carl.
At length they reached the manufactory. Mr. Jennings
went into the office, followed by Carl.
A slender, dark-complexioned man, about
thirty-five years of age, sat on a stool at a high
desk. He was evidently the bookkeeper.
"Any letters, Mr. Gibbon?" asked Mr. Jennings.
"Yes, sir; here are four."
"Where are they from?"
"From New York, Chicago, Pittsburg and New Haven."
"What do they relate to?"
"Orders. I have handed them to Mr. Potter."
Potter, as Carl afterwards learned, was superintendent
of the manufactory, and had full charge of practical details.
"Is there anything requiring my personal attention?"
"No, sir; I don't think so."
"By the way, Mr. Gibbon, let me introduce
you to a young friend of mine--Carl Crawford.
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